So yeah… I have a problem with writing out my thoughts on paper at work and then taking forever to get it transferred to the computer. Sorry everyone! But before we move onto the chapter, I just wanted to address one thing:
Some people were concerned over the twins' actions towards Salazar. But seriously. There is no slash… I guess I just don't see anything wrong with their actions. I mean, nothing is going on with them so why should it matter how the twins choose to comfort Salazar? Seriously, I've always seen Fred and George as being very tactile sorts and always needing to touch. It's part of how they give affection!
Okay, so having trouble with translating some things correctly. I'll try to still use translated words occasionally, but I'll write everything in English while making note of what is actually being spoken in another language. Make sense? Oh… and so I was doing some more in depth research and found out that the Founders probably would have spoken Pictish rather than Scottish Gaelic, though they would have known Scottish Gaelic. Oh, my goodness it's all so confusing. Oh, and written language probably would have been Latin. So:
"Old Norse is in italics."
"Pictish is in italics and bolded."
'Scottish Gaelic is bold and is quoted with apostrophes.'
"Written Latin is underlined and in italics."
"Parseltongue is underlined."
'Fawkes speaking is in italics and is quotes with apostrophes.'
If any other languages pop up over the course of the story, I will make note of it as well. I will also post this key at the beginning of following chapters to make it easier to remember.
Last Time:
George's arms tightened around his waist and a soothing hum met his ears. Salazar couldn't stop himself from relaxing back into the hold. He sighed then and closed his eyes, letting himself give in just a little bit. Deep down inside of him, he knew that these two would not hurt him. Did not mean that he had to open his heart to them, but he could allow himself to relax a little bit at least. As he drifted off into a nap that really was much needed, he never felt Frederick momentarily freeze up after brushing some of the inky black hair away from his forehead.
Chapter Ten
"Little brother… wake up. Come on, Sal, we have to get going…" The voice disturbed his sleep, rousing Salazar quickly.
"Do not call me that infernal nickname," he groused as his eyes opened still heavy from sleep. "And I am fairly certain that I am older than the both of you." He received an unrepentant grin in response, a note of what appeared to be sadness in the redhead's eyes before it disappeared just as quickly. Salazar had to wonder if he had imagined it. He shook it off to focus on more pressing matters as he slipped out of bed then and wished the bed away with a thought to the Room. A slight twitch of his lips was the only betrayal of his amusement as the twins dropped to the floor at the sudden disappearance of the bed. Both emitted some rather colourful curses. His smile widened a moment as he raised his hand to dispel the privacy ward.
"I still do not like it," he heard Babbling grouse. It appeared that everyone was gathering from whatever they had been doing while he had napped. "Parseltongue was likely used in the wards because of Slytherin, but it is still Dark no matter what he says about Family Magick! Just the thought of it makes me feel uneasy." Salazar kept a scowl off his face, not pleased that she was speaking behind his back and still dwelling on his ability. At least the others were looking uncomfortable at her opinionated grousing.
"Tell me," Salazar spoke up before anyone else could. His voice made Babbling's shoulders tense up at having been caught and Salazar felt a vicious sense of victory. "Tell me, Professor Babbling, what is the difference between Light and Dark?"
She turned then as Salazar had made no attempt to walk around the table where she sat. "They are opposites, of course. Light magic is inherently good and Dark can only be used for evil."
"Wrong," Salazar spoke sternly. "Magic is magic. It is inherently neutral and is all about the intent of the wielder. Only the witch or wizard can be good or evil, not the magic. Light can still be used for evil deeds." He tilted his head back slightly, straightening his shoulders to a rather rigid stance. "The difference between Light and Dark is sacrifice. It is true that Dark magic can be addicting if one is not careful, that it can be more easily used for evil ends because of how powerful it is." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "When a witch or wizard uses Dark Magic, it requires sacrifice. Blood magic is one notable example where the sacrifice is obvious. Both draw both on a magical's core and the earth's natural magic. However, Dark magic will often draw more on the magic inside a witch or wizard's core, while Light magic is more of a conduit for the natural magic in the earth. And the orientation of a magical core is based upon how easily a certain magic will come to a magical. Dark cores need less of a physical sacrifice, but do not have all of the necessary conduits for earth magic so, as a result, Light spells come harder."
Babbling opened her mouth to argue further, but Salazar cut her off. "You yourself fall more towards Neutral then to any extreme of Light, as your chosen field falls on the balance of magic. You might have grown in a world where the scales of magic have tipped towards Light, but you need to understand that there needs to be a balance in magic! Neither side must overtake the other else we lose our gift! Voldemort must not be allowed to win, but we cannot let all Dark magic be wiped out either!" Salazar cut himself off and cleared his throat then before he took a deep breath. "I apologize for my outburst. It seems that these last few stressful days have gotten to me. Just remember… magic is bent by the will of the caster, not by the magic itself. A skin flaying curse can just as easily be used by healers to remove unrepairable skin if controlled." He narrowed his eyes at Babbling. My final point is thus… would I be trying so hard to protect Hogwarts if I was in some way aligned with the Dark Lord?"
He straightened his shoulders and quickly gathered himself, not pleased with himself that he had lost his control. He made a motion with his hand then and the far wall of the room shimmered before wooden doors appeared. "Professor Babbling, you may take the door to the right. You will find a bathhouse with all of the materials you will need to cleanse yourself. You will also find a simple white hooded ritual robe along with a pair of sandals. Remember to refrain from any magic once you leave the bath." He motioned towards a row of small lockers that had suddenly appeared. "You may leave your wands here," he told them. He placed his own wand in a locker and closed it. It would not open again until he pressed his hand against the wood.
Salazar turned on his heel then and led the way to the baths. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, immediately met by steam from the waters. He moved to the side and removed his clothing, folding it neatly on the provided shelving. The other men followed his lead, though the twins did not neatly fold their clothes as Salazar did. The dark haired man rolled his eyes and walked over to the edge of the large pool. He knelt down next to the bath where there was a large copper bowl filled with an assortment of herbs he had prepared himself the day before. Now, he whispered softly as he ran his fingers along the rim of the bowl, blessing the herbs to draw out their cleansing properties. He stood with the bowl in his hand then and took a handful. He threw it out over the water and repeated the motion until the bowl was empty, the herbs dissolving into the water.
"Be sure to wash yourselves thoroughly," he reminded them as he turned to the group. As they approached, the twins responded with a playful affirmation before they pushed him unceremoniously into the pool. Salazar emerged moments later sputtering and with a promise of retaliation in his eyes. But he let it go for the moment and instead gave them a dark look before he retreated to a corner of the pool so the others could join him.
He could hear George and Frederick roughhousing in the water, but ignored them to focus on his own bathing. "What are the runes around your arms?" A voice asked suddenly though, making Salazar turn his head. He found Charles standing nearby, washing a chest covered in burn scars. The man's blue eyes were focused on the dark bands that surrounded both of his forearms.
Salazar brushed his fingers through his damp hair, untangling the braids it was in. "A short number of years ago, I partook in a Neutral ritual to give me some control over wandless magic. It uses my arms as a focus rather than a wand, but is incredibly draining. I use it as a last resort in the case I might ever lose my wand in a duel." It also gave him the advantage for various rituals, but he was not about to give away all of his secrets. He had far more control over wandless magic than he admitted to, but purposefully misled the men listening. It was the truth that magic like that was draining though and so was not something he used willy-nilly.
Dipping beneath the water, Salazar ran his fingers through his untangled hair. When he resurfaced again, he ran his hands over his beard to squeeze out the extra water. It needed a bit of trimming, he decided. Climbing out of the water then, the wizard picked up a linen towel to dry himself. He used a bone comb to brush out his hair and then pulled it back in a simple braid. His beard was neatly combed next before he dressed in the loose tunic and trousers that had been bleached of every impurity. The others would dress in the same.
