.jpg)
The Saga of the Sun-Cross
In the age when ice still whispered to men,
before kings wore crowns and Christ wore armor,
the Northmen sailed through fog and fate.
They sought gold, and glory, and the gods who hide.
Then upon a lonely shore they found a stranger —
barefoot, unarmed, shining like dawn.
He spoke not of battle, yet his eyes met theirs as equals.
His hands were scarred — not from sword, but from mercy.
The chieftain asked,
“Who is thy god, who leaves his son to die?”
And the stranger said,
“He is the storm and the stillness —the hammer that strikes and the heart that forgives.”
The warriors laughed —
for such words had never yet been spoken on wind-cold lips.
But when the stranger touched the wounded,
and their pain fell like snow into seafoam,
the skald grew silent.
They saw then a truth no axe could split:
that the blood of heroes and the blood of gods
was the same red stream flowing homeward.
So they took his sign — the cross —
and bound it to Thor’s hammer.
They carved it on their shields,
set it above their hearths beside the runes of Odin.
They called it Solhammar — the Sun Hammer
where light meets thunder, and heart meets hand.
From that day forth, the North sang a new song:
“Christ walks with Thor through the storm.Odin listens, and we remember.The world is round as the cross-sun,and all paths lead home through courage and love.”
Thus were born the North’s faithful —
Christian yet free, fierce yet gentle,
Celtic in heart, Viking in soul.
And some say the stranger still walks the fjords at dawn,
his footsteps leaving warmth upon the frost,
his words echoing in the sound of distant oars:
“Strike not for power, sons of the North —but for the silence that follows thunder.”
Made with Bullet