Well, the Royal Reunion happened today. Way to make me feel inadequate, robert3A-SN.
All rights go to Disney, and credit goes to FrozenRose1 for editing this thing.
"What fairy tales give the child is his first clear idea of the possible defeat of bogey.
The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon."
—G. K. Chesterton
Chapter 11
Life's Too Short
Page 99: King Trigve of Ravendall stepped into my room.
Ever since our falling out around a year ago, I resolved never to look Trigve directly in the eye. I figured that, since neither of us could stand each other's company anyway, it was best that we stayed out of each other's lives. Much less frustration and protest for both parties involved.
In hindsight, that decision was a bit of an overreaction, a silent tantrum to run my point through, but I stuck to my guns stubbornly. Because of my weekly excursions into the Lost Woods, and because we lived inside a vast castle riddled with multiple routes and alternate pathways, avoiding him became a surprisingly easy task.
I was ashamed to say that I eventually failed to remember what my brother looked like. To cope, I considered that knowing him for the sixteen out of seventeen years of my life had to account for at least a basic portrait; a narrow face, blue eyes, longer charcoal hair, thin lips, and a smattering of freckles that somehow avoided his long nose. However, this mental portrait is far from perfect, and the comments dropped regularly by a few people only added to the confusion. A few of the middle-aged citizens of Ravendall would sometimes mistake me for the King, blaming our striking resemblance when I correct them. Some of the servants within the castle misidentify one for the other, before being subjected to a brief lecture on how we clearly don't have much in common. Even Mother, before passing away, used to remark that Trigve and I looked absurdly alike, much to our rarely mutual horror.
I never understood before exactly how these people made the connections between us, especially as we became adults. Our years growing up together only accentuated our differences; despite being several years my senior, Trigve stood a fair distance below my eye-level (another quality that aided me in ignoring his existence), and his naturally heavy brows bestowed him a perpetual glower, in contrast to my capability to actually smile. He kept his hair long and slicked back, which I always believed was too much work; I just cut mine short so I don't have to spend as much time maintaining my appearance. Trigve can grow a full, thick beard, while I could just barely produce a few whiskers, too frail and too wispy to keep. And, while he at least shared a similar body shape to mine, his inherent distaste for outdoor play made him stockier and heavyset.
At least, that was how I remembered him.
Now, I hardly recognized the only family I had left.
These descriptions no longer applied to my brother anymore. At some point in the past year, Trigve had undergone a complete transformation for the worse. For one, being King took care of his excess weight. He was thin now, the kind of boney thin that made one wish he fed himself more often. Furthermore, his freckles were nearly blended with his skin, no doubt due to a lack of time outside in daylight. His previously well-combed hair was disheveled, and riddled with silver, dried-looking strands, adding several years prematurely to his face. Most drastically of all, he completely shaved away his beard, revealing a sharp jaw line that I had long since overlooked in my mental portrayal.
At that very moment, I realized just how a few people could have confused the two of us; we shared our mother's eyes, our mother's facial structure. We were her sons, and the years changed nothing about that.
My older brother, estranged for more than I could ever remember, was now standing inside my bedroom, and I had nothing to say to him. I really, really dreaded the day this situation would come knocking on my door, and here he was. Desperately, I craned my neck for a sight of the Noaidi, but the crafty old man had already slipped away into the halls, abandoning me to my fate.
Trigve and I stared at each other in silence. I shivered from the intense cold, but was otherwise immobile. Trigve's behavior was hardly any different; the King seemed absolutely paralyzed. While his back and face was straight and rigid, they were all part of a breaking facade to hide how uncomfortable Trigve was within such close proximity to me. His body quivered and jolted minutely, as if he wanted to move, but found his feet rooted to the floor. His knees buckled in place, most likely because not enough blood was flowing through them. I could tell he was itching to say something, just by the way the muscles in his jaw popped and shifted, but his lips were glued together. The King's attempts to compose himself only made him all the more painfully obvious.
"You look different." I remarked, before the silence could become unbearable.
Evidently, Trigve hadn't expected me to be the first to speak, for his heavy eyebrows darted upwards in surprise. "Uh..." He coughed, still not quite capable of forming a proper sentence. "E-er..."
After what seemed like a minute of him stumbling mentally over and over, he finally mustered up the courage the speak out. His words came out cracked, hoarse, and almost too quiet to discern. His natural baritone only served to make his voice even less audible. "It's been a while, since we last talked..."
"Well, yeah." I seated myself upon the bed mattress, looking at him evenly.
The silence in the bedroom only grew heavier. I was surprised the sheer pressure between us haven't pushed the spectral mist out of the entire castle yet.
"H-he..." My brother shivered in place. "That old man, he told me. He told me what you guys were going to do."
"Yeah?"
"He said... he said the source of this plague has been haunting you. Above all else, it wants your head for revenge." Trigve cleared his throat. "That man... he believes you can lure it out of Ravendall, back into the forest. He wants to use you as bait."
"Ah." I rubbed the bridge of my nose tiredly. "Of course."
"Wh-what?"
"As long as I'm still alive, the Spøkelse will continue to chase me with all of the tenacity of a starving hound. The Noaidi intended to take advantage of that fact, by using my fresh and tasty, not-subjugated self to draw it away from the kingdom. It'll be like taunting a vicious and viciously hungry bear with a fragrant fruit basket, before baiting it into a death trap.
"Sure, such a tactic sounds suicidal," I continued, shrugging my shoulders in acknowledgement, "but there's a real logic behind it."
Trapping a demon is a tried-and-true method, based on the behavior of mundane animals; attract the target with something enticing, then lock it away once it's guard is fully lowered. It just so happened that Ravendall was convenient enough to have an available trap nearby. I jabbed a thumb out of the window, which still glowed brightly with silver moonlight, despite the flood of ghostly ash trying to blot it out.
"The Lost Woods is a veritable labyrinth of trees and ancient power. The Spøkelse may be quite the heavy hitter itself, a host to at least several hundred's worth of souls and their life experiences, but it is by no means omniscient." I crossed my legs and rubbed my chin in deep thought. "If the Noaidi and I can lose the demon deep within Ravendall's darkest and most inhospitable forest, it will be left scratching its head on how to escape. After all, the Spøkelse only managed to reach the kingdom by tracking me down."
I tried ignoring this strategy's indefinite effectiveness, which ranged wildly between infinitely imprisoned, to merely delaying the inevitable.
