Disclaimer: I do not own, nor profit from.
Author's Note: I am sooooo sorry I haven't uploaded in a while. What I envisioned to be a lazy summer has ended up as an extremely busy summer. Humm. And I still have homework. Oh dear. I need help. Enjoy!
Remembering
A dark cell...
Sunlight hurt his eyes...
Guttural tongues flying...
A rustle nearby...
Cracked lips...
Fingertips brushing across his face...
"Tony?" A soft voice echoed in his head, soothing, but worried. Tony stirred, eyes straining against the bright light.
"Shhh. Tony, it's okay. Relax." The soft, familiar voice sounded again, closer. Tony blinked, glancing around for the speaker. A human shape appeared by his side, dark outlines fuzzy.
"Where..." He started, but was cut off by a hand over his mouth.
"Tony, go back to sleep. You need to sleep." The words turned into a chant, humming around Tony's head, singing him back to sleep. Lulling him softly.
De grener av Yggdrasil
De støtter så mye
Jotunheim, av giganter
Alfheim, av de små, lette alver
Nidavellir, hvor dvergene bor,
Svartalheim, av de mørke alver,
Niflheim, en verden av is,
Muspellsheim, en verden av lyse brann,
Vannheim, våre forfedre,
Asgard, verden av gudene,
Midgard, hvor menn bor.
Disse store riker, alle så mektig,
Støttet av vår Verdens Treet, vår Yggdrasil.
Det hjelper å veilede oss, det gir oss liv, gir det oss skjønnhet.
Det ga meg deg.
Kjemper, alver, dverger, død, is, brann, forfedre, guder, menn, du.
Yggdrasil, ros jeg det.
Det ga meg deg.
o0o
Green. Emerald green surrounded him, vivid. Drawing him in. Everywhere.
A man stood, dark and tall. He turned, green eyes set in a pale face.
Black on green.
Dark on light.
"Ikke bekymre deg, min kjærlighet. Jeg vil være med deg snart. Jeg lover, min kjærlighet. Min Tony."
o0o
Tony felt the sand underneath his toes, soft and firm. The sun rose high in the sky, shining right above him. Tony walked, in no specific direction, the baking sand slipping through his toes, bathing them.
This was paradise.
He ran towards the sea, for it only to retreat further. He kept running, frustration starting to creep up on him. The blue glistening sea crept further back, until it disappeared from his line of sight altogether.
Fear started to claw at him. He was stuck in a desert, by himself. Sand dunes grew out of the horizon, towering him. He tried to climb, never getting higher, running against a tide.
He collapsed, staring out, watching the sand landscape change before his very eyes. A man sat next to him, staring out at the world.
"Du vil finne veien tilbake snart, min kjærlighet. Frykt ikke. Jeg vil være ved din side hele tiden."
They sat, staring out at the world, hands enclapsed together, the whisper of a song catching on the wind around them.
Kjemper, alver, dverger, død, is, brann, forfedre, guder, menn, du.
Yggdrasil, ros jeg deg.
Det ga meg deg.
o0o
Tony threw his arms out, trying to drag himself back to the surface. The darkness started to envelope him, clawing at him, dragging him down. He gasped, trying to get back to the oxygen, desperate.
This is what it is like to die.
He gave himself to the darkness, letting it eat him, letting it at him.
He gave a last gasp, raising his eyes towards the lighter blue above him, giving a small smile. He turned back down to the darkness, ready to greet it.
He saw a figure rise, floating towards him. Strong hands encased his face, caressing him.
"Tony? Tony! Vennligst hold. Vær så snill. For meg. Ikke la gå. Ikke gi opp."
o0o
An endless blue sky stretched above him, inviting. Scary. Beautiful.
Dark blue glistened around him, lapping at his feet. Blue turned silver, back to blue, back to silver.
Tony sighed. Blue was tranquil. It was relaxed.
The water rippled before him, spreading out in circles. Droplets forming, starting the process over again. Tony watched, fascinated. He sat down, running his hand across the surface, watching the water part. He raised his hands, watching the droplets run down his palm, tracing a path.
Beautiful.
"Jeg skulle ønske jeg kunne være der med deg." Tony raised his eyes, focusing on the pale man before him. "Jeg vil finne en vei til deg. Jeg lover, min kjærlighet. Jeg lover." Tony touched his fingertips to the man's, tracing the water on them.