When he turned around, the others were in various stages of dress. Salazar silently slipped on a pair of woven straw sandals and waited for the other men to finish. Once they were all dried and dressed, the group stepped out together into the main room again to find Babbling waiting for them. She sniffed and turned her head away, but Salazar ignored her. She might not like him, but she would understand him enough to be able to do the ritual. If barely, but it would have to be enough.
A gentle request to Hogwarts had a third door popping up between the two doors that led to the bathing rooms. It opened to the outside, a perk of being loved by the sentience of Hogwarts. He could hear the grumbling from the twins, but ignored them. "Come. We must get moving," Salazar said as he picked up a basket from a table and handed it off to Einar. He let the elf then lead the silent trek to the crystal clearing.
Picking up a copper horn, Salazar stopped near the clearing archway. He nodded to the others and then he stepped through into the circle. He made his way to the altar and brought the horn to his lips. He drew a breath and blew a long blast. This was the beginning of the ritual, to call to the members to the gathering. The first four to enter – Einar, Charles, Lugh, and Frederick – carried burning sage. They strode to the four cardinal points and waited for the rest to fill in the circle. Once all had joined, Salazar gave another short blast of the horn before slinging its band across his chest. As the horn's blast still rang in the air, Einar stuck his sage bundle in the ground so the smoke could continue to waft upwards. "I call upon Odin in the North."
Charles copies Einar's motion. "I call upon Thor in the East."
Lugh followed next. "I call upon Tyr in the South."
Frederick went last with, "I call upon Heimdallr in the West."
Those who were not fluent in the language had obvious accents, but their words were clear from plenty of practice. The burning sage's smoke seemed to swirl about their ankles and upwards, cleansing the circle of anything lingering.
Salazar raised his hands then. "We call for Odin."
"Aldaföðr."
"Fjölnir."
"Forni."
"Hávi."
"Sanngetall."
"Sviðurr."
"Veratýr."
"Váfuðr."
Each called one of the names of Odin. It was certainly not all of them, but each name had been carefully chosen for the purpose of the ritual. It was from Odin that the knowledge of runes had first appeared to man, so his blessing would be beneficial. Einar then pulled out a sealed drinking horn from the basket and broke the wax seal. He took a drink and then passed the horn to his left. The horn passed around the circle until it reached the elf once more. He held it out to Salazar then who drained the last bit of the specially brewed mead. The drinking of the mead tied them all together symbolically as friends, family, like a war party might drink together.
The next part of the ritual was the hardest part and one they had practiced many times. If they failed, they would not get another chance so soon. With a deep breath, Salazar passed out a ritual knife to each of the group, greeting each one familiarly to keep the ties close. He took his place back at the altar then and removed the selenite crystal from the soft bag it had been in while in the basket. He settled it down on the base upon the altar before lifting up his own copper knife. "Fehu," he intoned and traced the rune in the air where it burned with visible light before soaring towards the crystal. With the first run spoken, each person in the circle began to recite their string of the rune web, tracing each one in the air with their knife. Salazar's bound the web together, punctuated by the parsel runes that needed imbedding throughout.
Their chanting went on for hours, the mead they had drunk keeping their voices clear and unbroken. When the chanting finally came to a close, they all ended on the same rune. The crystal glowed an almost blinding white before it settled to a more manageable, but no less brilliant, shine. Einar brought forth another drinking horn and passed it around the circle as he had before. Once all had taken a drink, they imbedded their copper knives blade first into the soil. It was an extra step Salazar had added to the ritual to help bind the new ward stone to the rest of the ward web as it would have more focal anchors through the copper knives used to inscribe the runes.
As he spoke next words of thanks to Odin for his rune knowledge and his blessing, he could feel the heavy weight of the wards start to settle upon his shoulders. Yet somehow the air around them felt clearer to breathe, felt lighter. The feeling was enough that he had to hold back a joyful laugh. He was not the only one if the smiles were anything to go by. Salazar closed his eyes and smiled himself as he heard Frederick speak. "I thank Heimdallr in the West."
"I thank Tyr in the South," spoke Lugh.
"I thank Thor in the East," spoke Charles.
Einar finished with, "I thank Odin in the North." Salazar brought the horn from around his chest and brought it to his lips. He gave a long blast then, dismissing the circle completely. One by one they stepped from the circle of trees, Salazar at the forefront. And stepping from the circle of trees, it was if a great weight had fallen from his shoulders. The ritual had been successful and so the weight of the wards had been far too noticeable. It was a relief to be free of that weight, as well as carry the relief that the ritual had worked.
"She is happy," a musical voice spoke from a distance above him. It was light and airy, almost whimsical. When Salazar looked up, his first impression was that of an elf. The woman that sat in the tree bough was small and willowy, though shapely. Her golden hair shined like the precious metal in the pale light of the sunrise. Her expression was soft upon a dainty face, almost elven in nature. But her eyes… the blue was as clear as the morning sky and sparkled with knowledge. Perhaps not elven at all, but a vision of…
"Lady Sif?" He had never seen such a beautiful hue of gold before and the young woman before him certainly bore a striking resemblance to the goddess.
But the woman gave a light giggle and jumped to the ground from her perch. "Flattered, but no," she said as she practically skipped over to Salazar. She almost looked as if she was floating, her bare feet barely touching the ground. "You do not know me, though I know you." Her eyes glittered with mischief. She then looped her arm around his and smiled up at him. "I am Luna Lovegood. Escort me to breakfast? You must be famished."
The strange woman led him off to the castle without even stopping to wait for the others as they stepped from the circle. Salazar found himself rather bemused by the woman, but not threatened. Her eyes held something hidden, but no ill will towards him. "Who are you?" He asked finally, indulging her and not pushing her off of his arm.
"Vǫlva," she said simply, but her eyes once again glittered in that strange way. "But only the nargles know."
The word nargle was foreign to him, but Salazar filed it away for later. "You are young for a Vǫlva," he stated carefully, though teasingly. She only smiled knowingly at him. "But then, I am the wrong gender for a seiðr if we were to follow by old traditions," Salazar continued. "And that is what they would have called me." The laugh she gave was warming. It brought a small smile to Salazar's lips against his own bidding.
Pausing then, Salazar turned to the others who were not far behind. "Go eat and then rest. Take comfort that we succeeded and that the wards are stronger than ever. Hogwarts will continue to stand. You all have my deepest appreciation." He gave a slight bow before straightening. To the vǫlva woman, he gave a polite smile. "Would you care to break your fast with me in my quarters, Miss Lovegood? It is too early to take meal in the Great Hall." He thought that, perhaps, she would want to speak with him in private by the way she had come to him.
She gave him a smile in return. "I would be honoured. And do call me Luna."
"Luna, then," Salazar agreed. "Please, call me Herrick."
"Herrick. It suits you," Luna said airily as they walked away from the group. "They remember your name, you know. The village does. Once the world knows you… the village will be happy to welcome you."
Salazar immediately frowned. "So they will know. My past will come to light. Will it be soon?" It worried him. His House still had such a sullied reputation, one that would take years of work before he even could even think to put thought into revealing his true name. Yet if it was out of his hands… his identity could be made known before the world was ready to accept him. Still, if what Luna said was true, then the village could be a place of refuge.
"One day, yes. It will happen whether it be days, months, or years," Luna said, breaking through Salazar's thoughts. So he need be careful until such time he was ready to reveal himself and need work with the knowledge that it would one day come about whether or not he wanted it. "You have friends by your side, Herrick. You will not be abandoned," Luna's sweet voice broke through his thoughts once more. He could only give a polite smile in response.
