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In Norse mythology warriors are selected by Valkyrie to heroically die in battle only to resurrect as warrior spirits, enter the halls of Valhalla, and join Odin’s army. This was the noblest end to a warrior’s life: to transcend the Land of the Dead and cross the rainbow bridge to Valhalla. It is the greatest honor, the greatest payment for a valiant life and ferociousness in battle.
Imagine growing up with a sword in hand hoping that one day, too, you could have enough fierceness to die in battle, to earn a spot in the halls of Odin. It would be the greatest fate you could ever hope for.
You spend your life with the clang of steel and iron, the blood and sweat. On the eve of battle you pray for the Valkyrie to take you. Yet when you stagger away victorious, you bow your head to the thunder and say, “Death must wait another day.”
Yet each battle must have this same intensity for Odin and the Valkyrie could be watching, waiting to see if you are noble, bloodthirsty, and strong enough to be regaled in the halls of heroes. Each clang of steel could be your last, and if your strength isn’t true, you will be another corpse on a blood-stained field, a faceless warrior.
Not so with us, my friends. We will hold ourselves with higher esteem to crave the fight and revel in its toil. Go forth and please Father Odin with your grit, your courage, and your savageness. Bend iron with your will, cleave your enemy in two. You’ll never know when it’s your day to fall, but if it is…give them the fury of hell.