Chapter II - Jötunheim

"Eiríkur, come on," Aleksander stopped and turned around when he realized his younger brother was no longer at his heels. He pushed his shaggy blond hair out of his face and placed his hands on his hips, trying to look as authoritative as possible for a thirteen-year-old boy. It tended to work on his brother.

"I wanna go home," Eiríkur complained. He had fallen behind his brother, growing more and more reluctant to follow as they headed out of the city and toward the mountains. "I don't wanna get eaten by Trolls."

"I've told you, there's no such thing as Trolls," Aleksander said matter-of-factly. "That's just a story parents make up to scare kids."

Jötunheim was supposed to be the paradise of colonized worlds. It climate and structure it was exactly like Midgard. It was rich in natural resources and the necessities of life. It had been easily colonized early in mankind's excursion into the stars. Paradise. Just like home, but without the overcrowding, without the slums, without the filth. At least that was what all the promotional material said. Those who were fortunate – or unfortunate – enough to live on Jötunheim knew the truth.

Certainly the planet and all of its several settlements were picturesque. Lush greenery covered much of the mountainous surface. Settlements were small, quaint, and meticulously maintained. But this all hid a secret the colonizers had tried, and failed, to keep for centuries.

Jötunheim had natives. A race of sentient beings not terribly different from humans; though most humans would deny this vehemently.

Giants, they were called colloquially. Trolls, more derogatorily. Jötun was their proper name, from which the planet received its own.

The Jötun were generally a solitary and peaceful people, if primitive. They were happy to leave the human settlers alone if they in turn were left alone. But humans are vain and greedy, and the first colonizers built too close to the Jötun's homes. The ruins of that failed settlement could still be seen on the side of a mountain. A warning for future generations.

Relations between man and Jötun were tense ever since, but the settler's learned their place. Cities now sat only in the flatlands, leaving the higher elevations to their natural residents. They did not grow too large, and worried about over stepping their bounds.

Now it had been centuries since there was any contact between the colonizers and their neighbors. Giants and Trolls were now little more than bedtime stories told to naughty children. If you do not behave the Trolls will come and eat you. Do not wander too far from town or the Trolls will kidnap you. Every so often someone foolish went out for a hike or a trip to another city and was never heard from again. Rumor said they had wandered too close to the mountains; too close to Jötun territory.

Aleksander had grown up hearing these warnings, just like everyone else. But he thought he was smarter than everyone else; more mature. Only babies believed stories about Trolls. There was no such thing. At least not anymore. And he was out to prove it.

"Eiríkur there's nothing to be afraid of," The young teen insisted again as he tugged on his younger brother's arm. Poor Eiríkur was sniveling and trembling. Neither of them had been this far beyond the city walls before, and Eiríkur still vehemently believed in fairytales both with and without Trolls.

"Why do I have to come?" Eiríkur asked. He was doing his best to resist Aleksander's tugging, but his brother was much bigger than him.

"I have to have a witness, or no one will believe me," Aleksander replied. It did not occur to his young mind that his six-year-old brother was not a reliable witness. Eiríkur still did not want to follow, so Aleksander tugged harder on his arm, pulling him along. "Come on, Eiríkur, don't be a coward. There's no such thing as Trolls or Giants."

"How do you know?" Eiríkur asked. There was little he could do but follow his brother.

"Because if there were we would know more about them," Aleksander reasoned. "There would be pictures and stuff."

"I guess," Eiríkur mumbled. He did not believe that himself, but he wanted to. Then there would be no danger going into the mountains.

For a full hour the two boys hiked into increasingly dense forest and up increasingly rough terrain. The town they lived in had long since fallen from view, obscured by acres of trees and hills. "Aleksander how much farther?" Eiríkur asked. He was still frightened, and now he was tired as well.

"We're barely past the foothills," Aleksander chided, and tugged harder on his brother's arm as Eiríkur dragged his feet. "No one will believe us if we don't go all the way. It would be even better if we found a cave."

"I don't like caves," Eiríkur whined. Of course he had never actually seen a cave in his life, but they did not sound very pleasant. "I want to go home."

