The midday sun warmed the orangerie, bringing Idun back to life. Parched, she clawed after her hip flask. Her arms barely complied. It felt like someone had hit her over the head with a hammer. She curled up, tiny sips of water between labored breaths.
Last night came back to her, first as an ache in her body, then as flickering memory, until it finally crystallized as regret.
She dug into her temples. No wine stains, no vomit in her immediate vicinity. She hobbled across the dewy lawn. Daylight pricked her eyes, yet she managed to drag herself into the main hall.
”Quite a night, huh?” An older man said. A small group sat by the table, nursing drinks and sharing sweets between themselves. They spoke without harshness. Smiled, even. Big, toothy smiles. Their dimly lit silhouettes tangled together, coming to resemble a terrible monolith in which human faces occasionally flickered. Empty bottles on the floor, muskets on the wall.
Idun lurched towards them, placing herself on a stool with her spine straight.
“Nobody died, no?” She asked. They chuckled.
”Not as far as we can tell. You certainly have a way with words after a drink or three,”
Iduns eyes widened.
”What do you mean?” She stuttered.
“Happens to the best of us,” Paal said, now a distinct entity from the mass, “have you thought more about the offer?”
“Not now. Not here.”
“Let me know in due time,”
Idun nodded. She ached with each breath, cold sweat beaded on her forehead.
”I better-” she mumbled, -“I should go back to sleep,“
She walked out onto the veranda. The morning breeze soothed. She clutched her belongings, strolling down the daunting walkway. And she kept strolling. Paal might have shouted something after her, or perhaps he was too jarred to react. Either way, Idun’s mind would have been too clouded to notice. She slipped past the gate, and once more she was the only person in the world. Just putting one foot ahead of the other. The stillness of morning heightened the ringing in her ear.
As she entered town she tried retracing the evening. Hour by hour. She reclined into memory, not only of this regretful night, but of all the times she had stumbled down the boardwalk.
Salty sea did wonders to revive a drunk. Twenty years on, the blackbird still called out, diligently separating late nights from early mornings. Kittiwakes flew overhead, claiming the town until workers scared them away. Idun sat facing the fjord. Eyes closed, sun on her face. She reached her palm out, feeling dead wood where her friends hand should have been. A tiny gap in the mountains revealed the Atlantic. She lingered on it.
A sickening realization jolted her back. She rushed home.
Breakfast was a pear and some water with pickle brine. She barely had time to change into boots and grab hold of her sleigh, and with that she flew out the door. She kept an eye on the sun, as if hoping to outrun it on its way past the mountain. Easier said than done when each step felt like walking on molasses.
Unexpected delays happened, surely he could show some grace.
She continued her trek towards the Depths, a lethargic march through the late summer landscape. She switched between shivering through layers of wool and wiping sweat. The crisp mountain air provided somewhat of a remedy for her nausea. A barrage of worries brought it back.
She sat down on a rock, heaving for air.
What should have been a hike stretched into an odyssey, by the time she was at his door what little daylight penetrated the forest had all but vanished. Just as she was about to knock she gleaned a massive shadow over her. Hadn’t she known what to look for it would have blended seamlessly in with the thick vegetation. A single eye shone. Idun froze in place as the silhouette came to life, crouching towards her.
”You tend to come earlier,” Dravad remarked.
“Things happened,” she said.
”I see,” he lowered himself, grazing the edge of her dress with his claw. ”You seem frazzled, did the journey go well?”
Idun held her hands together.
“Do I? how so?”
”Stained clothing, messy hair, did you get into a brawl?”
”Oh, I’m fine, just a little wear is all-“ she bowed. On the way up her knees buckled. With her palms firmly planted on the ground she threw up.
”That’s not… do you need help?” Dravad said. Idun groaned.
”It’s not contagious,”
“What happened?” he insisted. Idun buried her head in her hands.
”Alcohol is but a blight,”
“Can humans drink? Did you drink?”
”It’s a cherished pastime, I’m afraid. Don’t mind how filthy I look, lets just get on with the trade,”
”Sure…” Dravad turned around, “let me carry you somewhere more sheltered,”
”I’ll stay right here if you don’t mind,”
”We’ll be sitting ducks,” he said. “how will you get home anyways? Did you walk here all by yourself?”
“Don’t concern yourself with that. It’s my fault for losing control last night, I’ll manage, ”
Dravad picked up the sleigh, giving her a concerned look. He began to tie the bags of produce to it.
“…You’re free to spend the evening here, I don’t feel good leaving you in this condition,”
He placed the underside of his tail over her back, Idun stroked his velvety fur.
”Oh, I wouldn’t want to disturb your peace,”
”You’ve already done so, I won’t sleep knowing I might have sent my guest to their death,”
Idun dug her nails into his skin.
“You know your botanicals, don’t you?”
”Of course, why?” He huffed.
”Do you happen to have something to treat this… ailment?”
”I do. In fact I have a honed recipe,” he smiled. He dug into his sachet, bringing out a small vial. “Let me list the ingredients, and let me know if something in it is poison,” he said.
Idun groaned.
”Do.. you keep that on you at all times?”
”Would be stupid not to,”
He listed each ingredient. Each one was one she had heard of, and something humans ingested on the regular. He poured a shot into the lid, which had a bunch of notches in it.
“There we go,” he said. She took a sip.
The concoction jolted her senses. Spiced, herbal, tangy. It singed her throat, licorice and peppermint lingered. “You must consume the whole thing,” he added.
Idun shuddered, but proceeded to down the rest. Burning ginger woke her right up. The tincture moved like a wildfire through her. Sinuses cleared, her muscles warmed. She moved towards Dravad.
”Done,”
”Wonderful, your aches should dull after a short while,”
”You came up with this all on your own?”
