AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't own the characters (Miramax does) or the fairy tales referenced in this story. I'm not making one single penny off this story. (pauses) I wouldn't mind borrowing the boys for awhile though…
1) This is rated TEEN for a reason. There are some very adult themes and situations and angst in here and some violence. It deals with rather dark issues relating to familial rifts and deaths of family members (if you saw the movie, you know to what I'm referring). Can't handle, please don't read. 2) Although there are religious references in the story, nothing is based on any real people or cults. They were completely fabricated for plot purposes and if you see similarities to any real people or cults, you are squinting way too hard, if you know what I mean. Do not try anything you see in this story, boys and girls, because it's all made up stuff. So, if anyone flames for reasons of dark themes or religious references, I'm going to ignore it because I've given fair warning. 3) The opinions expressed by characters do not reflect the opinion of this writer. See Chapter One for the rest of the notes.
4
Hob happened to be another fortunate acquaintance. Humble and well liked among the villagers, it was the digger who took it upon himself to find a room for Will in a small boarding house. His vouching for the traveler overcame the owner's initial apprehension about the Grimm brother. The owner grudgingly agreed to rent Will a room…just for the night.
Before leaving, Hob pulled Will aside. "That one," he jerked his head towards the innkeeper, "is not a good one to ask about old ghosts in the hills. In fact, I wouldn't ask anyone around here if I were you. Some ghosts are best left buried." To Will's surprise, Hob then offered a friendly handshake. "I don't wish no harm to your brother, friend. He's not a bad sort. Good luck to you, I hope you find him." With that, the digger picked up his shovel, tossed it into his cart, and skulked out into the night.
Will wanted a hot meal, a drink, and a bed. He'd managed the first two, but his thoughts were keeping him awake. So, he'd abandoned the warmth of his bed and wandered downstairs. The boarding house had a small tavern that served meals. It bustled with sufficient activity that Will could mingle with relative anonymity (once the curious crowd finished staring), but wasn't so chaotic that a man couldn't slip over to a table and collect his thoughts, which was what Will did. He found an empty table near the window and sat down, contemplating what he'd learned that day.
His thoughts, however, were being altogether uncooperative. This was the first moment of true rest Will had since that dreadful nightmare, but there was no respite in it. His body was tired from days of riding followed by an afternoon tagging along with the beggar woman, then a brisk walk up the hill with Hob—racing to get there and back before sunset---to satisfy himself that Jacob had indeed left no clue of what he'd found during his excavation of the hillside.
The question of whether specters, precognition, or some dormant and unfamiliar fraternal instinct had sent Will on this errand no longer mattered to him. He was not willing to become swayed to belief in spirits and hokum because he'd encountered some passing elements similar to his dream. Yes, Jacob had apparently cut his hair and grown a beard. That was hardly remarkable. So, this village was in a forest like the one in the dream? Definitely nothing out of the ordinary there.
Sackcloth bundles tied with red silk cord.
Coincidence and no more, Will finally decided, dismissing it. Seeing a package in a dream didn't bother him. It was the possibilities of what could be in that bundle and what Jacob intended to do with it that unsettled Will. He was used to Jacob's antics eliciting strong emotions in people…anger predominantly. Embarrassment. Annoyance. Abject humiliation. But fear for his younger brother? Concern? That was, Will was somewhat ashamed to admit to himself, an infrequent feeling for him where Jacob was concerned.
Jacob had scared Will in the past, but usually in a momentary, fleeting way. As a child, Jacob had been unpredictable if nothing else…one of the traits that had made some wretched people question the boy's sanity before Mother snuck her sons out of town that night long ago. Once, Will had to bodily tackle his brother to save him from being trampled by a carriage. Will and Jacob had been walking home from their morning errands when Jacob had---with no warning at all---darted from Will's side and into the street. He'd been trying to save a frog (a frog for God's sake!) that had hopped into the path of the carriage. Will had, in turn, dove to save his brother. It had been such a close call that Will had almost felt the wheels of the carriage as it passed a hair's breadth from his shoulder. The incident frightened the life out of Will---he'd nearly been sick, in fact. Jacob, however, had happily released the frog to the safety of the riverbank, heedless of his own brush with death.
That act, the fear and the feeling of a protective instinct for his sibling, was a rarity for Will. He'd felt it again this afternoon, twice, when Father Traugott and digger Hob had informed him of Jacob's close calls in this town.
