Asbjorn

Ingolf Keeneyes and Little Ulf had captured a man by the riverside. He was an oddly stunted old
gaffer with a brownish gray beard and unusually bright eyes. The man had already been hit in the face a few
times, so Father presumed that he was ready for questioning. The old man wiped his bloody nose on the
back of his hand and peered at us from under his brow. I told him in Irish that he would do well to help us
and answer my questions truthfully, or Little Ulf would slice his throat. He nodded and replied in a thick,
Gaelic dialect that he was willing to do anything so that we would let him go. The man said his name was
Eibhear. I asked him about the villages on this coast, but he swore that there are only deer and fox in these
lands. He apparently lived alone, deeper in the woods, and from time to time, he would go to the river to
fish. The old stump also told me that there were no monasteries in these parts, but the nearest one could be
found far on the west coast. I told him that we were coming from the west because we had taken the
southern route around Ireland and that we had already been to two convents on the western coast. After
hearing this, he looked more startled than ever.
"Deceitful worms, the whole lot of those Irishmen," Father snorted when I told him what Eibhear had
said. "Tell him that we will go and have a look at that abode of his. If we find anything besides what he told
us, we're going to rip out his lying tongue." The gaffer was not pleased to hear this, as one can imagine. He
swore to us again that the-re was nothing worth pillaging on this coast and that his tiny but was so far inland
it would not be worth our while to travel there. But a few days to the northwest, he continued, speaking
more softly, there would be an island full of treasures and gold; an island of which few people knew, and
which had not been discovered by a Northener yet. The island was home to a peaceful people, who had no
forts or weapons, but who had piles of gold in place of all that. Father stared at Eibhear and ran his fingers
through his beard while he pondered. "An is-land full of gold, you say? By the eight hooves of Sleipnir, is
this man deranged and a lunatic, or is he the first stroke of luck we've had on this journey?" "You're not
buying into these foolish tales, are you?" Egil the Bald said to Father. "Of course he will lie to save himself
and his family. His village is probably a little farther inland. Let's go take a look."
"Seems too far-fetched for a lie he just now conjured up to save himself," I weighed in. "Why didn't
he come up with something better? For instance, that we would come across a monastery if we continued
along the coast to-wards Scotland." "Fair point, Asbjorn," Father said and kept measuring the Irishman with
his eyes. "He sure doesn't look like there would be treasures in his hut. Is it worth it to hike through the
woods be-cause of an old scruff like that?" "Are you thinking that we should go out to the open sea to look
for an uncharted island even with the winter on the way, then?" Egil the Bald contested Father. "I might well
be," Father replied. "Asbjorn, tell the man that we'll take him with us, and he'll take us to that island of gold.
If we don't find anything, he'll be learning how to swim in the sea without his arms." After hearing these
greetings, Eibhear looked at us solemnly for a moment and nodded. "Good," Father said with a wide grin on
his face. "Gather the men. We're not going to find anything on this wretched coast."

Sigurd

Fog. Nothing but fog for two whole days. The men were growing restless. The woman who
worshiped the cross, who had been grabbed from a convent by Thick Erik, cried and complained incessantly,
and no one could bear listening to it. We told Erik to make her quiet, but that amounted to nothing.
Eventually, Pirkka the Bear, that crazy Kven, took the woman and tossed her into the sea. That, of course,
led to a rumble, and Erik ended up losing a front tooth. Some were already saying that the Irishman is
leading us to our deaths on purpose; that we will soon arrive at world's end, and the maw of Jormungandr
will swallow us. Others were complaining that we are wasting precious time on useless wanderings, even
though the winter will soon be upon us. I know all that. Today is the first day of Slaughter Month: the first
day of winter. But I will not return home empty-handed. Raiding a few forlorn villages and monasteries had
only awarded us with dented silver cups. Sure, we had Irish corned beef, blood sausage, cheese, beer, and
mead, but we had not found any riches. I could not go back to Nidaros carrying sausages. What would my
brother say, that cheeky bastard? He would howl with laughter and fiddle with his gold chains in
satisfaction. And that is the man the King made Earl of Bjorgvin. I shook the unpleasant thought and noticed
that Asbjorn was talking to that little old Irishman. My son tried to explain something and waved toward the

