Giants of the Frost (35 page)

"Vidar, wait!" you called. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyes watered from the cold morning air.

"I won't wait any longer, Halldisa Ketil's-daughter," I said, "for I have waited all night."

"You waited all night?" you said. "Really?"

"And you did not come, so now I will return to Asgard while some dark still stains the sky."

"No, don't go." You caught your breath. "I'm sorry. I couldn't get away. I share a cabin with my mother and three of my idiot cousins. I intended to leave as soon as they were all asleep, but Olrunn has been vomiting all night and whining and moaning and wouldn't let me go." You nodded, that mischievous smile finding its way back to your face. "I believe she is with child to my brother Hakon, although they are not husband and wife. Perhaps when Isleif realizes how much adultery is being committed on his island, he might throw his hands in the air and leave without my persuasion."

I was still angry, but not sure how to express it.

"Come. Vidar, don't be so cross." You took my hand. "I wanted to come. I thought about you all night, and all day yesterday too. You look so grim. Perhaps you are too used to getting your own way?" I found your irreverence beguiling. You charmed me, you fascinated and intoxicated me. "Halla, before I came to Midgard, I can't remember the last time I laughed."

"I'm glad you find me amusing," you said. "Would you allow me to amuse you this morning?"

"Certainly."

"Come. Let's walk in the woods. You can tell me stories about your brothers." You held out your hand and I closed it in my own.

"First, tell me that you warned Isleif to leave the island," I said. We moved into the trees, leaving the mission and the cold water behind. "I mentioned it. He wouldn't listen."

"You must keep trying."

"You have not reckoned with Isleif Grímsson," you said. "He is determined to live out his days here, and he is determined that we all die of boredom along with him."

"But you must—"

"I will keep trying, Vidar."

"You only have until the winter. Odin expects you to go or he'll…" You let the silence stretch out a few moments, then you stopped and turned to me. "What
will
he do, Vidar?"

"He will have you all killed."

Your eyes held mine and I saw realization dim them. "Oh. He sent you to kill us, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did."

"But you didn't kill us."

"No. I couldn't."

"Now I'm frightened of you, Vidar Odin's-son."

Your words cut me deeply. "I would never hurt you, Halla."

"But that first time we met?"

"I was armed. I intended to fulfill my duties. When I saw you, things changed." I squeezed your fingers gently. "Everything changed."

We watched each other in the dark wood for a few moments, while the sky brightened behind me. Your eyes were intense, your brows drawn down, I could almost see your mind working. "I have been a fool," you said softly.

"I promise you, you can trust me."

"I believe that, Vidar, but what of the rest of your family? I have been a fool to take your kisses so lightly. You are something so different from me. You bring danger to us, unwillingly, but certainly. And I have behaved like a silly girl."

"I have enjoyed your laughter."

"Vidar, I will get Isleif to go. If I have to set fire to the church and all the cabins myself, I will get us off the island. Give me a few weeks to work on him." You shook your head sadly. "I think that we should not speak again, you and I."

The first sunbeam broke through the canopy and speared the ground beside you. Your hair was lifted by a morning breeze, which sent leaves spinning in its wake. The thought of never seeing you again hurt me, as though one of my brothers had punched me between the ribs. I gasped. "Halla, I would see you every day of my life."

You couldn't help yourself, you smiled, tried to bite your lip to keep it in check. "You flatter me."

"I love you."

"Can you be certain?" You pulled your hand out of mine. "Is it worth the trouble?"

"Halla, I—"

"You're not used to talking of your feelings. Let's not mention it again. Let's spend the day together as though the whole world is on our side, then when night falls we can think about this some more. About what is the sensible thing to do. I'm a sensible girl, Vidar. You should remember that." You touched my cheek lightly. "You are not to say you love me again until you are very, very certain. And nor shall I." That day was bliss. We walked in the woods, we rode Arvak, we built sand houses on the beach, and you made me laugh over and over again. I tried to match your humor with my own with very little success, until you cried laughing every time one of my jokes failed. I had never seen anyone cry laughing before. Your face flushed pink and hot tears rolled down your cheeks and settled in the upturned corners of your mouth, waiting for me to kiss them away.

