Chapter 3: The Northfell
The blizzard rages on, with slicing ice by gale-winds fanned, upon the mountaintop.
Emerge anon reindeer and man dragging a wooden sled, from out the blinding storm.
The fur cap that he wears is soaked and bleached in powdered snow; in frozen boots he treads
Through shin-deep frost, painfully slow; the winds like banshees cry; the ice does not relent.
Then all at once it dies: the icicles and gusts disperse, and leave light flakes to fly.
Startled, to his steed he whispers: Witchcraft! Sven, to the dale! A snowstorm in July!
The drape of winter veils the streets and roofs and ships and streams in ice and snow and hail.
The fjord turned solid when the queen escaped across on foot, and ships can no more sail.
The princess did pursue even over the frozen firth; but her light ballroom shoes
Granted no purchase on the surface of the icy tread; the prince then her rescued.
Despondent, back they fared, before the worried noble-folk and citizenry scared.
A wave of murmurs as they spoke of these strange unfoldings; then one loud voice declared:
Upon these lands the Queen hath laid a curse!
A frigid spell that wringeth sun from sky;
The acres freeze and field-grains die; and worse,
No vessel can hereto more grain supply.
What queen would let her people suffer so?
To starve and shiver in this barren frost;
To arms, I say, against this ill-born foe,
And regain summer before all is lost!
Excuse me! but I think you too much slander and malign whomof you know few things.
My sister is fortruth benign, not 'ill-born' as you call – she shall not suffer this!
Behind his two guards tall, the tiny duke in shock retreats. In furious fear he bawls:
What magic hast thou, that thou threatest me?!
Art thou a monster too, just like the Queen?!
Pray cease your vitriolic screams. But her voice softens now: Tonight was all my fault.
I went beyond the boundaries with words too full of spite, and countenance too proud.
I know now why she had to hide, and the burden she bears, now that the truth is out.
She bids valets prepare, for her to ride, a healthy horse, and simple cloak to wear.
As she the horse mounts, Prince Hans warns: You go into danger. Shall I follow you there?
Danger? She's my sister, the princess says with glist'ning eyes, my life I'd entrust her.
The dale wants a leader, besides; I leave it in your care, while I rescue summer.
But she is ill-prepared to brave the snow and wind and sleet as through the night she fares.
Uneasily proceeds her steed—a minor avalanche! Up rears the stallion, scared!
Earthward plunges Anna, headlong into the knee-deep snow – relief! She is not harmed;
But frightened, away her horse goes, and she is left behind in the woods winter-starched.
And what a sorry sight: still in her gown with shoulders bare and court shoes with heels high.
Splattered by snow from foot to hair, shivering in her cloak, she stumbles on by night.
Perhaps the moon still glows: the shaded leaves engorge his light and spare none for below.
The mute earth seethes in blackened white; the air is sharp to breathe, and all sound is swallowed.
So, swiftly through the trees, as swiftly as a limping fish, Princess Anna hurries.
She hurries past dark trunks and cliffs, treading ever more slow as her lower limbs freeze…
But look there – is that smoke? She laughs, and throws a final spurt of strength into her toes,
And runningly hobbles toward the unseen hearth in front, to Hákon's Trading Post.
A sturdy wooden hut, unburdened by the heavy snow, wafting chimney steam up.
Its windows candesce ochre glow, warm to the eyes to see, warm as its door to touch.
A bell marks her entry into the warm and cosy shop that smells of old pine trees
And stony water piping hot, with strange wares neatly placed, in quiet and at ease.
Hoo-hoo, a light voice says; 'tis Hákon, merchant wandering, with gently blissful face,
Fingers steepled, straightly sitting, with multicoloured wools jacketing his great frame.
-Halló, hvað segir þú? Big summer blowout: half off clocks, sunbalm, and swimming-suits!
-Oh – wonderful, but have you got some winter clothes to spare, or, also, winter boots?
-Well, thou canst see our wares in yonder winter department, and lo, what finds she there?
But one rough set of old garments, unwanted much too long, as the old boots, one pair.
Oh well, there's nothing wrong, and going now to pay she asks, Have any else along
This path come by – the Queen, perchance? -None so mad as thee, dear, but then opens the door:
The man pants, loud and clear, even behind his hard-snowed mask; jammed down to shield his ears
Is his fur cap still more snow-basked. A grey wolf soaked in snow, is this next madman here.
His hard gaze scans her robe, elegant though mildly frozen; her features then he notes,
Unguarded though clearly noble; and then he sees the white, braided aft her earlobes.
An unexpected sight, more so because 'tis familiar, though he's not quite sure why.
Oh, who cares, he thinks without cheer, and to the keeper's desk he comes with sullen eyes.
Some carrots does he fetch and toss upon the countertop, then from the meagre deck
Of winter goods, a pick and cord he seizes with a sigh, and goes to deal his debt.
Real howler in July! Wherefrom might it be coming, then? asks Hákon cheery bright.
The Northfell. A voice dry and spent; a growl cold and dusty, as a hearth without light.
-And that will make forty. -What? No, ten! The snowed-man argues. -No, that cannot do; see,
I must price high for winter goods, for my supply cannot this sudden demand meet.
-Oh, of demand you talk! Look here, I live by selling ice – demand's now hit the floor!
-I fear I cannot drop my price, but I'll let thee in free once to Sauna Hákon!
The snowed-man grinds his teeth: I have only ten. Help me out. -Then this I give to thee,
But not more. He offers the sprouts, but, still with giant smile, the pick and rope he keeps.
Then she, who for a while has merely stood and watched, ignored, presses the snowed-man riled:
Pray, tell about the Northfell more: was there some magic craft that conjured these snows wild?