1
fog with his good hand. Asbjorn Onehand. That is what the men called him. When he left for Jorvik as a
young man, he was called Asbjorn Surehand. It was almost seven years that he spent in these misty is-lands,
and then some Scotsman struck his sword arm off below the elbow. He returned home a silent man. Every
time I see his severed arm, I want to wail like a child. I let out a sigh and turned my gaze back to the fog. It
almost looked like the weather was going to clear up. I could see the ship of Egil the Bald trailing us not too
far back. "Land! There's land ahead!" yelled one of the men. And sure enough, the fog was fading away in
front of us, and there was a glimpse of something far ahead. Just like a mountain's peak.

Sine

I woke up. Something was wrong. I rubbed my eyes. Mum and Dad and Anion and Oisin were
sleeping in the darkness. Faint sounds of breathing and snoring were all I heard. Then I remembered. Neasa.
I had left Neasa in our summer home. How could I have been so careless? She must have been in the chest. I
had been naughty, and Mum had taken Neasa from me. I had yelled at her, but she said that I would get her
back if I was good for the rest of the day. My friend would wait in the chest until then. I had been good. I
had. The whole day. But everything happened so fast. Mum and Dad cleaned everything up and packed our
things. Then we left for our winter home. And Neasa was left alone in the chest. Even I didn't re-member
that. I had to get Neasa. I would sneak out quietly and not wake anyone up. I would quickly go to our
summer home and be back before anyone noticed anything. I would also get to see the sea once more be-
fore the winter arrives.

Asbjorn

The island was lush, and a mountain stood at its center. Egil the Bald sailed his ship around the is-
land, and we took to land from the south. As I was wading through shallow waters at the shore, I looked at
the size of the mountain and wondered why no one knew about this place. The mountain had to be visible
from quite a distance at sea. When the weather was clear, that is. The shore was quiet. Not even a bird's song
could be heard. Dark spruces rose in silence to-wards the gray sky. The men scattered to look around. Soon,
there was a scream of excitement: Styrbjorn the Swede had found housings. A score of little huts stood
shrouded in the woods. They looked deserted. Father cursed because he had probably thought the islanders
would, at the least, live in houses made of gold. He ordered us to search the whole village carefully. Up
close, one could tell that the walls of these huts had been woven out of willow in a strange manner. Their
roofs were made of tree branches and peat. The huts would easily provide cover against wind or rain, but
they were not warm enough to sleep in during the winter.
The inhabitants of the village were nowhere to be seen. These islanders were certainly not giants, as
their doorways only reached up to my neck. I opened one of the doors and peeked into a lightless room.
Everything inside looked very modest: only a bed, a table, and a couple of chairs. Suddenly, there was a
scream. A child's scream. I shut the door and went to see what was happening. Little Ulf was holding a small
child, who was screaming and wriggling angrily. "Look what I found," Ulf chuckled. "This was hiding in
one of the huts." The girl was small, tiny even. She must have been six or seven years old, but it was hard to
tell because she was so very short. She was not all skin and bones, at least, so she could not have been
starving recently. She had dark, messy hair, and she was wearing leather clothes. The girl had an odd string
around her neck, with smooth stone rings on it. "Asbjorn, take the child and question her," Father ordered
and looked at the girl's clothes in disappointment. "And the rest of you," he raised his voice. "Keep
searching. If we don't find any gold, that old scruff will certainly be wishing that he hadn't tricked us." Then
he left, muttering to himself. I took the child into my arms and finally managed to calm her down. She spoke
a language that did indeed resemble Irish, but a language I struggled to understand. I told Eibhear to come
and help me, but he, too, deplored the girl's unusually strange dialect. I had a feeling that maybe the old man
understood more than he let on, but there was nothing I could do about that. Questioning the child was
troublesome. She kept saying Neasa and not much else. She just stared at us with her big, dark eyes. At
times I thought she was talking about a mother, at times a winter, but that was as far as we got. We did at
least find out that her name was Sine. It was an Irish name. According to Eibhear, the child said she wanted
to sleep. Maybe I should take the girl into one of the huts to rest and keep asking questions later. At that

2
instant, a joyful scream came from a distance: "Gold! Come take a look! Gold, by Odin's beard!"