After all, there's a reason all those myths about releasing otherworldly abominations from their prisons exist.
Besides, I thought to myself, for a monster as powerful as this? Given both the Noaidi's age and my condition, I couldn't see any other choice.
"The old man knows what he's doing, then." I finished gruffly. "Is that the gist of what he explained to you?"
About thirty seconds passed, and I didn't hear any reply. "Trigve?" I requested, looking up.
The King of Ravendall stared at me slack-jawed, his heavy brows raised so high I'm fairly certain his forehead was straining from the effort to lift them. His agape mouth stretched his face where his thinning body weight didn't, rendering his skin taut and gaunt. He was looking less like the brother I remembered, and more like a pale corpse that was too dry to rot. If it weren't for his piercing blue eyes, I would have thought my brother had just died standing up.
"Trigve!" I snapped, alarmed.
The King's eyes blinked rapidly, and he clamped his mouth shut. "Y-y-you..." he stuttered, pointing a quaking finger at my direction. "I-I've never h-... In all of these years-" he swallowed, "I've never h-heard you say anything like this. You've changed..."
I snorted in a feeble attempt to be amused. "A lot of things tend to change when you don't pay attention for a year."
A twinge of regret plucked within me, a cold hook tugging at my heartstring; Trigve looked as if I had just walked straight up and slapped him. It was never in my intention to; in spite of everything that happened between us, all of the ignoring and the pain and isolation, I never thought that the one day we finally see each other face to face, we would be so... jilted. Awkward.
The man looked like he was about to collapse to his knees. Instead, he did something akin to a shuffle forward, until I was forced to tilt my head to look up at him from my seated position. "Please..." he said weakly, his eyes misty. "You don't have to go. I-I'm sure we could find some other solution, with a more skillful person. There has to be other experts besides that shaman! You... you don't have to be leave home forever."
His pleas worked little to hide his true message: Don't go. You're my only family left.
I turned my head away from him, staring at nowhere in particular. "You're being awfully talkative and concerned about me." I forced myself to look at him. "I don't get it. Shouldn't you be leaping with joy of having me off your back? I've been nothing but constant source of pain and worry, because of all the troubles I keep lumping onto the Royal Family."
Trigve's right eye twitched once. "You only get yourself into such troubles because you always left from home, disobeying my orders, doing who knows what within those forests."
Something ugly crawled into my voice, as I felt myself shake with irritation. "Trigve, I've told you before, I don't have a choice with these matters!"
"Always the same excuse with you, isn't it?" A side of my brother's lips pulled back into a snarl, and his face reddened intensely as he grew angrier. He brushed a hand from one side to the other as he spoke in a mock tone, "'I have to go today!' 'You don't understand, there's an ambush waiting to happen!' 'I must pay a visit to my ghost companions!' 'I don't have a choice.'" Trigve spat acidly.
Dropping the act, he flicked his chin upwards dismissively. "You could have done some honest work in your life for once. I was kind enough to let your ramblings slide for around a month, let you run free to do what you wanted, if it meant coping in Mother's absence! But now, you are always enraptured in your own little world, never paying attention to the serious matters that could threaten Ravendall's prosperity!"
"That's what I have always been doing!" I shouted back. "This whole time, I have been making sure the dangers of the Lost Woods do not reach here!"
"I cannot deny that the forests are incredibly dangerous..." Trigve's voice hardened. "Which is why it is better that you stay within the kingdom, away from these dangerous expeditions once and for all. You are a Prince of Ravendall! It's about high time you acted like one!"
I groaned, and brought my hands up to my face in anguish.
"You're just... you..." The man shook in place, his voice pitched a touch higher as he began to sound almost juvenile. "Absolutely irresponsible! You! Spoiled for freedom, ignorant, enamored by delusions of your grandeur! Like... like your very earliest grand offense, not long after you returned from your first visit into the Lost Woods! How could you miss the ceremony!?"
"It was just the traditional blessings! I came soon enough..."
"No, what you did was completely unacceptable! By the time you came back, covered in mud and rambling something about a river giant, the sun had fallen, and I had already excused everyone from the church, after delaying them from their business for so long, just to wait for you!"
"Don't. Don't you dare bring this up to me..."
"Oh, but I will!" Trigve jeered. "I don't see why I shouldn't share my experiences with my dear little brother! Well, let me tell you this! The reception was beautiful! People from all over Norway came to pay their respects! Everyone, except you!" Trigve bent forward and ferociously jabbed me in the chest with a thinned finger. "The Queen would have been so disappointed..."
"Don't you dare speak of her!"
You were the Prince of Ravendall! On that day, you should have been inside the chapel, standing beside me! I hope you are proud, missing your own mother's funeral!"
"ENOUGH!" I blurted. "No, why should I listen to you? Why should I spare you any kindness, with that little outburst? You don't deserve my sympathy, my respect! You always tried to beat me down with your poor excuse of authority." It was my turn to poke him hard into the chest. He was pushed backwards a fair distance from my strength. "You're too narrow-minded to think outside of your oh-so precious castle. You came here to beg me into staying, but it turned into a weak guilt trip because of you constricted viewpoint!"
I never had any hopes that Trigve and I would ever reconcile. As I predicted, the brotherly reunion fell apart into chaos; at least I was spared from any disappointment. We both stopped yelling at each other, settling instead for a grudging silence. Trigve's blue eyes burned into mine with such contempt, I was sure that he would lose the last of the love between us, excuse himself from my bedroom, and storm away, marking the last time I would ever see him again.
Ever see him again...
Even as my blood boiled in rage, some rational part locked away in the corner of my brain, something that I thought had already withered and died from neglect spoke to me gently.
What was it like, to have only one family member who you can no longer connect to?
Trigve, my one and only brother, continued to glare at me, but his blue eyes betrayed him; what I said cut him deeply, as if I just ran him through with my Ulfberht.
This... this wasn't how this discussion was supposed to end. What am I doing, rejecting my brother at a moment like this? The golden opportunity to finally have him understand was presented to me on a platter, and I squandered it out of petty wrath.
He brought this upon himself, you know, bringing the funeral up.
No, he's just being a person. You know he hasn't forgiven you for what you've done.
You certainly haven't.
What do you expect me to do?
I focused back Trigve's pale blue eyes. They fixed upon me with anger, and steely conviction.