The man yanks off his scarf. Yes! he shouts, his rage exuding at these ill hours past:
The storm, this shop, this pestering – Now stay back, noisy girl, I'll take this crook to task.
Hákon himself uncurls from his crouched seating on his stool, and his clothes threat to burst –
His head almost grazes the roof; he seizes the upstart, and him out the door hurls!
And blithely now he parks his mountainous self on his chair, as if naught has just passed.
Afsakið, that was violent there – have some free lútfiskar; so, just this winter garb?
But through the window glass, she sees the man's ice on his sled; the tools and carrots are
Upon the counter, still unkept. She ponders for a beat, then grins; she sees her chance.
-No, I won't. Let me sleep. Besides, where would I store my blocks? Now go, and leave me be.
-I'll pay for them to be well-stored. Please, take me up the fell. This cold I must relieve.
-You've got some magic spell? Then you can just use it from here, and let me slumber well.
-I do not have magic, I fear. I am eager to pay. Whate'er your price, just tell.
-(deep sigh) Be on your way. I do not ferry passengers. Good night and good next day.
-And I can't accept that answer! She hurls a sack at him, and he grunts in mild pain.
-Oh no! sorry, I didn!— I mean, eh-HEM, you'll take me there. He looks down, and within
The sack are his unpaid-for wares: the carrots for his mount, and then the rope and pick.
Forthward the reindeer bounds, fresh from the night's rest and fresh air, wherethrough his hoof-claps sound.
The wind combs back his brown-white hair; they undulate like grass upon golden steppe ground.
And though they travel fast, the sled does neither jump nor shake, as precipices pass.
This veteran makes no mistake in the carpet of white whose source shall not stay far.
-So what happened last night that made the Queen go ice crazy and blizzard down the heights?
-'Twas her coronation party; a prince there did I meet, and 'twas love at first sight—
We talked and danced all eve, and then he knelt down and proposed – proposed! Can you believe—
She would not give her blessing, though, so I quarrelled with her, and then her glove I seized—
-Hold on – your argument was about marrying a man you knew a few hours?
Truly you come from a strange land – di'n't your parents teach you to beware of strangers?
-Well, what you say is true, she says, edging away from him, but true is our love too.
-It doesn't sound at all like 't is—but he has heard a sound, that rustles as it moves…
But not she, speaking loud, Well then, are you some love expert? His hand flies to her mouth:
Something is afoot here. Quiet. The reindeer snorts and whines; and in response come growls.
Out of the numbing white, a pack of wolves, all ravenous, emerge to claim their prize.
They snarl and feint, their prey t' unnerve, and in this they succeed. Run, Sven! The hunters fly.
No sound comes from their feet as on the snow cliffs sprint the wolves as swift as the cold breeze.
Furiously pound the reindeer's hooves, but with the sled attached, he cannot match their speed.
They close in to attack. The man wields now a glowing torch, and tells her to stay back.
Upon the nearest wolf he scores a square and solid hit, but forth surges the pack.
They leap and snap at him, and seize him from the sprinting sled, and drag him out of it!
Anna quickly throws him an end of the rope as he falls – saved! but wolf fangs sink in –
She takes a roll of cloth, and flings it at his predators – fine! the wolves are dislodged!
He claws up the rope toward her, while she hauls from the front – at last, he's back on board!
But their trial is not done: ahead, they see a deep ravine; around, nowhere to run.
The man throws her onto his steed; as they approach the ledge, he cuts the sled loose:
JUMP!
Sven soars into the air, and carries Anna safe and sound onto the other edge.
The sled plummets toward the ground; and from his vehicle, the man leaps with despair.
He reaches! and scrabbles to find purchase as gravity tugs him ever lower –
But comes the rope!— princess and steed drag him back from the brink. This ordeal is over.
Anguished angry groaning. The sled is shattered as an egg hurled at a wall of brick.
His heart will not make stand his legs; 'tis busy with regret that he did her bidding.
Well, I owe you a sled, she gingerly begins to speak, but stops – she feels her debt
Of kindness demand that she leave the twice-snowed man alone, and alone onward wend.
She leaves the pick and rope, and takes but half her yellow roots, You need no more follow.
And with this embarrassed adieu, she bows and turns away, and heads off through the snow.
But she by Sven is chased; he overtakes, and before her, he stands, pleading she stay.
She caresses his velvet fur, and sidesteps to proceed on her determined way.
Kind Sven, thou hast no need of words to convey your true heart; thy heart all words exceeds.
Thou fly'st back to where fell thy cart, and tow'st instead the man, returning with all speed.
Now thrice-snowed, the man snaps, Alright! So be it. Lead the way. Finally does he stand.
He brushes snow off from his face. Misfortune favours me. You'd better pay me back!
-Of course! Do not worry – our kingdom stands for love and trust, more precious than money.
-Of love and trust perhaps too much, such that a princess might wed the first man she meets.
-Well excuse me, but I believe in true love, unlike you, my-friend's-a-reindeer guy.
-Well I DO have other friends too – but come back to the point. You're careless with your life!
Like in this hasty choice: love's a trial of peaks and chasms, that might just disappoint
If you find you've chased phantasms; you've got to think it through, for life is not a toy.
-So eloquent, aren't you? I presume that your friends agree with your cynical view.
But you don't know love; so, trust me, when I say that I'm certain that our love is true.
-No, it's not cynical— hear now, my friends are old and wise, and such speak they of love.
-Fine! but surely do change the times – their words may no more hold, those of your love experts.
You young, cautious and bold! Well, what do you know about love?Thou, on the summit cold!
Well, what dost thou know about love? They reckon not the same; the answers manifold.
-I have no more to say. I cannot change your mind, so let's be on our snowy way.
-Yes, let's! Mister… …Kristoffer, yes? -No, my name is KRISTOFF. Come, we've not got all day.
MMXX SkyInk