Wolves at the Door (part 25)

After Gil was done filling his mouth with food, Alfvin filled the time by asking his opinion.

“Now that you have seen the place beyond the doorway and had some time to consider, tell me what you think of it.”

“Well, it’s confusing. Incredibly crowded, but surrounded by emptiness. Full of light, with no sun to be seen. Warm but covered in a blanket of mist.”

“It is indeed unlike any place here. But I am sure your ancestors told many tales of other worlds. Has it occurred to you that some of them might have been true?”

That gave Gil pause. Why not? He had stumbled into another world. Alfvin had done the same, many years before. Why not others? They would certainly have come back with fantastical stories.

“If so, wouldn’t you have met them?”

“Not necessarily. I do not spend all of my time lurking around the portal. Besides which, many of the stories go back far beyond my time.”

“I guess it’s possible. The people there look like people, but I suppose you could mistake them for gods. Giants and dwarves, not so much. If what you told me about magic is true, then that sounds a lot like Vanaheim. They say that magic first came from the Vanir. Or it could be Asgard, though I didn’t see any sign of the honoured dead. It’s misty like Niflheim, but certainly not dark and cold. Actually, all that light seems like what I’ve heard of Alfheim. But you’d probably know more about that than I, wouldn’t you, Elf-friend?”

Gil grinned, but Alfvin did not look amused.

“The meaning of my name notwithstanding, I have no evidence one way or another. It is possible that all these were inspired by memories of the one place. Personally, I find that the surrounding emptiness puts me in mind of Ginnungagap, the primordial void from which our world and many others were born. For all I know, perhaps Midgard was indeed summoned from the raw magic of that place.”

“What would that make the gateway itself? Bifrost? I didn’t see any rainbows.”

“True enough. But I do suspect that the tales of Bifrost originated with descriptions of the path between worlds. The unsteady footing, the shortness of breath, mist as far as the eye can see. The sensations of climbing a rainbow into the clouds, if such a thing were possible, would be quite similar.”

If the legends were indeed based upon the kind of things Gil had experienced last night, one important element had been missing.

“In any case, I didn’t see any sign of the world-tree there. Unless that’s some kind of metaphor I didn’t understand?”

“No, trees of any sort are conspicuously absent. Nonetheless, I frequently find myself feeling like Ratatoskr, constantly scurrying back and forth between the eagles above and the serpents below – no offence intended.”

“None taken.” Gil knew all too well how easily a snake in the grass could hide among men.

“I must say, it is good to be able to talk all this through with somebody. Obviously, when I am trading in Midgard, I cannot usually talk freely.”

“What about when you’re there?”

“I can and do discuss cosmology at times, but it is not the same. Nobody there shares my point of reference. You and I may be separated by centuries, but in this at least, we have more in common with each other than anybody else.”


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Wolves at the Door (part 24)

Gil’s heart was in his mouth as he turned, but it was only Alfvin.

“So, Gilfrid my friend, you are a curious one?”

“I was just – it was cold, so I …”

“No excuse is needed. After all, if you are to join me in this venture, you need to know how it is done.”

“Is that how it is always done? I’m not sure that would work for me.”

Alfvin grinned at the thought of Gil attempting to play the seducer.

“No, I use the talents available to me, as you will use yours. In my case, I find that overcoming people’s natural mistrust requires a little extra effort. Charm is often an effective weapon, but sometimes I overdo it. For you, a more straightforward approach will work well. When you have pants, that is. You will need to learn a little about trading, but after that you can do so quite conventionally.”

“And is that all? Did we come all this way for one bag of stuff? Or do you need to find more people to charm?”

“The sun will be rising soon. If we wait a little, the town will be about its business of the day and we – or rather, I – can trade in a more open manner. Do you know how to sew?”

The abrupt change of topic took Gil by surprise.

“I suppose – a little. I’m hardly an expert.”

“I think a little will be good enough. When the town is awake, I shall acquire some materials so that you can make yourself some clothes. The important thing is that you can be seen in public. If they are comfortable and keep you warm, so much better. If not, then I suppose you will be motivated to improve your skills.”

Walking as they talked, they had reached the north end of town once more.

“So what now? We just wait in the cold for everyone to wake up?”

“Exactly. We wait. But perhaps I can distract you from the cold. Are you hungry, by any chance?”

A lot had happened since Gil had last eaten: he had run all night before passing out, then got up and run for most of another night to get here. Though the two nights had been broken up by a few hours of the peculiar otherworldly light, he was looking forward to a genuine sunrise. And although he had been trying not to think about it, he had been growing more ravenous as the night had worn on.

Alfvin opened the bag, showing an assortment of dried fish, breads and even a few cheeses. The slave girl would surely get in trouble for giving them away. Ordinarily that would have troubled Gil, but as Alfvin handed over the bag, the only thing that seemed unimportant was the emptiness of his belly.


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Wolves at the Door (part 23)

Gil should not have been surprised to see that one of the people he had heard was Alfvin. Less expected was the way he was acting. He was leaning in close to a slave girl who looked a few years younger than him, barely older than Gil himself. It seemed oddly intimate for people who had just met. As a thrall she would have little choice in how she related to her master, but owed no particular deference to a stranger who had just come to town. Alfvin had said he could be persuasive.