I really, really didn't wish to give in to my brother. Truth be told, I wanted to continue my personal vendetta against him, until it finally dawns upon his thick skull just how much of a blockhead he was being, how much of a mule he had always been. Honestly, I wanted to leave Ravendall right this instant, to prove he doesn't have even a semblance of control over me, and that everything he knew about me was sorely mistaken. It was just something humans tend to do; everybody wants to be the right one, the one who wins the argument, even if it means refusing to compromise for years.
Of course, that sort of mindset is what turn debates into stalemates, disagreements into feuds, simple squabbles into full-out wars. My position was not anywhere near worth taking to my grave; it's just a scuffle between two resentful siblings, both at fault to a certain degree. I've had enough second thoughts in my life; if I could at least part from Ravendall with one less regret, I might as well own up to my share of egregious mistakes.
"I'm-" I ducked my head away from my scowling brother, my shoulders sagging in resignation."I'm... sorry. For everything that I have just said." I quietly admitted. "I was never able to perform the tasks expected of a Prince, and knew that you had to pick up the slack in my stead. I mean it when I say that I was being an immature brat for with a inherent disregard for his personal safety."
I looked up at him and spread my hands. "But none of this matters right now. We have a supernatural threat on our hands, and I need you to believe in the Noaidi, and have me exiled before any more people are killed."
The King's own furious stance was beginning to break down, but his voice turned cool and detached. "Groveling will only take you so far, and I still don't trust your endorsement of this shaman-"
"Noaidi." I corrected.
"He never presented his name, and it is rude of you to interrupt. As I have said before, instead of listening to this man, who just happened to burst right in the midst of this enchanted mist, you should stay here, and hold yourself accountable to what you have brought upon this kingdom." He sucked in a breath. "Do you know just how many people died from this plague, from what you have brought out of the forest?
"Fifty-four." I answered immediately.
"I knew you have no idea about the ramifications of your recklessness. That's fifty-four innocent people who perished... perished." Trigve's stormy voice trailed off. He blinked, widening his eyes as he processed this information. His lips peeled open, dropping into a full "O". "You... you were mad for almost a week. How did you know? How on Earth did you know?"
I truly owed the Noaidi something of incredible value, treasures far more valuable than my life could ever amount to. When the round of horrific flashbacks came, I no longer struggled to maintain my own conscience, my sense of self. I can still see the shadowed images. I can still hear the shouting the jeering, the yelling with all of the hateful venom dripping from angry words.
And yet, at the very middle of my focus, pushing all my other senses away, was the sight of my older brother, whose anger was replaced with confusion.
"The Spøkelse..." I muttered. "I tried killing him because he was dangerous. The ghosts in the Lost Woods may as well be my friends. I wasn't going to abandon them to a predator as powerful and hateful as that demon. Who knows know many people it had hurt before?"
The King's voice sounded unsettled by my information. "The shaman said as much, but I don't understand what he was talking about."
"Fifty-four souls have fallen since the Mist, because I was with them when it happened. Every day, there are more victims who succumb to its torture. The Spøkelse, it had been playing its hand at revenge against me. He taunts with them, dangling their souls on strings as I am forced to relive their worst experiences and failures." I did my best to at least try alleviate the tension. "It might as well be a wake-up service nowadays, however unnecessary it was."
"What... what was it like?" Trigve's eyes looked into my own, mirroring my pain.
I had to avert my eyes from him, and my voice hushed with grief. "It's like replaying regrets that never even belonged to me, over and over again. The memory could be something as simple as being rejected by someone you wished to share a life with, to full outright survivor's guilt for not stopping a murder. I get trapped in these worlds that were so vivid, nightmarish, and real, because they were real." I breathed a heavy sigh. "Just... not for me, and certainly no longer for them. It's a wonder I was even capable of knowing who I am anymore. The downtrodden's emotional baggage became my own... Heh, as if I didn't have enough regrets within me already."
Trigve truly looked upset now, no doubt because he hardly ever saw his baby brother in a condition as depressive as this. "You... You seemed so carefree. So sure of your life, always able to put up a smile no matter what happened. I even envied your lack of responsibility, because it at least meant you have more room to be happy, more time to have fun."
I laughed bitterly. "Are you kidding? I'm like what you always said: worthless. I hated myself for not saying goodbye to Mom one last time, before she was buried. She had done so much for me, and I couldn't even show up on time and share a proper last moment with her. It didn't matter if the giant was going to set his sights on Ravendall, I should have at least paid my respects." I looked up at my brother wistfully." I loathed myself for turning you away, when we should have been carrying ourselves onward, together. I don't blame you for hating me as well, because it is no less than what I deserve."
"Adam, I never realized-"
"And now, I messed up big time, on the one thing I thought I could do right! I couldn't do politics like you can! What was I trying to prove, that I was some sort of hero? I was just some kid with a sword , thinking that he could fix his problems by running around and playing knight. I was the one who let it run rampant, the one who lead it into the kingdom."
"Stop it, Adam! Please, don't talk to yourself like that..."
"I made it my job to protect Ravendall, and now I'm just a helpless boy. Fifty-four innocent people died, and I can't do a single thing about it..."
Trigve made a strangled noise, and my heart sank even lower.
Then, my brother did the one thing I thought he would never do. Even when we were younger, I wasn't even aware that it was something brothers could actually do. We were supposed to get into competitions, bash and tease each other with our strengths to prove one was the better brother. Emotions would be considered a weakness, so any gestures and tokens of affection were met with disgust. Tears. hugs and kisses were judged as crossing a line, stuff that only sisters should do.
At least, that was how I always believed brothers were supposed to behave.
Trigve slowly sat beside me, the additional weight creaking my bed audibly. Then, he wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace.
My estranged brother, King Trigve of Ravendall, actually hugged me.
"T-Trigve?"
"Adam... I could never bring myself to hate you." Trigve murmured. "You can be such a pain at times, but you are my brother. Siblings should never hate each other." He squeezed even tighter, making it harder for me to breathe. "All this time, I thought you were just ignoring your responsibilities, when your were involved in something so incredible. You have been trying to do good for our people, protecting them with your life..."
"I-is that really news?"
I've never truly believed you, but... this plague has made me see things differently. That shaman- no, Noaidi, he proved that you were right about the Lost Woods all along. You were right about everything.
"Adam... I'm sorry I wasn't out there for you when you needed me most. I'm such a lousy excuse of a brother, for making you think so lowly of yourself." His voice started to quaver, making it difficult to hear him. "Even if I could, I have no right to hate you."
