Chapter Three: Lost

Björn was speechless as he watched the woman disappear beneath the surface of the ocean’s waves. Though it was in the heat of summer, and the water was relatively warm here compared to his home shores, he couldn’t help but think that it was nearly impossible for a person to survive long in the cold waters further from land. She must be from a nearby village… but her appearance is so strange. In fact… where in the realms of Midgard am I? Or have I crossed the branches of Yggdrasil? He looked around, realizing that though he was still amongst the sea of his birth he was far from his home shores. He thought of his crew. He remembered the horrible shipwreck that they had endured, but was unable to recall the details of the circumstances. He grasped for understanding, but only had brief pictures of rocks and the screams of his men ringing in his ears. He gritted his teeth. “Njord, what qualm do you have with us?” He cried into the ocean’s pounding waves. This was not the first time that he had poor luck with a voyage, but this was the first time he had washed up on strange shores.

With his head still fuzzy, he turned and began to walk away from the sea, limping slightly. Though his mind forgot the shipwreck, his body had not. Every muscle and bone in his body was in pain. He bent down to massage his legs, and that’s when he realized that he was completely naked except for his sheer cloth trousers. What the… he couldn’t imagine a scenario where his armor was taken from his unconscious body, except if there were enemies that had attacked him and his crew. He pondered as he rubbed his joints, feeling anger boiling inside of him. He knew that he was missing more than just his clothes. He felt at his neck frantically, panic gripping him. He couldn’t believe his luck. He had lost his amulet of Mjǫllnir, the last remnant that he had of Ulf, his brother who had died in battle several years ago. Tears stung at his eyes as he thought bitterly of the runes that his brother had carved into the hammer of Thor. It was a protection item that Ulf had gifted him, his only brother, before that fateful day. It was the first and last time they had been on the battlefield together. Ulf had passed away later from an infection in his battle wounds, and Björn had not left him even once when he was on his deathbed. He remembered looking into the face of his hero as the life left him.

Björn fell to his knees and beat the sand repeatedly with his fists, screaming with rage. The sand flew in his face and his eyes, but he didn’t care. He collapsed on the sand after a time, realizing that his body was in a weakened state. He lay there for several minutes, feeling dejected, until he turned his head to the side and was surprised to see his armor lying a few feet away. He crawled to it and picked at the flayed remnants of his clothing. What kind of knife could so precisely cut through metal like this? He thought absently, flinging the leather, fur, and metal pieces into a messy pile. Using his finger to draw in the sand, around the pile he drew many small circles that were linked together to form a chain. In each small circle, he drew a simple symbol made of between one and four lines. As he did so, he chanted under his breath. Once each circle contained a symbol, he continued to chant until all of the lines were glowing with a bright blue blaze, like a hot fire coming deep from the Earth. He stepped back from the heat, continuing to chant, and then his pile of clothes burst into red flames. After a moment more of chanting, the flames extinguished spontaneously. In place of the pile of tattered clothing was his outfit, renewed and rejoined. He chuckled, thinking of Freydis, the village seer, whom his father had instructed to teach Björn all of the runes that he would need for communicating with the Others. “See me now, Freydis.” He shook his head, smiling. He picked up the clothing and donned each piece.

Now that he was dressed, Björn felt ready to tackle the reality that he was lost on a foreign shore. He eyed the mountains jutting out to the left and right, creating rocky cliff-faces that climbed into the sky. There were more rocky fixtures in front of him, but it was much less steep than the expanses that surrounded him on either side. He thought of his home, quite flat in comparison, with a long beach as far as the eye could see. Certainly no large mountains coming right out of the shore. “I can’t believe you’ve spit me out into this terrible, rocky terrain, Njord. You really have a sense of humor, don’t you?” He shrugged and started to walk towards one of the lesser hills, sandwiched between two monstrous rocky mountains.

He walked, or limped, through the grass and mud until he reached a relatively flat area. He surveyed his surroundings, and found more large mountain-like structures all around, exiting the ground like the teeth of a shark. He followed the small hills and valleys between them, the only areas that were traversable, and then found himself in a grassy marshland. He was relieved to see some wooden planks creating a path through the marshland, indicating that at least one human had been through this area before. He walked until the sun was showing signs of setting, as it lowered closer and closer to the horizon. He had made it through the marshland and now found himself in some more green hills like it was near the shore. He took this time to make a camp by clearing some rocks out of the flattest area he could find, just enough to lie down and perhaps make a fire. He walked around the surrounding grasslands to gather some supplies for his fire, but he could not find anything adequate enough to use as firewood. He couldn’t believe that he had not found even one forest in his venture so far, not even one tree. Even if he could find a tree, he thought, what would he use to split it? He laid on the ground and ruminated over his predicament.