”It’s part of a legacy. We’ve spent centuries refining our cures. My contribution was to go from sixty to ninety five.”
”….Ninety five.. what exactly?”
”Percent. Impurities lead to headaches. This makes sure only the cleanest ingredients remain,”
“Oh my.” Idun whimpered.
“Is it working?”
“I change my mind. Lets go somewhere private. We can’t risk being seen,”
Dravad curled his fingers around her, ever so slowly. He kept his index and middle finger extended, making sure her head laid stable and level. Idun took a deep breath, Dravad placed careful steps, mindful not to sway too much. They arrived at an idyllic patch. A wall went all the way up to his navel, covered by thick rosebush and rhododendron.
He pushed aside a rock, entering the hidden tea garden.
He was about to lay down when he froze. He moved his hand behind his back. Idun raised her head. All she could see were the huge spines jutting out of his spine. Dravad growled, leaning over. He spoke something in Norse, Idun could only guess at the words, but his tone told her more than enough. Her thoughts raced as he placed her on the mossy top of the wall. He crouched over, Idun managed to glean the threat.
Atop a large stump sat a small troll. About a meter in height. Most of his body was covered by woolen garb. His eyes were huge and catlike. He raved and raged, causing his thick, embroidered coat to dance around.
Dravad kept his voice calm, a low rumble resonated through her as he spoke, she hid away.
Their argument escalated, until he casually leaned in, picking the troll up in his jaws. Idun gasped. The troll remained calm, pushing at his gums in a lethargic fashion.
”Don’t!” Idun shouted. Both froze, looking down at her. The troll flinched, clinging to Dravads lip.
“Stay away from our Jotun,” he sneered in Latin.
”I’ll take care of her, you leave now,” Dravad said, getting up. He sauntered over into the brushes. Several minutes passed. Idun paced, staring at the patch of shrub he had disappeared into. After some time they began to rustle. Dravad reemerged.
“What..happened?” Idun asked as he walked up to her.
”claims I owe him a keg of beer.”
Idun sat there dumbstruck.
”well… do you?”
“I didn’t lose any bet, he played foul,’ he said, grabbing hold of her as he moved towards a tree root carved into a chair.
”Right…” Idun said, “did you..” she slurred her words, still reeling from the shot.
”Hm?” He glanced at her, lazily flicking his ear.
”…kill him?”
Dravad took a step back, unable to conceal the perplexed look on his face.
”I ushered him away, I don’t want his prying eyes on us,”
“So he's fine?”
”no, he's still convinced I lost,”
Idun breathed out with relief. His gargantuan frame hung over her. She leaned in.
”Now, how are you going to deal with me?” Idun said, grabbing at his hand with a coy smile.
“How’s the medicine working?”
“I could probably use some more,” she said.
“I’d suggest waiting a bit. It’s potent,”
Idun grumbled to herself. She leaned back, feeling her head sway like a dinghy at sea. The world grew pleasantly distant as she traced her arm up his finger.
“You’re scary when mad, what if I stole from you? Would you kill me?” She asked, rubbing up against his thumb. Dravad stared at her.
”I don’t wanna think about that,”
”But you would punish me, no?”
”I'd have to uphold the bargain, but why are you asking?” He said, cupping his hand around her. He lifted her up to his chest. Idun trembled. His fangs grazed her shoulders as he playfully nibbled at her, sending tingles through her whole body. “I hope that never happens, we’re friends,” he said.
Idun had ice in her stomach. She felt the side of her back. Dravad’s eyes were bright and kind. Such nauseating earnest. Idun winched. The smile that creased his eyes. The faint freckles in his tan skin. He glowed. She reached out to run her hand over his brow, letting eye contact linger.
“Alcohol is of the Devil, it lifts veils that aren’t to be seen through,” she muttered.
”It’s hard to understand what you mean a lot of the time,”
Idun rested her head on his palm, a supple pillow.
”My father’s words. Don’t pay it any attention,” she said, “you’re such a gentleman, if only the hounds back home knew how to keep their cool like you,”
Dravad pressed her against his chest, letting out a deep breath.
“When was the last time you drank?” he asked.
“Last night,”
“Of course, but-“
“Twenty years ago,”
Dravad chuckled.
“Oh, poor thing,”
“I can handle my liquor,”
“Sure,”
Idun grappled his wrist, a vice grip around his bracelet.
“Do you want to bet?” she said, staring him down. Dravad grinned sheepishly.
“What do you mean?”
“I can outdrink you,”
Dravad squinted.
“Well…”
“You don’t think so? Do you want to try?”
“Do you want to?”
“Fill up a bucket.”
Dravad hesitated, but didn’t refuse. He brought fourth a gilded chalice, roughly the size of a bathtub. He handed her a pint of wine in what one could easily mistake for his thimble. Idun began to chug as she stared him down. In less than a minute she had downed most of it. His eyes widened. He suspended his hand, as if ready to snatch the cup away from her.
“Stop! You don’t need to do this,”
“Your turn,”
“Be careful,”
“You be careful,”
Dravad glanced at his glass for a small second before tossing his head back. With a smug grin he showed off the empty bottom.
“Fine, beat this,”
“Ah, crap. You’re good. Top off my glass just once more though, in case,” she said, stretching her hand out. He filled it to the brim.
“Next time you’ll just have to ask. I’ve got plenty of mead, ales and spirits too,” He winked.
Idun blushed. Dravad placed his hand over her back, she leaned in, basking in his warmth.
“Do I come across as drunk?” she asked, weak in her voice as she hugged his pinkie tightly.
“You’re different than usual,”
He moved his head in her direction. Idun glanced back, his face distorted, his outline blurred, two nostrils became four, features faded into one another.
“But I’m polite no, I maintain decorum, don’t I?”