No, he'd felt that fear three times today, Will realized. The third time was the instant he'd discovered that Jacob had found that strange wand-object from the nightmare. The only people who knew the purpose of that artifact object were Jacob (who was absent at the moment) and possibly Father Traugott (who was uncooperative at the moment). Will had only a suspicion of Jacob's intentions for the object, thanks to that nightmare. He hadn't spoken to his brother in years, and couldn't say with certainty where Jacob had wandered in that time---distancing himself from his sibling to distance himself from painful memories---so Will had no idea at all where Jacob would go after leaving this village, or where to search next if he was to stop his brother from using the damned thing on himself.
Will had always been reluctant to protect his younger brother from the consequences of his actions, believing that if Jacob took enough lumps for his odd behavior, it might knock sense into the boy. That prayer had gone unanswered in all possible ways. Will had pointedly walked away when Hollis tormented Jacob about his journal in hopes the bloodied nose would teach his brother to leave the damned book in whatever hiding place he kept it at home. It didn't. Will kept his mouth shut when Jacob was rebuked by teachers, ministers, and other adults for his belief in myth and magic and fairies and talking fish in hopes Jacob would give up his ridiculous obsession. Jacob didn't. In fact, Jacob was quite resilient in that way: The more his beliefs in those flights of fancy were attacked and questioned, the more doggedly he clung to them and the more determined he became to prove them real. It might have been inspiring…if he'd ever once succeeded in proving himself right.
Maybe Will had been wrong to let his brother take his lumps. Maybe he should have kept a better eye on Jacob, reined in some of his more bizarre behavior so that it at least didn't draw unwelcome attention from other people. Maybe if he had, Jacob wouldn't be wandering around Germany, barely escaping being burned or having murder by treasure seekers, taking risks without sensibility or discretion, antagonizing folks along his path…
Will turned to glance out the window. He spied a form sleeping at the foot of the St. Peter statue on the opposite side of the road, a form bundled in filthy clothes against the cold evening. The beggar 'princess' Lorelei, no doubt. Well, I suppose Jacob didn't antagonize everyone in this village. Maybe some of his instincts weren't so foolish. Lorelei and Hob had proven their mettle after all.
He stared at the sleeping woman, before swearing softly. He couldn't sit there enjoying a drink or a meal while the woman was hungry and cold just outside. Will waved over the innkeeper's wife, who was doing double duty as server in the tavern. He pointed towards the window to the vagrant beggar outside. "Would you send a hot meal to her, ma'am?" When the innkeeper's wife wrinkled her brow (whether in confusion or disdain, he didn't know), Will pressed several coins into her hand…double the price he'd paid for his own meal.
"It's your money, friend," the woman shrugged.
She was about to go carry out his request when Will had a second inspiration and called to her, "Wait!" The woman paused and watched curiously as he emptied the pockets of his long, black overcoat onto the table. Will then passed the garment to the innkeeper. "Take this to her as well." When the woman raised an eyebrow, Will felt his ears burn. "It needs mending anyway," he added.
Shaking her head, the woman shuffled away to deliver the meal and the coat as instructed. Will heard her mutter something that sounded distinctly like: "Barking mad just like his brother…" He chose to let the remark pass and went about collecting the small stack of his belongings from the tabletop.
Jacob's letter to their Mother lay top the pile. Will let it lie, untouched, for a long while and simply stared at the seal on the envelope. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, hesitating. It dawned on him that Jacob had written that letter here, in this village, without a doubt around the time he'd unearthed that wand-artifact, for the return address was Father Traugott's church. Jacob never would have told Mother about the wand-artifact, particularly not if he planned to do something to put himself in peril with it, as Will had seen in the nightmare. He might, however, have given their Mother some clue where he was heading once he left this village. Will wouldn't know unless he read the letter.
It's not as if I have any better ideas, Will decided. He broke the seal on the envelope and swiftly read the words printed in Jacob's scrawling handwriting. When he did, a mirthless laugh escaped Will.
"So you've decided to read it finally. Good news, is it?"
Will knew that gravelly voice. He glanced up from the letter, surprised to find Father Traugott standing at the opposite side of the table. The older man flashed his kind smile.