"Well I'm not going until I can prove there is no such thing as Trolls," Aleksander said determinedly. "You can either come with me or you can find your way home by yourself."

Eiríkur sniffed and wiped his free arm across his face, smearing the lines of tears across his cheeks. He did not want to continue, but he did not want to be left in the woods on his own either. "Fine," he said eventually.

"Good," Aleksander said and finally let go of his brother's arm. "Keep up or I'll leave you behind."

Aleksander was nearly twice the height of his brother and Eiríkur struggled to keep up with him. There was no path to follow and they scrambled over rocks and through bushes. In his haste to keep up with his brother Eiríkur was not paying attention to his footing. As they climbed up a particularly rocky patch he slipped, yelped in surprise, and went tumbling down the hill. Thankfully his yelp caught his brother's attention enough for Aleksander to turn around and look. All he saw was Eiríkur disappear into the brush below him. In that instant Aleksander felt his heart stop.

"Eiríkur?" he asked the empty air, voice full of disbelieve and confusion. What had happened? When there was no reply the boy began to panic. "Eiríkur!" he shouted, and was immediately scrambling down the slope in the direction his brother had disappeared. As he climbed down he continued to call out his brother's name, and he moved so quickly that he stumbled a few times himself. By the time he had finally reached the bottom of the slope where Eiríkur's fall had brought him Aleksander's hands and arms were scraped and bloody, his face scratched by twigs of the bushes he had crashed through in his frantic search for his brother. "Eiríkur! Eiríkur are you alright?" he asked, frantic, and rushed to the younger boy's side. Eiríkur was in tears, and in even worse shape than his brother. Not only was he scratched and bleeding, but his clothes were torn and leaves and twigs stuck from his platinum hair. But he was alive, and for a moment that was all that mattered to Aleksander and he threw his arms around his younger brother.

They stayed like that for a long while, Eiríkur sobbing from pain and fear and Aleksander clinging to him as though his life depended on it. When finally the two of them calmed down somewhat Aleksander pulled back from his hug enough to take a proper look at his little brother. "Are you hurt?" he asked, though it was obvious to some extent that the answer was yes.

Eiríkur nodded and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "My leg hurts really bad," he said, and pointed to the limb in question.

Aleksander immediately feared the worst; a broken bone while they were both stranded out in the woods where no one knew to look for them. But after a short examination he did not think it was that bad. Of course, Aleksander was no doctor, he was only thirteen years old himself. All he knew was that Eiríkur's leg was still the shape it was supposed to be, so it could not be that bad an injury. But the reality of the situation was beginning to dawn on him, the reality of how monumentally bad a decision it had been to come wandering into the mountains and to drag his baby brother along with him. "Can you walk?" Aleksander asked apprehensively. It was still only the mid afternoon, there was still time to go home and make up a story about how they had been playing in the fields just beyond the city walls. They would not get in too much trouble for that.

But Aleksander's hopes were crushed when Eiríkur shook his head. "I tried to stand up before. It hurts too much."

This was bad. Very bad. Aleksander could probably carry his little brother, but that would make it a lot more difficult to get down the side of the mountain and back home. He might even fall himself and make things even worse. But he had to try. What else was there to do? Wait here until they both starved to death?

"I'll carry you," Aleksander said. It was the only thing he could think of. No one knew where they were, no one would come looking for them, and it was his fault Eiríkur was out here to begin with. He knelt down in front of his younger brother so that Eiríkur could climb onto his back. It would make it a lot more difficult to get down the mountain, but it had to be done. Eiríkur clambered up and wrapped his arms around his brother's shoulders, holding on tight as Aleksander stood up. "Don't worry," Aleksander said, "We're going home now."

Eiríkur nodded and laid his head against Aleksander's shoulder. It felt safer with his brother carrying him. Aleksander was always brave and smart, always taking care of him. Surely nothing could happen to him with Aleksander around. But he did not like being so far from home, he would much rather be back in the city where their parents could come if anything happened.