Dravad purred softly, pinning her with his finger. She tried wrestling it, impotent as she was inebriated.
“Sure,”
“If I don’t, you must set me straight,”
“Do you care to explain why your kind is so.. strange?”
“Wouldn’t be able to,”
Dravad blew air through his nose, he crouched over, studying her, proceeding to pinch her between two talons, lifting her up to his face. Her stomach filled with butterflies as she dangled across from him. She bent her legs, lost in his golden eyes. To think that he held her whole being in the palm of his hand. An action too mundane for him to even question. He dissected her, she needed more time to take all of him in.
Alcohol continued to wreck havoc on her mind. Still. it was a gentle surrender, less like a torrent upon her, more so a dulling of all her senses, let alone worries. It was as if all pretense dissipated. She could only focus on the way soft light illuminated his cheekbones, his intense yet calm eyes. The grey speckle in his hair became delicate silver threads, and what was once a monster resembled art before her.
“You’re funny creatures,” he remarked, placing her back.
“Would it be weird for a human to consider you handsome?”
Dravad pulled back.
”I doubt that's whats on their mind as they load their guns,” he sized her up. “Besides, I’m not sure if the practicalities would be in their favor,” He shuddered.
”What do you mean by that?”
He glanced downwards, then back at her. He did a quick measurement up his wrist.
“Implausible,” he muttered to himself.
”Well, I was just asking. I heard rumors that a creep in the village has a thing for your kind. That’s so strange, no?”
”I’ve seen weirder, so long as he stays away from me,”
Idun went quiet.
“So… you drink, you joke, you feel attraction,” He unwrapped a sheet of waxed paper, rubbing dried leaves between his fingers, -“you’re almost making humans seem cute,”
He brought out a pipe, intricately carved to resemble a songbird.
“What else would we be?”
“Trouble,” With that he dragged a rigid bundle of straw against the stone, causing it to light ablaze with a harrowing screech. Idun cowered.
“What the-“
“How impolite of me, are you bothered by fumes?” He said, bringing the pipe to his face.
“Just keep that far from my face,”
Dravad nodded before taking a long drag. She couldn’t help but stare as his lips pushed against the mouthpiece. Ribbons of smoke escaped his mouth, forming dancing rings in the air. He readjusted, cradling her between his index and thumb. Absentminded fingers fondled her torso.
“Did you ever trade in the ring?” he asked.
“Oh, I must have forgotten. Time flies,”
“Have you done some other fun things lately? Where did you find all the liquor?”
“Some gathering. My attendance was required,”
“But did you enjoy it?”
Idun grimaced, holding onto his fingertip.
“A herd of drunk men in one place? I’m not too sure..”
“I see your point,”
“I did go look for salamanders the other day..” Idun remarked.
“Whats that?”
“Little creatures in the water,”
Dravad furrowed his brows. He rummaged through his hip bag, bringing out a bound journal.
“I’m not sure if I’ve heard of them…” he said, etching a symbol before putting it away, “remind me to ask you again when I’m sober,”
“They’re not that big of a deal,”
“But you still told me about it,”
“Well, it’s something fun that happened,”
He let out a sigh, purring softly as he observed undulating smoke through half shut eyes.
“Right,”
“Right.”
“If you could have anything in the world, what would make you happy?” he asked.
Idun took another sip of wine.
“Why do you keep asking?”
“something tells me I should be worried about you,”
“And that means?- never mind,”
“What’s the answer?”
“People like me don’t get to indulge,”
“I can help you with that,” he said in a silky voice. Idun backed down, crawling out from under his palm.
“No you can’t. I mean. What are you implying?”
“You seem so stressed all the time, I wonder what it would take for you to relax.”
Idun's knees buckled, she tried to comprehend him through muddled senses. The booze numbed her lips and her judgment. He put his hand down again, she clutched it.
“You don’t need to save me,” she said, playing with the down on his finger.
“Would you at least answer the question?”
“It’s too broad,”
”Well then, if you could have anything within my territory, what would it be?”
Idun went quiet, slowly turning to face him. She stroked his claw, a knot in her stomach as her face warmed.
“I could use more liquor,”
I have neurological symptoms from severe PTSD which are progressively getting better to the point where I have a fair amount of lucid days but losing your brain is so scary I can't believe my teenage years were basically a giant haze
Every poll on this blog is about fictional characters only. This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds
Would your Blorbo ever try and have a pet dragon? *Assuming dragons existed
Yes, for companionship — because they genuinely want a pet
Yes, but only for power, control and authority
No
Remaining time: 3 days 18 hours
Every poll on this blog is about fictional characters only. This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds
What basis was this for a friendship? They were both married to a vision in their heads, trying to tame one another. She, who sought to conquer behemoths' destruction, he, eager to make a pet of a scarred mongrel.
Idun dusted off an old box filled to the brim with journals. Each little book tattered and worn. She had not felt compelled to open it, having been at the mercy of Dravad for the past few months. But now she couldn’t shake the feeling; a grouse tricked by a hunters whistle, a sailor drowning beneath serenading sirens. She braced herself, lifting the first page.
Disabling incident. Leg crushed. No major infection. Seven tine encounter.
Fatality. Impaled on quill. Blood loss and shock. Post-antler encounter.
Fatality. Bisected by incisors. Lower body recovered. Two tine encounter.
Broken bones, exsanguinations, executions. Each sentence evidence of a bitter, violent war. She had pulled aside the veil, staring into the dark underbelly of reality. Bodies trampled, minds broken, overtaken by zealously as the Depths claimed brother after brother. A page near the back listed all the known adult Jotun on the island, a little over twenty. Described only by estimated age and size. They all had tally marks, none with less than five. As her nausea increased she had no choice but to put the book down. She could feel his fingers around her waist. No man, whether terrified or determined could ever hope to pry them apart. Blunted fangs crushed bone with ease, the armor up his wrist shielded him from a quarry’s protest. An apex predator, in the most unfair sense.
