In the forest, midday felt mysterious; the trees seemed to want to whisper the truth, for what the seer had revealed was something astonishing: in the northern lands lived a hidden son of the legendary konungr (regional king) Ragnarr.
Hárekr looked at his mother and asked:
"Is it true what the seiermaer (seer) says?"
She nodded. With her warrior’s breastplate on, she affirmed without any sentimentality:
"When he divorced and decided to marry a princess, he did not know I was pregnant."
Hárekr understood. The man everyone hailed as a legend had never known of his existence, but he was not upset nor did he feel any emotion. For him, the only person who had raised him was his mother. However, the dream and the voice of the vision continued to intrigue him.
The seer, seeing his reaction, sighed and added:
"You are a Ragnarsson (son of Ragnar)... you are destined to achieve great deeds. But will you be able to?"
Hárekr looked at him and replied:
"What I achieve in my life will have nothing to do with my surnames."
And he spoke those words looking fixedly at his mother. She nodded and said:
"Whether you want to or not, you must go to avenge your father. It is your destiny."
She said it with total firmness. Lagertha had consulted not only this seiermaer, but also the priestesses of a hof (pagan temple) well known in the region. There they had warned her that if her son did not leave for the Western lands, his fate would turn dark; but if he accepted the call, the Norns (goddesses of fate) would weave his name among great deeds. She did not entirely believe such omens, for seers tended to speak in riddles, but she knew that if he was to claim his future, the moment was now, after Ragnarr’s death.
The seer, looking at him intently, said:
"The Gods have chosen you to receive the skin. After that, you may choose your destiny. That is why you have come to me."
Hárekr felt a surge of emotion and asked:
"So you finally decided to give me the opportunity?"
The seer burst out laughing and warned him:
"But it will not be easy. You must climb to the highest peaks of the mountains and defeat the first beast you encounter; then bring us its skin. Only then will you be considered a berserker and lead the fleet of the fjords to foreign lands. You will make a name for yourself and the Norns will weave for you."
Hárekr felt his veins burn. At last he could leave this place and venture into the vast sea. He feared absolutely nothing; he felt that if fate was on his side, nothing could stop him. He looked at his mother, awaiting her approval.
She only nodded, watching him with deep concern, for he was her only son and the heir to these lands. As she turned her back to walk away, she said:
"Do not fall... Valhalla must wait for you."
Lagertha left, disheartened by Ragnarr’s death and by the harsh trial her son was about to undertake, a ritual that very few survived. However, the seiermaer had already spoken, and she knew it was impossible to change Hárekr’s mind, so all that remained was to accept his departure.
That same night, at the edge of the settlement, the chieftains and the people of the fylki watched the Jarl’s son march out equipped only with his winter clothing, without any provision of food. The seer presided over the scene.
The seiermaer prepared the blót (sacrifice and mystical ceremony) under the pleased gaze of the chieftains. With ash or sacred paint, he traced the rune of Tyr (Tiwaz, symbol of victory and courage in battle) on Hárekr’s forehead and said:
"May the Gods accompany you. When several moons have passed, if you manage to survive the frozen peaks of the mountains, the fleet of the fjords will be waiting for you."
The chieftains began to strike their shields hard and acclaimed him aloud:
"If the Gods choose you, we will too, Lagerthuson!"
Hárekr nodded, feeling filled with energy by the force of the ritual and the clamor of his companions and mentors: those men who had instructed him and who had shared countless raids and battles alongside his mother.
Feeling deeply inspired, he set out on the path under the rolling of drums and the clashing of shields. His mother said no farewell; she only watched him fixedly in silence, and that was enough.
Thus the young man departed: without food or resources, ready to face nature itself.
Two days later, he found himself in the imposing mountains of Forollhogna.
Over those two days, he survived by hunting small animals as he ascended. As he gained altitude, the cold grew more atrocious; his clothing barely protected him, and his hands looked red from the freezing temperatures. Only his instinct and his willpower kept him on his feet.
As he continued climbing, he spotted the entrance of a cave surrounded by remains and bones of various animals. Hárekr was no fool: he knew a beast lived there, so he decided to take shelter behind a huge nearby rock while watching the interior.
He looked higher up the mountain, noticing that the terrain became steep and impassable for further climbing.
’I will make the fire here. It is as far as I can go...’
He directed his gaze again toward the dark cavern.
’And in that cave... maybe the beast I need is there. It is fate, isn’t it?’
He prepared the campfire carefully, roasted a piece of meat he had kept from the morning’s hunt, and ate while night fell over the valley.
However, he did not sleep a wink. Restlessness and the instinct of danger kept him from falling asleep. He sensed that something was stalking him in the shadows, which was precisely what he had come to find: the trial that would make him a man.
At that instant, he began to hear a heavy sound sliding along the ground. The birds that huddled in the nearby trees took flight amid shrieks of terror.
Hárekr confirmed it. Unable to see through the dense darkness, he remained firm beside the fire, his gaze fixed on the shadows and his hand ready with his well-sharpened axe.
At that moment, the sound of sliding could be heard closer and closer.
Guiding himself by the noise, he directed his gaze toward a specific tree and spotted the thick, scaly torso of an enormous serpent. He was surprised. He felt a pang of nervousness and, for the first time in his life, he knew fear.
In his mind echoed the voice of his dream. He looked toward the top of the tree, from where a colossal head began to emerge until it fixed its eyes directly on him.
Hárekr, impressed but trying to maintain his composure, murmured:
"Is this what the Gods have placed in my path?... Am I really so glorious as to defeat you?"
The serpent emitted a faint hiss, but did not lunge. Both creatures stared at each other in the middle of the night darkness.
Hárekr knew he could not attack it while it was in the tree, for it could fall on top of him. His only defense and improvisation at that moment was the bonfire.
To his surprise, the animal never attacked; it simply remained watching him. Thus the entire night passed without him being able to fall asleep or even try. He spent the whole early morning resisting the freezing cold awake, feeling how his body began to go numb.
The next day, with the first rays of sun illuminating the mountain, the creature withdrew and slowly returned to the cavern. Exhausted from the freezing and from the tension of having been alert every second, Hárekr sensed that the animal was playing with him.
’Should I attack first?... No, that is not a viable option under any circumstance.’
He understood that the beast was only waiting for the right moment. It had not attacked him yet, but as soon as hunger pressed it, he would become its prey.