After the next month had passed and many hard days of training, Spring had finally arrived, the Fjord had thawed and fishing was possible again. One beautiful morning as he was practicing the master strokes, a bell tolled loudly in town. He, as well as everyone else knew this meant ships on the horizon.
He went back into his house and yelled for his mother and sisters. Immediately Lagertha, his mother, appeared with Hilda his youngest sister and Agnes, his sister aged 10, they all ran into the town and up to the docks. They saw 5 ships on the horizon, the exact number that Jarl Svygard Bjornsson had called for from their village.
They knew that not everyone would come back, but upon seeing all 5 ships return, everyone on the shores of Brokwood cheered! Within the hour all 5 ships would be docked and the men would be with their families.
After watching the ships come in and dock, everyone there was anxious, as their loved one may not get off the ships. As the men reunited with their families, tears of joy were shed and cries of sorrow were lofting over the beach. Getting increasingly anxious, the Berskaggr family did not see Raksa. Suddenly, Hilda was being lifted by a giant man and came to rest on his shoulders.
Immediately the girls wept with joy, seeing this, Jon was filled with happiness as he wanted everything that happened this Winter to flow from his lips. He was so excited to see that his father had made it home. Raska was so strong and wise, that Jon knew he would be okay.
Raska Berskaggr stood 6 and a half feet tall and almost 230 pounds of solid muscle with long dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders and piercing green eyes. He was a handsome man. In this regard, Jon took after his father.
Jon was 15 and already stood 6 feet tall and weighed nearly 170 pounds. His daily chores kept him fit and strong, however his hair was cut short and had a single braid that fell to his back. This was the custom for children of the Northfolk.
This spring Jon would be 16, a man in the eyes of the Northmen. He could cut his braid and begin to grow his hair long, like his father. This also meant that in the Winter he would be obligated to go on his first raid with his father and Jarl Svygard Bjornsson.
His father looked at his face and with a commanding, deep voice Raska spoke, "Jon, son of mine, you look just like my father when he was your age. Look at you, Gods, you have grown like a weed!" He proceeded to talk almost as excitedly as Jon would. The entire walk home they continued to talk like this, as Jon told him stories of the Hunt, his father in turn told him stories of battle.
Once they entered the house of the Berskaggr clan, Lagertha began to cook venison from the buck that Jon had killed. "Jon, did you hunt this great best youself?!" cried Raska. Jon, feeling pride welling in his stomach replied, "Yes father, I had to track him for a mile before he bled out. He was a tough beast and did not give up until the very end." His father gazed at him beaming with pride for his son.
A few days later, after his father rested, Jon was more than willing to show him his progress with his sword skill. As the pair stood in front of one another, Jon took up Boar's Tooth stance. Calmly looking at him, his father asked if he was ready. The father and son sparring session had begun.
As they fought Jon realized he was far outmatched as his father was far superior in strength, speed, reflex and flexibility. It was like an infant against a snake, he stood no chance. As he retreated a few steps he turned his sword to block low, his father's sword landing on his blade, he was able to catch it and stay safe. "Master Gu has taught you well, my son!" cried Raska as he quickly stepped to the side, withdrew his sword and attacked at a seemingly impossible angle.
SMACK!
The sword landed true on Jon's side, he would have been cleaved in two from the force of the blow. He had not come as far as he had hoped. He was however far better than the previous Spring, and his father let him know that. Returning to sparring position they kept fighting.
Jon was a very fast learner and had learned his father's style like no one else could, as they would have been long dead in the face of this great warrior. Jon would watch his feet and could tell where his father was meaning to go, he would then make a counter move using the knowledge he gained. The fighting went on for hours, both of them sweating and laughing.
In the last round of combat, his father decided to let Jon win as to build his confidence. Raska slashed at Jon with an overhead strike that was so fast not even a blur was left in the arc of the blade. Jon used the knowledge of his father's footwork to sidestep the attack completely and hack from the opening on his side.
CRACK!
Somehow his father was able to parry his strike, so Jon pivoted on his heels, taking advantage of another opening in his father's defense.
CRACK!
Again his sword met his father's. Becoming slightly frustrated, Jon decided to use a master stroke against his father. As his father attacked him, Jon focused his energies and time slowed. Seeing his father moving at half speed, he quickly knocked his blade aside and with a clean, fluid motion, Jon touched the tip of his blade against his father's neck.
"Yield" cried Jon, proud as can be. "Woah, I yield, my son!" replied Raska far prouder than his son could imagine. "My, how he has cultivated the families' technique and brought it together with his sword skill. My son is truly a genius, for it took me years to do that!" thought Raska. Standing there, staring at his son, he was as happy as can be.
"I am very proud of the progress you have made, my child. Continue to practice and you may best me by Winter!" laughed his father. As darkness descended, the pair went back inside, and feasted on deer, fish and bread and drank ale with pride in their souls.
"Father, I was hunting this beast and I heard a loud voice calling to me. I went to the voice and there were standing stones that sung to me in the wind." Jon proceeded to tell the rest of the story with his whole family present. They all looked at him, almost entranced by the story he told.
"My, what a tale that was Jon! What do you mean to do about it?" Jon knew his father believed in the Old Gods and Raska believed his son. "I mean to do what Woden asks of me. As Champion, I would bring glory to his name and to our house!" Jon said, full of newfound enthusiasm.