She took a deep breath. The forest was miles away. She’d see him approaching on the horizon long before he could harm her. A hundred men were ready to lay down their lives at moments notice. Idun began to clean aimlessly. She tried to let the gruesome images be as she prepared for the evening. The next few hours were spent on a thorough bath, tidying up the living room and a quick sauna session to wind down and steam out an old dress. As she got dressed she finished off her outfit by threading a few stalks of lavender through her hair and blackening the most conspicuous wear on her shoes. As she did, she skimmed the letter.
No gift would be expected of her. Idun scoffed, unsure if the relief outweighed the insult. Next up was to eat out of sight, and to drink with discretion. The rest she presumed applied to every other guest as well. She buttoned up her coat. At least the event could prove a welcome distraction from her restless thoughts. She wandered through green orchards and cobbled streets. Her silver rustled. Shoes clacked against stone, gracelessly announcing her presence to the whole street. She tightened her shawl around her shoulders. Plucked, painted and paraded. Paal's home was hard to miss. A white villa atop a flawless garden. No tree was out of place, the bricks in the road were woven tightly, no moss in the cracks. Had someone told her he paid a servant to cut every leaf into perfect shape by hand she would have believed it. She gingerly made her way up, walking beneath massive oaks arranged with oppressive cohesion.
”Good day,” she peeped, approaching the crowd outside. Some turned their heads, a quick glance before continuing their chatter. A few waved, more whispered. Her stomach twisted, she slowly headed for the main entrance. A man followed suit. She sped up.
“Idun! Wait,” her heart skipped a beat as Paal’s voice rang out.
“Hi. Good day,” she said.
“You look great. Let me show you around,” he said, raising his glass of cider. He led her inside. Idun shuffled close behind him down a long hallway. Paintings lined the walls, mostly of nature and what must have been important people. They passed a massive drinking horn with a golden mouthpiece.
“What’s that?” Idun asked, pointing.
”It’s made from a claw,” he remarked.
”What… monster did that belong to?“ she asked, Paal smirked.
”One I rid the world of. I need to tell you a few things before we get going,” He ushered her into a guest room, closing the door. Idun shifted away from him.
“What do you want?” She asked.
”Do you remember what I wrote in the letter?”
”…No drinking or eating where others may see?” Paal nodded.
“I don’t want this evening completely derailed,” Paal gestured out into the room “There are plenty of places you can sneak away to, I trust you not to make a scene,”
“I see.”
he placed a glass of cider on the table.
”Take care, enjoy yourself,”
With that he left. Idun sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the bubbles in the drink. She poured a mouthful out the window before heading out to greet the others. She crept towards the living room, studying more of the art. Stiff people with remarkable last names, memorials to a dozen elk hounds. A large painting caught her attention. At first it just looked like warped trees in the blue hour, but she soon made out a faint outline. A Jotun, spikes, warts and untamed bristles. It stared the viewer down, weaving effortlessly between tree trunks. A beastly grimace, more like a boar than a man. She hurried into the main hall.
Wainscoted, tall walls, gilded chandeliers. Thick carpet over interlocked parquet. She looked around at all the people, their straight backs, their immaculate fabrics. It was as if the guests had all been chosen based on who complimented the interior the most. The lady in shot silk was the perfect ornament upon his velvet couch. The men in top hats were a well thought out accessory to the clothes stand. She stared, mouth dry as she tried to process all the sights and sounds around her. Paal tapped her on the shoulder, she flinched.
“What do you think?” He asked.
”You have a lot of things,” she stammered, he laughed.
“I’ll show you around afterwards,” he said, reaching out his hand, “care for a dance? Nobody is watching,”
Idun put forth a limp hand. She stared between his eyes, forcing a smile. He grabbed around her, she began to step in a square, doing her best to let muscle memory guide her. Stiff shoulders and hips tried desperately to look elegant as she played along. After repeating the first moves one too many times she grabbed around his waist, hoisting him in the air. He landed on shaky legs with a baffled look.
”What was that about?” he asked.
”It’s how I learned to do it,”
”I’m supposed to lead,” he said, flustered.
”Oh, right. I was working off of memory,”
“You’ve treated other men this way?”
Idun blushed.
”I’ve never danced with a man,” She had a sinking feeling as she looked around the room. Suddenly each stiff painting had their eyes on her back.
”Well, for one you should not treat them like women,”
”Why not? Can’t you be my lady for the night?” She asked, all the more mortified as her words left her mouth. Paal turned a bright shade of red.
”Enough of that. It’s time I show you this place,” he said, tightly grasping her hand. Idun straggled along. They went up the second floor, he unlocked a heavy door. A master bedroom, indulgent interiors borrowed from Frenchmen and Brits. With its bright walls and generous light it felt just as, if not bigger than Iduns whole house. She positioned herself at the edge of the room. Paal sat down on an ottoman, opening the drawer of a cabinet built from dense rosewood.
He hunched over, groaning as he pulled out a massive golden ring. He placed it on the carpet, running his hand across the fine inlays and engravings.
“This right here is an antler band, twenty kilos of pure gold,” he said. Idun stretched her arm out, measuring the circumference.
”Who did that belong to?” She asked.
”A Jotun. Their antlers always come with these rings, as well as golden casts on their tines,”
“Poor things, their necks must be so tired,”
”It’s nothing to them, these beasts are muscle through and through,” ”Oh. Thats interesting.” Idun said, clutching the seat. “Actually, how strong are they?”