"No…well yes…of a sort." Will pocketed the letter. "It seems I could have saved myself the ride to your fair village if I'd only read it beforehand. Jacob heard that our Mother was ill and wrote that he was going back to Catriona to visit her. So, I've disturbed all of your good people and spent a month's earnings for nothing." Will gestured to an empty seat, inviting the priest to join him.
Father Traugott remained standing, shifting his weight nervously. "Perhaps not," he said. The priest checked to be sure none of the other patrons were taking undue interest in their conversation. "Would you walk with me, Mr. Grimm? I have some words for you best kept for your ears only."
With a nod, Will followed the priest out of the tavern and onto the street. He briefly lamented the loss of his coat when the cold and misty air washed over him…briefly, before the vagrant woman, happily wrapped in the black coat, caught sight of Will and bounded over to him with her cat-like gait. Lorelei grabbed Will's face in her gloved hands and---to his chagrin---planted a kiss squarely on his mouth. "That's for your coat, Will Grimm," she grinned.
Will bit his lip and forced a smile for her. She wasn't done with him yet. He let out a yelp in spite of his efforts at manners when she followed with a second kiss, as direct as the first. "That's for your coat," she explained.
"Not nece---" he stammered.
To his horror, and the priest's amusement, before Will could escape her grasp, Lorelei planted a third, prolonged kiss on the startled young man. "That one's for Mr. Jacob when you see him," the beggar said. "Such good boys, I love you both."
Will, gently but firmly, pried her hands from his face before she found an excuse for a fourth kiss. "Yes, thank you, we…er…we love you as well---your grace."
Satisfied, the beggar woman curtsied regally and retreated to her spot by the statue, leaving Will standing there with the priest in a moment of self-conscious silence. Will's face flamed. "Friend of the family," he told Father Traugott.
"The Lord loveth a cheerful giver, son," the priest answered, still amused.
As if in agreement, as they set off down the street, a flash of lightning turned night to day and a single clap of thunder boomed almost directly overhead. There was the sound of a commotion in the square behind them---most likely villagers scattering for shelter from the unexpected foul weather. Will glanced skyward, anticipating a downpour, but there was only mist above them. The priest paid the event no mind at all, but simply led the way down the street, away from the noise and chaos in the square.
Intent on his conversation with the priest, it wouldn't occur to Will until days later that there were no more streaks of lightning, no more rumbles of thunder, or not a single drop of rain the rest of that evening.
"So, you've found your brother. You'll be returning home, I trust?" the priest was asking him.
"Yes…clearly he's stumbled into some kind of foolishness again. I don't know what, but someone has to talk some common sense into him," Will said.
Father Traugott stared at his own feet as they walked. It seemed a long while before he spoke again. "I might be able to help you with the question of 'what'," he said tentatively. "First, however, I must know---what I'm about to tell you, I could be excommunicated, or worse, for the very mention of it. I've never broken my vow not to speak of the ghosts in those hills, but…I'm afraid for your brother's welfare, Mr. Grimm." The priest met Will's eyes now, his mouth set in a determined line. Will read the depths of fear in those eyes. For his part, the priest saw the younger man's features grow solemn and apprehensive in reaction to his words. "It's not my way to stand idle when a man's soul is in peril."
Will nodded in accord. "It stays between us. You have my word."
Having made up his mind to speak, Father Traugott wasted no time getting to the point. "Those hills beyond our village were once the realm of those who practiced…dark arts. Those were ancient times, in the days before the arrival of our Lord and Savior, before God-fearing men drove them out of this land. Their heathen temples were destroyed, their artifacts and writings were burned, and that which would not burn was buried. It was hoped that we had destroyed all remnants of their blasphemous ways…" The priest was troubled by one thing. "Since some of them escaped, it's difficult to say for sure if their evil ways were truly extinguished or if they've only gone into hiding. From that day forward, in our land, any practice of their---witchcraft, for lack of a better word---was forbidden under pain of death. The knowledge of them was for the ears of priests like myself, then only to prevent it from ever poisoning souls to unrighteous ways. We prevented our good people from knowing the truth for the sake of saving their souls. They became myths and legends, ghost stories whispered among the people who knew only that something evil once existed in those hills, but nothing more. Your brother, on the other hand, knew the legend before he ever set foot in my church."
There's no myth or legend that could be hidden from Jacob once he'd made up his mind to find it, Will hid a small grin. "So, they aren't ghosts?"
"No. Heathens. Blasphemers. Anhängers vom Messer des Feuer," the priest practically spat the words, as if they left a bad taste in his mouth.