Sigurd

Soon I would be the richest man in Norway. Richer than my brother. Richer than the King.
In one of the huts, which was larger than the others, there was a golden statue almost as tall as a man. The
statue was of a wolf, a beast with six legs and an ugly grimace on its face. Surrounding the statue, there were
golden beams. They appeared to be seats of some kind, although they were awfully small. We examined the
statue and the beams and knocked on them, and it seemed that they were really made of pure gold. A fortune
beyond measure in a small village like this! This seemed unfathomable. Had the gods finally decided to
reward me for all of my hard work? The only problem was that the statue and the beams would not budge.
That bastard cub of Fenris was so big that it could not be moved. The golden beams were also firmly
attached to the earthen floor, and even Pirkka the Bear and Little Ulf together could not lift them. We would
have to break the treasures into smaller pieces in order to move them with a ship. And that would take ages.
We did not have endless amounts of time. Egil the Bald returned after sailing around the island, and
he told us that there had been dwellings on the northern shores as well. We decided to make camp in this
village with the golden wolf, and tomorrow we would search the whole island. There was bound to be more
gold.
There had to be. Hopefully, in a shape that would be easier to move. In the evening, we noticed that
the scruffy gaffer had vanished. Haakon Strawbeard was supposed to watch the man, but he, too, had
forgotten everything else while admiring the golden wolf. I did not even have the heart to scold Haakon.
That old man was of no use to us at this point anyway. We sat by the fire, laughed and drank, and thanked
the gods for this day.

Sine

The tall men put me in Macha's house. The bed was hard, and I could not sleep. Through the cracks
in the wall, I could see one of the men moving outside. The others were making noise farther away. I felt
like crying, but I tried to be brave. I had not had enough time to find Neasa. I should have been with Mum
and Dad, sleeping, but the men would not let me. What do they want? Do they not know that winter is
coming? Do they not know that you cannot linger about the summer homes anymore. We have to hide.
Soon, soon, underground, in warm safety. Tomorrow, I will tell the one with the sad eyes that I must leave.
Tomorrow, I will try to tell them, but these tall men are a bit stupid. They cannot even talk like Oisin. And
Oisin is only two years old. But I will try. I have to. Otherwise the winter will swallow us all.

Asbjorn

The gate was almost as tall as two men. It was found halfway up the northern side of the mountain.
There was a flat landing mined into the rock, and on the back wall stood giant doors of stone. The gate was
embedded with golden inscriptions - apparently an unknown form of writing. In my head, I cursed again the
fact that they had let Eibhear escape. The men tried to crank the doors open, but that was a waste of time.
They were built with so much care that there was nothing to grab onto. Not even the hinges could be seen.
Fritjof Blackbeard tried to cut out the golden inscriptions with a knife, but he only snapped the blade. "Curse
it all! That is surely where the big-gest treasures await us!" Father ranted and kept grinding his teeth. "And I
am certain that all the islanders are hiding inside that rock. Bring the little girl! Let us see what she has to
say about this." I went to get Sine from the village where Thick Erik had been guarding her. He moaned that
the child had not as much as touched the food she had been given. Maybe she just was not hungry. I picked
up the girl. She was so light to carry. While walking, I thought about Ylva and our little child again. Poor
little girl. If she had lived longer than a day, I might be carrying her like this. Like a baby bird. But they
were both gone. I felt something in my throat that I just could not swallow. Sine watched me with her dark
eyes, and then she wrapped her little arms around my neck. She said something that I did not understand. It
was as if she were consoling me. I tried not to look into her eyes so that I would not burst into tears. I kept
walking with my head down. A cold wind was blowing against us. It smelled like spruce and pine needles