Slowly and carefully Aleksander made his way down the slope, far more nervous now than on the way in. It made their progress slow, and Aleksander was paying more attention to where he was putting his feet than in what direction they were going. After a while he began to realize that he had probably strayed off the path they took in. Not that there were any true paths to begin with. An hour later the sun was going down and Aleksander had completely lost his sense of direction. By now their parents definitely would have noticed they were missing and would be starting to worry. Aleksander was worried to. Scared, actually, but he did not want Eiríkur to see that. Eiríkur was frightened enough as it was, it would only make things worse if he knew his brother was also afraid. He had to keep letting Eiríkur think that everything was fine.

"Aleksander I'm hungry," Eiríkur mumbled from where his head was resting on his brother's shoulder.

"I know," Aleksander replied. Exhausted as well, he guessed, and still hurt. "We'll be home soon," he said, though he knew it was a lie. The trees were not even starting to thin and the ground was as rough and steep as ever. It felt like they were not making any progress at all.

"Okay," Eiríkur mumbled.

They were moving much slower than before. Even if they had somehow managed to stay on the same path they had taken in, which Aleksander doubted, they would not make it home soon. They might even have to spend the night out here. Aleksander did not want to do that, but he also did not want to try and find his way in the dark. He had made enough bad decisions already, it was time he started worrying more about his little brother and less about his own pride.

Eventually Aleksander stumbled into a small clearing where the ground was relatively flat. He stopped to look up at the sky where it was not obscured by trees. It was dark and the stars were starting to come out. "Eiríkur," he said slowly, "I don't think we're going to get home tonight."

"We aren't?" Eiríkur asked. He sounded disappointed as he raised his head to look around.

"It's getting dark," Aleksander said, "I think we should rest for a while."

"I want to go home," Eiríkur whined.

"I know," Aleksander assured. "We'll go back home first thing in the morning, okay?" Eiríkur begrudgingly agreed, though he did not have another choice. Aleksander set him back down on the ground and immediately Eiríkur sat down. "How's your leg?" Aleksander asked.

"Hurts," Eiríkur mumbled. "I want to go home. I want mom."

"I know," Aleksander said again. "I do too," he admitted. "Don't worry, though. We'll be safe here tonight, and in the morning we'll go home, and I'm sure mom will be so happy to see us she'll make your favorite breakfast."

"You think?" Eiríkur asked. He seemed to perk up at the mere thought of a good breakfast. Neither of them had eaten since lunch the day before.

"I do," Aleksander replied. He just hoped their parents would not be too angry at him for dragging Eiríkur into all this. "Try to get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay," Eiríkur said, and lay down.

Aleksander hoped he had not been lying when he said they would be safe here. Eiríkur did manage to fall asleep, but he was so tired he probably could have been able to sleep anywhere. Aleksander could not sleep himself. He was too worried, and he did not want to be caught off guard by anything that might roam these woods at night. So instead he sat up, as close to his brother as possible, and listened with bated breath to the sounds of the forest after dark. At first all was calm and peaceful. So peaceful that Aleksander began to let down his guard and even started to doze off. He was just as exhausted as his brother.

He was awoken suddenly when the entire forest filled with sound. A huge, monstrous roaring shook through the trees and seemed to shake the very earth itself. Aleksander's heart sped up in panic and the noise even had Eiríkur awake and sitting up in a matter of seconds. "What was that?" the younger asked, his voice trembling.

"I don't know," Aleksander answered, and he was unable to keep the fear out of his voice this time.

The noise petered off and left the forest eerily silent in its absence. Then the brothers heard movement in the forest around them. Something large was coming through the brush, breaking twigs and branches as it did. Aleksander sat frozen with fear. Eiríkur clung to him for safety and reassurance. Aleksander could offer neither. The movement drew closer and closer and the brothers cowered back as best they could, hoping it would somehow pass them by unnoticed. They were not so lucky.

From out of the trees emerged the most massive creature either boy had ever laid eyes on. It came through between two large trees, bending them aside as easily as if they were a curtain that it was stepping through. It was human in shape, at least in the most fundamental of ways. It had two arms and two legs and one head. But it stood over ten feet tall with a bulging belly and limbs the size of tree trunks. It was dressed in some form of garment made of cloth and leather that was loose fitting and belted about the waist, if that could be called the creature's waist.