Something welled up within me, threatening to escape and cause me to shatter into pieces. It took all of my willpower just to choke back a sob. "Y-You know about the times you told me to stay home?" I sniffled. "I always knew that you wished to keep me alive, even as I ignored your orders to stay put week after week. But hearing you say that you truly care is... overwhelming."
Trigve was rendered still by my comment, but not for long; the King began shivering, and I swore I felt something warm and wet spreading upon my shoulder.
I was on the verge of breaking into tears myself, so I didn't try to rib him for beating me to the punch.
"Brother..." I mumbled. "I'm scared. I don't know anywhere else besides Ravendall."
"You'll do fine, Adam." Trigve let out a shaky chuckle. "You have always been a blessed man. I have no doubt you will flourish."
Eventually, he released me from his hug, and we just sat quietly on the bed, patiently.
Trigve and I didn't have much to talk about; we were just too different and distant to hold an entire conversation. The only thing that made sense to us now was to watch the bedroom window together, and wait as the hours ticked by.
Page 103: In the dark, haunted mist that smothered the entire town, not a single citizen was aware of several silhouettes stealing away in the middle of the night. Normally, two of the people behind the fogged shadows would have caused an uproar with their mere presence, being the Royal Brothers after all, but we decided not to attract any attention just yet.
I sighed to myself in faint disappointment. In a perfect world, perhaps in a storybook, the Prince and the King, two brothers finally reconciled after a year of grudges and hardships, would announce the shocking news throughout the streets of Ravendall, until everyone in town gathered around to see such a miracle. In a perfect world, the entire town would wave at me and the Noaidi, shouting their tearful farewells and good-lucks as I enter the Lost Woods for the last time, against the light of the rising sun.
I tilted my head in a double-take. I'm being too much the romantic to fantasize something as absurd as that premise, in the midst of an ominous plague no less.
Of course this isn't a perfect world, you dope.
The Spøkelse could have been watching.
Appelsin snorted gently, rolling his soft, dark eyes at me. Evidently, the same thought crossed his mind, albeit with much less appeal. I smiled sheepishly at the stallion, shivering from the intense cold, and patted him on the neck. He truly is a good friend, this noble horse of mine. Immediately understanding the gravity of the situation by the moment I took him out of the stables, Appelsin did his best to behave as silently as horses could manage. Even his iron horseshoes barely clicked against the cobblestone pavement of Ravendall's winding roads tonight.
It wasn't long before the stowaway group finally reached the end of town. Craning my neck upwards, I gulped nervously, and shuddered from seeing the extent of the Spøkelse's power; even in the thick air, the demon's display of power was an awesome sight. A dense, raging wall of ash and smog bordered the last establishments of the town, stretching endlessly around until the poor visibility could show no more. The grey miasma towered for kilometers above, so not even the highest flying birds could surpass it. The smoke boiled and tumbled within itself, violent thunderclouds that were displaced from the heavens to continue their fury on Earth.
I swallowed hard. Once I walk through this wall, my journey will become a one-way trip to the unknown. I will no longer have a home to return to.
"That should be about everything," my brother muttered, checking the sacks hanging off of Appelsin. "Two day's worth of provisions for each of you, some traveling cloaks for warmth, and, for you Master Noaidi, a fresh sleeping bag to replace your ragged blankets."
The Noaidi bowed respectfully in acknowledgment.
The King nodded his head, but pursed his lips curiously at the shaman. "Are you sure that you don't need a horse yourself?"
The old man looked down at his pointed fur boots, and chuckled lightly. "Oh, no. I can just barely handle riding on a reindeer. I prefer to travel by foot."
I nudged my brother lightly with my elbow. "Trigve. You're behaving all fussy again."
"Hush, you." He punched me back lightly in the arm, a gesture that he hasn't done ever since he became King. "Let me enjoy this moment."
Now that we have finally settled our issues and matters down with each other once and for all, I found it much more relaxing to be around Trigve. Happy that I was finally able to show affection to my big brother, I gave him a warm, genuine smile.
It quickly faltered, however, at the scene behind him. Fog or no fog, the Kingdom of Ravendall seemed so... desolate. The Spøkelse had sapped the joy of living from the very air itself. Not a single soul hung around on the streets, not even a drunkard sleeping the booze away. There was no sound of nature, no singing of birds, no whistling of a summer breeze through a crevice. Besides us three men and Appelsin, there was only a heavy, suffocating silence.
I'm... I'm not too sure if I could bear seeing Ravendall without the swirling ash clouds enveloping the kingdom. I don't know if I could handle seeing a dilapidated shadow of the beautiful and vibrant kingdom it once was, after a week of monstrous ravaging and lives torn apart by grief and despair.
Especially the victims...
"Trigve... Abou- About the people who..." I couldn't bring myself finish the sentence.
The King placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, like a brother should always do. "I already arranged a memorial and funeral service for them, fit for a King. Their deaths will not amount to nothing."
"Y-you did?" Never before had I felt so much gratitude to Trigve. Too full of emotion, I embraced him tightly, and lifted him off of his feet with a slight grunt of effort. "Thank you so much... for everything."
"It's the least I can do for the people we care about, Adam." He pushed himself free from my grasped, and frowned slightly in thought. "I don't believe it. We are actually talking to each other, like an actual family. Even in the older times, when we were younger and happier, we would always go at each other's throats."
"You still look pretty young to me."
Trigve chortled. "And the baby fat has not melted off of your cheeks."
"I wish I could say the same about you."
The Noaidi cleared his throat loudly to catch our attention, and he looked solemnly at my brother. "The sun will be rising soon. This is where you must stay." he stated apologetically.
A lump of ice, colder than the ghastly chill infecting Ravendall, slid down my throat painfully, throbbing with fear and dread. I was terrified of the future. Beyond these clouds lies a world that used to be so familiar, but now seems completely alien in light of the situation. Once I leave Ravendall, I can never go back home. I will never see my kingdom again. I will never the one family I have left either.
Once I walk out of Ravendall with the Noaidi, I will be left on my own.
I turned to my older brother and, despite being much taller than him, felt like a young, scared child again. My throat felt incredibly parched and scratched as I forced my voice out. "I-I guess... I guess th-this is goodbye, then?"
Trigve regarded me sadly. "I'm afraid so."
Before I knew what had happened, he darted forward to squeeze me in a tight hug. I could feel him trying to lift me upwards, mirroring me, but I was too heavy for him. That didn't stop me from feeling touched by his efforts.