3
and the sea. And winter. Then we got to the mountain. Sine became restless. She kept twisting and turning in
my arms and glancing around.
She went on about the winter, her mother, and a hideout, again. When we saw the gate and the men,
she star-ted crying. She was clearly afraid and wanted to get away. Father was in a foul mood because the
doors had not budged. He told me to interrogate the girl and ask about the gate. That, of course, did not
work. Sine just kept sniffling in tears, and she did not even want to look at the doors. "The girl is afraid of
this place," I finally told the others. "This is useless." "Damned brat," Father murmured. "She should fear us,
not her own island." "Maybe this is a forbidden place," Egil the Bald said and looked at the giant stone
doors. "Maybe these people come here to worship their gods." "Maybe they built this place for their gods,
and they don't come here at all," I said. "Look at the size of those doors. They don't look like they were
designed for the same people as those tiny huts on the shore." "Well, who uses these doors, then?" Father
asked in a mocking tone. No one answered. The wind just kept how-ling against the rock, and Sine kept
sniffling. I thought I understood what she was trying to say. Away, away, quickly away. Father glared at the
grim-looking gate and spoke with a sigh. "Let's go back to the village. I don't like this place either."

Sigurd

Tonight, no one felt like singing. We all sat by a hefty campfire and kept glancing into the black of
the night. I could feel the men gradually growing more restless. More gold had been found. Some of the men
had searched the village on the north shore, and they had found another gold statue. Thorgeirr the Shetlander
told us that the statue was of an ugly man of some kind, with big ears and sharp teeth. Must be a god or
some monster to the locals. The men had not liked how the statue looked. I could not care less what trolls
these islanders worshiped. I was more irked that there was no gold here to take with us. A treasure worthy of
legend within our reach, but yet not within our grasp. I was coming to the conclusion that the gods were
toying with me. "We have to decide what we're going to do," Egil the Bald exclaimed. "Winter's coming,
and we have no time to spare." The men were muttering and nodding. Most of them were looking at me.
"I say we sail back to Ireland tomorrow," Styrbjorn the Swede offered and tightened his cloak around him.
"We should find a village for the winter. If a snowstorm catches us at sea, Thrymr will take us all." "Should
we abandon all these riches?" I cried out loud. "There's enough gold here to make us all royals!" "But we
can't stay in these huts in the winter, and we cannot carry the gold with us," Egil the Bald said with a somber
face. "Let us come back in the spring with horses and proper tools. Then we can take all these treasures."
"And if someone beats us to it?" I asked, with arms out wide. "Or the islanders hide their treasures when
they notice that we've left. I'm telling you, there will be nothing left in the spring!" My bellowing echoed
among the silent trees with such unpleasant loudness that I was even startled. Everything went quiet. The
men kept staring at the flames in silence, with grave looks on their faces. Were they all against me? Were
these fools going to throw away all these treasures? "I would worry about where the islanders have gone,"
Asbjorn said after a moment had passed. "I don't think they are hiding behind that gate." "We have searched
the whole island," I huffed. "There's nowhere left to hide. We have to break down that gate." "But the little
girl was afraid of the whole mountain," Asbjorn continued. "I don't think her family is hiding in there. There
is something we are missing here." "Damn right there is," I grunted. "You will question the girl thoroughly
tomorrow. We will find out where everyone has gone. I would bet my head that those mongrels took all the
valuables with them when they saw our ships. They left only the statues." "And if the girl reveals nothing?"
Egil the Bald pondered in turn. "How much longer are we going to keep stalling here?" "I will make sure she
tells us everything," I said and gazed into Egil's eyes. "And then I will rip the head off that golden wolf; if
nothing else. I am not leaving empty-handed."

Sine

Neasa. I had gotten Neasa back. The man with the sad eyes helped me. I kept trying to tell him that
Neasa was lost. Finally, he let me go into our summer home. I could not open the chest by myself, but the
sad-eyed man helped me.
And there Neasa was. All alone. Now I pressed Neasa against my chest while I lay again in Macha's
house. I was no longer so sad. I was no longer all alone. The man with the sad eyes had brought me sausages

4
and jam. I tried telling him yesterday that I don't need any more food. There the bowl lay untouched, by the
bed. There is not much time left. I have to try to tell the tall men. Maybe the sad-eyed one will listen. He is a
little smarter than the rest. I will tell them that the children of summer must hide, hide quickly. The snow, the
wind, the breeze are coming. The cold creatures of winter will soon crawl out of hiding.