He pulled open the door to the Room of Requirement then. The door would automatically disappear once all had made it through so he did not bother staying to make sure the rest all made it inside. He could see the twins whispering between themselves, but decided not to let it bother him. He could always wheedle it out of them later if he needed to. Instead, he paused just long enough to say a farewell to Einar and collect his wand from its place of safekeeping in the Room. He then led Luna through the still quiet halls to his chambers. After he had invited the young woman to make herself comfortable, Salazar excused himself to change into fresh clothing.
He called first for a house elf to request their morning meal and then went to wash his face in the bathroom. A quick spell trimmed his beard and tamed his wayward hair, plaiting it simply along his back. Running his fingers through the loose bangs that framed his face, Salazar looked himself over in the mirror. Sleep should take care of the dark circles beneath his eyes, but that could wait until he finished his conversation with Luna.
When he returned to the room, dressed in a simple tunic and pants, it was to find Luna sitting cross legged on the couch. She was humming an unknown tune and braiding her hair when he entered. She gave him a sweet smile that had his own lips quirking into a slight smirk. She had that ethereal quality that he knew in Einar. Once more he had to wonder if she had elven blood. "My mother's grandmother was half elven," Luna said off handedly in response to his unspoken question. "It is written all over your face," she offered up next in explanation to the quirk of his eyebrow.
"And just as straightforward when you want to be," Salazar drawled. His words pulled a giggle from the blonde haired woman.
She smiled just a bit wider then and gave him a wink. "One has to drive amusement from somewhere and, besides, one can't make it too easy."
"Yes… Vǫlva are known for their riddles," Salazar said as their breakfast appeared on the table before the couch. He took a seat on the nearby chair before gathering up a bowl of porridge for himself. "So tell me now your riddles."
The young woman gave another giggle. "You've caught me." She picked up a bowl of porridge for herself, not elaborating. Luna stirred her porridge once before she scooped some up some of it up. She gave a little hum as she made sure to lick every last bit from the spoon. "The curious thing about humans is that there is much around them that they cannot see. And because they cannot see, they do not believe. But then also they do not see because they do not want to see. The truth is right in front of them, but they ignore it." She gave Salazar a significant look, but Salazar could not make sense of it. Did she speak of his true identity as one of Hogwarts' founders? He doubted she would answer him. The bell like laugh she gave only proved his suspicion. He could see her eyes glitter with mischief.
"The Dark Lord searches to turn the tides to him. For too long our world has rested in a stalemate," Luna whispered then, running her spoon through her porridge. "What he seeks is beyond the river Gjoll from where it springs forth at Hvergelmir to the bridge Gjallarbru, protected by Modgudr. He has bypassed her toll. Yet sight to him is blurred and hard to predict. His mind and purpose is unknown, even to the gods themselves. But his travel takes him on paths far North. He cares little for the old gods of any people, so for him to seek out their realms is concerning," Luna spoke gravely, her eyes distant. She blinked then and focused back on Salazar. "The Dark Lord seems to seek out Helheim, but it cannot be Seen why."
Salazar grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fantastic," he drawled out. He turned his eyes to Luna then, his gaze full of calculation. "Why come to me? Why not tell the Headmaster?" He had the horrible feeling that he was not going to enjoy the answer.
The smile that Luna gave was knowing. "You are marked in the favour of the gods. Sowilo. The gods have watched over you all of your life. Great things are expected of you. You have experience of the glory of the old religions and you honour them. You have knowledge that very few retain in modern times."
"You want me to travel to Helheim to search for what the Dark Lord has planned," Salazar deadpanned.
"I want nothing of the sort," Luna said sweetly. "But I have Seen it."
"Who wants it is not of importance, merely the fact that I shall be making my way to Helheim." Salazar sighed as he set his empty bowl aside. "Yes. Very well. I will make the arrangements then."
((Page Break))
And make arrangements he did. Luna offered to substitute his classes for him as well as tend to his Head of House duties. Salazar reluctantly agreed only after he had tested her abilities in the lab. She did more than satisfactory, but he still felt hesitant in leaving his students for any amount of time. The hardest task, however, was asking for the Headmaster's approval. Salazar felt reluctant to divulge his destination, convinced that Dumbledore might misunderstand his intention or try to send a companion along with him. The latter being the more likely scenario and one he wished to avoid at all costs. He did not want to have to explain his reasoning. He might even be laughed off. For believers in magic, witches and wizards could be extraordinarily lacking in faith. That being that they didn't believe in what they couldn't see or have proof of being possible.
In the end, Salazar told Dumbledore that he needed the leave to go on a pilgrimage. It was not technically a lie as the definition of a pilgrimage was 'a religious journey or mission'. Helheim was a sacred realm as it existed apart from Midgard. It was one of the places of afterlife for those who believed in its existence. He had been sent on this journey by Luna, who acted as a mouth to the gods, among other things. The journey could affect the war so he could not refuse it in good conscience.
So the next evening found him outside Hogwarts' gates with a pack shrunk to the size of a coin purse and hanging about his neck, Einar by his side. "Modgudr will want payment in blood once you reach the bridge Gjallarbru, as the legends say. That is to say that only the dead may cross. Hemrod refused the toll and made it across, but rode upon Sleipnir's back. What do you intend on?"
Salazar fiddled with the ring around his finger that was to be used as a portkey. "I will be making a brief rest in Fyrkat. I do not intend on revealing myself to them yet, but I am in need of a horse."
"A horse? Your journey will be long. Even Sleipnir himself took nine long nights," Einar commented with a frown.
At this, Salazar gave a sly smile. "That is what magic is for, my friend. I know a rather crafty piece of spellwork and runework that will let my steed borrow the speed of Sleipnir. As for the toll of blood… well, I will find a way. I have no wish to join the dead and add my blood to the waters of Gjoll."
Einar was quiet before he removed the cloak that was about his shoulders. "The nights of the North are long and cold even in autumn. The path to Helheim even more so. Take this, Herrick, and be safe. Come back to me, my friend. I do not wish to lose you a second time."
Salazar reached out and took the offered fur lined cloak. He wrapped it around his own shoulders and pinned it in place. He dropped his hands then. "You confuse me with Gryffindor, Einar. I will not be so reckless as to get myself killed." Not yet at least. He had things to do before he could go to his death with honour.
"Ah, yes. Herrick of the Silver Tongue. Able to speak his way out of nearly anything. Unless, of course, if he has had too much to drink." Salazar could not stop the blush that stole across his pale cheeks. Einar chuckled and took a step back. "I will look after your students, Herrick. Luck on your journey." Salazar gave a nod before he felt a hook grasp his navel. A moment later and he was being whisked away.
The landing was abrupt and nearly sent him sprawling. It was only sheer force of will that kept him on his feet. Still, Salazar brushed off his clothing before stepping from the circle where he had arrived. The surrounding land was forested, but an area had been cleared and marked for magical travel. The stones that lined the circle were engraved and painted with glowing images. They were guide stones for travelers and created a barrier also that would keep certain pieces of darkness trapped within the circle. As Salazar stepped from the circle, he could feel the warmth of the magic wash over him. It felt like coming home.
The world was quiet around him, though Salazar suspected it was the muffled timber of the forest that gave it its peace. The only sound he could hear was the soft crunching of earth beneath his leather boots and the soft swish of fabric as his cloak brushed against his long forest green tunic. As he stepped from the forest though, Salazar had to stop as everything suddenly washed over him. If it was overwhelming to be at Hogwarts again… it was nothing compared to Fyrkat. There had been a buildup of magic over the many centuries he had missed through time, but he had been used to the feeling of home that Hogwarts provided.