"It's a Troll," Eiríkur said under his breath. Immediately Aleksander pressed a hand over his mouth, hoping that somehow they could still go unnoticed. But they were not so lucky.

Whether it heard Eiríkur or not the boys never found out, but the Troll turned toward them in exactly that moment. It stared down at the brothers huddled on the ground and clinging to each other. Both were terrified, dirty, and hungry, and now they thought for sure they would be eaten by a Troll. All those stories their mother had told them had to be true; here was the proof. Eiríkur began to cry again.

The Troll had stopped when it entered the clearing, but now it took a step toward them. That was all it took to bring the massive creature right up to their side. Eiríkur screamed, but Aleksander found he had lost his voice entirely, and his will to move.

The Troll stared at them for a long moment, and then it moved toward them. Aleksander still sat frozen and clinging to his little brother, both for reassurance and to try and protect the younger boy. He should get up, he though, he should take Eiríkur and run. They would not be able to make it far, probably, but they had to try, at least. But Aleksander's legs would not obey, none of his body would. When the Troll reached them it stopped and knelt down to look curiously at the two boys.

The Troll made a noise. Maybe an attempt to speak, but to the brothers it sounded more like the growling of an animal. An animal that wanted to eat them. By now Eiríkur was completely distraught, but Aleksander had no idea what to do to sooth him or to protect him. There was nothing either of them could do against a troll that was far more than twice their size. He could only stare in horror and wait for what he thought was an inevitable fate.

The Troll growled at them again, and grunted. It stared at them closely, and even leaned forward to sniff them. The boys could only sit still, frozen like statues. Then the Troll reached forward, wrapped an arm around the two, and lifted them up. Eiríkur screamed, and even Aleksander could not keep from crying out in fear. They would be crushed, he though, or maybe eaten whole. This was it, they were going to die, and no one would ever know what had happened to them. And worst of all, it was all Aleksander's fault. Eiríkur should never have even been here.

But they were not squashed or eaten. If anything, their obvious terror caused the Troll to hold them more gently. That did nothing to calm either of the boys, though. Still holding them both in one great hand, the Troll stood up again and turned around, heading back up the mountain. Now Aleksander feared they were being brought back to the Troll's cave and cooked. It was more sophistication than he expected from these creatures, and Aleksander was horrified to find himself somewhat impressed.

Far up the mountain the Troll carried them, through the woods and far up until the trees began to thin and the ground became more stone than plants and soil, until they reached a cavernous opening in the face of the mountain. The Troll had to stoop to enter, but its hold on Aleksander and Eiríkur remained secure but surprisingly gentle, and by now Aleksander was even more confused. Because the Troll was being incredibly careful with them. He was still terrified, but so far nothing was going as he had expected from an encounter with these legendary creatures. Even the inside of the cave was not as he had expected. Not some cold, dark, and damp hole in the rough stone, it was in fact dry and warm as the Troll stepped inside with them. And well lit by a fire in the center of the cavern. The floor was smooth, and the ceiling high enough for the Troll to stand up comfortably. Once they were inside, the creature set Aleksander and Eiríkur down beside the fire. Legs unable to hold them both from fear and injury, the boys collapsed to the floor. Immediately Eiríkur reached for and clung to his brother again, face streaked with tears but by now he had run out of tears to cry. Aleksander, despite his efforts not to show how terrified he was in order to keep Eiríkur calm, had cried as well, and was shaking as he wrapped his arms around his brother.

The brothers watched as the Troll moved around the cave, but Aleksander could not understand what it was doing. Off to one side there was a pile of what appeared to be cloths or animal skins, and it spent a long moment sorting through these. Finally it seemed to find whatever it was looking for, and the Troll came back over to the boys. They huddled closer together and Aleksander made a half-hearted attempt to get away, but neither of them could move very quickly right now. From the pile the Troll had taken a blanket woven of thick, rough threads, and it dropped the blanket over the brothers' shoulders, and then left them alone again.

