Idolatry (Ancient Asgard) [tag:Thor]
His bow lay at his side, nearly forgotten for the moment. It had become his dearest friend since discovering he had a particular knack with the weapon. He often wondered if his stepfather would approve. Thor had been quite insistent on teaching him the "proper" ways of a warrior, usually involving blades of varying sizes. But Thor wasn't in Asgard now, and Ullr had come to realize that he would have to tell him upon his return that it was a different weapon he had come to favor. He'd been a dead shot almost from the first moment he discovered the archer's tool. This particular bow was the first he had ever made, and he was very proud of it.
He gazed at the rough straw man before him. He'd made that himself, too, haphazardly attaching a target to its midsection. The center of the target was nearly gone, having received a fair share of arrows already that afternoon. He'd considered putting a face on the creation, using the charred end of a stick, but he'd ended up too excited to use the weapon to take the time for it. He'd leave perfection to his mother.
Rubbing his sore bicep, he turned his gaze toward the sun, disappointed. Only a couple more hours until sunset. Which meant Thunder was unlikely to return today, either. He'd been gone for what seemed like ages, slaughtering those nasty Frost Giants he was always going on about. Ullr loved hearing about Thor's great adventures in Jötun, and he always looked forward to seeing the latest collection of trophies his stepfather brought home to decorate the walls of Bilskirnir.
Instinctively, he cast his sights on Bifrost, even though he knew Thor would never come that way. He wasn't allowed, because he was so big and strong he could actually break the Rainbow Bridge. He really missed him, even though he knew Thor didn't necessarily miss him. He often felt Thor thought of him as little more than a pest, and was probably only being nice to him because of his mother. It didn't matter. Ullr thought Thor was the greatest warrior ever. He often wished he was his real son, so Thor would have to like him. And then maybe he could grow up as big and strong as the Thunderer. But there was no changing that.
With a sigh, he reached for his bow, thinking he could still get a few shots in. His arm was feeling much better now that it had rested.