Around the city and its surrounding farms was a barrier, probably something similar to what was around Hogwarts and other magical cities throughout the world. The wards would hide the city from muggle eyes and protect the city from many other things. So as soon as he stepped through the barrier, the life of Fyrkat seemed to wash over him. In his time, Fyrkat had not been a magical establishment but had still seemed to glow with life. It still had the feeling of life with the hustle and bustle, but was now coated in the feeling of ancient magics. Perhaps the difference between Hogwarts and Fyrkat was the heavy presence of the gods. Hogwarts was a place of learning, but its faith was diverse or nonexistent. Here… the worship of the old gods was well and truly strong.
Salazar shook away his thoughts and followed the path down to the carved wooden gate of the village as the circle had been closer to the city itself from the forest than it was to the farmlands. Already he could see children running about, their laughter filling the streets. Both girls and boys carried wooden versions of the weapons their parents wielded, play fighting and splattered with mud. They ran around the feet of their elders, each carrying out their daily tasks for the day as many prepared to close up shop and tend to evening duties. As he walked down the hill, he could see out into the harbour as well. He could see boats coming in along the fjord, laden with the day's fishing. The docks themselves were awash with activity from fishermen, shipwrights, and traders. Around the village he could see the liveliness of the farms as farmers brought in their stocks for night from far off pastures like little specks in the distance. It did not lessen the liveliness in the air.
As Salazar passed through the gate, he could see children stopping to look at him. Others too gave him passing glances, greeting him as he walked through the wooden and thatched houses. He would need to find a place to spend the night then see about a horse in the morning. So when a man stood from his work to greet him with, "Hail, stranger! From where do you roam?" Salazar turned to him in greeting.
The dark haired wizard then responded with, "From far off lands I have travelled and have much before me to yet journey. I am in need of a place to rest my head for tonight if you could point me in such a direction."
The man wiped off his hands and straightened fully, giving him a grin. "Sit at my table tonight, stranger. We can share ale and stories."
Stepping forward, Salazar picked up one of the sacks of feed that the man had been carrying. "I am Herrick. I would be honoured to accept your hospitality."
His new host gave a pleased smile and hoisted the other sack over his shoulder, his build tall and strong. "I am grateful. Call me Eirik." The man made a motion with his head then and started along the path, expecting Salazar to follow. "What brings you to Fyrkat, Herrick? I do not believe I have seen your face before. Your clothing is that of our people, so do you hail from one of the other villages?"
Hoisting the sack a little higher, Salazar shook his head as he followed after Eirik away from the village and to one of the farms. "I visited once long ago," he spoke truthfully. "Fyrkat was like a home to me, but I have not been here in a long time. It is good to be here, but I can only stay for the night before I must be on my way first thing in the morning." His host nodded, but didn't press. He led Salazar to one of the thatched homes and knocked on the door with his boot. A young woman opened the door for them.
"Faðir!" The woman dragged the door open wider, a beaming smile on her face. Salazar had to smile at the smudge of mud on her cheek and the way her golden hair was in disarray. Eirik shook his head in exasperation, but led Salazar inside before he dropped the sack to the floor next to the door. Salazar followed suit.
Eirik gathered his daughter into his arms and kissed her cheek, much to the young woman's embarrassment. "Hilde, this is Herrick. He will be dining at our table tonight, so why don't you go let your móðir know, hm? Then go draw a bucket of water from the well." He let the girl go so she greeted Salazar before rushing off further into the house. She reappeared moments later and ran off with an empty bucket. Eirik laughed and invited Salazar to sit at the table near the hearth. "She is rather excitable. A rather formidable shieldmaiden that I do not have to worry over. Much like her mother really."
"Do I hear you telling stories, husband?" A woman appeared from an inner room of the house and walked over to the hearth to stir a pot of some sort of stew. Eirik rolled his eyes playfully and poured two cups of ale. He passed one over to Salazar and saluted him before taking a drink. "Well? Will you introduce me to our guest?" The woman spoke again, her hands on her full hips.
Salazar hid a smile behind his cup as Eirik gave a hearty laugh. "Herrick! Meet my wife Siv!"
After placing his cup back against the table, he nodded to Siv in greeting. "Thank you for inviting me into your home. I am Herrick."
Hilde came back in shortly after with her arms carefully wrapped around the bucket of water she carried. She placed it down next to the hearth to keep it warm and then settled onto the bench next to Salazar. Siv shooed her off though, telling her to wash up so the young woman slid back off the bench with a pout to go do what she was told.
"I have been around English wizards for far too long," Salazar said in amusement as he ran a slender finger along the rim of the copper cup. "I have missed the liveliness here."
Eirik snorted and took a draw from his own cup. "English wizards are far too proper. Stiff. They have their customs, but do they have any enjoyments besides the playing of children? Or do they lose that sense when they become adults?" His mouth pressed into a grim line then. "Or does their evil wizard suck it from them?" He quickly shook his head and cleared his expression as Hilde came back. Her hair had been brushed down and the smudge of mud had been washed away.
Letting the young woman sit next to him, Salazar took a draw from his cup. "It is the wizard that steals it even from the children," he whispered. He shook his head and gave Eirik a wane smile. "It is not talk for the table, not something I wish to bring with me on my journey." The war was for English wizards, concerning him as it had brought Hogwarts into its clutches. But… perhaps he could call for allies. It could be a tipping point. Voldemort was afraid to die. Observation and research had told him that much. How would he fare against wizards who were not afraid to die upon the fields of battle? But did he really want to drag even more people into a reckless war?
"Herrick?" Hilde's voice caught his attention and Salazar turned his two toned eyes down to the young woman. She brightened when she saw that she had gotten his attention. "You say you go on a journey… where do you go?"
Shaking his head, Salazar gave a little chuckle. "North. I head to the North. But why don't I tell you of the time that I met a Jotunn?" He deflected her curiosity easily.
Hilde gave a gasp and turned to straddle the bench, her hands fisting into her skirt. "A Jotunn? Was it giant and ugly?"
"Ugly? No. Giant? Yes. She was as tall as the trees and sat upon stones carved from the base of a mountain. Her hair was as black as coal and her skin was as pale as snow," Salazar whispered as if afraid to be overheard. Hilde scooted in closer, her blue eyes wide with wonder. "As I approached her, she lounged in sleep with her head resting against her hand. Her clothes were made of grass and she wore flowers in her hair." Salazar took a breath and turned more towards Hilde. "Now I was curious. Why was a Jotunn woman sleeping at the base of a great mountain? So I moved in closer…" He leaned down further to Hilde and noted in amusement that the girl was practically holding her breath.
Salazar then grabbed Hilde's arms in a flash, making the girl jump and give a startled gasp. "'Who are you?' she asked me! She was not asleep! 'I am Herrick,' said I. 'What do you want?' said she. 'It is not nice to interrupt one's sleep.'" Salazar chuckled. "So what do you suppose I did, Hilde?" The young woman shook her head, eyes still wide.
"Nothing!" Salazar said with a shake of his own head. "She would not let me speak! Instead she gave a great huff, felling trees and blowing great boulders like little pebbles in a stream. 'I might forgive you, but you must do something for me. You see, I have lost an item of great importance. You must find it for me or else I will eat you in a stew!'" Hilde gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Salazar tried not to smile. "'What is it that you lost?' said I and she told me of a gold torc bracelet."
Hilde scooted forward again, practically in Salazar's lap now. One of her hands rested upon his woolen trousers. "Did you find it?" She asked the question in a hush, her words making Salazar chuckle.
"Now, you do not see me eaten in a stew, have you?" Hilde giggled and shook her head. "I thought not. So where was I? Oh, yes… I was to find a missing golden torc. How hard could it be? It must be giant in size, right?" He shook his head mournfully and gave a sigh. "For three whole days and nights I searched high and low, but to no avail. It was nowhere to be found! On the third night I decided to stop for a rest as it was getting far too dark to see. In the roots of a great tree, trunk as wide as a house, I laid down to sleep."
