Chapter 7: Part 2 — A Simple Kind of Man
Author's note: Big news! I was nominated in the Klaroline awards in the following categories: Best Original Story Concept — Divine Intervention, Best Fluffy Drabbles/One-shot — Another Day Another (Sand) Dollar and Best Comedy Author. I can't begin to tell you how much this means to me; thank you all for being so supportive of my work! Voting is going on now until August 4th, so please get out there and vote for your favorites! This fandom is blessed with so much talent, so please be sure to show your support for these wonderful people who share their creations with us!
I have really enjoyed reading everyone's feedback on this series so far. Thank you! This chapter is a continuation of Chapter 5 in this series in which Caroline is an archaeologist who has discovered that Klaus, the simple farmer who volunteered at her dig site in Norway, is the furthest thing from simple. Now that she knows the truth, what's her next move? Special thanks to PurestHeartsLove for being a great sounding board for this sequel. This one-shot has been the most popular in this series, so I hope that I've written a sequel that lives up to everyone's expectations. Please note that I decided to add another chapter to this one-shot, (and I sincerely apologize for the lack of Klaroline in this chapter) so please watch for it!
Also, if you're interested, I feature the goddess Hel and Norse mythology in my Klaroline multi-chap work, Divine Intervention. I'd love to read your feedback on this work as well if you have time to review. Thanks!
"Heroes go the way to Hel,
And heaven is rent in twain."
— The Prose Edda
The things I do for a decent date, Caroline thought, shaking her head as she clutched the circular silver object in her hand and continued wading in the frigid waters of Lake Válað. She ran her thumb over the raised edges of the elaborately carved piece, the familiar design grounding her in this moment of uncertainty. And possible insanity. To distract herself from the numbing cold of the lake, she ran through her list of facts and factish-like observations she had made.
She was a somewhat famous archaeologist who specialized in Norse settlements. She had been in Norway for a month, excavating the tomb of a Viking warrior, an extraordinary find not only because of the unusual location of the tomb carved into a mountainside, but also the manner in which he had been buried that could potentially challenge much of academia's understanding of Viking culture. Those were concrete facts that her scientific, overly analytical mind could take comfort in knowing.
Her blue eyes narrowed as she moved on to the less-substantiated aspects of her situation. A local farmer, Klaus, had appeared the day her team began its excavations, a charming, devilishly handsome stranger whose knowledge of Norse settlements appeared to rival her own at times, Caroline had grudgingly admitted to herself on more than one occasion. She had allowed him to stay, grateful to the lone local volunteer as his stories about the region had been fascinating and added to her understanding of the culture and its people.
They spent every day together, sifting through clay, brushing away the ravages of time upon the priceless artifacts they discovered. She learned about his family, whom he had lost long ago in military combat, something he himself had embraced before he realized that a simple, farmer's life was his heart's desire. She memorized the way his lips and tongue curved around the words as he spoke English, finding it alarmingly sensual as his accent left her uncomfortably warm. His adorable dimples would flash whenever he seemed embarrassed. The soft fire in his beautiful blue eyes when he looked at her. The way his kisses left her breathless. These were things she knew.
But what if she was wrong?
Caroline's world ended the moment she opened the hidden room in the Viking warrior's tomb. She just didn't realize it at the time. She had eagerly rushed inside, her curious eyes taking in the stunning sights of elaborately decorated weaponry and other beautifully preserved artifacts that she couldn't wait to touch and catalog and share with the rest of the world. When she saw the skeleton laid out in the most unusual manner upon a ceremonial stone bier and wearing a bronze funeral mask, she was awestruck. She recognized the importance of this find and how it could monumentally alter academia's perceptions of Nose settlements.
It all came crashing down when she caught a glimpse of the artist's skillful rendering of the Viking warrior's face carved into the elaborate death mask. Every curve of his striking features had been captures in exquisite, heartbreaking detail. She had stubbornly refused to believe what this meant and had looked for Klaus, desperately hoping to see him at the doorway where she left him, gazing at her once more. The emptiness that had greeted her hurt worse than any heartbreak she had endured. She took the remnants of the all-to-familiar silver amulet and had raced out of the tomb, anxious to interact with another person, hoping they could ease her fears and to prove that she wasn't crazy.
When she had asked her student intern, Jeremy, about Klaus, the confusion on his face as he explained that he had never heard of Klaus and that there had been no local volunteers since the dig began, had left her cold and shaking with questions she was terrified to ask. Was he ever real? Did she imagine every look, every touch, every perfect moment? The local legends he had told her and the wisdom he shared was not knowledge that she had possessed before meeting him. That was the truth she had clung to as she raced to the lake that had been their haven.
Which is why she found herself neck-deep in murky water that chilled her to the bone, clutching a silver amulet and hoping for a miracle. She was a woman of science, a reasonable woman caught in an unreasonable situation. Klaus had told her that the lore claimed that Lake Válað, whose name meant "destiny" in Old Norse, had been formed by the goddess Hel's tears over her lost love, Fenrir. Possessing the gift of foresight, Viking warriors would drink deeply from the lake in hopes that the goddess would grant them visions of how to defeat their enemies.