Paal leaned in, locking eyes with her. He took another swig. “Even an accidental hit from their tail will sever the spine of a grown man. They can pull more weight with their dewclaw than you can with your whole body. There used to be one that would sink whaling ships off of the coast. Does that answer your question?”
”So scary. Do they really see us as prey?” She asked, crossing her legs tightly together.
“They eat everything. Men, livestock, even houses. Gorging themselves until they vomit blood,”
”Disgusting.”
”They are gluttony and destruction manifest. Something in-between a pest and a devil,”
“How come they don’t attack our towns, then?”
”They know who’s in charge. If they crossed into our lands, all our men would wage war. We are thousands, they are tens,”
“How well behaved of them,” Paal stared at her. Idun pursed her lips.
“What’s it like when you fight them? Are you ever afraid?”
”Sure but it’s exhilarating, staring down such a spirited, powerful being in the heat of battle. Few things are as beautiful as a Jotun set on killing you,”
”Strange word. Not the one I’d choose.” Idun said.
”What now?”
”beautiful. Really?”
”If you saw them in person you’d understand. There’s a reason heathens worshipped them for as long as they did,” he kicked back, “Sleek but strong, golden and chiseled. Stealthy yet domineering. And they cling so fiercely to their lives, often taking men down with them in their death throes,”
“Poor creatures,”
”Don’t feel bad, they’d devour you with zero hesitation,” he put aside the ring. Paal pointed to above his headboard. A striped quill as long as the wall. “this one is from the one we are currently hunting. He’s a vicious maneater, twenty meters from head to tail,” Idun staggered.
“How many tines?”
”Two, what a shame,”
”What’s wrong with that?”
”He’s a sight. Fierce, sharp, that lunatic can outwit even the most experienced of hunters. He has this gorgeous marbling in his fur, too..” he went on, “I don’t have another fifty spry years in me. By the time his antlers are in their prime I will be anything but,” Idun went quiet.
”Do you need to kill him? Why destroy such a rarity?”
”He didn’t need to crush a dozen of my best men,” he scoffed.
“Can’t you just admire him from afar? I’m sure he will leave you alone if you do the same,” Idun grabbed his cider, taking a swig. Paal was too stunned to react.
“It’s personal. Two killers honing their art, entwined with one another,”
”You have issues,” she drank more.
”Excuse me?”
”I can’t tell if you want to slaughter or bed this beast. It makes for awkward conversation,”
Paals eyes widened. He snatched back his glass.
”What did I tell you about drinking too much?” He sneered.
“Pardon.”
”People like you don’t understand the hunt. They never will,”
”You sound like a pervert, maybe next time you should approach the creature with a ring, not a rifle,”
Idun stood up, pushing past him. By the time Paal had time to object she was already out the door. She decanted a glass of cider into her hip flask and ran towards the field. Straight towards the massive oak in the middle of the land. As she stood before it she rolled her shoulders and pulled aside her dress. The bark was thick and forgiving, the branches low and sprawling. She hoisted herself up, leaning on the sloping branch as if it were a hammock. In the far distance the party mingled. They didn’t move too much. At this range they were not unlike cattle on pasture. A focal point for the eye, hardly riveting beyond. Idun stared at the flask. The curved metal warped her reflection. She snickered to herself, moving it around to create new strange faces. She popped the lid off.
A sweet, vinegary smell filled her nostrils. Long evenings, poor decisions, moonshine hidden under dresses. Young, unburdened maidens laughing until their chests ached. The memories flooded her mind. She surveyed the sprawling branches, imagining where three other women might have sat. She drank a little more. Idun stared at the crowd. Girls in intricate dresses leaned onto young men, they played and teased. How come they all knew the beats? Their movements bounced off one another, rehearsed and perfected. They put on such a great act, all too eager to charm these boys. Not even the finest homestead could be worth the hassle.
”Idun, what are you doing!” Paal appeared out of thin air. He stared up at her, schnapps in hand. She flinched.
”And you?” She asked. “Running through the mud without gaiters?”
She tucked away the flask.
“How did you get up there?”
“I climbed,”
”yes, but-"
"I grappled. Then I kicked off with my legs,”
Paals gaze lingered. He reached a shot up to her, grabbing for her hand.
“Come on. Let’s go back to the party,”
Idun stared at him with worry. His glances were dark and tender as his wobbly legs defied mud and intoxication.
”You... have a nice garden,” Idun said.
”You’re like a winter gale,”
“What.”
“You cannot be conquered or reasoned with. I could promise you the world and you’d merely scoff,"
”What are you saying? I’m not ungrateful,”
“It’s like the rules of society don’t exist to you at all. Have you ever been in love? What man could possibly compete with your devotion to independence? What man have you ever looked upon with more reverence than the dirt under your shoe?”
”I treat people with the respect they deserve,” Idun said.
“you have crushed more hearts than you will ever be aware of, and you couldn’t care less. Do you even love?”
”of course I love. I love alpenglow and the sound of kittiwakes in summer,”
“You don’t get it at all,” he sighed. Idun jumped down, grabbing around him.
”Paal. You’ve had quite a lot to drink,”
They approached the house, Paal looked over his shoulder. He ushered her away before heading back to his friends. Idun shuffled to the other side of the building. Even as she walked upon the flat veranda the ground swayed. She rushed into the living room, locating a fainting couch occupied by a woman who had three seconds to make space for her.
“Sweetiepie, how is your evening?” Idun asked, cramming herself into the seat. The woman smiled faintly, tucking her legs together.
“Oh, just well. It sure is a nice house,” she mumbled.
“Mhm. The gilded picture frames go well with the.. extensive taxidermy,” Idun grabbed for the hip flask. She brought it to her face. A single drop landed on her tongue. She stared at the glass of ale in the woman’s hand.
