Hukkua
Up, up in the north, farther than you could have possibly been, there once was a lost village amongst the snow and the northern lights.
It was a grey and dull place to live, one could affirm that it was a village built for the dead and it was always filled with the monochromic sound of an old watermill, lazily dragging the water in an ever endless cycle.
Indeed, the dead inhabited that village not the living or so went the word of the drunkards that gathered together every night in the small, decrepit pub, sipping on their drinks that could have easily been mistaken by piss.
Alcohol was the only escape they had to rip their minds away from that place for a while.
In total, there were six houses on that village, the rest laid in burned and snow covered ruins.
One it was the pub itself that also served as a home for its owner, who diligently brewed his own liquors at his own place. Other belonged to an old woman who had lost her vision many years ago and yet managed to be aware of everything that was around her. There was also the house of the grave keeper whom had seen his fair share of death more than enough for a lifetime.
Near the forest there was the home of two lumberjacks that spent more time drowning themselves in alcohol than in the woods.
The last house… The one by the river, lived Berwald Oxentierna and his mother.
She had ran away, that's what she had claimed, the poor girl with a delicate face and big frightened eyes. She belonged to the royal family but she had fallen in disgrace.
- She's expecting a child. – had the old woman affirmed, who knew it all as always – Someone impregnated her.
The girl never said a word about it but it was not needed.
They had allowed her to stay until the child was born, although the chances of surviving on that stark climate were almost impossible.
But so he did survived. Berwald with his stern look and yet gentle manners. Since he was young that he felt the responsibility to protect his mother, but he was only but a child.
- Stop looking at your home boy. Your mother is busy tonight. – the old woman had said, knowing that he was staring outside in the direction of his house, always observing as she had to take care of Berwald for the night as it was usual.
But how could he look away? He tried so desperately to understand what was going on.
The strange shadows that moved through his mother's room were as intriguing as somewhat uncomfortable for some unknown reason.
Both figures moved frenetically, faster and faster while yelling.
Sometimes it was his mother and one shadow, sometimes there were more.
And they all hollered and stirred like primal animals.
- W… What are th'y doin'? – Berwald asked timidly to the old woman.
- When are you going to learn how to speak properly? Get back here and read this text out loud until you pronounce all the words correctly!
- But my-
- Your mother does what she has to do to put you food on the table. Now, back to work. Read the book's title.
- K… Kalevala… - he stuttered.
- Very good. Read it from where you left yesterday.
And the small child, grabbing the old and heavy tome, opened it with his chubby hands and declaimed in the best pronounce he could come up with, a long epic that the old woman seemed to love so much. Sometimes, she would even sing him to sleep parts of the book, in a language that he did not understand.
- "But the singer, Väinämöinen
Had not yet beheld the sunshine,
Had not yet seen the golden moonlight
Still remaining undelivered."
Berwald had quickly learnt the rules of the village.
Do not make questions, do not react to whatever he could hear about his mother even if it was something on the terms of 'The princess will suck me dry again tonight', never enter his mother bedroom when she was accompanied as it was obvious that she was occupied and never stay too long near the river.
- Are you n't afra'd of livin' near the graves?
- Those graves are empty Berwald, the only dead you should fear are the ones who come from the river.
- Do they kill ev'ryone?
- Only disobeying little boys who do not go to bed on time and keep questioning old women incessantly.
She was lying obviously. Every night everyone lit white candles by the windows because the dead could not bear to see the light.
If the dead caught someone alone in the dark, they would become drowners too.
On the next night he felt contented. At last he could spend some time with his mother and despite her pale and frail appearance, she always smiled tenderly at him.
- Do you like your dinner, sweetheart? – she asked softly while petting the silky blond hair of her darling son, joy of her life.
- It's really good! – he answered smiling – You are the b'st cook!
- I'm glad you think so my sweet. Drink your milk while it's still warm.
If she could, she would offer Berwald the best life that her body could support. She dreamt of the day that she would be able to take him away from that place, where both could live together happily.
The door slammed open with a violent sound, allowing the cold and snow to invade the small house.
This time it was the grave keeper.
- A whole rabbit. – he said throwing the carcass to the middle of the frugal wooden table – Just caught it. That's worth a whole night and this time I don't want Nylund watching! I'm sick and tired of that guy cumming before me! If he knocks at the door, don't open!
- M-My son is here… - she stuttered almost in panic, fighting back the tears.
- Scram kid, your mother and I have business to make. Everyone has to have a function over here.
Berwald got up in fury, with a spark of aggressiveness on his eyes. No, he would not allow anyone else to touch his mother!
- Berwald, take this candle and go quick to Hanna's house… Go…
- I don't w'nt to! – he exclaimed, escaping from his mother's grasp and pointing furiously to the grave keeper who was clearly losing his patience – You go away!
- If you don't give your bastard the proper education then I will! – the older man snapped, approaching with firms steps in the small child's direction with a closed fist.
- NO! Don't hurt him! He's only a child he doesn't understand! – the poor woman cried, holding the brave little boy against her chest – My love, my darling… Listen to me. Look at me Berwald please. Everything is going to be just fine, this won't take long. Here's your candle. Lit it by the fire and go quickly alright?