Aleksander was growing more confused by the moment, though Eiríkur was still too frightened and upset to think about what was happening. The blanket was certainly welcome after freezing in the cold mountain air for several hours. Aleksander could not help himself from accepting the comfort it offered, however small, and pulled it tight around both himself and Eiríkur. He used the corner to wipe the tear stains from Eiríkur's cheeks as well. "It's going to be okay," he said softly, though his voice shook unconvincingly. Eiríkur sniffled and just nodded, huddling as close to Aleksander as possible.

The troll then began shuffling through other things in the cave. Apparently this was its home, and it kept some belongings. It gathered many things into a large metal bowl and brought this over to where the boys sat by the fire. Aleksander's fear mounted again suddenly when he realized that this bowl was intended for the fire and it was full of food. But when the Troll set the pot above the fire it ignored the boys. If they were going to be cooked and eaten, it was apparently not going to be as stew.

As the contents of the pot cooked above the fire silence reigned in the cave. Aleksander and Eiríkur continued to huddle together under the rough oversized blanket wrapped around them. Aleksander kept his eyes firmly on the Troll, trying to figure out what was going on and whether he and Eiríkur should still try to escape the moment an opportunity presented itself. Occasionally the Troll would stir the soup over the fire, but for the most part it seemed to ignore the brothers even though they were sitting just beside it.

Eiríkur's stomach rumbled and he squeaked in alarm. By now the smell of cooking food filled the cave and Aleksander was beginning to realize how hungry he was as well. Neither of them had eaten since leaving the colony that day. Neither was used to going so long without food. Aleksander had brought none on his little excursion, and he realized how badly this whole thing had been planned. It was a miracle they were both alive to be found by a Troll, but he still expected that they would be eaten by one. The Troll barely glanced over at them when it heard Eiríkur's yelp, but did nothing more. Eventually it stood up again, leaving the side of the fire pit and the stew to get more things from its store of belongings. Bowls; two of them. It filled both with the soup and sat one of them down in front of the two boys. Of course the bowl was made for someone of Troll size and was far too big for either one of the brothers. Aleksander stared at it, and then back up at the Troll in confusion. They were being fed?

The Troll grunted at them and gestured toward the bowl. Aleksander looked down at it again. He had to admit that he was ravenous. Hungry enough to eat something a Troll had cooked, but he was frightened and suspicious. What was the point in feeding them? Was it trying to fatten them up so that they would make a better meal for it later? But Eiríkur was hungry and injured, and if they could stay alive here for a little while, being fed like this, maybe he would recover enough that they could make a run for it.

Cautiously, Aleksander leaned forward and sniffed at the soup. It did not smell like it was poisoned or spoiled, not that Aleksander had much experience with those sorts of things. Or any experience, for that matter. Still nervous, he reached out from within their blanket cocoon and dipped a finger into the soup. He took a quick tasted and was pleasantly surprised. While not the best thing he had ever eaten, nor even the best soup, it was actually good.

"Go ahead and eat," Aleksander told his brother. He was not convinced that the food would be fine, but if he was this hungry he knew Eiríkur would be as well. He needed to take care of his little brother, and Eiríkur needed to be fed if his injured ankle was going to heal. That was the most important thing right now. They could not escape while Eiríkur was injured.

Eating was awkward from a bowl so large, and without any utensils. They ended up having to cup the soup in their hands while hunching over the bowl. Hardly a dignified or comfortable way to eat, but both of the boys were hungry enough that they did not care. Much to their surprise, the brothers managed to finish the bowl, which was nearly empty as they sat licking their hands to clean them.

The Troll had finished eating long ago and when it saw that they were done took away the bowl. It growled at them, then. The sound was still frightening, intimidating, but Aleksander did not find it as cripplingly terrifying as he had the first time the Troll attempted to speak to them. Perhaps it was because, despite everything he had ever heard about them, the Troll had done nothing to try and harm Aleksander or his brother. So far, it had done nothing but take care of them. Giving them a blanket to stay warm and a warm meal that sat heavily in their stomachs. The cave was warm and dry, and compared to the clearing they had been in previously it actually felt secure. It felt like a home.