Your soft skin seemed to beg for my lips to press it; your body sizzled with an irresistible sensual energy, so that my hands were useless for any other task but smoothing its contours. You forbade me, however, from knowing it the way your cousin had known it. Once again, you cited your sensible nature. "You may be gone at the end of the day, Vidar. Or at the end of the week. Next time I lie with someone, it will be every night, forever."

Every night, forever.

I had never been so enchanted with an idea. To have you by me, enclosed in my arms, as I fell asleep each night, your warm, scented hair and soft cheek on my pillow in the morning was the only bliss I could imagine. My life before you seemed bled of all its color. Empty, violent, brainless. I knew then, with great certainty, that I did love you, and I knew this meant I would have to reason with Odin. Then I would bring you back to Asgard with me, make you my princess, build a little house on the shores of the bay, far from my family.

So as the sun dipped once again into the sea, I held you and I swore to you that I loved you, for certain, forever.

"Is that wise, Vidar?" you asked me. Your eyes were hopeful, trusting.

"I don't care if it's unwise," I said. "I have done everything my father has ever asked of me until now, and that must count for something. His quarrel is with Isleif, with Isleif's God, not with you."

"Let's not proceed in haste," you said. "We have time. We have weeks and weeks until winter is here. If we spend every hour of every day together, perhaps we will get sick of each other and there it will all end." You were laughing as you said this, and your laughter lightened the dark wood and the foreboding ocean and filled me with hope.

I often wondered if Isleif and the others suspected what you were doing in the weeks that followed, for you were hardly ever at home. You met me in the morning and you sometimes didn't return home until sunset. When I asked, you waved the question away and said that Isleif didn't care what you did as long as you prayed every morning. The season grew cold and damp, and so I built a tiny cabin in the woods for us, and a shelter for Arvak. I had little inclination to return to Asgard, and the longer I was away, the weaker grew my ties to the Aesir. I confessed all their sins to you, and some of mine too. I was ashamed of my past, and felt certain that you would reject me or, worse, fear me once you'd heard of it.

"You were a warrior, Vidar," you said, smoothing my hair from my brow as we lay beside the fire in the dark little cabin, "and now you are a lover. What you have been matters far less than what you're becoming."

Your words awoke something within me. You were right: I could
become
something different. I wasn't constrained by my blood. I had a free will. If Odin wouldn't let me bring you back to Asgard, then I would simply stay in Midgard with you. The solution was so blindingly clear that it took my breath away. And still you said, "Wait, Vidar. Let's enjoy these last weeks and not talk about the future. Be here with me now."

This made me suspicious. "Don't you see a future for us, Halla?" I asked. "Is your love for me only
now
?" You touched my face with your soft fingers and an expression of deep sadness filled your eyes. "Oh, no, my love," you said, "this love is past, present and future. This love is eternal and mighty, but I dare not long to be so happy beyond a few short weeks. You are different from me, and I fear that difference will drive us apart."

Whatever struggle I felt between familial duty and the call of my heart, I didn't realize for a long time that you were struggling too. You rarely mentioned your family, and when you did you were dismissive. Every afternoon, you dutifully returned home to them, though I sensed your reluctance growing greater and greater as the weeks passed.

One afternoon, three short weeks before winter's date, you were in a somber mood without explanation. I allowed you to be silent, and I was silent too. Shared silence with you was sweet and warm.

"We should watch the sunset," you said. "This might be the last clear day for many months." So we walked out through the golden haze that misted between the trees, until we found the beach. You turned to me, nestled into my body with your ear against my heart.

"What troubles you today, Halla?" I asked over the roar of the sea. You didn't answer for a very long time. I held you and the sun fell into the water, fracturing into golden shards. As the last of them dissolved into the ocean and night spread from the east, you looked up, and you said, "I want to be with you always."

"And I want to be with you always."