He took a drink from his cup before continuing. "Now, the next morning I was woken by the sound of wings. A great wind rattled the trees and shook it down to its very roots. When I crawled from my sleeping spot, it was to a great bird settling into its nest in the tree. Its wings were so large it could black out the very sun!" He paused then and leaned down to speak in a whisper as if he was telling Hilde a secret. "And about its neck was the golden torc! I told the great bird my story, how I had searched for three days and for three nights for the very thing that he carried around his neck. He told me then, 'I have an eye for pretty things and I found this by the river. How should I know you tell me the truth and that you do not want this torc for yourself?' So I offered a trade. If I could find a pretty piece to give in return, then the crow would return the torc to me. So for another three days and three nights I searched for something to offer the crow in trade."
"On the morning of the fourth day, I began to despair. If I did not return by the end of the night, then surely the jotunn would find me and have me for stew! But as I walked along, I came across a maiden in a field. Her hair was as golden as the finest metal and glimmered as real as gold in the sun. So I stopped and told her my story, asking for a bit of her hair to give in exchange for the torc that the crow wore. The maiden took pity on me and plucked three strands of her golden hair which she braided into a bracelet of which I have never seen finer! 'Take this, stranger, and give to the crow. Take the torc and return to the jotunn so you might not be stew. But in return I ask only a kiss,' she spoke."
Hilde interrupted the story with her giggling. "Did you? Did you kiss her, Herrick?"
Salazar smiled and gave a nod. He then kissed Hilde's cheek, earning a blush upon her cheeks. "Just as that. So she gave me the bracelet of golden hair and I brought it to the crow. 'Ah, the finest gift! You may have your torc!' it cried and left the torc at my feet. I thanked the crow and took the torc, knowing I had little time. 'You are late,' the jotunn woman told me when I appeared. Fearing for my life, I presented her with the torc which she immediately plucked from my grip. 'Too bad,' said she. 'But I will honour our agreement. Thank you for returning this to me!' So off I went."
Laughing, Hilde gave her father a bright smile. Eirik chuckled and took a drink from his own cup while Siv placed down bowls of stew in front of them. Hilde gave a coy smile then before pointing towards the bowls. "Is it Herrick stew?" Salazar couldn't stop his laugh. For all the evil and the tragedy in the world, all the uncertainty… the lingering innocent of youth was like a beacon and a warm shelter against the storm. Not that he was very old himself. He did not think he was actually much older than Hilde, though he had seen more in his short lifetime. Eirik's deep laughter joined in as Hilde giggled more at her own joke.
"Come now, Hilde. Let our guest eat his dinner," Siv chastised her daughter as she settled down on the bench next to her husband. Hilde huffed, but moved further away from Salazar to gather her bowl close.
The young woman was quiet a moment before she looked to Salazar. "Will I see you again, Herrick?" Her voice was soft as she scraped her spoon against her bowl.
Salazar smiled as he picked up his own spoon. "Perhaps I will make my way through Fyrkat again one day. Would you welcome me?" Hilde nodded quickly before finally diving into her dinner hungrily.
When they finished eating, Hilde was sent off to bed. She gave a huff, but respected her mother's wishes. As she rose from the bench, she gave Salazar a smile before disappearing into the other room. Eirik poured them both another drink while Siv gathered up the dishes.
"My daughter has taken a shining to you. She is of marrying age," Eirik said lightly, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. In olden days Hilde might have already been wed off, but things had certainly changed since then even if many other things still stayed the same. Either way, Salazar was not looking for a wife and he told Eirik so. The man only chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. He studied Salazar for a moment then. "Your accent. It is good, but you are not from around here are you?" Eirik asked then as he picked up his cup. "What truly brings you here?"
Salazar was quiet as he ran his fingers over the rim of his cup. Finally, he looked up to Eirik. "War. The entirety of the British Isles has been ensconced in war. The tides are changing so I seek answers to something that very well might mean the war's end whether for good or bad."
Eirik gave a grim smile and nodded in understanding. "You are seeking answers in another realm," he observed. "There were rumors of a dark cloaked man who passed through villages like a wraith."
Salazar could not hold back a grimace "I know who it is and follow his trail to seek what he is after. Not even a Vǫlva could see his doings and it is concerning. I have my suspicions, but would rather not give them voice just yet."
His host gave another nod before downing the rest of his drink. Eirik stood then. "You have had a long journey, and one equally as long before you, so I can guess you would enjoy a warm bed. Wait here a moment and I will fetch some bedding." As the man stood, Salazar sipped at his own drink.
"I would be more than happy to accept your good will," he said after a moment. "I am grateful for how well you have hosted me in your home." Eirik gave him a pleased smile before disappearing into the other room. Salazar's own smile immediately dropped off his face and he rubbed at his eyes. He already missed Eolas' companionship, but this journey was not one for his coldblooded familiar no matter that the creature was magical.
Eirik came back then with the promised bedding which was quickly set up near the elevated hearth in the center of the room. The man dropped back down at the table across from Salazar then and poured himself another drink. The two men stayed up into the late hours of the night just talking and sharing drink. Most of the talk was from Eirik who took great pride in getting Salazar up to date on things in the village. Eventually the two men finally retired to bed, both more than just a bit tipsy though Salazar hid it better.
The next morning, Salazar was woken by Hilde as she slipped into the room to stoke the fire. "Good morning, Herrick," she said softly when she noticed that he was awake. "Breakfast will be ready soon."
Salazar rolled out of bed and used a murmured spell to fix his hair. He went over to the bucket of water near the hearth to wash himself. Feeling much more awake, he walked over to Hilde's side to help her with the morning preparations. He could repay their generosity with the labour of his hands. So once Eirik emerged, he followed the man outside to help care for the few animals that the family had. "We will be moving them into the house soon enough. The nights are getting to be cold," Eirik said as he dumped feed into the trough for the goats. Salazar nodded as he scattered feed for the chickens, remembering days spent in the long past.
He turned to look at Eirik then as he grabbed another handful of feed. "I am in need of a strong horse. Do you know where I might go to see about purchasing one?" The trip would be very long indeed if he was to try to make the journey on foot and it was not possible to use normal magical ways of transportation. Often there was a particular path that must be taken to travel into the different realms. Portals had to be accessed a certain way.
"Try Geir Bláskegg down by the port. He's got a few horses I hear he was looking to sell. You'd best try your luck with him first," Eirik suggested.
Salazar let himself give a huff of laughter. "My thanks. But Bláskegg? Might I make a guess that he sports a large black beard? That is what the name means, does it not?"
Eirik grinned as he dropped his bucket down. "You might just be right. Mighty proud of it he is too."
Salazar put away his bucket as well. "And might you be called something?" He asked with a teasing lilt to his voice. Insults were taken very seriously amongst this people, but it did not stop jesting. It was a fine line that Salazar often enjoyed walking.
"Eirik Bjornson is I and nothing more. I have no other name," Eirik responded as he led the way back into the house as the morning chores had been finished. "But perhaps one day when I'm old and grey," he said with a laugh as he pushed open the door into the long house. Inside, Hilde was helping her mother set up the table with their morning meal. Eirik invited Salazar to sit so both men took their seats. Hilde seated herself next to Salazar and offered him a bowl of porridge.
After the meal was over, Salazar gathered his things and bid the family goodbye. He thanked them for their generosity and Eirik offered him his home again if Salazar passed by in the future. Salazar thanked him again while admitting that he might one day take him up on the offer. He left the farmhouse then, making the trek back down to the city to search out Geir.
Though most of the people lived in the surrounding area in farms, the city itself was alive with activity just as the day before. Some did live in the city, those who made use of the port. And though Fyrkat was home to so few, it was still vital to the surrounding farms. The city was a place of gathering and a place of trade. So if this Geir did not have a horse to sell him, Salazar knew he could find another.
