AN at the end of the chapter.
Chapter 9
Svartalfheim
"III"
June 21, 2001
The void shudders as it pulls her in, her mind whirling as she tumbles through space. The void is as hot as the sun, as cold as the dark side of the moon. Her body shakes and her thoughts seem to split in two — the void is trying to take something from her. The void wants a part of her. Needs a part of her. It is shaking her apart at the seams and Ginny starts to fade, only leaving the girl-in-the-void behind. Drifting… drifting… Endlessly drifting is a girl who came from somewhere, but has nowhere to go...
No! she thinks fiercely, holding on to the bare fragments of herself. No! I AM ME. I AM ME.
I AM MINE.
Her mind recoils with a sharp SNAP as the void releases her.
She gasps deep quivering breaths, her lungs filling with acrid air. A loud thundering noise is shaking the space around her — a steady slamming that does nothing to help her mind resolve itself. Great splotches of red and orange float across her vision in a hazy blur, dark shapes moving in time with the reverberations. She shakes her head slightly, trying to bring her vision back to center.
Her palms burn; they smart with the sting of rough rock against skin. She's on her hands and knees — she can feel the ache setting into her knees as well. She shakes her head again, the splotches of color lose themselves into the shapes of an orange and red rock cavern. She rests her forehead against the cool stone, letting it calm her. She knows she should be checking her surroundings, making sure her protective spells are in place, but her mind is too ajumble.
The great pounding reverberations stop suddenly and her ears ring in the sudden silence.
You're being watched.
With a shout, she rolls herself into a standing position, wand in hand, crouching slightly.
But no one is there.
She releases Mortalis Revelio and Malum Revelio in quick succession, the light blue waves of the spells disappearing into the far reaches of the cavern, returning no sign of anyone or anything.
She ignores the spinning in her head and takes stock of her surroundings. She's standing in the middle of a cavern carved from red and orange stone. There are dark branches of tunnels heading off in three different directions spread out equally around the cavern. The space is lit by a huge iron chandelier ringed with golden candles. There is no wind in the cavern, no breeze, no gust, no puff of air.
The candles are stock-still, their flames pointing straight to the ceiling. It's quite unnerving, watching those flames without movement, and for a moment she's entranced, her eyes pulled inexorably to those motionless flames.
Then the pounding begins again. And the flames move as the air reverberates with great waves of sound.
Ginny pulls her eyes away from the candles.
"III"
Each tunnel is a perfect polished arch. Torch brackets are spaced evenly down the length of every hall, the flickering light making the red rock glow. The tunnels twist and turn, branch and deadend.
Ginny wanders the long quiet halls until time has no meaning anymore. Time passes, and passes more. The silence is her constant companion, heavy and dead alongside her, pressing on her shoulders, weighing her down.
It is with a weary tread that she comes upon the great cavern. The smooth walls of the tunnel cut away in a sudden shearing that leaves her breathless from the expanse of it all. The ceiling of the chamber extends so far up it loses itself among the darkness. Enormous carved columns ring around the chamber, bigger around than her entire dormitory room at Hogwarts. They disappear in the towering midnight depths of the ceiling.
Huge braziers positioned at the bottom of each great column spill light around the massive chamber. The flames cast the carvings on the columns into sharp relief, and with a start, Ginny realizes they are covered in etched runes. She steps hesitantly into the room, moving over to the first column. She runs her hand reverently along the carvings, each rune as long as her arm, carved inches deep into the stone in perfectly straight, tidy lines.
It's a story, she realizes, reading it over, written in Elder Furþoc. '...sent the youth, who is called Skirner, and is Frey's messenger, to some dwarfs in Svartalfheim, and had them make the fetter which—' she cuts off reading as the loud thundering pounding begins again, reverberating through the chamber.
It's louder here than it was where she fell from the void. It pushes against her like a physical being; it sets her teeth on edge. She can feel the noise vibrating in her bones. She clenches her hands to the side of her head, trying to block out some of the noise, but it is all invading. A resounding presence she cannot escape from.
And it stops as quickly as it commenced.
She realizes she was screaming. She wonders when she began.
Her hands are shaking as she stands up.
Appearing like frost on a summer day, a semi-circle of seven tall dwarfs stand around her — encroaching, menacing. They stand silently, but their presence feels relentless — they seem to exist more vividly than she does; they're more solid, greater, alien.
Her mind is blank but the thought, I've found them.
"Ær du þú? Þú'st útan."
"I— I don't know what you're saying," she stumbles over her words. She curses herself silently. This isn't who she is. She's not a frightened girl. She doesn't shake. She doesn't stumble.
With determination burning in her stomach, she pulls out her wand to cast a translation spell. In an invisibly quick movement there are blades pressed against her throat, shoving her up against the pillars, the hard stone cold through her clothes; her wand plucked from her hand effortlessly.
Ginny raises her hands in a quick and — she hopes — non-threatening gesture.
"I just wanted to cast a translation spell," she says slowly, carefully, looking at her wand hanging futilely in the hands of one of the towering Svartálfar.
"I have a charm stone I can use if that's more acceptable," she questions, looking at the two imposing dwarfs holding her against the column at sword point. She gets no response. She looks past, to the other five dwarfs. Their faces are impassive, blank; their white eyes conveying no emotion.
She gestures, gently, slowly, towards the pouch hanging across her chest. She doesn't know if they understand her words, or gestures, but the press of the blades lightens at her neck and her hands are released.
Cautiously she reaches into her pack and pulls out a small runestone. And with a quick furtive glance at the surrounding dwarfs, she closes her eyes and — with almost an unconscious movement — she connects it to her own magic, what in the absence of her wand.
"Can you understand me?" she asks, tentatively. A flicker of surprise ghosts across the face of the Svartálfar immediately to her left, before the impassiveness returns.
"Erilaz," one of them says in a dark guttural tone void of displayed emotion.
Is the runestone not working?
She asks again, "I'm sorry, I don't understand, can you understand me?"
"Aye, Erilaz, we can," mutters the Svartálfar standing the furthest back. His white hair is pulled back in an elaborate braid, his dark clothing wrapped loosely around him. He stands at 8 feet or so — long swords strapped to his back, shorter blades at his waist — looking down at her over a long hooked nose.
"No man has visited our halls in an age. You are here for what?" His voice is gravelly and deep, grating like rocks against one another.
She doesn't know where to begin.
A much shorter chapter this week, my life has gotten busy. So they may be shorted depending on how busy I am/my inspiration. I hope you're intrigued by the route I'm taking, and as always, I love to hear from you. Leave thoughts, ideas, concerns, theories in the comments. Or just say hey.
Thank you Mat94 and scrappy8 for your diligent responses! I hope you enjoy this first glimpse at the void!
pottering about: thank you! Glad to hear it.
Mat94: I agree, it seems unrealistic to me when a character is so over powered. I hope to give some semblance of normalcy to her powers even though they do set her apart. She isn't given great powers solely through fate, it's all required effort and trial on her part.
Cheers all!
-upstater-