"Can you imagine our luck?" Trigve hiccuped. "The one day we could finally treat each other like brothers... -no, like actual and proper siblings, it has to be when I exile my whole family from the one life he has ever known..." He released me, his eyes brimming with tears that never suits anyone's face, much less the King's. "Life can be such a big joke at times, with the punch line being more of a punch in the gut."
Even while trying not to weep, I allowed myself to twist my face into a sour cringe. "Jeez Trigve, was that supposed to be a quip?"
"A wha- no, nevermind..." The King shook his head out of bewilderment, and resumed to gazing warmly at me. "Adam, I'm proud to have you as my little brother."
I blinked at him, completely nonplussed by his declaration. Never in my life had I hoped to hear such words from anyone with such sincerity, much less from the King of Ravendall. I thought myself too stupid, too juvenile to warrant such praise. "You're... you're proud of me?"
The King nodded. "Mother would have supported this statement as well."
Trigve was proud of me. My older brother... was proud of me.
I first felt my shoulders shake, in no relation to the cold. The edges of my mouth pulled themselves downwards, and I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the flow of tears. It was getting harder to exhale, so I began gagging instead. I covered my face with a hand, desperate to hide the fact that the chokes graduated into full-blown sobs.
It was... I just... Look, I cried. I was a seventeen-year-old Prince that bawled with all of the restraint of a child. It was overwhelming, unpleasant, and just a touch embarrassing.
Trigve, as a proper brother should, made no attempt to rib me for breaking down. Instead, as a proper brother should, he thumped my back gently and repeatedly, muttering, "I'll find a method to keep us in contact, if you don't find one first."
"C-contact." I sniffled. I never would have guessed crying left me more optimistic for the future."Of course..."
I turned my head to the Noaidi, who was checking the strange metal time-piece fixed to his wrist. "I'm ready."
As the old shaman lead my by the hand into the dense, towering walls of spectral smoke, I snapped my view behind me, a frantic effort to see my older brother for one last time.
The image of King Trigve waving farewell was quickly lost to the swirling and overpowering mist.
The memory, however, burned in my mind for much longer.
Page 107: The creature, a serpent with eyes that blazed with an unnatural fire, lunged with the force of a powerful spring, opening its maw wide to bite me with dagger-length fangs that dripped fluorescent venom. The monster was enormous, large enough to swallow hounds whole with room to spare, and its glittering scales only accentuated the powerful, rippling sinews of the snake's muscles.
Wordlessly, I flicked the Ulfberht as it flung itself towards my neck. The enchanted steel shone with extraordinary brilliance, and the giant snake was rendered into two streaming ribbons. As its remains wriggled, it conflagrated into nothingness.
Beside me, the Noaidi tapped on a skin drum rhythmically while riding Appelsin, both looking rather placid in light of the current situation.
A hideous, grinning goblin, patches of its pallid skin coated in a glistening mixture of pungent sweat and saliva, charged while flailing a crudely spiked morning star. I widened my legs in a stance, and swung the sword over my head. The monster was bisected downwards, from its crown to its pelvis, before squirming in agony as it combusted into ash.
"Can you perform the ritual any faster?" I complained, wheezing for breath. It has been more than half an hour since we entered the Lost Woods, and several beasties decided to hold a hostile welcoming party throughout the entire trek. A week as a stumbling shut-in has not diminished my fighting skill too badly, but my stamina was hit hard. If the Noaidi could not finish his drumming soon enough, I would no longer be of use to anyone.
Another monster, a being made entirely out of shadows that dripped messily on the dead leaves and soil, darted its appendages in a black blur, intending to wring the older shaman by the neck. Without losing a single beat of the drum, the Noaidi brought two fingers to his forehead, bringing forth something blue and luminous between them. He swept his hand outwards, flicking a gout of light at the assailant. A chunk of where the shadow creature's head should be vanished upon contact, and it dissolved into a heap indistinguishable from the darkness of the trees.
"If who you describe is truly a Landvættir, then keep in mind I'm working as hard as I can. Spirits of his kind are very reclusive, you know." The Noaidi nonchalantly kicked away a screaming, dual-wielding imp attempting to hack at his shins. It sailed into the distance, dropping its primitive daggers to the floor.
"I sure hope so!" I shouted back exhaustedly. The gleaming eyes that stormed the Lost Woods seemed to multiply, lighting up the forest with their own lurid heat. I was beginning to tire, and these things just keep. On. Coming.
I grimaced in regret; the Noaidi knew that there were... quite a few entities that wanted my head on a platter, although I have no doubt he never expected this many to join the hunt. Really, the whole situation was mostly my fault; my deal with Guðmundur had guaranteed me protection against malevolent creatures and spirits in exchange for my services. It came in handy several times, as more and more monsters start developing grudges against me for debasing their territories, cutting down their blood kin, or something along those lines. They somehow learned or detected that my agreement had been relinquished, along with my immunity, and took the opportunity to attack my team with the tenacity of frenzied wolves.
A figure stepped forward, flinging aside a vaguely spider-shaped demon. The pathetic thing was tossed with enough force to splat sickeningly against a tree trunk.
Recognizing the putrid and eye-watering stench of the monster, I apprehensively turned my head upwards to see the figure's face in the eye. The monster was an enormous Land Draugr, an undead being that was once a giant of a man, standing well over two meters in height. Infested with white and fat, wriggling maggots, what little hair the Draugr had left hung like loose threads, which only brought its hideousness in sharper relief. Its rancid, rotted flesh revealed things within that were indescribably grotesque, all except for its chest cavity; the only object inside the exposed ribcage was an orb of dull light, pulsating at the regular tempo of a heart.
The Draugr brought a thick and grayed hand behind it, withdrawing an enormous and rusty cleaver stained with a suspiciously brown and dried fluid. The creature's disarrayed teeth split into a grin nearly as wide as its grayed cheeks, and hollow eye sockets leered at me with grey lights of their own. As it brandished the massive blade, the monster gurgled a long and slow chuckle, a hollow and rasping sound that could have only come from the deepest recesses of Helheim.
I snarled a wordless challenge at it in return, willing forth sparkling white flames that danced on the Ulfberht's edges. The brilliance flooded the battlefield, throwing the demons hidden within the forest scenery in stark relief. Many of them recoiled, hissing in astonishment and fear.