Eirik's farm was located near the village in a cluster of other farms. There were several buildings clustered together with other farming families, with their land spread out around the fenced in yards. There was room for livestock and for cultivation. Salazar followed the path through Eirik's farm as it would carry him back to Fyrkat. As he walked, he could see sheep and cattle roaming the field. Life here was so simplistic… it was almost soothing in a way. The people here had lives centered around magic and lore. He could feel the magic in the air. And yet… they knew the value of working with their hands. English noblewizards could certainly take a few lessons, Salazar thought. He himself could remind himself of it as he found himself relying on magic far too frequently. Perhaps once Hogwarts closed for the summer months he would spend his time here. It was something to look forward to for sure.
Once in town, Salazar found Geir exactly where Eirik had said. It was hard to miss the man who laughed so jovially while enjoying a game of Hnefatafl. The large black beard, streaked with grey now, also gave it away. "I heard you were the man to see about a horse," Salazar said as he settled himself down against a fence post of a nearby pen. Two horses stood inside the pen, one a dappled grey and the other a deep chestnut. Both were growing out heavy coats and had shaggy manes.
"Depends on who sent you and who you are," the man replied as he set up the game board.
"Eirik Bjornson sent me," Salazar said evenly, though his lips gave a slight twitch of amusement. "And I am known as Herrick."
The man hummed. "Then I am Geir. And you say you were looking for a horse? How do you intend to pay for it? I do not know you, Herrick."
"I can trade in either bullion or wizarding coin, whichever you would prefer," Salazar responded, watching as Geir played the game with his opponent. "How much are you asking for?"
Geir looked up at Salazar and regarded him closely for a moment before turning back to his game. "Three hundred and fifty grams of pure silver is a fair price," he stated after making a move on the game board.
"Two hundred and fifty," Salazar countered smoothly.
The man looked up at Salazar with a grin. "Ah, and what do you take me for, Herrick? No, no…Three hundred and twenty grams of silver."
Salazar could not stop the sly smile that passed over his lips. Perhaps some would not find haggling enjoyable, but he rather liked the bartering. Some people got too impatient. And really, he could go at this for hours… but he had a quest before him that he could not delay. "You and I both know that we will settle upon three hundred grams even. Let us skip the dance and just agree upon the price, yes? So… three hundred grams of pure silver and I will take the grey."
Geir finished off his game before he replied to Salazar. He moved his last piece and then stood up. His opponent stared at the board in disbelief before scoffing and dropping a couple of coins onto the board. Once the man had slunk away back down to the port, Geir smirked at Salazar. "Three hundred grams and you will have the grey? Impatient man. But I see you have a trek before you if your clothes are anything to go by and I do not know you. So, yes, alright… produce your silver and we shall weigh it." He pulled out a scale and set it up on the game board after tucking away the silver coins from his opponent. He dropped some weights into one of the bowls after Salazar verified that it equaled to 300 grams.
Reaching into the bag around his neck, Salazar whispered a spell under his breath. It brought the needed items to his fingertips without having to enlarge the entire thing. He pulled out three bars of silver, each one hundred grams each. Geir took the time to inspect them to ensure that they were pure silver as Salazar had told him. Once he was satisfied, he placed them into the opposite bowl as the weights. "Everything seems to be in order," Geir said after a moment. He reached his hand out to Salazar and they clasped their forearms together. "We have a deal then, my friend. The grey is named Grani and he is now yours."
Salazar could not stop the short chuckle the passed from his lips. "Grani, is it? Named for Sigurd's own steed and a descendant of Odin's steed Sleipnir." It was rather a funny thing actually as it had been Sleipnir that had been ridden into Hel's realm before. So it was fitting really that his new horse be named Grani, a descendent of Sleipnir. As Geir packed away his new silver and his scales, Salazar approached the grey stallion and reached out a hand. It huffed and then snuffled at his palm before apparently deciding that he was alright.
"Will you be wanting him out of the pen now?" Geir caught Salazar's attention. When Salazar gave his agreement, Geir opened up the pen and grabbed hold of Grani's lead. He offered the end to Salazar, who took it and then grabbed hold of Grani's bridle. He led the large horse out of the pen and gave Geir one last word of thanks before leading Grani away. He was rather thankful that the trade had not lasted long. Geir had obviously been in a hurry to sell the two horses. Grani looked strong and healthy at least. Salazar made a stop through the market to purchase a saddle for Grani and then rode the way out of town on the horse's back.
Salazar reined in Grani when they were a good way along the path away from the village and surrounding farms. He led the horse off the path and to a stream. "Go on then. Drink," he said as he patted the horse's neck and then slid out of the saddle. The journey was going to be right murder on his backside that was for sure. Salazar grumbled a bit as he searched through his bag for the proper tools he needed for the spell he was going to use on Grani. He transfigured a nearby fallen log into a table and set up his supplies. There were various jars of dried herbs along with a stone bowl.
Measuring out each herb carefully, Salazar murmured softly to himself with his brow creased in concentration. He set the last jar aside before picking up the stone pestle, mixing the herbs as he crushed them into a fine powder. A little bit of liquid from a bottle created an inky paste that he could use to draw onto Grani's hide. "Hush now… hold still," he crooned soothingly to Grani as he approached the horse. Grani stomped his feet and tossed his head, but stayed in one place. Scooping up some of the paste, Salazar used his own fingers to paint out the needed runes on Grani's shoulders and quarters. He worked slowly so he wouldn't spook the horse or smear the marks.
It took Salazar an hour to complete the marks. He washed his hands quickly in the stream before pulling out his wand. Now was the time to see if his spell would work or not. He took a deep breath before placing the tip of his wand against the first rune. "Best of horses amongst men and gods, steed of Odin. Swift of feet and light of foot, son of Loki. Speed of Sleipnir to make short the way," he whispered as he gathered his magic. He guided it down the focus of his wand, activating the first rune. Nothing happened for a moment before one by one the runes started to glow. Salazar took a quick step back and covered his eyes as the light became near unbearable.
When the light faded, Salazar quickly looked back and sagged in relief at the still lightly glowing runes. Grani was shifting restlessly, four natural hooves stamping along with the ghostly mirages of four more hooves. "Settle…" Salazar soothed as he made quick work of cleaning up. He quickly mounted into Grani's saddle and patted his neck. "Let us be on our way… we have a journey of nine days ahead of us, Grani, even with the borrowed speed of Sleipnir."
The road flew quickly by them, the path hidden from muggles. Fellow travelers on the road were quickly passed and left far behind. Nights were spent curled up beneath blankets and furs as they grew colder. And as the days passed, they slipped from the road of the living onto that of the dead. Salazar nearly missed the transition and it was only as they passed a lonely soul on the way to Hel's hall did Salazar realize the change.
But the journey of the dead is not meant to be travelled by the living. The weight of it sunk into his bones and dragged him down. He thought even Grani could feel the weight of the journey though they finally were coming to the end of the first stage. They had finally come to Gjoll and were following it now to the cave of Gnipahellir. The mouth of the cave loomed before him and he knew the heavy obstacles of Helheim's guardians now lied before him.
Salazar took a great breath and tightened his hands on the reins of Grani. "Pray that we leave this journey alive, dear friend. But then… perhaps we should take faith in that it was the gods who set me on this journey, perhaps even Odin himself." Grani snorted and stomped his hooves, his tangible legs along with the shadows of four more. Salazar smiled and patted Grani's neck. "Garmr lies before us first, but he will let us through. Do not let him frighten you."