The Troll repeated its growl, and then left the boys alone. Aleksander had no idea what had been said to them, but he was exhausted from walking, carrying Eiríkur, crying, and not to mention it was far past his curfew. Eiríkur was already dozing off against his shoulder, comforted by his brother's closeness and the meal filling his belly. Aleksander carefully lay down with him and wrapped the blanket tightly around them. Though he tried to stay awake to keep an eye on the Troll he quickly fell asleep.


The brothers slept soundly and safely through the night, waking the next day well after noon. Eiríkur was the first to wake, but he did not move from within the tight circle of Aleksander's arms. He was too frightened to, but not nearly as frightened as the day before. They had survived a night in a Troll's cavern and they were actually better off than they had been in the forest on the slopes of the mountains.

Aleksander woke soon after him, however, and cautiously sat up to look around the cave. Outside the cavern's smaller opening the sun was shining, but it did not reach far within the cave itself. The fire that had warmed it the night before had sunk down to embers and their Troll host lay asleep on the other side of the fire pit. This struck Aleksander as strange, if only because it was so perfectly normal. They had always been told that Trolls came down from the mountains in the night, that they only did things at night. So of course they would sleep during the day. This would be the perfect time to try and escape. The Troll would not even notice their leaving, perhaps not for hours. But with Eiríkur still injured how far could they get. Aleksander had no idea where they were right now, and he did not think they could find their way back home. He would be more willing to try if Eiríkur were in better shape.

Leaving Eiríkur by the fire Aleksander got up and cautiously explored the cave. It was massive, but appeared to have been carved into the side of the mountain. Perhaps by this Troll, or perhaps by another. But there was not much to find in the cave. A pile of furs, a few pots and bowls, mostly carved of wood or stone, but the metal pot by the fire was surprisingly well made, and it was obviously not made by human's, judging by the size. There was food stores as well, kept in a side cavern. All vegetables, Aleksander could not help noticing. This did not support the mental image he had of Trolls being terrifying carnivorous monsters.

When he felt he had seen everything there was to see Aleksander rejoined his brother and huddled up in the blanket with him again. The rest of the daylight hours they spent talking quietly and playing small hand games or drawing in the dirt floor.

Only after the sun had set did the Troll stir again, and immediately the two boys stopped their games to watch it cautiously. The huge creature yawned and sat up. The boys waited with bated breath to see if they would be eaten for breakfast. They were not. The Troll barely glanced over at them before it stood up and went to the mouth of the cave, disappearing out into the night. The boys were safe for now.

And safe they remained. For several days this pattern continued. The Troll would go out, do whatever Trolls do in the mountains at night, come back and feed them dinner, and then they would all go to sleep. As time wore on and the Troll showed no signs of wanting to eat them, Aleksander and Eiríkur were able to relax somewhat.

"I don't think she wants to eat us," Eiríkur was the first one to say it, though they had both been thinking the same thing. That thought was not what shocked Aleksander about his brother's statement.

"She? You think it's a girl?" Aleksander asked.

Eiríkur shrugged, "Doesn't she look like a girl troll?" he asked. Aleksander had no idea what a girl or a boy troll would look like, this was the only one he had seen up close. "And she's taking care of us. She gave us food. And she sort of reminds me of mom."

Aleksander was still cautious, though, still unconvinced that the Troll had not brought them here for some sinister purpose. But even he had to admit that if they were going to be eaten it probably would have happened by now. Eiríkur's ankle was healing slowly, and Aleksander had been doing his best to take care of it so that it would not get any worse, but it was not something he knew how to handle nor did he have the right tools for the job. Still, at this rate Eiríkur would be well enough to walk in a few more days and they could try again to find their way home.


A week later they were still in the cave. Eiríkur had long since grown impatient of sitting around. As soon as his fear of the Troll weakened enough that he was not constantly in fear for his life, the young boy tried to get up and hobble around the cave as far as his injury would let him. Aleksander was unable to keep him from sitting in one place, and now he worried that Eiríkur's youthful energy would prevent his ankle from healing as quickly as it could.