The Draugr, blinded by the light, covered its face in surprise without realizing that I was already going in for the kill. With a grunt of effort, I swung the blade upwards, splitting the monster's cleaver arm from its shoulder. Both the mottled limb and the weapon thumped heavily as they landed.
In response, the creature roared, and uppercut me in the stomach with its remaining fist. The blow nearly lifted me straight up from the ground, and I had to plant the sword into the dirt as a support, to prevent myself from collapsing. The pain throbbed sourly, and my body lurched, coughing up spit in an attempt to bring air back into my lungs. My mind barely pieced itself back together to assume ducking position, as the Draugr swung it's single arm to sock me once more.
I was just about to formulate a counterattack, until the entire forest shuddered and quaked with a rumble that could have split eardrums. Accompanied the sound of cannon fire, thick tendrils sprung from the ground, flinging dirt and rocks that pelted and stung everything and everyone upwards. Appelsin whinnied in panic, as the roots of trees tore the ground apart, and wrapped themselves around both him and Noaidi.
More thick tendrils coiled themselves from around and below with lightening speed, immobilizing me. I twisted my neck around to see that every single walking creature was now entangled in tough roots.
One of the trees closest to my team's position began moving without a breeze to carry it, flexing its arms in a solitary dance. Its leaves rattled and shuddered, and the wood began twisting in place. I watched in fascination as the trunk of the tree groaned and developed spirals, folding continuously over itself before finally peeling from the bark. A rudimentary, man-shaped silhouette managed to wrench itself free, crackling and snapping as it motioned ponderously. Two spindly arms extended from its main body, and the entity flexed an equally spidery hand to where its head should be. With a heavy yank, the spirit snapped a chunk of arbor off, which morphed into a recognizable head that reattached quickly. The being craned its neck from side to side, and snorted in satisfaction. Then, it lightly brushed its bare, knotted chin, which sprouted stringy green growth from contact, forming an imitation of a wispy beard.
I recognized his face immediately; two weeks is not nearly enough for me forget. "Treeshield!"
The guardian spirit creaked his head towards me, his narrowed green eyes further wrinkling his bark skin. "Causing trouble as usual, I see?" The roots wrapping around my body squeezed tighter.
The Noaidi wriggled his mouth free from the roots' ensnarement. "Guðmundur, Landvaeittir and Master of these la-"
"-You have no need to talk, Sage of the North. Your persistent drumming has done its job well enough."
Slightly taken aback by the interruption, the Noaidi clamped his mouth shut.
The Landvættir resumed his attention back to me, his dry lips pulling downwards at the edges. "I am very disappointed in you, Adam. We had a deal."
"Guðmundur," I gasped, partly out of relief from seeing him again, and partly out of difficulty breathing. "It's been so long-"
"Much too long." he snapped, scowling. "Our agreement was over. You clearly no longer have any interest in being my aide, or else you would have came just a few hours ago to accomplish your deadline."
"My entire town was besieged by a powerful demon-"
"I've made it very clear before that I don't give a single iota about your kingdom. I was only concerned about what you could do for the Lost Woods. Do you know what you have done by ignoring your quota?" The spirit shook his head in disbelief. "A lot of those shades you befriended missed you. They've been suffering from fear without the help you provide."
My eyebrows rose from this information, and I was tempted to shift my view for the smallest spectral signs of said shades. Some curious eyes, perhaps, a timid wave in the distance, something. I never expected that these shades, who are frequently apprehensive of everything and everyone around them, would hold me in such high regards.
"All day and night," the Landvættir complained, "they pestered me about when you are coming back. They has put me in a very bad mood, these mere mewling minor mutts and their incessant whining! These humans never bothered to show even a modicum of respect to their own warden, and now you, the worst of them all, decided ti come waltzing in here as if nothing happened! What were you thinking, you fool? Were you hoping that you can survive one more romp in to woods? Laughable." The Landvaeittir spat on the ground. "I cannot simply execute you for this insult, but these residents of the forest are not held under such obligations..."
Inhuman, grating voices slithered from between the snares, squealing colorful death threats for having been stalled this long from their prey:
"Eat him..."
"Have him dance over a fire long after his feet turn raw!"
"Kill Adam..."
"Strip the Adventurer to the bone, crush his skeleton into meal..."
"Use his skin for a drum, tight and taut!"
Sighing in exasperation, I puckered my face, and blew a raspberry at the trapped fiends. The jeers and the irritating din silenced immediately.
First rule to surviving in the Lost Woods: Avoid appearing weak-willed and inexperienced. While blind confidence would be an obvious detriment, feigned arrogance works surprisingly well; it gives predators second thoughts on attacking.
Of course, imitated bravado can only carry a man so far in a situation. I needed to persuade a powerful forest guardian, not bruise his ego any further. I bowed as low as the thick vines could permit me, and groveled, "This is but a single fault in my servitude, and I only request for your forgiveness. As a longtime friend, I ask that you extend your noble hand to me for one last time."
The spirit stared at me with a stoic expression set into wood, completely unresponsive. Guðmundur had not repealed his hostility.
My head and shoulders sagged in defeat. If I could no longer have Guðmundur as an ally, the trudge through the Lost Woods would become all that much harder. I don't know how much longer the Noaidi and I can defend ourselves from the onslaught of fiends; being captured was the first time we could actually stay put long enough to breathe properly.
If I failed, then this whole plan would be for moot. The Spøkelse would not be removed from Ravendall. The kingdom's people would continue to suffer, until every last citizen was killed and subjugated under the monster's nightmarish torment.
If I failed, Trigve was going to pay for my actions with his life.
"I am sorry to have abused your hospitality for this past year, and my shame for such an act has no bounds." I said quietly. "But... please, I can't live with the knowledge that I have doomed my hometown. I'm begging you... Guðmundur of the Lost Woods, you are one of the few people powerful enough to help me save all of Ravendall. Most of all, you were the closest person I had that I could call a friend..."
The old spirit wavered minutely, his eyes pensive in thought. After two minutes of concentration, he stared up at the night sky, and finally let out a long sigh. "I'm only listening, because the good Sage vouched for your integrity."
My eyes widened in disbelief; Guðmundur was actually treating a human being respectfully, speaking without even a hint of smug superiority. I turned to the ensnared shaman sitting on Appelsin, who remained absurdly relaxed and serene during the entire situation.
What on Earth is this man... I shook my head hurriedly. There are some things that are better left unsaid, and this "Sage of the North" was probably one of them. Perhaps, once this whole deal at hand blows over, then I can feel free to inquire all I want about this Noaidi.