But even he could hardly contain his own fear as the great beast stepped from the shadows of the cave mouth. Alike to Fenrir, it stood at a great height and carried every bit of fierceness of a mundane wolf but in greater numbers. Blood stained its fur and the howl it gave felt like it could freeze the blood in his veins. "Go, Grani!" It was only the speed of Sleipnir that allowed them to weave through the pillars of Garmr's legs, leaving the chained guardian behind. An offering of a Hel cake he fished from his pack and dropped behind them kept the wolf from snapping at their heels. He could only imagine how Voldemort had managed to pass by the great beast unharmed! Hel cakes could appease Garmr, but were said to only work for those who had given bread to someone in a time of need. It did not have to be as literal as that, but still the notion behind the act remained the same.
Breathing hard, Salazar continued to weave Grani through the obstacles that the cave now provided. He could hear Gjoll rumbling beside him, his path's guide. When they came to the great golden bridge of Gjallarbru, Salazar reigned in Grani. He could only hope that he could make it across… He guided Grani onto the golden roofed bridge held by a single strand of hair. The bridge dipped, but did not collapse. As they made their way a few steps onto the bridge, it was then that they met Modgudr. The skeletal maiden appeared by his side, the tip of her sword against his throat froze Salazar in place.
"Eight legs yet they do not carry the pallet of the dead! Your weight is not light like those who pass this way and your pallor is too healthy for that of the departed!" She dug the sword further into the hollow of his throat. "Tell me who you are that passes this way! I will not be tricked again by the magics of a seiðr!"
Salazar swallowed thickly. So that was how Voldemort had passed… rather than use legends, he had used magic to gain entry to Helheim. It must have been great and powerful magic. "I was sent here by the words of a Vǫlva after the trail of a madman who gained his passage here wrongly."
The sword only dug in deeper and Salazar worried it might break the skin if any more pressure was given. "I can smell magic upon you, seiðr. I can smell the filth of the abomination upon you. So do not tell me lies!" The sword lifted from his neck only to tap against the scar on his forehead. "There is a connection here; the vileness of your master cannot be hidden!"
Salazar could not help but feel sick as pieces of a puzzle seemed to slot into place. "Horcrux," he whispered. Somehow, in a memory he had long since forgotten, he had met Voldemort once before. And now a fragment of a twisted soul lied inside of him, making him a living vessel for an attempt at immortality. A black magic even he had shied from… He straightened in his saddle then, a plan forming rapidly. "Modgudr. Hear my words! I have no part of the abomination that stole his way into Hel's Halls! I have been sent by perhaps Odin himself to search for any evidence of the creature's plans. I must be allowed to pass. In exchange, I offer my blood toll with the fragment of soul that man has placed upon me. Though not Sleipnir himself, I ride upon Sleipnir's hooves and you know he can make the bridge unharmed."
The skeletal maiden seemed to regard him. Finally, she pressed the sword heavier against Salazar's forehead. "Very well. I will accept your toll. However, you might find that Nagrindr is barred to you." Salazar said nothing and only closed his eyes as the maiden drew her sword down along his scar. Removal of a horcrux would not be so simple, but Modgudr had the power to accept the toll he had to offer. So she cut open his scar until the blood flowed freely down his face. The cold bones of her fingers pressed against his forehead and drew a scream from him as the unwilling spirit was drawn forth. The pain echoed deep within him, no easy task to detach a piece of soul from where it had festered against his own.
When Salazar slumped against the saddle, a ghostly image appeared beside Modgudr's side. It was the first time in his memory that he could say that he looked upon Voldemort's face. The man was drawn and pale, a black look of rage upon his visage. There was a serpentine look to him that made his chest ache. "Oh, what have you done to yourself? My brother's legacy… I cannot turn back time, but how I wish I could go back and see sooner the storm that built inside of Cayden." He shook his head before raising himself in the saddle. As Modgudr stepped aside, Salazar did not spare time to see what became of the spirit as he snapped Grani's reins. With flashing hooves, they rode across the bridge. It swayed from side to side, but held. He led Grani off into the Ironwood, riding to the final entrance of Helheim. The gate of Nagrindr.
When he came to the gate, he found it tightly shut just as he was warned. Taking a breath, he backed Grani up. "It seems we must take an example from Sleipnir." Snapping at Grani's reins, he guided the horse forward and then into a great leap. The air rushed over him as they took the gate in a single bound. It must be quite something to ride upon Sleipnir's back! It was a rush enough to ride Grani with Sleipnir's hooves! Shaking himself, Salazar snapped Grani's reins again and they took off for Hel's hall Elidnir. He dismounted then, his legs shaking. He patted Grani's neck and ordered the horse to stay before gathering himself. He didn't have much time… and he did not want to linger here any longer than he had to be here.
Climbing the steps to the hall, Salazar pushed open the doors. His eyes were immediately drawn to the great throne at the head of the table were Hel sat. She was dressed in opulence with gold and jewels. Her head was turned from him so he could only see the side of her beautiful face. Her skin was as creamy as milk and her hair was worn in braids of gold. But then she turned to him and he was able to look upon her full face. Where one half was young and beautiful, the other half was wrinkled and dead like flesh that had shriveled with death. Her eye was a milky white in contrast to the blue of the other. Her hair above this side of her face lay limp, white, and dead. A bony hand raised then and crooked a finger at him. "Who are you to enter here, who still carries the hue of the living?" Her voice was a curious mix of tones as if two women spoke at once, one full of life like the gentle flowing of a stream and the other raspy with age.
Salazar approached the table, his boots echoing in the silence that had fallen the hall. "I merely seek information from the dead on the trail of a living man who came here before me."
"I do not suffer the trials of the living. What use do I have of it? But. I do remember such a man. Yet tell me… why should I give you the answers that you seek?" Hel touched a flower crown before her, the flowers dying as she touched them and wove them together.
"Bargain with me," Salazar requested. "Not even the gods known of that man's plans, he who hides from the honour of death." Hel's eyes narrowed at him so Salazar pushed on. "The word is Horcrux, my lady. It is an evil magic in which he has split his spirit into pieces in which he uses to hide himself from the grasp of death. He placed one into me, though I had been unaware of its extent until now. The guardian Modgudr separated his spirit from mine as payment so this fragment now is trapped here within your realm." He lifted his fringe to show her the scar and the drying blood that he had not fully wiped away. Hel leaned forward, but did not touch him. "Let me find out what his purpose here was and I will bring you more fragments of his soul."
Hel regarded him silently for several long minutes, her gaze shrewd as she watched him. Salazar stood strong, refusing to bend beneath the weight of her stare. Finally, a slow smile crept across Hel's lips. "Very well. Tell me your name, mortal, and we will have a deal."
"I am Salazar Slytherin, also named Herrick."
"We have a bargain, Salazar Slytherin. For the pieces of the spirit of the one named Voldemort, I give you in exchange the knowledge of his journey." Hel made a motion with her hand before smiling grimly. "Voldemort sought the cursed sword Tyrfing so journeyed here to gain its knowledge from its last known wielder."
"Tyrfing… that name is familiar to me," Salazar spoke slowly, a frown pulling at his lips.
Hel laughed softly and leaned against her fair hand. "What he wants of it, I do not care to know. He searched out Angantyr Heidreksson, the last known wielder of Tyrfing and owner during the last of the Three Evil Deeds. It is lore that the curse then ceased to exist, the sword passing out of knowledge. But Angantyr knows the truth."
"And where do I find Angantyr?" Salazar responded, a sort of dread falling over him.
Hel gave him a smile, her chin resting on one fair hand while her other skeletal fingers idly traced the rim of her cup. "Look beyond the walls of my Hall for Angantyr," she told him. "Go then, Salazar Slytherin, and honour our bargain."