From the looks of things, however, it seemed they would be safe here indefinitely. Each evening the Troll woke and left the cave, going out to do whatever it is Trolls do during the night. One time Aleksander had considered following her, but he only went as far as the cave entrance. He did not want to leave his brother alone here. When she returned in the early hours of the morning the Troll woman always brought food for the boys. Aleksander had been wary at first, none of the food was familiar to him, but nothing had made him ill.

The Troll cooked for them using the fire pit in her cave, and showed more finesse than Aleksander would have expected. There was a type of coarse, heavy bread that was prepared from a thick paste and fried on hot rocks, slices of a meat Aleksander did not recognize the flavor of but that was butchered with enough skill to impress a human chef, and various root vegetables and berries that were usually cooked into some form of soup. None of it was actually bad, though it did not taste like anything the brothers had eaten before.

Often the Troll would attempt to speak to them in her strange growling language, and sometimes late at night Aleksander thought he heard her speaking to another Troll outside the cave, but they never saw any Troll but the one who was caring for them. After all this time, Aleksander and Eiríkur were beginning to recognize certain sounds that she would make. Eiríkur once tried to repeat one of the words she said, one they assumed referred to food, and the Troll had laughed at them and smiled around its huge crooked teeth. "Your accent is probably terrible," Aleksander told him later. But accents aside, the brothers were beginning to understand, and beginning to make themselves understood. They were learning. They could communicate.

And with communication came understanding.

With their limited but rapidly increasing Troll vocabulary, the boys learned that they were not in fact considered food. The question actually made their caretaker laugh again. "Jotun not eat people," she explained simply, paring down her words so the brothers would understand. "Jotun eat plant and deer."

"Why Humans say Jotun eat them?" Aleksander asked.

"Humans not like Jotun," the Troll explained. "Long time ago, Humans want to live on Jotun land. Try to make Jotuns move, but Jotuns not want to. Jotuns live here many years, long before Humans come to planet. When Jotuns not leave Humans attack them, try to kill all Jotuns and have planet for Humans only. Jotuns fight back to protect selves. Many Humans and Jotuns killed, was very sad time. Finally Humans and Jotuns make peace, Humans can have flat places, Jotuns have mountains. Jotuns like mountains better anyway. Now no more fighting, but Humans and Jotuns still not friends. Still much fear."

"So Humans hate you because they want your land?" Aleksander asked. "They tell us you attacked Humans first."

The Troll shook her head solemnly. "Cannot say who really attack first. Fighting is long time ago," she explained. "Jotuns only want live in peace, like before Humans come. Still not safe for little Human boys to explore mountains. Not all Jotuns nice to humans, some still hate all and want Humans off planet. Maybe would hurt Human boys to scare other Humans and make them leave."

"I don't think it would make them leave," Aleksander said. "They would get angry, probably attack you for revenge."

"Then war start again," the Troll agreed. "This why Human boys need to go home when they can. Grid take Human boys down mountain to flat places, safe from other Jotuns, then you go home."

"Can we ever see you again?" Eiríkur asked. He had grown fond of the Troll woman – Gridi – even though his brother was eager to get home and put this behind them.

"Not safe for Human boys to come to mountains," the Troll shook her head sadly. "Grid keep you safe, but you lucky that Grid find you before another. You come to mountains again, maybe you not very lucky."

"Mom and Dad are probably really worried about us, too," Aleksander said to his brother. "We've been gone for a long time, and we didn't even tell them we were leaving." Everyone probably thought they were dead by now. "We should go home as soon as you think your ankle's better."

Eiríkur pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. Honestly, his ankle was much better, had been improving rapidly, but he was playing it up so that they would not have to leave. He liked it here, where he did not have to go to school or do chores. "I know," he mumbled. "But we're friends now, and I want to see her again."

"Maybe we will," Aleksander said, "You never know. But she's right, it would be too dangerous for us to come up here by ourselves again."

"Fine," Eiríkur sighed and pouted even more. He knew that Aleksander and Grid were right, but he did not have to be happy about it. "I guess we can go home soon."