"So..." the Landvættir noted pensively to me. "You won't be coming back?"
"Treebeard... I can't."
"I see..." He creaked and turned around, surveying the carnage that had raged before his arrival. "I was messaged that you intend to strand a powerful ghost here. A solution with indefinite staying power, but understandable." The forest guardian raised a thin and knotted arm high above his head. "Very well. As Landvættir and Warden of the Lost Woods, I grant you lawful protection as per our accord." Guðmundur snapped his fingers, the sound splitting the air with the strength and intensity of a crack of thunder. The roots tangling around me, the Noaidi, and Appelsin shuddered, and vaporized into wisps of beautiful emerald light.
"Unfortunately," Guðmundur proceeded, "I cannot afford to let you free without some sort of compensation. Shameless charity would tarnish my name beyond all belief."
I nodded, straightening my back into the proper poise of a prince. "Very well. State your conditions, Treebeard. I'll gladly do anything for all of the help you provided me today."
"Oh, it's just one requirement." The Landvættir's green eyes twinkled, and he extended a branch-like hand to me. "Hand the sword back to me."
The Ulfberht. Instinctively, I squeezed the scabbard hard, and backed away slightly from the guardian spirit.
"The sword, please." Guðmundur pressed. "It was originally a merit, a badge for being underneath my employment. You were supposed to have returned the weapon the moment our contract was over."
I knew it was the right thing to do. I knew it was what I must to, to rid Ravendall of the Spøkelse once and for all.
But... I don't know why I didn't just give the blasted thing to him right then and there. Instead, I made up childish excuses, anything to stall the fact that the Ulfberht, my powerful year-long weapon of choice, was now to be forfeit forever. "I'll be left defenseless in the Lost Woods..."
"These demons, however unruly their natures are, are bound under the same agreement that keeps them alive in the forest. Killing you will not nearly be worth the punishment, however powerful their hate may be."
"But... How will I clear the undergrowth for Appelsin?"
"The horse? He's stepped on worse than a little bit of bush, and you are aware of the fact. You have your knife, don't you?"
What abou-"
"Enough, Sir Adam." the Noaidi interjected, staring hard at me. "What is the matter with you?"
"Do you realize that I'm going beyond what you humans define 'generosity', Adam?" The Landvættir added. "For missing your deadline, I would have sentenced you to a severe penalty for atonement, and yet I am merely requesting that we officially end our contract on good terms." The wood guardian narrowed his green eyes. "What are you so afraid of?"
Adam, what is wrong with you? What do you fear for losing the Ulfberht?
Under both of their wizened gazes, I faltered. "The sword was everything to me." I admitted sheepishly. "It was a major part of my adventures here in the Loast Woods." Drawing the Ulfberht an inch from the scabbard, I stared longingly at the brilliant steel, which emitted light without a light source to reflect from. I could just see the clamor of townspeople projected on the metal, as they gathered around to hear the tales of the legendary Adam the Adventurer. "In spite of all the pain and suffering it has brought, it gave me a purpose, something worth fighting for."
My grip on the Ulfberht shook unconsciously, rattling the sword in place. "I've given up my home... my friends, my family... and now, I must surrender the last thing that made me special? Without it, I'll have nothing left... I'll be nothing."
Even with the horde of angry monsters and creatures rooted in place and surrounding our group, the forest became anxiously silent and still.
Then, the Landvættir groaned, and smacked me lightly on the head.
"Ow!" I exclaimed.
"Humans. Always so pointlessly self-critical, always blind to themselves. Don't you understand?" He leaned forward, so I could smell soil, leaves, fresh grass, tree sap, and a blend of other aromas exhumed from his breath. "The sword is but a conduit, a mere crutch for a man such as you. It is an emblem of my employment. Nothing more, nothing less."
"...Excuse me?"
"You still have your head, don't you? You still have your strength, your skills, and your loved ones, no?" The Landvættir held his hand out expectantly for one last time. "You will still be Adam, with or without a powerful weapon by your side."
That... that was the closest thing I ever heard from Guðmundur that resembled a compliment. He's right, of course; even without the sword, nothing about me will change. Worst-case scenario, I'll be less adept at disposing monsters. After all, I still have my wits, my ability to survive, and the people whom I must protect. I wasn't going to have them die from a petty moment of weakness.
Reluctantly, I passed the sword to Guðmundur. His twig-like fingers wrapped around the scabbard, and he placed it against his chest. His bark skin morphed and melted, enclosing itself around the Ulfberht like a toothless and sideways jaw, until it snapped around the sword; the enchanted weapon now was firmly within the wood spirit, without a single trace of it left to be seen.
Guðmundur rubbed his chin, and raised a finger at me. "The sun will be coming up soon, diminishing the Spøkelse's tracking ability and sight. You have until nightfall before I terminate our agreement once and for all."
I ran and embraced the Landveittir fully, ignoring the splinters and scratches cause by his rough and jagged skin. The spirit came to a startled stop, and hesitantly patted me on the back. In the distance, I could hear Appelsin snort repeatedly, sounding suspiciously like he was laughing at this state of affairs.
After I finally released Guðmundur, the old spirit swiped a hand dismissively. "Away with the rest of you!" his voice boomed. The roots suspending the fiendish creatures vanished into burst of lights, eliciting howls and screams of pain. The demons, frustrated that their prey has escaped their grasp once more, snaked back from whence they came, screeching obscenities and curses as they disappeared from sight.
Then, there was only silence. Pure, golden silence.
The Landvættir gestured to the Noaidi. "You know what to do, Sage of the North."
The aged man nodded, slinging his drum over a broad shoulder. "Adam," he called, hopping off Appelsin's back. "It's finally daybreak. What was the Spøkelse's name, and what do you love most about Ravendall?"
I contorted my eyes in bemusement. "Wait, what? What does that have to do with any-"
As I was trying to form an answer to his bizarre requests, the shaman lunged forward without warning, his strong hands outstretched as they struck me simultaneously. His thumbs jabbed deep into my heart and forehead, even as images of my last meeting with Trigve, ghosts, monsters, triumphant journeys, treasured moments within Ravendall, and the word "Holmgeirr" repeated themselves in my mind. I didn't even yelp in astonishment before the Noaidi drew back ponderously, pulling... something along with him.