Asbjorn

The air felt heavy. I could have sworn there was a thunderstorm coming. The day was not yet past
noon. A clear, gray day. My father was arguing with the men over what we should do next. I sat close-by on
a rock with Sine and tried to get her to talk about her family. She held her wooden doll in her lap and tried to
explain something with her eyes wide. Only, I still could not understand what she was trying to say. Some
words here and there.
And then came the bark of thunder. No, it was not thunder. The sound was deep and resonant, and it
kept going and going. It felt like the whole island was echoing and trembling. The men were yelling and
cursing, and they looked at the mountain, startled. That was where the roaring sound originated. And then
the sound stopped as if someone had cut it with a blade. I held my breath and stared at the sky as black
clouds appeared with the speed of a storm. wind. The whole canvas went dark in a heart-beat. All of a
sudden, the wind blew at us in gusts that threw some of the men on their backs. Then it started hailing snow.
The whole world was covered in a grayish white flurry that swallowed everything. Fimbulvinter. May the
gods help us. Then I realized that Sine was no longer with me. I called out for her, but with the wind how-
ling, I could not even hear my own voice. Of course - she had fled. She would try to get to her family. She
must have gone deeper into the woods. I tried to cover my eyes with my good arm, and I ran into the flurry
of snow.

Sigurd

It was cold. Terrifyingly cold. The wind blew snow in through the cracks in the walls, and slowly,
there was pile of snow on the floor. The breeze had my teeth clacking. Why had these damned islanders not
built pro-per dwellings for themselves? May Fenris tear them all to pieces! We had gathered in the largest of
the houses, by the golden wolf. The storm showed no signs of calming, and we had no business being out-
side. It was already almost dark, and we could not get the fire going. The men were hungry and freezing.
And scared. "I sure hope our ships can handle this," Egil the Bald cursed and ran his fingers through his
beard. "And that the sea isn't frozen by morning." "If we can't sail out of here, we will make these houses
winterproof," I said gravely and peered out of the cracks in the wall. It looked like something was moving in
the hail of snow. Asbjorn had vanished. And the girl. On top of all that, the men who had left for the
mountain this morning had disappeared too. Maybe one of them would soon find his way back. "Is there
someone outside?" I asked and tried to see into the flurry. It seemed as if a crouched figure were circling the
house. "Someone is moving out there," Little Ulf noted, standing next to me. "Just come in here!" I yelled
and unsheathed my sword. "We'll be waiting right here!" The men kept staring at the door. Everyone had a
weapon in their hands. The only sound coming from outside was the shrill and monotonous howl of the
wind. I could feel my sword hand shake. At that instant, the door opened and my heart almost stopped. A
dark figure stood by the door. A small, bearded man with snow in his hair. The old Irishman. "Sons of Odin,
the lords of the sea, here you stand whimpering," he said with a grin-ding tone. I jumped when I realized that
the gaffer was speaking fluent Norse. "Long I have watched you rape and pillage the coasts of my people.
Too long. Do stay here and enjoy your treasures!" The man let out a heartless laugh and turned to leave.
"Grab him!" I managed to yell. Little Ulf leaped at the man, but suddenly he was not there. Ulf threw his
arms at what was now thin air and fell face-first into the snow. The old man had disappeared. Only his
laughter echoed in the darkness.
And even that was soon blown away by the wind.