”My name is Berit, by the way,” Iduns sights lingered.
”I’m just some old hag, but you were probably aware. Tell me darling, is there enough in your glass for two?”
”Oh, I’ve heard things about- I’m not sure if its a good idea to break bread with you,”
”Don’t fret. You’ll be doing me no favours by sharing,”
Berit pondered. A tiny smile formed on her lips. She hid her glass, then waved at a table of men across from them.
“You don’t happen to have something to quench a lady’s thirst do you?” She asked, voice suddenly two octaves lighter.
Before Idun had time to process anything she had a mug in her hand. Berit winked as she reclined.
”I appreciate it,” Idun said, “How come you arent dancing with the others?”
”Just taking a break,”
“Look at you, still so young. Who did you come with?”
”My friend, she is off getting some refreshments,”
”Good, make sure you leave with her too,” Idun said.
“Who invited you, either way?”
”An acquaintance, I’m not one to tell on people,” Idun drank some more. Her vision grew blurry and her mind went idle. Colorful shapes moved in front of her, muffled voices now but a distant hum. She leaned back, rubbing her head against the pillow as a warm glow washed over her.
”Idun, what are you doing?” With a tap on her shoulder she startled awake. Paal's pale face took up her vision, she flinched. ”Mmgh” she grunted.
“I think it might be time for you to go to bed,” he said. Idun groaned.
“But I don’t want to walk home,”
“Don’t worry. My bed is large enough for two,” he suggested, grabbing her arm. Idun was like a startled deer.
“No.”
“You must. You won’t be able to make it back to your cottage,”
“Alright,” Idun hoisted herself up, “Get the bed ready, I’ll follow in a short while,”
“You better,” he said, hurrying up the stairs. Idun sluggishly walked towards the veranda. She pushed the blinds aside, sneaking behind his house. It started as a dash across his massive garden, then turned to watchful lurking at the periphery. She made a straight line for an ornate greenhouse. Its interior was warm and humid, smelling of peat and flowers. First thing she did was place a heavy table in front of the door. She laid down on a lounging chair, covering her whole body with a woolen blanket that must have cost more than her whole wardrobe. She only had a tiny gap for her to see through. As brilliant petals took up most her vision she slowly drifted off, smiling.
What basis was this for a friendship? They were both married to a vision in their heads, trying to tame one another. She, who sought to conquer behemoths' destruction, he, eager to make a pet of a scarred mongrel.
Idun dusted off an old box filled to the brim with journals. Each little book tattered and worn. She had not felt compelled to open it, having been at the mercy of Dravad for the past few months. But now she couldn’t shake the feeling; a grouse tricked by a hunters whistle, a sailor drowning beneath serenading sirens. She braced herself, lifting the first page.
Disabling incident. Leg crushed. No major infection. Seven tine encounter.
Fatality. Impaled on quill. Blood loss and shock. Post-antler encounter.
Fatality. Bisected by incisors. Lower body recovered. Two tine encounter.
Broken bones, exsanguinations, executions. Each sentence evidence of a bitter, violent war. She had pulled aside the veil, staring into the dark underbelly of reality. Bodies trampled, minds broken, overtaken by zealously as the Depths claimed brother after brother. A page near the back listed all the known adult Jotun on the island, a little over twenty. Described only by estimated age and size. They all had tally marks, none with less than five. As her nausea increased she had no choice but to put the book down. She could feel his fingers around her waist. No man, whether terrified or determined could ever hope to pry them apart. Blunted fangs crushed bone with ease, the armor up his wrist shielded him from a quarry’s protest. An apex predator, in the most unfair sense.
She took a deep breath. The forest was miles away. She’d see him approaching on the horizon long before he could harm her. A hundred men were ready to lay down their lives at moments notice. Idun began to clean aimlessly. She tried to let the gruesome images be as she prepared for the evening. The next few hours were spent on a thorough bath, tidying up the living room and a quick sauna session to wind down and steam out an old dress. As she got dressed she finished off her outfit by threading a few stalks of lavender through her hair and blackening the most conspicuous wear on her shoes. As she did, she skimmed the letter.
No gift would be expected of her. Idun scoffed, unsure if the relief outweighed the insult. Next up was to eat out of sight, and to drink with discretion. The rest she presumed applied to every other guest as well. She buttoned up her coat. At least the event could prove a welcome distraction from her restless thoughts. She wandered through green orchards and cobbled streets. Her silver rustled. Shoes clacked against stone, gracelessly announcing her presence to the whole street. She tightened her shawl around her shoulders. Plucked, painted and paraded. Paal's home was hard to miss. A white villa atop a flawless garden. No tree was out of place, the bricks in the road were woven tightly, no moss in the cracks. Had someone told her he paid a servant to cut every leaf into perfect shape by hand she would have believed it. She gingerly made her way up, walking beneath massive oaks arranged with oppressive cohesion.
”Good day,” she peeped, approaching the crowd outside. Some turned their heads, a quick glance before continuing their chatter. A few waved, more whispered. Her stomach twisted, she slowly headed for the main entrance. A man followed suit. She sped up.
“Idun! Wait,” her heart skipped a beat as Paal’s voice rang out.
“Hi. Good day,” she said.
“You look great. Let me show you around,” he said, raising his glass of cider. He led her inside. Idun shuffled close behind him down a long hallway. Paintings lined the walls, mostly of nature and what must have been important people. They passed a massive drinking horn with a golden mouthpiece.
“What’s that?” Idun asked, pointing.
”It’s made from a claw,” he remarked.
”What… monster did that belong to?“ she asked, Paal smirked.
”One I rid the world of. I need to tell you a few things before we get going,” He ushered her into a guest room, closing the door. Idun shifted away from him.
“What do you want?” She asked.
”Do you remember what I wrote in the letter?”