Will blanched. "'Followers of the Knife of Fire'?" Knife of fire…fire blade…the blade from the nightmare.
Father Traugott shushed him, frightened that the name be carried on the wind to the ears of an innocent soul. "The myth of that blade made their wretched ways almost impossible to defeat. Mastery over death itself is too enticing a prize to mortal man. You see, their first…I will not say 'priest', their deceiver, was a man called Desdemond. He claimed that his heathen gods bestowed upon him that blade in order to bring his beloved wife back from the dead. According to their legend, in order to use the Messer des Feuer, Desdemond was required to travel across the great sea to the home of his gods, to the Altar des Feuer. Only there could the blade be used to resurrect his wife----" It dawned on the priest that Will had fallen behind a few paces. "Mr. Grimm?"
Sister's voice echoed in Will's ears: What he's always done…for me, Will. "Sister…what he's always done…Jacob's still trying to save her with magic." Will wished desperately for a place to sit down and the reality of his brother's plan hit him.
Father Traugott may not have understood the reference, but he seemed to know what Will meant. "For his sake, I hope not. Even if he found the Messer des Feuer or the Altar des Feuer—which is quite impossible---the power of the blade demands the price of a human sacrifice on that altar." The priest was obviously revolted at the notion.
"Jacob found it," Will knew it. The priest frowned in doubt. "Believe me, Father. The knife of fire---Jacob has it."
"Even if he did, you don't believe in such blasphemous tales?"
"Myself? No. Jacob? Absolutely," Will answered.
The priest could hear the conviction in the younger man's tone and accepted Will's word. "He wouldn't sacrifice another soul---?"
"Lord, no---sorry, Father. No, Jacob couldn't sacrifice a field mouse." Will saw again the image of light piercing Jacob's chest. "There's only one way…Father, the Altar des Feuer, you said it was somewhere across the great sea? Do you know where?"
Father Traugott shook his head. "If I knew, I wouldn't tell you, my son. It's for your and Jacob's best interest, for the welfare of all mankind, that it's never found."
"One thing I do know about my brother---he has a way of finding things that shouldn't be found."
Will returned to the boarding house at a near run. He couldn't wait until morning to set out. There wasn't time. Hob had last seen Jacob two weeks ago. Jacob had a fortnight's head start on Will---and he had that fire blade. Will prayed two weeks wasn't enough time for his brother to trace the whereabouts of the altar as well. Time's almost gone, Sister had warned. Will intended to put lantern and moonlight to good use making up for lost time. He hoped Jacob had gone home before chasing after the altar, as he'd written in his letter. If he had, he would have learned of their Mother's death, and he might linger at her house just long enough for Will to catch up with him. Once he'd tracked down his brother, Will would put these insane stories of fire blades and resurrection to rest once and for all.
Hope did not quite reach his heart. It was a feeble hope at best, but it was all he had.
The square in front of the boarding house was still crowded when Will returned. He had not the slightest interest in whatever had the townsfolk stirred up---at least they gawking at something other than Will and he was grateful for that fact. As politely as possible given his sense of urgency, Will pushed his way through the crowd and ducked into the boarding house to retrieve his belongings. He was able to purchase two lanterns and a new coat from the innkeeper.
Will had made his purchases and collected his belongings in less than five minutes. He had retrieved his horse from the stable, saddled it, tied the lanterns to the stirrups, and was on his way before ten minutes had elapsed. Maneuvering his mount around the throng of people in the square caused only the slightest delay in Will's departure. He had to shout his apologies and excuses to be heard above the din of the people's babbling. For pity's sake, were they always this excitable whenever a stray clap of thunder disturbed their evenings?
A voice called for his attention, struggling to be heard above the chatter: "Mr. Will! Good luck, Mr. Will!"
It was the beggar Lorelei's voice. Will glanced backwards to wave farewell, but could not catch sight of the old bearded woman among the knot of people. Perhaps he'd imagined hearing her calling to him.
Turning back to the road and urging his horse onward, Will missed seeing the gaze of the maiden at the center of the chaos in the square. The lovely young girl with flowing red hair, adorned in a deep blue dress and crown, tried to raise her hand high enough that Will could see her wave above the heads of the crowd. "And thanks for the kiss, Will Grimm!" she called as Will vanished into the mist and pale moonlight.