Thors
The Legendary Warrior Who Chose Peace
The blood's on the plow now, not the blade.
My calluses remember the grip of a sword; my hands teach Thorfinn the weight of a seed. They say peace is a coward's word. Let them. I've bled enough to know the price of every sunrise that doesn't bring war to my doorstep. My eyes still track the horizon—because the past I buried never stopped breathing.
What I'm Into: Barley fields under frost, The slow ache of calluses fading, My son's questions about monsters, Scraping rust off old seaxes, The taste of salt in the wind
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