Salazar quickly took his leave, not wanting to push his luck any further. He slipped through the Hall's doors before taking a deep breath. "Nastrond then," he whispered gravely to himself. He quickly mounted Grani and took hold of the reins. "The Corpse Shores…Where Nidhoggr gnaws upon the bodies of the dead, and is a place reserved for the impure dead." He patted Grani's neck, frowning at the horse's trembling. "I know. I can only hope that our trip will not be too much longer. I too hope to leave this realm quickly." The weight had not lessened an ounce and continued to drag him down each moment they lingered. So Salazar snapped Grani's reins and sent the horse off in his search for Nastrond.
Whether it was minutes or hours, Salazar could not count the time here. He did not know for how long they rode, but eventually came upon the entrance to Nastrond. Though called the Corpse Shores, Nastrond was a cave like hall that dripped with the venom of the numerous snakes that entwined the walls and ceiling in a writhing, living facade. Salazar counted himself both cursed and lucky that he could understand the language of snakes. It was a cacophony of voices around him, all vying to be heard over the cries of the sullied souls of the dead. Salazar grit his teeth and hissed out in a desperate plea for directions. Perhaps the snakes could point him in the way of Angantyr. By some miracle… it worked.
"Can no one show me the way to Angantyr Heidreksson? I have need of him!" Salazar hissed out, trying not to bring his attention to the groaning masses around him. There was a moment of silence around him before a ripple of hissing as the serpents above writhed instead in excitement.
"Speaker! Speaker… but you are not dead," many of the serpents spoke at once, a sibilant echo. "What does the living need for one of the dead that he should go seeking in these dark chambers? And a speaker no less! A speaker we have not heard in a very long time. Once long ago."
Salazar closed his eyes and took a breath. "I look for Angantyr! Lead me to him for I have questions that need be answered," he repeated himself. He did not want to waste time in trying to answer the questions of the snakes.
"Another looked for him too. Hissing nonsense. Left not long ago, left such screams in its wake. How do you know you will not do the same? Why should we let you pass? We care not for the screams of the impure, they scream enough," Salazar got in return from the serpents. It was enough for him to sigh in exasperation.
"I follow the trail of the hissing man. I am in need to know what it is he came for," he answered truthfully. The snakes were quiet for a moment, the hissing nonsensical just as a human might hum in thought.
Finally, one of the serpents further down the way spoke up. "This way, speaker." Salazar could barely hold in his relief. He snapped Grani's reins and led the horse around the bodies around them, ignoring the way they reached for him. He followed the hissed directions of the snake for an immeasurable amount of time until one final snake hissed to him, "Angantyr is there!"
Salazar hissed his thanks before approaching the man curled up on the ground half submerged in one of the puddles of venom. "You are Angantyr?" The man did not respond to him. Salazar sighed and leaned against Grani's saddle horn. "I know that a man came through before me, also on a search for you. He wished for the knowledge of the sword Tyrfing, of which you are the last known wielder." His words brought stirring from the man's form, though he still did not speak. "I am no friend of the man, but I need to know everything you have told him so that he might be stopped."
The man groaned softly then, the first sound Salazar had heard from him. "The three evil deeds of Tyrfing defeated the curse of the blade," the man wheezed out as he pushed himself into a seated position. Salazar forced himself to look only upon the man's face, to ignore the abused and gnawed body of the dead man. Even still, one of Angantyr's eyes was missing and left a gaping hole in its absence. Much of the left side of the man's face was ripped away, the white of his bone gleaming in the dim light of Nastrond. Salazar could only wonder what Voldemort had done, and what was from Nidhoggr.
Angantyr's voice brought Salazar from his thoughts. "The blade is no longer cursed to kill a man every time it is drawn and the three great evils have passed. But the blade still will never miss a stroke, will never rust, and will cut through stone and iron as easily as though mere cloth. It still gleams as with fire and its golden hilt is a sight to behold." The dead man trailed off, his single eye distant in memory. "I thought," he said after a moment. "That Durin and Dvalinn might return for the sword they had forged. But… after the battle…" He shook his head slowly, his bones creaking. "I killed my half-brother Hlod on the battleground. The bodies... the bodies of the warriors choked the rivers they were so numerous in number, causing a flood which filled the valleys with dead men and horses. It was… sad. Perhaps a word so simple cannot describe such horror I felt. But Tyrfing had done its deed. And I…I kept the rights to my throne. I lived my life."
Salazar listened silently, but it still did not tell him what had happened to Tyrfing. "And the sword? You say the dwarves did not return for the sword, so what became of it?" He prompted, his voice low but firm. Angantyr turned his single eye upon Salazar before turning his gaze away.
"I hid it away before I was doomed to my deathbed," the man spoke slowly, as if trying to recall a memory. Salazar tried not to be impatient. "There was a forest… and among the trees was a large oak, as broad as three men and as tall as a giant. Beneath its roots I placed the stone coffer with the sword inside."
"And the name of the forest, Angantyr?" The land had likely since changed, but if he could at least get a starting point he could search from there. He could only assume the conventional magic would not work to find Tyrfing. Voldemort likely had already thought of that. This would have to be a search done through hard research and physical searching. Rowena would have enjoyed such a thing… but perhaps he could get Helena to help him instead.
Angantyr hummed, not responding to Salazar right away. He turned his gaze back to the wizard then and gave a dry laugh. "The great forest of Murkwood."
Salazar gave a bow from where he sat in Grani's saddle. "You have my thanks, Angantyr Heidreksson. I will see to it that that man will not lay claim to Tyrfing." He straightened then and tugged on Grani's reins, leading the horse about. He snapped the reins then, spurring the horse into a gallop.
The pair flew through the caves on Sleipnir's speed and across Hel's realm. Salazar let Grani lead the way through obstacles, only guiding the horse in the right direction. He did not rein Grani in again until they had burst past Garmr once more and had passed out of Gnipahellir cave. Gjoll still flowed beside them, but they had passed from the worst so Salazar slid from the saddle and collapsed against the ground on his knees. Beside him Grani shone with sweat and trembled with exertion. Salazar knew he needed to tend to his companion, but found he could not support his own weight at the moment. He gave a breathless laugh and covered his face with one of his hands.
"I finally feel as if I can breathe properly," he whispered, his tone breathless. The heaviness of the path still lay upon him, but the heavy air of Helheim had since fallen away from him. Dropping his hand, he looked out over the river and surrounding mountains before slowly climbing to his feet. His knees shook, but he grabbed hold of Grani's saddle to keep himself upright. "I would not drink from Gjoll… but I will get you water," he promised his horse before summoning a deep bowl from his pack. He set it on the ground and used a spell to fill it with clean water from the surrounding air. He kept it filled until Grani had his fill.
Salazar patted Grani's neck and cleaned out the bowl with a spell before tucking it away again. He summoned some dried meat and biscuits to eat while letting Grani wander off the path to graze in the grass. They could not linger long however and Salazar mounted Grani after a time. "Our journey is not over yet… but when we get to Hogwarts, I will ensure that the stables are rebuilt properly so you will have a comfortable place to rest. You have deserved it many times over, my friend." They would likely have to take the magical highways as horses did not do well with most other means of travel, however. It would extend their travel by several days, but would still be a shortened time if Salazar left the spell active for a bit longer. He could not leave it on for too long however, so they had to make good time. He could remove the spell shortly before they returned to Hogwarts.
Taking a deep breath, Salazar patted Grani's neck. "We have a long journey still… let us get going, Grani." He straightened before snapping the reins. Grani reared before leaping forward and they were off down the path like a wind, ghostly hooves flashing alongside living ones.
((End Chapter Ten))
Oh god… I hope you all appreciate this chapter because this was a pain in my ass to write! Although, I do have to say that it is one of my favourites so far. Researching lore was both fun and aggravating. Even still… let's just all agree that Whimsy sucks at writing rituals and move on.
Toodles!