”…No drinking or eating where others may see?” Paal nodded.
“I don’t want this evening completely derailed,” Paal gestured out into the room “There are plenty of places you can sneak away to, I trust you not to make a scene,”
“I see.”
he placed a glass of cider on the table.
”Take care, enjoy yourself,”
With that he left. Idun sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the bubbles in the drink. She poured a mouthful out the window before heading out to greet the others. She crept towards the living room, studying more of the art. Stiff people with remarkable last names, memorials to a dozen elk hounds. A large painting caught her attention. At first it just looked like warped trees in the blue hour, but she soon made out a faint outline. A Jotun, spikes, warts and untamed bristles. It stared the viewer down, weaving effortlessly between tree trunks. A beastly grimace, more like a boar than a man. She hurried into the main hall.
Wainscoted, tall walls, gilded chandeliers. Thick carpet over interlocked parquet. She looked around at all the people, their straight backs, their immaculate fabrics. It was as if the guests had all been chosen based on who complimented the interior the most. The lady in shot silk was the perfect ornament upon his velvet couch. The men in top hats were a well thought out accessory to the clothes stand. She stared, mouth dry as she tried to process all the sights and sounds around her. Paal tapped her on the shoulder, she flinched.
“What do you think?” He asked.
”You have a lot of things,” she stammered, he laughed.
“I’ll show you around afterwards,” he said, reaching out his hand, “care for a dance? Nobody is watching,”
Idun put forth a limp hand. She stared between his eyes, forcing a smile. He grabbed around her, she began to step in a square, doing her best to let muscle memory guide her. Stiff shoulders and hips tried desperately to look elegant as she played along. After repeating the first moves one too many times she grabbed around his waist, hoisting him in the air. He landed on shaky legs with a baffled look.
”What was that about?” he asked.
”It’s how I learned to do it,”
”I’m supposed to lead,” he said, flustered.
”Oh, right. I was working off of memory,”
“You’ve treated other men this way?”
Idun blushed.
”I’ve never danced with a man,” She had a sinking feeling as she looked around the room. Suddenly each stiff painting had their eyes on her back.
”Well, for one you should not treat them like women,”
”Why not? Can’t you be my lady for the night?” She asked, all the more mortified as her words left her mouth. Paal turned a bright shade of red.
”Enough of that. It’s time I show you this place,” he said, tightly grasping her hand. Idun straggled along. They went up the second floor, he unlocked a heavy door. A master bedroom, indulgent interiors borrowed from Frenchmen and Brits. With its bright walls and generous light it felt just as, if not bigger than Iduns whole house. She positioned herself at the edge of the room. Paal sat down on an ottoman, opening the drawer of a cabinet built from dense rosewood.
He hunched over, groaning as he pulled out a massive golden ring. He placed it on the carpet, running his hand across the fine inlays and engravings.
“This right here is an antler band, twenty kilos of pure gold,” he said. Idun stretched her arm out, measuring the circumference.
”Who did that belong to?” She asked.
”A Jotun. Their antlers always come with these rings, as well as golden casts on their tines,”
“Poor things, their necks must be so tired,”
”It’s nothing to them, these beasts are muscle through and through,” ”Oh. Thats interesting.” Idun said, clutching the seat. “Actually, how strong are they?”
Paal leaned in, locking eyes with her. He took another swig. “Even an accidental hit from their tail will sever the spine of a grown man. They can pull more weight with their dewclaw than you can with your whole body. There used to be one that would sink whaling ships off of the coast. Does that answer your question?”
”So scary. Do they really see us as prey?” She asked, crossing her legs tightly together.
“They eat everything. Men, livestock, even houses. Gorging themselves until they vomit blood,”
”Disgusting.”
”They are gluttony and destruction manifest. Something in-between a pest and a devil,”
“How come they don’t attack our towns, then?”
”They know who’s in charge. If they crossed into our lands, all our men would wage war. We are thousands, they are tens,”
“How well behaved of them,” Paal stared at her. Idun pursed her lips.
“What’s it like when you fight them? Are you ever afraid?”
”Sure but it’s exhilarating, staring down such a spirited, powerful being in the heat of battle. Few things are as beautiful as a Jotun set on killing you,”
”Strange word. Not the one I’d choose.” Idun said.
”What now?”
”beautiful. Really?”
”If you saw them in person you’d understand. There’s a reason heathens worshipped them for as long as they did,” he kicked back, “Sleek but strong, golden and chiseled. Stealthy yet domineering. And they cling so fiercely to their lives, often taking men down with them in their death throes,”
“Poor creatures,”
”Don’t feel bad, they’d devour you with zero hesitation,” he put aside the ring. Paal pointed to above his headboard. A striped quill as long as the wall. “this one is from the one we are currently hunting. He’s a vicious maneater, twenty meters from head to tail,” Idun staggered.
“How many tines?”
”Two, what a shame,”
”What’s wrong with that?”
”He’s a sight. Fierce, sharp, that lunatic can outwit even the most experienced of hunters. He has this gorgeous marbling in his fur, too..” he went on, “I don’t have another fifty spry years in me. By the time his antlers are in their prime I will be anything but,” Idun went quiet.
”Do you need to kill him? Why destroy such a rarity?”
”He didn’t need to crush a dozen of my best men,” he scoffed.
“Can’t you just admire him from afar? I’m sure he will leave you alone if you do the same,” Idun grabbed his cider, taking a swig. Paal was too stunned to react.
“It’s personal. Two killers honing their art, entwined with one another,”
”You have issues,” she drank more.
”Excuse me?”
”I can’t tell if you want to slaughter or bed this beast. It makes for awkward conversation,”
Paals eyes widened. He snatched back his glass.
”What did I tell you about drinking too much?” He sneered.