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He thought for a long time, his thoughts turning to pink hair and unnaturally deep blue eyes. He saw the woman in his mind’s eye, and her foreign looks truly intrigued his curiosity. He wondered where she came from. He yearned to see her again. He needed to see her again, but where would he even start in looking for her? He looked up at the sky, which was still lit, but more dimly than when he had first embarked. He started to drift off to sleep, when a sound came across the breeze, awakening him. It was a quiet sound, but unmistakable- someone was singing.

Singing?! In this horrible place at the end of nowhere?! He sat up and looked around, unable to see anyone nearby. The sound was coming from the direction of the nearest peak. He stood up and moved towards the sound, the hairs on his arms on end. As he moved closer, he could see a faint orange glimmer coming from a little cave at the peak’s base. Surely, he thought, this is the source of the sound. The louder the singing got, the more he recognized it as one of the harmonious celebratory songs they would sing at his chief’s longhouse after a particularly successful raid. He could not hear the lyrics at this point, only the hum of the voice, but as he crept up to the mouth of the cave, he could hear the distinct words forming. He perched at the mouth, peeking into the scene before him.

There upon the rocks of the cave was seated a cloaked man in front of the most magnificent fire. A large stack of firewood was nearby. The man was moving his arms about as he ate and drank, almost dancing with merriment from his seated position. His food smelled wondrous, and Björn felt for the first time the depth of his hunger. He watched for some time until the man went silent and began to drink deeply from his goblet. After he finished his swig, he wiped his mouth and continued to sit in silence.

“Well, boy, it is almost midnight. Will you stay out there in the cold all night, or will you join me by the firelight?” He did not turn to Björn as he spoke, but simply poked at the fire in front of him. His voice was a low rumble, and he spoke at a slow, leisurely pace. How did he know I was here? Björn flushed and felt a rise of panic, as he did not know whether to trust this man or not. He was not ignorant to the fact that he was completely unarmed. Despite the extra strength that he bore due to his size and weight, he would still be no match for this man if the man had a sword.

“But… it cannot be midnight, sir, as the sun is still visible in the sky. Though I do feel as though I’ve been walking for days by now. I really am quite weary.” He spoke in a polite tone as to not enrage the man with his disagreement. The man chuckled.

“The sun will not set for three months, boy, you’ve arrived in the upper parts of Midgard. Do you not notice that you are far from your home, where the terrain is rough and hard?” He pointed to a log nearby his own, motioning for Björn to come inside. “As I already said, it won’t be getting any colder but nor any warmer tonight, so come sit for a while until the morning light.” He drank again from his goblet as Björn walked inside and was relieved to feel the warmth of the fire. He was comforted by the man’s presence, which he felt was odd in the middle of nowhere.

“Sir, how is that you are in these unknown lands, alone, and where did you get all of this robust firewood? I have not seen a single tree since I started my trek, which was who knows how long ago, if the sun truly does not set as you say.” Björn was almost shouting with excitement as the many questions that had built up as he watched the man were pouring out of his mouth.

The man sat for a moment as if pondering, and then handed Björn a bowl full of a hearty stew, along with a new goblet, filled to the brim with a liquid. Björn greedily took the meal and began to eat at once. He washed down his bites with the liquid, which he was very happy to find was a sweet mead. It was the most wonderful meal he had ever tasted, whether due to his starvation or the true cooking skills of this man. After he had taken several bites, he looked at the man, who had still not answered. He surveyed his face, which appeared to be weathered with some age and somewhat obscured by the firelight and the cloak. The man cleared his throat finally, and said “I have been traveling these lands for a long time, and I know the hills and valleys like the back of my hand. I watch the men and the birds and the creatures from afar, and I know their next moves before even they do.” A smile formed, and Björn could swear he saw the eye nearest him gleaming.

Despite the man’s strangeness and vague explanations, Björn accepted that this was just the way he was, and he still felt comfortable in his presence, as he would with his own father.

“Where are we?” Björn asked, afraid to hear the answer. The man took Björn’s empty bowl and turned to the cooking pot that was now sitting beside the fire. He began using the ladle to fill it back up, and then handed it back to Björn.

“We are exactly where you need to be, next to this fire you see. You are on the right path, my boy. Only a day’s trek from the nearest village. I can show you the way. The Chief there, Oláfr, is a bit, ah, intimidating, but nothing a broad boy of your stature should need to worry about.” He chuckled heartily while staring into the fire, glancing from time to time at Björn, who had begun to laugh also, at the ridiculousness of his situation. The man got up and walked over to a pile of blankets and furs. He laid out two sets on the smooth floor of the cave further back away from the rocky opening, but not too far from the fire. “Come, m’boy, rest easy. We shall leave in bright sun of the morning.”

Björn finished his second helping of stew and, stomach full and contented, he walked over to the plush blankets and lay between them. He thought of all of this man’s firewood, blankets, cooking pot, and other equipment in his camp. He must live here year round, thought Björn, unbelieving that someone could find joy in living out here alone with no one to talk to most of the time. His thoughts then turned once again to his mystery savior, the woman in the water, and he lapsed into a deep slumber.