Hanging off of his fingers were translucent, blue streams, painted with white pinpoints of starlight that bounced and twinkled with merriment. Deftly, the man moved his hands over and around each other, so the glittering ribbons followed suit and jumbled together, coalescing into a ball of blinding light the size of my fist.
"I'm terribly sorry, Sir Adam. I needed your memories and emotions to draw the Spøkelse's attention to us." He grimaced at me apologetically. "Call me an old coward, but I'm too old to become another prime target. As soon as this strategy is executed, we will part ways, and hopefully never see each other again."
I blinked at him, stunned, and shook my head. "Oh n-no, it's perfectly fine. His grudge should go to me, and me alone." I bent down to observe the little ball of cobalt light floating between his hands curiously. "Still though, exactly... what are you going to do?"
The Noaidi's lively eyes glittered with mischief. "I may be retired from hunting heavyweights and big game," he announced, straightening his back with pride, "but I will not shy away from a sucker punch." He clasped his hands around the orb, seemingly fighting an invisible pressure that threatened to burst and escape. Even the rays of azure light emitted attempted to squeeze themselves between his thick fingers, thin beams that bled through at times.
"Ready?" he asked waveringly, his arms straining to hold my memories within.
I nodded.
With a gasp of relief, he released his grip on the light. It gleefully burst into a miniature sun that blinded everyone around it, shooting out of the forest canopy and high into the open air. It flared a trail of cerulean stars that tailed the main source in graceful lines and arcs. As the the magical projectile soared with incredible speed across the slowly brightening sky, it shone beams that illuminated even the darkest crevices of the Lost Woods, far beyond what the human eye could see.
Eventually, the light faded into the distance, replaced by the simple tranquility of a forest in the early morning; the rest of the world had resumed its mundane activities.
"Was... was that supposed to work like it did?" I asked tentatively.
I only had to wait for a second longer for the subject to resolve itself; a roaring gale ripped through the trees, causing wood to bend and snap, and leaves to thrash violently in death rattles. Touched with a familiar and unpleasantly spine-tingling chill, the wind tore into me, forcing my arms upward to brace against it. Appelsin whinnied nearby, galloping in front of me and stamping himself to the ground to shield his owner from the chunks of loose debris picked up by the massive gust.
The noble effort was a tad unnecessary though, because the hurricane died as soon as it began.
"It appears that the demon took notice of your actions. A job well done, Sage of the North." complimented the Landvættir. Naturally, neither of them appeared even a touch ruffled by the surprise windstorm.
The forest floor groaned heavily, and the ground beneath Guðmundur melted into a funnel, sucking the spirit into the earth. "It is time that we finally part ways, Adam the Adventurer. Take care and good luck, my friend..."
I waved at him just before he was completely swallowed, and watched as the ground snapped back into its original state.
"Farewell, Treebeard."
With only myself, a horse, and a temporary escort, I departed from Ravendall entirely, for other worlds unknown.
Between Page 122-123:
Dear Adam,
How have you been? Is the winter becoming too cold for you? Are you eating proper meals regularly? Surely, you must at least have a bed to sleep on? I'm only asking because rumors have begun to spread, whispering about an erratic young man who has been stirring up trouble for months within a backwater fishing village. I don't suppose that could be you, could it? If it was, it would give me such great joy to know my brother has finally found a place to feel safe in.
It has been three years as of yet, and it has not returned to Ravendall. I guess we both have that Noaidi to thank for everything.
Speaking of which, that man has only traveled back to the castle once, immediately after the incident, to report your success. He was the one who told me we can't contact each other by mundane methods, lest it might catch on, and trace paths back to either of us. Instead, he prescribed to me the other way to keep us in touch. It didn't matter that the service was expensive, or that delivery could be delayed for entire months; as long as I could exchange words with you again, I was willing to pay the price.
But... Adam, we can't do this forever, at least not for now. I know you have been scraping for every coin in your pocket just to tell me you're still alive, and I don't want to be the reason why you are impoverished. Being my little brother and all, you probably won't listen as usual, but please... Unless you become, I don't know, a king or something, please refrain from writing back to me. You have your own life to live now, and it's about time I stop having a distant little brother who's more concerned about my well-being than his own.
However, that is not the main reason why I'm writing this letter. Adam... we live so far apart. I fear for the inevitable day when we disappear completely from each other's lives. Over the past couple of years, the image of how I always imagined you was beginning to fade; I've already forgotten how tall you were, what kind of cape color you preferred, or the way you used to walk. I know such things are trivial, but eventually, time will rot away both our memories, until neither of us will ever remember that we even had a brother.
It's already affecting the townspeople; you are now a legend, your tales and adventures becoming fantasies to impress children with, just because everything you have achieved and sacrificed was just too incredible. As I listen to them recall you, a sinking feeling from the revelation plagues me to the moment I drift into sleep. I don't know how I would have managed to survive had I not met Johanna, a huge fan of yours.
That is why I've finally decided to take up painting with her. If you must know, she was the only one I could bring myself to trust to paint for me; it was her who worked on all those paintings I sent you on your birthday. Now, she tutors me on a daily basis. I cannot tell you just how incredible a woman she is, teaching me the proper way to use a brush with patience and virtue one couldn't find anywhere else.
Even as of now, as I'm writing this, I can just imagine you sniggering in the distance, and I won't blame you; even as a young boy with actual spare time, I have always been an atrocious artist.
Still, I must try to work hard and improve myself, until one day a viewer could swear that my portraits may as well be mirrors. I must do it for your sake; I know you are homesick, and miss Ravendall's forests and waterfalls terribly. I know you miss its people even more so. Perhaps, by learning from the best in Ravendall, I too could play a larger part in reminding you of home.
Another thing: Once I can finally paint images perfectly, I wish to paint you a portrait of Johanna; I want to show just how much beauty and kindness she possesses in ways that can not be expressed in words. With enough luck, such a dream can be achieved before your relationship with me finally atrophies to nothingness.
One day, we will forget about each other as time flows on, stripping away memories and cherished moments like a cleansing river against stone, until we lay forgotten and useless on our deathbeds. But today will not be that day, and certainly not tomorrow! Johanna and I will continue fighting to preserve your memory and your sacrifice, and only hope that you will do the same.
I finish this letter to you with only seven words:
Take care of yourself, and good luck.
Love,
King Trigve of Ravendall
End of Day One
Feel free to ask me any questions; I'm not popular enough to be bogged down by messages, and I will gladly answer each and every one in my own way.
See you guys soon, fans of Frozen.