Asbjorn

Little footprints crisscrossed in the snow. I stumbled forward, knee-deep in snow. The wind was

5
whipping my face in frozen slashes. Sine could not have been far. A little girl in this kind of weather. I had
no grasp on how long I had searched for her. At times, the storm had altered her tracks so that I had
wandered in the woods void of direction. By some miracle, I had ended up back in her tracks. But now I did
not even know which way the village was and which way the mountain. Every now and then, I called out her
name, but it was useless. Only the roar of the wind answered me. A time or two, I thought I heard voices in
the flurry of snow, but I must have imagined it. Then I thought I saw something. I took a few hasty strides
and caught up to a small figure that was trying to make its way for-ward in the storm. I picked the girl softly
into my arms. Sine was yelling to my face. She was furious.
The girl pulled herself from my arms. She was waving towards something in the storm, and she kept
repeating a word that might have meant a door. Or a gate. Then I heard something. A shrill sound that
blended with the raging winds. It was like a howl. Sine heard it as well. Terror stared at me through her eyes.
Hurry, I could understand. Hurry, hide. Hurry, hide. Then the girl signaled me to keep moving forward. I
started pushing myself through the snow with Sine in my arms. The ground seemed to be leading me
upward. Somewhere to our right, I heard more noises. This time a coarse scream. A scream from a throat that
was not human. I could feel the child trembling in my arms. Suddenly, we arrived at the base of the
mountain. Sine was fighting me so hard that I put her down. The girl crouched to the snow-covered stone
wall as if she were looking for something. She shoveled snow with her tiny hands and mumbled to herself. I
looked around and saw someone moving in the whirl of snow. I could distinguish a hazy figure that was
closing in on us. It seemed large. I was going to pull out my sword, but then Sine pulled my sleeve. She was
pointing at something at the base of the mountain and pulling my hand. I saw that a crevice or hole had been
uncovered from under the snow. Just big enough for a small girl to squeeze through. Hurry, said Sine and
crawled into the crack, with the wooden doll in her hands. Her tiny feet disappeared into the blackness. I
looked behind me. The dark figure was not far. It was an animal of some kind. Maybe a large bear. Or a
giant wolf. Step by step, it was getting closer. I could see that another creature was behind it. I glanced at my
stub of a sword hand and sniffed. I glanced at the unknown beasts, glanced at the small hole in the rock.
Gods, help me now. I unbuckled my belt and let my sword and its sheath fall into the snow. I dived belly-
first to the ground and felt around in the darkness. The crevice seemed to expand right after the narrow entry.
I tried to get my head inside. The hole was so close to the ground that I had to turn my face to the side. The
rock was tearing at my ears and cheeks while I forced my way deeper. I imagined how eyeteeth would dig
into my legs at any moment and pushed forward with all of my strength. Blood was running from my
temples into my eyes. I screamed in pain. Then my head was through. I tried to pull my shoulders in, and at
the same time, I was kicking furiously at the snowy floor. My coat tore at the shoulders. Something growled,
only a few steps behind me. I managed to get my shoulders through the hole. I pulled, pushed, kicked and
grated mys-elf all the way in. Immediately after, something slammed at the entrance and killed all light
coming from the outside. I crawled desperately to get farther away. Then I could hear stone grinding against
stone. I heard a faint thump, and then the darkness was complete. I realized that the entry had somehow
become shut. Through the rock, I could hear how a large beast was roaring and ferociously tearing at the
ground. At some point, I had turned onto my back. I lay quietly and tried to calm my breathing. I wiped
blood from my eyes. I felt one of my ears, which seemed to have been half torn off. My knees and shoulders
hurt like hell. Then Sine's face appeared above me. I noticed that it was not completely dark anymore. The
stone rings on the girl's neck were shining a faint light. Let's go, she said.

Sigurd

No one has returned. Asbjorn, my poor son, where have you gone? Have you hurt yourself and
passed out in the snow? Or has that Irish snake murdered you with his cunning and wrongdoings. I can carry
home as much as gold as the ships can bear, but what will Thora say if I return without our son? Home. Even
the thought seems so distant. We have positioned ourselves in a tight circle and managed to get a fire going.
But the fire is small and weak, and there are so many of us. Large, frost-stricken men shivering with their
glazed beards. I am stomping the ground and trying to bring feeling back into my toes. Coldness like this. A
storm like this. Out of nowhere. What powers of Jotunheimr have we got upon us? I am imagining the
roaring fire in our fire-place and the warm arms of Thora. Servants are bringing me heated wine. They have
sweetened it with honey. What a drink fit for gods! At the same time, I notice Asbjorn playing on a bear