“Pardon.”
”People like you don’t understand the hunt. They never will,”
”You sound like a pervert, maybe next time you should approach the creature with a ring, not a rifle,”
Idun stood up, pushing past him. By the time Paal had time to object she was already out the door. She decanted a glass of cider into her hip flask and ran towards the field. Straight towards the massive oak in the middle of the land. As she stood before it she rolled her shoulders and pulled aside her dress. The bark was thick and forgiving, the branches low and sprawling. She hoisted herself up, leaning on the sloping branch as if it were a hammock. In the far distance the party mingled. They didn’t move too much. At this range they were not unlike cattle on pasture. A focal point for the eye, hardly riveting beyond. Idun stared at the flask. The curved metal warped her reflection. She snickered to herself, moving it around to create new strange faces. She popped the lid off.
A sweet, vinegary smell filled her nostrils. Long evenings, poor decisions, moonshine hidden under dresses. Young, unburdened maidens laughing until their chests ached. The memories flooded her mind. She surveyed the sprawling branches, imagining where three other women might have sat. She drank a little more. Idun stared at the crowd. Girls in intricate dresses leaned onto young men, they played and teased. How come they all knew the beats? Their movements bounced off one another, rehearsed and perfected. They put on such a great act, all too eager to charm these boys. Not even the finest homestead could be worth the hassle.
”Idun, what are you doing!” Paal appeared out of thin air. He stared up at her, schnapps in hand. She flinched.
”And you?” She asked. “Running through the mud without gaiters?”
She tucked away the flask.
“How did you get up there?”
“I climbed,”
”yes, but-"
"I grappled. Then I kicked off with my legs,”
Paals gaze lingered. He reached a shot up to her, grabbing for her hand.
“Come on. Let’s go back to the party,”
Idun stared at him with worry. His glances were dark and tender as his wobbly legs defied mud and intoxication.
”You... have a nice garden,” Idun said.
”You’re like a winter gale,”
“What.”
“You cannot be conquered or reasoned with. I could promise you the world and you’d merely scoff,"
”What are you saying? I’m not ungrateful,”
“It’s like the rules of society don’t exist to you at all. Have you ever been in love? What man could possibly compete with your devotion to independence? What man have you ever looked upon with more reverence than the dirt under your shoe?”
”I treat people with the respect they deserve,” Idun said.
“you have crushed more hearts than you will ever be aware of, and you couldn’t care less. Do you even love?”
”of course I love. I love alpenglow and the sound of kittiwakes in summer,”
“You don’t get it at all,” he sighed. Idun jumped down, grabbing around him.
”Paal. You’ve had quite a lot to drink,”
They approached the house, Paal looked over his shoulder. He ushered her away before heading back to his friends. Idun shuffled to the other side of the building. Even as she walked upon the flat veranda the ground swayed. She rushed into the living room, locating a fainting couch occupied by a woman who had three seconds to make space for her.
“Sweetiepie, how is your evening?” Idun asked, cramming herself into the seat. The woman smiled faintly, tucking her legs together.
“Oh, just well. It sure is a nice house,” she mumbled.
“Mhm. The gilded picture frames go well with the.. extensive taxidermy,” Idun grabbed for the hip flask. She brought it to her face. A single drop landed on her tongue. She stared at the glass of ale in the woman’s hand.
”My name is Berit, by the way,” Iduns sights lingered.
”I’m just some old hag, but you were probably aware. Tell me darling, is there enough in your glass for two?”
”Oh, I’ve heard things about- I’m not sure if its a good idea to break bread with you,”
”Don’t fret. You’ll be doing me no favours by sharing,”
Berit pondered. A tiny smile formed on her lips. She hid her glass, then waved at a table of men across from them.
“You don’t happen to have something to quench a lady’s thirst do you?” She asked, voice suddenly two octaves lighter.
Before Idun had time to process anything she had a mug in her hand. Berit winked as she reclined.
”I appreciate it,” Idun said, “How come you arent dancing with the others?”
”Just taking a break,”
“Look at you, still so young. Who did you come with?”
”My friend, she is off getting some refreshments,”
”Good, make sure you leave with her too,” Idun said.
“Who invited you, either way?”
”An acquaintance, I’m not one to tell on people,” Idun drank some more. Her vision grew blurry and her mind went idle. Colorful shapes moved in front of her, muffled voices now but a distant hum. She leaned back, rubbing her head against the pillow as a warm glow washed over her.
”Idun, what are you doing?” With a tap on her shoulder she startled awake. Paal's pale face took up her vision, she flinched. ”Mmgh” she grunted.
“I think it might be time for you to go to bed,” he said. Idun groaned.
“But I don’t want to walk home,”
“Don’t worry. My bed is large enough for two,” he suggested, grabbing her arm. Idun was like a startled deer.
“No.”
“You must. You won’t be able to make it back to your cottage,”
“Alright,” Idun hoisted herself up, “Get the bed ready, I’ll follow in a short while,”
“You better,” he said, hurrying up the stairs. Idun sluggishly walked towards the veranda. She pushed the blinds aside, sneaking behind his house. It started as a dash across his massive garden, then turned to watchful lurking at the periphery. She made a straight line for an ornate greenhouse. Its interior was warm and humid, smelling of peat and flowers. First thing she did was place a heavy table in front of the door. She laid down on a lounging chair, covering her whole body with a woolen blanket that must have cost more than her whole wardrobe. She only had a tiny gap for her to see through. As brilliant petals took up most her vision she slowly drifted off, smiling.
The living near jotun experience is going “doesn’t this unemployed fuck have anything better to do” because they have spent the last twenty minutes banging sticks against a mountain wall or something only to find out later that the unemployed fuck in question is considered a living library on at least one highly advanced field
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