Three days later Eiríkur felt fully healed, and as promised Grid lead the boys down the mountain to the edge of the woods. It was just before dawn when they neared the edge of the trees and the Troll woman would go no further. "You see Human city when you leave forest," she told them, pointing in the right direction. "Grid have to leave now, very dangerous if Humans see her."

"Thank you for taking care of us," Aleksander said, craning his neck to look up at the towering woman.

"We'll miss you," Eiríkur added, looking a little weepy though the young boy had managed to hold back his tears for now.

"Grid miss you, too," the Troll replied, "Very nice Human boys. Wish all Humans nice like you."

"Me too," Aleksander replied, and took his brother's hand as they headed out of the trees. When they looked back Grid was gone, already headed back up the mountain toward her cave, and Aleksander pulled his little brother toward the city in the distance and back home.


Aleksander and Eiríkur showed up on their front step looking decidedly worse for the wear after two weeks in the wilderness. When she answered the door and found the two boys standing there like nothing was wrong their mother screamed and cried and hugged them as though she would never let them go. Even their father seemed happy and relieved to see them safe. Naively, the boys had assumed this was all they would have to endure. But as soon as their parents got over their hysterics the boys were swept off to the nearest hospital, where they were questioned and poked and prodded enough to set Eiríkur to tears multiple times. He cried more at the hospital that day than he had during their impromptu holiday. Aleksander felt smothered, claustrophobic. He did not want to talk to any of these people, and tried to shove away the doctors and his parents when they came too close.

They told everyone who asked the true story of what had happened to them. At first no one believed them, but Aleksander insisted. Childishly, he thought that if more people knew that the Jotun were gentle and intelligent it would improve things between their two species. It did not. The story got twisted as it traveled from Aleksander to his parents, to the doctors, to the reporters. They told a story about two boys who had gotten lost in the woods, stumbled upon a group of Jotun, and managed to survive by pretending to be Troll children until they had a chance to escape.

Both protested vehemently that this was not the case at all, but no one listens to children.

They spent two days in hospital before being allowed home, where they were continually smothered by their parents until Aleksander thought he would go mad. Two full weeks of "recovery" that felt more like house arrest and more like captivity than anything they had suffered with Grid, then they were finally allowed to venture outside again. Tentatively, their parents allowed them to go back to school, and the boys had never been more relieved to go to school before in their lives.

Unfortunately, when Aleksander and Eiríkur returned to school they found that their torment had only begun. Of course the pair had been all over the local news: two young boys who survived in the mountains for weeks by "pretending to be Troll children" the stories said.

"Troll brothers," the other kids called them. "Go back to the mountains. Nobody wants you here. Smelly trolls." And much worse came out of the mouths of children. Those they thought were friends now shunned them out of either disgust or fear. On the way home from school that first day Eiríkur was shoved into the mud and the kids laughed at him. "That's where trolls belong. He must feel right at home." He returned home in tears.

And this was all Aleksander's fault. His fault that Eiríkur got hurt. His fault they got lost. His decision to go with the Jotun that found them. His fault for forcing Eiríkur to go with him on such a reckless venture in the first place.

"Don't let them get to you, Eiríkur," Aleksander told him as he cleaned his brother up that afternoon. "They're just trying to make you feel bad. But you didn't do anything wrong, there's nothing to feel bad for."

"Still feel bad, though," Eiríkur mumbled.

"Yeah, me too," Aleksander said. "But if you don't let them see that, they'll stop bothering you."

"They will?" Eiríkur asked. He did not quite believe that.

"Most of them, anyway," Aleksander said. "But don't worry about the rest. I'd never let them do anything bad to you. You know that right?"

"Yeah," Eiríkur mumbled, nodding slightly.

"Good," Aleksander replied. As long as he was around nothing could happen to Eiríkur. He had kept him safe in the mountains, and he would keep him safe in the city as well. And everywhere else they went, because he never intended to let Eiríkur out of his sight again. Nothing was more important than making sure his little brother was never scared and hurt like that again.


End Notes:
Jötunheim – home of the Jötun, or Trolls/Giants.
Grid – A friendly Jotun woman from Norse mythology, mother of Odin's son Vidar.