And so he did. Against his will, Berwald ran through the night with his lit candle in the direction of old Hanna's home although the fury that was consuming his entire being boiled inside him in a destructive wrath.
He halted suddenly on his way and pondered his options. Whether he could go to Hanna's house where, once again, he would wait for his mother to come and pick him up or…
The river flowed lazily as always. Would the dead come and take the grave keeper to his grave?
The lonely child hold on to his white candle. And despite his terror, he dared to go to down to the snow covered river bank.
Berwald waited and waited. And kept waiting. And nothing would come, nothing except the grave keeper's grunts and his mother yelps carried by the wind.
- Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die… - he muttered incessantly that word as if it was a mantra, wishing for the grave keeper's death while trying to maintain himself warm with the frail fire burning weakly on his hand.
But no dead would come, he had been lied to!
- Die? Is that what you want? – whispered someone, or something at his ear. In horror, he dropped the semi burned candle as soon as he heard such a soft and yet ominously whispered voice right next to him.
On that moment, in the middle of darkness with no moonlight to even light his way, at a mere centimetres from his face, shone a two piercing lilac eyes that observed him attentively.
The kind of predatorily eyes that watch its prey.
- So, - the sibilating voice asked once again, this time more slowly, almost with a strange melody on their words – You're waiting to die? Is that why you're here?
- A-Are you th' de'd?... – Berwald stuttered at last, having difficulties is pronouncing a single word correctly.
- I'm from the river, from the other side of the shore. And I could kill you if I wanted. You're tiny and soft. – the horrified boy felt his face being poked gently by a very cold and wet finger while being delicately sniffed – Why are you here? No one comes to the river.
Berwald made his best effort to not puke or urinate his pants due to his panic, while trying to focus on what to say.
- What are you th'n? – he managed to ask.
- I don't know. Someone I suppose. I exist don't I? Therefore I must be something.
- Do you really k'll others?
His fingers were led to a pair of jaws with sharp, pointy teeth.
- Sometimes. I have their blood mainly. I usually feed on animals though, but human blood is still my favourite. Your hearts are also good to chew on.
- Are th're more like you?...
- They all left. But I like it here, so I decided to stay. And you? Why are you here?
- I need… - the scared boy with an heart of a lion gathered up his courage and spoke – I need you to kill people.
With such answer, the purple eyes gleamed in delight.
- Truly? I was not expecting this at all. Well then, this must be your lucky day then. What do people call you?
- Berwald… Berwald Oxentierna.
- Alright Berwald. Who do you want me to kill? I must say, this is most amusing to me.
- You hear them? – the brave child asked, his eyes glued to the back of his house in the dark of the night.
- Several nights. – the predator replied – It's always the same four males and one female. They are so loud I know their voices already.
- Those men are to be killed. And the woman must be saved. She's my mom.
- I see. – the lilac eyes returned back to Berwald's face, now bearing such a serious countenance – You'll have to wait then.
- Why?!
Berwald felt himself being lifted up and those abnormal eyes stared deep into his as if his soul was being thoroughly scrutinised.
- I'm too young to kill a grown man yet, first I must grow. Right now, the only person I could possibly kill is you. – he laughed airily – But don't worry, I won't do it. I finally have someone to talk with!
- I don't need s'meone to talk with I need those man dead!
- Oh, soon I'll be able to help you I promise. With your aid, I'll be the most fearsome predator of this place! – the small killer retorted amusedly, while preparing himself to return to the water – Then you can live happily ever after with your mother.
- W-Wait! You n'ver told me your name!
- A name? I don't have exactly one, but you can give me one if you want to! Amongst my kind we are known as Väinämöinen. – the voice replied, and with what Berwald almost swore it would be a grin, the predator disappeared in the dark waters.
"But the singer, Väinämöinen
Had not yet beheld the sunshine,
Had not yet seen the golden moonlight
Still remaining undelivered."
Author's notes: People and things to blame for this "cheery" short story: My fever, my pills to fight the said fever, Tuomas Holopainen and Toni Wirtanen.
Now go listen to Ghost River by Nightwish and Pahempi Toistaan by Apulanta.
I've always said that if I wrote something concerning SuFin I would include something of the Finnish epic poem Kalevala, so here it is.
Finland's surname stars on the said epic poem as the name of the main hero.
The name Oxentierna is from an ancient noble Swedish family that still exists nowadays. Probably it's most famous person is Axel Oxentierna, lord high chancellor of Sweden under the rule of king Gustavus Adolphus.
More pearls of literary/history wisdom by me yours truly. My life resides on books and I love to share these curiosities with everyone. Himaruya I see where you go get your names.
Honestly? I have no idea if this looks decent or not because my sickness prevents me from being a good judge. Not that I'm a good one when I'm healthy but I digress. Still, even though I'm sick, I refuse to write Sweden's dialogue by abolishing every single vowel he pronounces to the point where his speech gets unreadable.
I hope you liked this 1st chapter and hopefully tomorrow I'll have the 2nd ready