Gil felt uncomfortable watching, though it was hard to pin down the reason. Their intimacy was only one factor. There was also the fact that he was spying on his new friend without his knowledge. Even leaving that aside, there was always something strange about intruding on the private lives of thralls. It was a reminder of a whole other layer of life occurring unseen, just below the surface of the world he was used to. And that was a reminder of how fragile that surface could be.

Whatever the reason that had made him avert his eyes, when he looked back again, the girl had disappeared indoors, leaving Alfvin alone. Looking around as he waited, he locked eyes with Gil. Gil’s concerns about spying on his friend were short-lived, as Alfvin smiled and waved, before motioning him to move farther off. It was a good point. He hadn’t wanted to move for fear of being heard, but in the growing light it was becoming more likely that he would be seen. He began moving off, but froze when he heard the girl return. Light or no light, she was more likely to notice him if he kept moving.

He couldn’t hear them at all any more, but he saw the girl hand Alfvin a small sack, then lean in as he kissed her gently. He pressed something into her hand, then cupped her cheek, just above the iron collar, as he nuzzled against the opposite side of her face. Once again, Gil turned away, feeling like an intruder. After a few minutes, he glanced back, but they were both gone.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he started moving again. Soon, more thralls would be out and about, beginning their work day. That meant more potential customers for Alfvin, but more chance that somebody would see Gil. If he circled back to the north end of town, he could wait for Alfvin there. If it would save him the stress of another encounter like this, he would just jog on the spot to keep warm.

He hadn’t gotten halfway when he felt the hand grip his shoulder from behind.


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Wolves at the Door (part 22)

Eventually their westward path intersected a road running perpendicular, and Gil was able to recognise where they were. It was some distance from his home territory, but that put them closer to a neighbouring village to the south. Following the road brought them to the settlement before long. As they approached, he realised he had no idea what they were going to do when they got there, so he asked Alfvin what the plan was.

“It might be better if you remain out of sight. I do not know whether there is a chance of you being recognised here, but in any case you are not dressed to blend in. I shall see if anybody is still stirring this late. Or early, as the case may be.”

As Alfvin entered the town, Gil was left to his own devices, waiting around under the tree line. It was the first chance he had gotten to stop moving all night, but he wasn’t able to enjoy it for long. Soon the cold began to bite, and he had to get moving in order to keep himself warm. The sky to the east was beginning to lighten, but it would be hours before the night-time chill abated.

With nowhere to go except to stay unseen, he found himself walking laps around the edge of town. He had no real idea how long he would have to wait, so he didn’t want to risk going too far afield. He kept a discreet distance: near enough to be able to see the buildings, but far enough that there was little risk of being spotted in the trees. He was on his third circuit when he heard the first signs of life in the village.

Creeping slowly forward to get a better look, he was less concerned with the cold than the prospect of being discovered. If striding into town dressed in nothing but a shirt had been inadvisable, how much worse would it be if he was caught skulking around the outskirts half-naked, spying on the inhabitants?

The voices remained indistinct as he approached, and in the dim light he had to get quite close before he was able to make out the unsettling scene before him.


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Wolves at the Door (part 21)

Even at the demanding pace Alfvin set, they travelled several hours without any sign that they had returned to familiar territory. There had been plenty of time for Gil to think about the situation, and understand it as much as he was able to. Now he had more questions.

“How long have you lived there?”

“As you know, keeping track of time in such a place is difficult, and rarely worth the effort. But if I had to guess… perhaps a year? Maybe two?”

A year in the land of shining mist would correspond to much more time here. Gil tried to calculate how much more.

“Let’s see… six months here for a day there … ”

“Yes. A great deal of time has passed since I first stepped through the doorway. Of course, I have not spent the whole time there. I am constantly back and forth between the two worlds. But even so, it is a matter of centuries.”

It was surprising to Gil, but no more so than anything else that had happened since he last woke. And it might explain something.

“Is that why you talk that way?”

“And what way would that be?”

“Well… not like people usually talk. Overly formal. More words than meaning.”

“I try to adapt to current fashions, at least enough to be understood. But I suppose the influences of my own time are difficult to leave behind. Perhaps I need to make more of an effort.”

Alfvin looked uncomfortable, as if the effort were not one he looked forward to, but Gil was quick to reassure him.

“It’s fine. Most of the time I understand you okay. But nobody would mistake you for a local.”

“Good enough: I am not attempting to blend in. If I am understood well enough to trade, that will suffice. If I am taken for a foreigner, so much the better.”

“Did everyone talk like that when you were growing up? Seems like it would take twice as long to say anything.”

Alfvin smiled.

“Recent trends seem to favour a more direct style of speech, it is true. But it is not entirely down to where, or rather when, I come from. In my younger days I entertained dreams of becoming a skald, and I studied the forms and kennings common to the profession. At times they still find expression in my words, although life has taken me in a different direction.”

“That makes a lot more sense, actually. Everything you say sounds like a performance. But if you have been visiting this world periodically for a hundred years or more, you must have seen a lot of changes?”

“Things change, things stay the same. No matter the century, men remain men. In all their glory. In all their idiocy.”

Gil could not decide whether the news should make him feel disheartened or reassured. If he adopted the same between-worlds lifestyle, he supposed he would have the chance to form his own opinion first-hand.


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