With the story of the princess fresh in their minds, they returned to our current venture.

“Birger, why isn’t the ladder set up?” Njord looked to the two strings that ran up to the twig above; the messenger line Birger set up with an arrow, earlier.

Come to think of it, it looked just like a sendlína. I felt a little stupid for not noticing that earlier, but it hardly mattered.

“I was waiting to show Crow how we do it.” Birger pointed to where Njord tossed me, at the edge of our little branch. “Then you almost went and killed him.”

Njord growled. “You just wanted to listen to the gossip.”

“As if you didn’t,” Birger mumbled. Before Njord could say, ‘What was that?’, Birger quickly added, “Crow, come and get to work!”

Njord looked paralysed, like a murderous bear restrained by politeness. He hung over us, waiting for an excuse to strike.

Birger pointed to the string, and my mermaid knot. “Now see, we have the string, the messenger line. It’s attached to the little grapple hooked up there, on the higher twig.”

“It’s just like a sendlína!” Erik chirped, eager to teach.

“That’s obvious! Any skítkarl with clouds for brains would know that at once!” Birger sneered.

Smiling and nodding, I said a prayer: Hail Odinn! Look upon me with kind eyes, and send snakes after that Loki-worshipper!

Birger untied my mermaid knot from the sprout. “So this string, we tie one of the ends to the big grapple.” He did so, using a… butterfly knot or something.

Erik crowded in. “Aren’t you going to tell him to keep it tight?”

Birger looked like an agitated weasel. “Yes! I’m getting to that! Now Crow, tie the ladder to the grappling hook!”

“You already did that.” I pointed to that annoying, knotted, quarter-þumal rope which they dared to call a ladder. It was tied to the grappling hook.

His face went as red as Njord’s. “I’m just telling you the steps, Wolfling!” He threatened to throw the grappling hook at me. “So after you would’ve tied on the ladder by yourself… we then need to reel it up the string—”

“But tell him to keep it tight!” Erik reminded us, helpfully.

“May the trolls take you—YES! I was going to tell him that! Crow, sit on the rope as you unwind it to keep it ti—”

“Sit on the rope!?” Njord found his chance to strike. “Have you been doing it that stupid way this whole time?”

“Well—how do you do it?” Birger looked similarly dangerous….

“You wrap it around a smooth sprout of course, you skítkarl.”

“Do you see any smooth sprouts!? They’re all knotted and thorny around here.”

“Make one smooth then! It doesn’t need to be like a woman’s face, just give the bark a shave with your knife.”

Erik was unusually silent, eyes nervously darting between them. Saying the wrong thing would lead to a stabbing.

“What’s wrong with sitting on the rope?” I added, helpfully.

Njord looked ready to explode. “It’s HEIMSKT! It’s really, really heimskt!”

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Birger matched his volatility. “And what’s so stupid about it, exactly!? I’ve done it hundreds of times this way!”

“You’ve been doing it a heimsks way! What kind of kitchen-fool taught you to do it like that?”

“My father taught me to do it like this! And he wasn’t a cursed norn-blood!”

“Was he a cursed Loki-thrall, like you…?”

Erik spoke up. “Let’s see how it works. I’m very interested to see how it works! Aren’t you?”

Glaring at him, Njord eventually nodded. “Why not…? It’ll be amusing.”

Birger hissed like a mangy cat. “It works just fine! No need to go to all the trouble of shaving sprouts…. Really, I’m just holding up a grapple! By Loki’s burning eyes!...”

The crisis was averted… for now.

Birger sat on the coil of rope, the ‘ladder’. He pulled on the second end of the string that was not tied to the grappling hook. Pulling tight, the grapple lifted into the air like the head of a snake. It pointed at the high twig it was to be pulled up to, where the little grapple-arrow was hooked.

Njord and Erik studied him sitting on the rope. “How in Hel do you uncoil it?” Njord spoke for all of us.

Then, by some magic, the rope slid out from under Birger, perfectly. As he wound up the string, coiling it around his hand: the rope-ladder was pulled up in a nearly perfectly straight diagonal line towards the upper twig. The rope came out from under him as fast as he wound the string, and it didn’t sag at all!

“It’s still stupid….” Njord shook his head in defeat.

“How do you do that…?” Erik was stupefied—but that was normal.

Birger lifted his head, proudly showing his ability to do it without watching. “It’s all in the knees.”

It was the proudest moment of Birger’s life.

I noticed the grappling hook was moving towards a hanging bush. The string and probably the rope could get through it fine, but a grappling hook is made to get stuck on things.

“Watch out for the brush!” Njord warned, hoping it would get stuck deep in the brush.

“I see it.” Birger’s speech lacked its usual sharpness; his voice as calm and smooth as the rope he was sitting on.

Suddenly, with no discernible cause, the rope came out faster, causing it to sag slightly under the shrub. With a couple of shakes, the string came loose from the bush, too, sagging under it. He reeled the string in more, the grapple sailing underneath the briary-obstacle without a problem.

“...It’s still stupid.” Njord muttered.

“That’s amazing!” Erik covered his own mouth too late, shrinking under Njord’s icy stare.

“Is this one of the gifts of Loki?” I asked.

“No.” Birger’s calm began to roil as he recalled my presence.

“Maybe you should try sitting on snakes? They might obey you!”

“Shut up! Now watch the last part!”

The grapple was at the high twig, its flat and smooth side pressing against it. He gave the rope a bit of slack, then held it in one hand and the string in the other.

Birger paused. “This is the tricky part….” He didn’t seem happy to have an audience, now.

Tugging the string, he tried to get the grapple to go over the twig. Even though the grapple was upside down, the smooth, non-grabby side against the twig… it wasn’t working. The grapple was still getting stuck, even as Birger yanked on the string, refusing to climb over the twig.

“Out of the way.” Birger began swinging the rope left and right, using the extra slack to whip the grapple side to side. He tugged at the string more, getting the grapple part of the way up… and then it got stuck on something we couldn’t see. Birger tried again, looking frustrated. Any moment now he would flare up and blame the gods for his inadequacies.

“Oh well.” Birger withdrew the grappling hook, his expression unworried.

What…? That doesn’t fit him.

He twisted the rope until the grapple flipped, so the grabbing side was down. Then, he let some of the string in his hand uncoil… and let the grappling hook fall from the high twig. It fell until the rope hit another twig about 10 yards beneath it. The rope wrapped around this lower twig, almost perfectly—the grapple genuinely spun around it, then latched onto the far side!

Njord didn’t say anything. Erik was his annoying self… but not as much as a pleased Birger.

“Didn’t you know we can do that?” Birger had the most stabbable face I had ever seen.

“Of course I knew.” I didn’t lie. I just thought he was too stupid to think of it. “But why did you bother with the upper twig?”

“Would’ve saved some climbing if it caught hold up there… but it’s all part of the same thicket, so we’ll be fine.”

Njord pressed in close. “You better start learning fast, Crow.”

I nodded sagely. “Will you start sitting on ropes now, Njord?”

“Shut up!”