The Tale of Runes: The Rad Rune

Freyja’s 8 Section 5

Read Part One of A Tale of Runes

Read Part Two of A Tale of Runes

Read Part Three of A Tale of Runes

Read Part Four of A Tale of Runes

Read Part Five of A Tale of Runes

Read Part Six of A Tale of Runes

rad rune

Alternatives        ‑

Letter ‑ R

Name ‑ RAD





Number ‑ 4

Arthian ‑ LANCELOT


Association words

Travel, Messages received, negotiations, To sides to deals, Ambivalence, Thought

Magical Meanings

Safety and comfort in travel. Satisfaction in all things associated with transport.

Divinatory Additions

Happy travel usually for pleasure, although, it could mean just a good trip. News from afar, Flexibility in negotiations, quick wits, Bring contemplated actions into manifestation. Be cautious and wary in business. Though the Rune is generally good for commerce.


Bad deals, an inconvenient journey or visitation. Difficulties in travel. Stubbornness in negotiations. Sluggish wits.

Story Upright:

Fjorn sat at the front of his family’s cart one hand on the reins one arm about Sigurlina. Sigurlina snuggled into his side as the oxen made their steady progress along the dirt track.

“Tell me again how many villages we’ll be visiting?” she whispered, then nibbled his ear.

“Ten, but if you’re going to keep that up, we won’t make it to them all before winter.” Fjorn turned and kissed her.

“I’m a smith’s wife, it seems a shame to waste hard iron.” Sigurlina grinned.

They both chuckled.

Sigurlina sobered, “I hope Ylfa behaves for your parents.”

“They love her, and she them. She’ll probably be a little spoiled when we get back. For my part, I’m happy to have you to myself for a while. All the better to work on giving her the little brother she’s been asking for.” Fjorn kissed his wife.

Sigurlina giggled. “It is nice being alone together. I love our family, but the house is so crowded. “What are the other villages like?”

Typical Norse Village

The cart rolled on occasionally jostling as the wheels moved in and out of ruts on the track, but it was a sturdy vehicle and the cartwheels held together well.

“Like home but smaller, that’s why they don’t have a smith of their own. There‘s not enough work to support one.”

“I hope Dorrud is well. I knew him before Birna divorced him. He seemed a nice man.”

“He’ll be happy that Geldnir is finally a man. Geldnir asked me to tell his father that he was the first to spear the aurochs. I’ll warn you; everyone is going to want you to carry messages to the other villages for them.” Fjorn shuddered.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Not when its weddings and betrothals. Messages about trade can even turn a profit, if you pay attention and make use of the information. My father always says that travelling traders don’t need to charge for carrying messages. They just need to be smart about what they learn and plant their silver where it will grow. Messages about deaths and sickness are bitter on the tongue.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Sigurlina paused in thought. “Do you really think we could be away until winter?”

Fjorn chuckled and ran his hand down his wife’s side. “Probably not, I have my limits.”

Sigurlina snorted. “I’ve never found them.”

“Seriously, when we reach the southern towns, I want to take on a load of salt. It’s always cheaper as you near the sea. If we fill the wagon by the time we get home, we can triple our profit.”

“So, I’m to be the wife of a wealthy smith.”

“My love, you are my wife, the road is clear, the ox is healthy, The cartwheels are sturdy, I am the wealthiest smith in all the lands.” Fjorn kissed Sigurlina and pulled to the side of the track in a meadow with tall grass.

“Skoll has chased the sun halfway across Midgard, time to let the ox graze for a bit,” he said.


Sigurlina smiled at him blushing. “How will we fill the time?” She climbed from the cart into his arms.

Story Reversed:

“And then I told him that since he was a man of the tribe’s now, he could just mend his own tunic. Such an ungrateful boy. When I think of the years I spent caring for him after his father left us,” said Birna.

“Weren’t you the one that divorced uncle Dorrund?” Tuborg knew the answer, but if he didn’t say something the woman’s ire might turn on him.

“I just couldn’t let Geldnir be in that man’s presence another day. He had the nerve to tell me that I should let dear, sweet little Geldnir play at swords with those other hooligans from the village. That Fjorn, the smith’s son, don’t get me started on him! Anyways, he was pressuring my poor Geldnir to go on that awful hunt years before he was ready. I put an end to that. Geldnir was too small. Anyway, I told him. Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, aunt Birna.” Tuborg stared out from under the canvas he’d stretched over his cart in an attempt to keep the hides he was transporting and himself dry. It wouldn’t have been his choice to take the shipment in the rainy season, but his grandmother was nearing the straw death. She had sent word she wanted her surviving daughter to come and see her.

Birna had insisted on making the trip. In his opinion more for the contents of her mother’s jewellery box, which were admittedly hers by tradition, than any sense of loyalty or affection. Gaut had sent a shipment of hides along to try and gain some profit from the trip. Tuborg looked at the hides. Quickly tanned and spotty. He was going to be laughed at.

The rain poured down.

“I’m going to see if I can get us out of the mud again.” Tuborg climbed off the back of the wagon.

“Don’t be silly. You’re getting all wet. Why in Frigg’s name you–.”

The sound of the rain drowned out the screeching voice. Moving to the head of the ox, Tuborg took the bridle and guided it forward. With a lurch the cart rocked forward, then there was a snapping sound.

Holding back a scream, Tuborg checked the cart. Before him was a broken cartwheel, and the rain came down.

Stephen Pearl

Stephen B. Pearl has studied metaphysics for over thirty years focusing on Pagan beliefs, primarily the Egyptian Path though he is eclectic in his views and practice. He considers himself an Egyptian path Pagan Wizard-priest. Which is all to say, he’s tried to make sense out of the craziness that is the universe and has probably made an even worse muck of it. He has read Tarot and Runes professionally on and off for about twenty years. In addition, he created and ran the You the Psychic and Divination the Mystic Eye courses at Mohawk College in Hamilton, Ontario. As part of Divination the Mystic Eye, he instructed people on the use of Runes as a divinatory medium. Stephen is also a fiction writer with many works that dip into the paranormal and draw on his personal experience for inspiration. For more on this aspect of his life please visit:

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