Caroline recalled how Klaus' velvet tone had faltered when he spoke of the myth that the lake was actually a gateway to the underworld that the living could take if they possessed an object that belonged to a deceased loved one. Supposedly if they bravely faced Hel she may be convinced to release the departed soul so that they would live once more.
I have lost my damn mind, Caroline thought as she fought another intense shiver, hugging her body as she endured the cold water. She considered herself to be an educated, logical woman, and while she immersed herself in Norse legends, she never once paused to consider if any of it could be real. Because it was ridiculous to think that it could be. Except now she was nearly fully submerged in a bitingly cold lake in Norway clutching a silver amulet that belonged to a Viking warrior who may possibly have returned from the dead as a ghost to fall in love with her and hinted at how she might be able to bring him back from the land of the dead. Boys were so much trouble.
Sighing loudly, she yanked the metal object out of the water, holding it up in the sunlight and rubbing the scored edge with a finger to see if she could see any writing that might indicate what she should do next. Klaus hadn't spoken of any incantation to mutter or specific place to stand when he told her the legend. His vague instructions to wade into the lake holding an object from a loved one didn't seem to be activating any mystical portal to the Viking underworld. She was determined not to give up though — she needed to prove to herself that he had been real. That what they had was real.
Deciding that she should explore the tomb further to see if there were any references to the lake or the goddess Hel, she started slowly walking toward the shoreline with a heavy heart. She was a scientist, and while this experiment had been a failure, with additional research, surely she could figure it out. Before she could take another step, she felt a curious pulling sensation from deep within, as though the water had sunk into her bones and was calling her home. Suddenly, she was yanked into the center of the lake by a powerful invisible force, and as the cold water rushed over her terrified face, she struggled in vain to reach the surface once more.
A vortex opened below her and she was pushed forcefully through the opening until she plummeted to an inexplicable stretch of dry land. Coughing and sputtering, the lungful of lake water she swallowed burned her throat. As she remained on her hands and knees trying to catch her breath, she happened to gaze up and was shocked to see Lake Válað far above her head, its mysterious dark waters smooth as glass once more. She was in a cavern far below the lake; that much she could ascertain. It worked. She didn't fully understand the science behind it, but she pushed her rational mind to quickly grasp the concept that she would need to skillfully navigate the delicate line between what she knew and what she felt. It was the only way she could save herself and possibly Klaus as well.
Caroline shakily rose to her feet, glad that she had left on her canvas sneakers even though they had weighed her down in the lake. She noticed that the ground was littered with jagged rocks and disturbing bits of a hard, white substance that she was fairly certain was human bone. She took a hesitant step, the water squelching in her shoes as she moved. She winced at the noise she was making — this seemed like the kind of place where it would be beneficial to make as little noise as possible. She pushed back her wet hair, the blonde strands wanting to stick to her cheeks and neck as she looked more closely at her surroundings.
There was a slight chill to the air, similar to the Norwegian countryside she had lived in this past month, but whereas the Haukeli mountains and its valley below held a simplistic beauty of stunning jewel tones only found in nature, what she gazed upon now was desolate, colorless and the air itself seemed to hold its breath in dread. Okay, she thought, this is still not the worst date I've ever been on.
She tried to recall everything she knew about the Norse underworld. Texts agreed that there were three primary places where the dead were sent: Valhöll, Old Norse for "the hall of the fallen", Fólkvangrand, which meant "the field of warriors", and Helheimr, or "the home of the goddess Hel". She had no way of knowing which part of the underworld she had been sent to, but assumed that if the legend Klaus had told her was accurate, she was likely to find the goddess Hel sooner or later. Not that I have any idea what to do once I meet her, she thought warily. Grad school should really do a better job of preparing you for these typical real-life career situations.
Before she could take another uncertain step, the ground trembled, causing the scattered bone shards to dance at her feet. Suddenly, an enormous iron gate emerged from the earth, the heavy piers on either side had been carved with identical images of Jormundgandr, the serpentine descendent of the god Loki, and the goddess Hel's half-brother. She craned her neck to see the top of the gate, the historian in her wanting to memorize every detail possible. Caroline was alarmed to see the mass of writhing black snakes entwined throughout the ironwork. She kept her distance as she recalled that the lore said these snakes were not only venomous, but also that their poison fell like acid upon the earth.
Caroline was trying to recall how the legends revealed one could gain entrance when without warning, the massive double gate opened wide in an absurdly welcoming gesture. She carefully stepped forward, her sodden sneakers still squeaking. She could hear a sinister cackling that made her blood freeze despite the furious pounding of her heart.
What a tremendous amount of trouble for a pair of dimples, she thought as she finished crossing the threshold, tightly clutching Klaus' silver amulet.