You stepped back and took my hands. "To be apart from you is to fall all to pieces. There would be no center left inside me. You are my heart, Vidar." Your eyes went to the sea. "You are my heart," you murmured.

I couldn't think of words enough to answer, so I stayed silent.

"Tonight, I will not return to my mother. Tonight, I will spend next to you, and give my body to you as I have already given my soul."

Your words warmed my blood to fever and I found myself laughing.

"Are you mocking me?"

"No, my love. I wonder at how you have managed to make an Aesir warrior feel like a blushing virgin." You laughed then, and fell into my arms. I squeezed you hard.

"Tomorrow, when I wake in your arms, we'll make plans," you said, your voice muffled against my chest.

"Plans for the rest of time."

"Sensible plans?" I said.

"Yes," you said, "in spite of our stupid families."

I took you back to my cabin in the woods, and as night fell and a chill deepened among the trees outside, you laughed and said you were "wicked" for missing the evening meal at home, and I couldn't keep my lips or my hands away from your warm body. And when the time approached, you knelt before me and you unfastened the clasps on your clothes and slid out of them as easily as a petrel takes to the sky from the treetops.

"I love you, Vidar," you said, sinking into my arms.

"I love you, Halla," I replied, losing myself in your warm skin.

The wind moaned outside and the fire cracked and popped beside us. It was the last moment of true happiness that I knew. Before we could proceed another moment, I was alerted by thumping footfalls in the woods.

Your eyes went to the door. "Who is that?"

"Halla, you must get dressed. Someone's coming," I said.

You sat up and felt around for your clothes while I went to the door. A man, fair and broad with a bushy beard, stood in the trees about twenty feet away.

"Who are you? Where is my cousin Halldisa?" he said.

"Halldisa is safe," I answered. "She is here with me."

You appeared at the door then, flustered and disheveled. "Asbjörn!" you exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, harlot. How dare you bring such shame on your family with a heathen man?" You looked at me with raised eyebrows, barely taking him seriously.

"Well, Asbjörn," you said to him, "it would hardly be the first time, as you know." He advanced and I saw that he had pulled out a sword. I grabbed you to push you back inside, but you fought me off.

"Asbjörn, put down the weapon, you fool," you said. "Vidar, ignore him. I'll go home with him, and I'll explain that I intend to take you for a husband, and they'll all just have to accept it. Don't worry. I'll be back tomorrow."

Asbjörn looked glum, his sword pointing impotently at the ground. "You bring great dishonor to Church Island, Halla," he said.

"Yes, yes. Come on, let's not waste any more time. It's cold." You took his arm and turned him around, smiled at me over your shoulder, and mouthed the words, "I love you." The struggle with my impulses, which dictated I should seize Asbjörn and hack off his limbs, kept me silent. I said nothing as you left. Nothing. That nothing has plagued me for a thousand years. I wished every day that I had said, "I love you, Halldisa. I will be yours forever. No matter what happens I will make certain that we are together. Do not be afraid, not of death, nor of silence, nor of my father. I will find you, I will bring you back to me, this I promise you with all my heart." But I said nothing.

You didn't return the next day, but I allowed that you needed time to explain your intentions to your family. I passed the long lonely hours in carving, keeping my hands busy so that my heart and mind couldn't plot against me. When you didn't arrive again the following day, I quietly dressed and, with axe and spear, strode off to find you.

When I walked into Isleif's camp, two of the little girls were playing in a tree house, Isleif was talking to a woman who I guessed was your mother, and Asbjörn was fixing the beam over the door to the church. One of the girls saw me first and came running over, shouting, "Where is your horse today?" I put my hand out to stop her coming near me, and I must have looked serious and frightening enough because she pulled up and glanced uncertainly from Asbjörn to me.

"Come here," Asbjörn said, and the little girl went to him. By this time, Isleif and your mother were watching me. Isleif said something inaudible, and your mother seized the little girl's hand and took her inside. Asbjörn stayed on my right, trying to look threatening.

"You visit us again, Vidar," Isleif said, smiling. This time, though, I could see something beneath the smile. Fear, yes, but also self-righteous piety.