"Jeg vil finne deg."
Tony smiled, "I know."
o0o
His breathing quickened, his pulse racing. The white closed in, the walls creeping closer. Claustrophobic, that was what they called.
A Pain in the Arse was what Tony called it.
Capital P and all.
He pressed his hands up against the walls, struggling vainly against them.
"I am... not... getting crushed... to death... by white walls." Tony wheezed, still struggling against the force.
"Tony! Du må roe. Vennligst Tony. Du må roe ned!"
"You think I can calm down? Do not tell me it is going to be like Star Wars, I'll get out. Because nothing happens the same in real life as it does in movies. Han Solo got out? Good for him. Tony Stark will soon be a pancake!" Tony yelled, still struggling against the walls.
"Tony! Stopp! Vær så snill! Tony!" The pale man was getting desperate, shouting at the room.
"You calm down first!" Tony snapped at the man.
The dark-haired man slid down the wall, tears streaming down his cheeks. He was stuttering something under his breath, trying to control his sobs.
"If you're going to say something, say it out loud." Tony snarled.
"Himmelen er mørk og åsene er hvite
Som storm-kongen hastigheter fra nord i natt;
Og dette er sangen stormen-kongen synger,
Som verden kappen hans hiver han:
"Sov, sove, lille, søvn;"
Han rasler sine vinger og barsk synger:
" Søvn, lille, søvn."
På yonder fjellsiden en vinranke
Klenger ved foten av en mor furu;
De tre bøyer seg over den skjelvende ting,
Og bare vintreet kan høre henne synge:
"Sov, sove, lille, søvn;
Hva skal dere frykte når jeg er her?
Søvn, lille, søvn. "
Kongen kan synge i hans bitre flytur,
Det furu kan synge til vintreet i natt,
Men den lille snøkrystallen på brystet mitt
Liketh sangen jeg synger best, -
"Sov, sove, lille, søvn;
Trett du er, anext mitt hjerte;
Søvn, lille, søvn. "
The English Translation for all the Norwegian in this chapter. The Norwegian may not be brilliant, as I did use Google Translate, which I can verify isn't brilliant, as I used it for GCSE French, and I got a D. So I'm sorry if the language isn't brilliant. For the first song, I made it up myself, so it's not great. All the sentences after are also mine, as it is all part of dialogue. The last song is an actual Anglo-Saxon song I found on the Internet. So it is a proper one, but I've used it as I don't think Copyright existed in Medieval Britain.
The branches of Yggdrasil
They support so much
Jotunheim, of giants
Alfheim, of the small, light elves
Nidavellir, where the dwarves reside,
Svartalheim, of the dark elves,
Niflheim, the world of ice where the dead reside,
Muspellsheim, the world of bright fire,
Vannheim, of our ancestors,
Asgard, the world of the gods,
Midgard, where men reside.
These great realms, all so mighty,
Supported by our World Tree, our Yggdrasil.
It helps to guide us, it gives us life, it give us beauty.
It gave me you.
Giants, elves, dwarves, dead, ice, fire, ancestors, gods, men, you.
Yggdrasil, I praise it.
It gave me you.
o0o
Do not worry, my love. I will be with you soon. I promise, my love. My Tony.
o0o
You will find your way back soon, my love. Do not fear. I will be by your side all the time.
o0o
Tony? Tony! Please, hold on. Please. For me. Don't let go. Don't give up.
o0o
I wish I could be there with you. I will find a way back to you. I promise, my love. I promise. I will find you.
o0o
Tony! You need to calm. Please Tony. You need to calm down!
o0o
The sky is dark and the hills are white
As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night;
And this is the song the storm-king sings,
As over the world his cloak he flings:
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;"
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:
"Sleep, little one, sleep."
On yonder mountain-side a vine
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;
The tree bends over the trembling thing,
And only the vine can hear her sing:
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
What shall you fear when I am here?
Sleep, little one, sleep."
The king may sing in his bitter flight,
The pine may croon to the vine to-night,
But the little snowflake at my breast
Liketh the song I sing the best,-
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
Weary thou art, anext my heart;
Sleep, little one, sleep."
