Thor&Sif - Forged with Affection
It took far too much out of Thor to create. The thunder god was left in a heap on the ground when it was done, his heart practically beating out of his chest, eyes shut from sheer exhaustion. Energy and bonding heat poured from his fingertips moments earlier, forming the long, dual sided blade, fingers carving in Icelandic words of trust, honour and virtue to the sleek metal. The qualities of a true warrior. The type of warrior the strong, powerful Sif would become.
Once awoken from his state of fatigue, the young warrior prince examined his creation. Forged through the power of a heart, the lightning of one thousand storms and the metal of a conquering ship, the sword weighed surprisingly light in his hands. There were two more things that needed to be done to the blade to be finished; sharpening and the wrapping of the handle. With a thick strip of red leather, Thor began to bind the handle of the sword, his strong, capable hands stretching the skin roughly around the metal hilt.Â
It did not take too long to sharpen, for the lightning snapped it into a fine point. To be sure, the god ran the blade between two sharpening stones for hours, the razor-like outcome leaving him pleased. The final touch was a rash decision, something he assumed Sif would probably detest.. a fine, flat ruby sat on the level surface of the hilt, as red as Thors beloved cape. In all honesty, the sword looked as if it could have blonged to the prince himself; the red obviously for him. But it was fitting for the woman who decided to accept the princes offer of courtship.
The blade sat in a fine red leather sheath, made to match the handle of the sword, on the edge of the balcony, ruby catching the sunlight. Thor admired his work as he washed himself, readying for the ceremony that night. Once washed, dressed in full armour and smelling as a prince should, Thor made his way to the amphitheatre the ceremony would be taking place in, taking a seat on the throne between his father and brother, overlooking the new class of warriors, Sif beaming wider than Thor had ever seen.
As quiet as a mouse, Thor set the sword down beside his feet, his ice eyes never once straying from the face of the one that held his heart. Her hair was curled, still in a leather bound at the crown of her head, but the curls tumbled across her shoulders and halfway down her breasts. He could see her eyes were sculpted and made defined, more so than normal, and the definition made his heart pound. She looked proud. Proud of herself, as she should be.Â
Pride also thrummed through Thors chest as is swelled, full of affection and want to give her his gift. Once the ceremony commenced, the thunderers gaze still did not leave her face, watching Sifs every movement. The other warrior graduates filed out in front of her, their parents or friends gathering and saying a few kind words, giving their gift of homage before leaving declared a warrior. As soon as the maiden Sif was called, Thor stood, lifted the sword form his feet and made his way to the center as the instructor spoke of her strength and favour with the king and prince. This caused an obvious blush on the new warriors cheeks, causing nothing but a chuckle to come from the thunderers lips.
When the two warriors gaze met, Thor smiled wide, his hand finding Sifs and taking it to his lips, kissing the knuckles softly. The crowd fell silent; this was positively unheard of. Thor could practically feel the heat of Sifs blush from a foot away, his own cheeks a faint pink. That may have been a slight bit too bold.. but worth the reaction it solicited. Slowly, the prince lowered her hand from his lips before resting it on the sheath of the infant, virgin sword. It had not yet seen a battle, for its first would be the hand of its true owner.
"It is a gift, forged by one warrior to another, the latter probably a better warrior than the former ever would be." Thor nodded his head in a bow and completely handed the sword off to his beloved, hoping the display of affection was hint enough to both Sif and the people in attendance that he was serious in his notions, and he planned completely on fulfilling his intentions of making Sif quite simply his wife. The kiss to her knuckles was more than enough of a public exhibit to confirm their courting, but rather exceeded the expectations of their notions.Â
Odin looked upon the two with a smile, his knowledge of the depth of Thors affection ancient, his approval obvious by his expression. Something in the king knew the tow would be an excellent match, never leave each other, especially when the duty of battle called. He knew of the way the two warriors looked upon each other, even since their younger adolescence, and how they looked away the moment the other caught their gaze. No one approved more of the match more than Odin. Little did the two know they were always supposed to be together.Â
As the new, official warrior left the centre of the stage, Thor held her hand still, wanting her to know of his honesty and pride. The next student entered centre stage and his own family began to crowd around him, but Thor attention was still (and always) with Sif. âI made it. It took the life from me.â With a small nod the princes fingers brushed the hilt of the sword slowly, admiring with another twinge of pride his work, but nothing topped the pride he held for Sif. âI could not be more proud of you, Warrior Sif. You have worked so hard and you deserve to be known as the warrior you have always proved yourself to be.â
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