6
hide. He is still just a child. His hands are still intact. He looks at me and laughs. "Listen," Pirkka the Bear
says suddenly. His foggy breath rises up towards the ceiling. "Outside. Noises." I am trying to listen. The
endless moan of the wind has numbed my ears. The same hollow song is still echoing around us.
"Something's going on out there," Egil the Bald says, through trembling teeth. "Sounds like someone
is screaming." "Go look through the cracks," I say. But no one moves. It feels like the cold would petrify
anyone who left the circle. There is only a small, weak flame in the middle. And surrounding it, only endless
darkness, a forever night, an eternal coldness. Then I hear it: a howl that makes my blood freeze. At the
same time, our fire dies in a single breath. There is almost perfect darkness. I can hear one of the men
sobbing quietly. Outside, the sounds of the storm are mixing with a horrendous choir. Like the wail of a
dozen wolves. Soon, it is joined by other harsh voices. Cold laughter. Nobody is moving. Nobody is even
breathing. Maybe they will go away if we stay completely silent. Suddenly, I hear a snap above me, and
something falls on me. I tumble and try to cover my head. I realize that the roof has collapsed.
One of the men lets out a heinous scream. I try to crawl away from under the fallen pieces of ceiling.
Something topples onto me, and I roll to the side to escape its weight. Then I see something bent over the
man lying next to me. The beast is ripping Egil the Bald's throat open with its teeth. I pull out my sword. The
giant creature immediately stands up. To its six legs. Holy shit of Fenris. The abomination of a wolf attacks
and knocks me on my back. I scream and shove the creature as hard as I can. It is emanating coldness on me.
Then I realize that my sword has impaled its palate. I struggle to crawl away from under the
senseless beast and yank my weapon out of it. Then I look around. Ragnarok. Ragnarok is upon us. The
house has fallen apart around us. Men are screaming and trying to escape, but the beasts are already on our
backs. I see Pirkka the Bear fall in the snow, and immediately, there are two wolfbeasts on top of him.
Closer to me, one of the creatures is tearing apart a man, who might be Ingolf Keeneyes. Farther away in the
storm, two of us are defending themselves with swords against tall, merciless figures. Giant clubs swing
fiercely and crush the men underneath. Cold sets of eyes gleam briefly in the dark. All around me, men are
falling. And more monstrosities spring from the snowstorm. All the beasts, trolls, and frost giants of
Jotunheimr must be here. The ships. I must get to the ships. I run head-first into the flurry of snow. Maybe I
can make it to safety. Escape. Sail away. Maybe no one will notice. Maybe the beasts won't - A hit to my
shoulder. I'm rolling in snow. My sword is gone. I can't feel my other arm. I scream as someone lifts me up
into the air by my shin, holding on with an icy grip. I'm twitching helplessly, upside down, and flinging my
arms around. The frost of death is spreading into my leg. An abhorrent face is cringing at me. I can feel its
icy breath. Then the giant raises its club.

Sine

It was good in the dark. It was safe in the dark. I was walking along a passageway and holding Neasa
in my hands. Neasa sang a quiet song about the spring to me. The sad-eyed one was crawling behind us. He
was too tall for our halls. We had come all the way down to the housings. The man kept looking into the
rooms opening up next to us, where my relatives were sleeping. I told him that we must go a little farther.
We were not far. Then we arrived at our winter home. Mum and Dad and Anion and Oisin were sleeping
next to each other. Their breaths could barely be heard. No one had noticed that I was gone. The man with
the sad eyes stared at my family without saying a word. I took a piece of cloth and wiped away the dried
blood on his face. Then I offered him water. The man drank eagerly. I told him that we should sleep now.
Sleep until the spring. Sleep until the creatures of the winter would crawl back into the depths and the gate
would close. Sleep until the sun would warm the rocks, and we could run straight into the sea and swim.
Then we could go back to our summer home. The man looked at me. Then at my family. Then he nodded.
For the first time, I saw him smile.