Alfífa and the Song of the Sea 01
Alfífa was three the last time her parents took her to the sea. Her father would laugh and call her his little selkie. She loved to play in the water, and always protested when her mother brought her back out to keep her from catching her death of cold.
Half laughing, her mother scolded her as she dried her hair and helped her dress again. "Why must you always swim so far out! Selkie or no, you're still just a little thing and the current can turn on you!"
She giggled and shook her head, "I was safe, móðir! The sea won't hurt me!"
"The sea won't hurt you! Listen to her!" Her mother laughed and turned to look at her father, "Almost as if she thinks she is a selkie!" Turning back to her, her mother kissed her forehead, "So tell me, my little selkie, why must you go so far out and scare your poor móðir?"
"I just wanted to hear the music better." She turned and looked to her father, "Did you hear the music, faðir?"
It would be a long time before Alfífa learned what caused her parents to react the way they did that day. Her mother suddenly pulled her close and clung to her as if she were afraid of losing her, while her father immediately began to pack the few things they had brought with them.
They moved to another village, further away from the sea after that, and whenever Alfífa would ask about the sea, they would look fearful and scold her.
But Alfífa never lost her love for the water. In the years that followed, she would try to hear the music in the spring that provided water for their little village or the river that ran from it. She would follow the stream as far as she was allowed to go, knowing that it flowed to the sea. The music of the spring and the river were nice, but they were not her song.
Often as she went about her chores or playing with the other kids in the village, Alfífa would hum the song to herself. Because it had no words and was all she ever sang, the other children would tease her.
Now Alfífa did not think that she was anything special. She knew that she was not brave and that she did not want the other children to make fun of her, but she also knew that she could not give up the song. So instead, she learned other songs, whatever she heard others singing, she learned. Her song remained her favorite, but Alfífa learned to love all songs.
Like most children her age, Alfífa also enjoyed to listen to the stories of the village's Loremaster, even the ones that were not put to music. She would listen, as if transfixed to his tales and later, when she was alone, would repeat them.
She was nine years old when the song again changed her life.
Carrying water from the spring with her mother, Alfífa sang the song. Her mother would glance back at her and smile. What neither of them realized was that the Loremaster also heard Alfífa's singing and followed the pair.
The next day was a rest day, and as the family ate the midday meal, a knock surprised them. They were even more surprised when the Loremaster stepped into their house.
"I am sorry to intrude upon you, but I was hoping you would allow me to talk with you a bit."
"Of course!" Her father quickly pulled another chair to the table, and her mother dished out a plate for him. "We're more than honored to have you join us. Please, please, come in."
"Thank you." His smile was warm as he sat at the table with the small family.
Alfífa tried to be well behaved, but every child knows how boring adult-talk can be. They spoke of the weather and crops and other Important Things, and Alfífa found herself growing restless. She tried to be quiet as she began to hum to herself.
It was the Loremaster who first noticed her humming, which would have been fine if he had not stopped talking to her parents in order to listen. Of course, her parents could not help but notice the lull in the conversation and see that he was watching her.
"Alfífa! You are being rude to our guest!" Her mother scolded her, causing her to stop humming and grimace.
Before she could apologize, however, the Loremaster laughed and waved a hand, "No, I believe we have bored her; besides, your daughter's singing is why I am here."
"Oh?" Her father looked concerned. "I'm sorry if she has disturbed you. We have never seen any harm in her music."
"Nonono, I'm afraid you misunderstand. It is quite the opposite actually." Though his tone grew more serious and intense, like he did when he was telling a story, his smile never drooped. Interested now, Alfífa leaned in, hoping for a tale. "I was out the other day when I saw you, Inga Geiradatter, and the child carrying water from the spring. The girl's voice was sweet and joyful and so I followed you a bit. I assure you, I would under no circumstances ask that such a source of music be silenced."
"Thank you, sir." Alfífa's mother smiled. "For it is not a request we could have honored. Alfífa's voice is a source of joy for all of us."
"As it should be! However, I have come with a proposal. It is long since past time that I should take an apprentice, someone to learn the tales and the songs and to sing them when I am gone. I believe in your Alfífa I have found what I have been searching for."
"But..." Her father stumbled over his words at the request, "We are honored, sir, but as you can see Alfífa is a girl, and...girls cannot, sadly, be Loremasters!"
Again, the man laughed, "Says who? It is rare, perhaps, but not unheard of."
Her father seemed to mull the issue over silently, taking a long draught of his meade before looking to Alfífa, "What say you, my fífla, do you wish this?"
"Yes, please, faðir! Very much!"
Studying under the Loremaster was, in many ways, perfect for Alfífa. She got to learn to read and write, both letters and notes, learned how to use her voice, to play instruments, to spin a tale. She learned all the stories, even some from far away lands. She learned about the gods and the histories.
It was not easy. She would practice for hours on an instrument or simply singing scales. She would recite an entire lay, only to be told she had dropped a word or two and had to repeat it from the beginning. She copied documents until her vision blurred. But Alfífa loved it.
She had friends among the other kids in the village her age, not many, but a few. At first they resented that she no longer had to do chores like they did. Alfífa no longer helped haul water from the spring, carded and spun wool, or tended to the vegetable gardens. They envied her until they came to collect her in evenings and found she could not join them because she had ten more lines to copy or had to start a recitation over.
Eventually, she even became desired beyond her few friends when there was free time, as she could tell them stories, which the Loremaster encouraged. "That is what you're training for. If your peers already want you to tell them tales, all the better. Just," he winked, "make sure not to tell any of the new ones."
One day, she was practicing on the pipes, when her master stopped her. "What is that song? It's the song you were singing that day fetching the water and still seems to be your favorite, but I've never asked you before what it is."
Alfífa lowered the pipes to her lap and blushed brightly. "I don't know if it has a proper name, sir. I think of it as the Song of the Sea."
"Oh?" He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms as he watched her. "Why is that?"
For the first time since that day, she told someone what happened that day at the sea, about knowing she was perfectly safe in the water, about hearing the music, about her parents' reaction.
"I see." He stood, smiling, and moved to the shelf of books and selected an old codex. "Tell me, Alfífa, have you ever heard of the Fosse-grim?"
Alfífa frowned, "I don't think so."
"Come here." He flipped the book open and pointed to a picture. "It's an older tale. Even my master only told it a time or two, but I would hazard a guess your parents heard it as kids. I would suppose the tale would have lasted longer among those who live by the sea."
Chewing her lip, Alfífa read through the tale of the Fosse-grim, a creature who lived in the water and played beautiful music and led young children and women to their deaths.
"I don't understand." She looked up at her master after reading a couple of accounts. "How could this music come from something evil?"
He smiled and laid a hand on her shoulder, "I do not believe the Fosse-grim is evil. I suspect, he's rather like you."
She opened her mouth to protest but then shut it again. Taking a breath, Alfífa tilted her head to look at him, "How so?"
"He has music in him, and he wants to share it. I don't believe he has interest in luring anyone to their death."
It was the summer of her eighteenth year when the Loremaster ordered her to travel. He provided her with a small allowance but assured Alfífa that she could easily pay her way in song and tales. He challenged her to listen at least as often as she spoke or sang.
For the most part, she traveled with merchants and was welcomed not only in the caravans but in the towns and villages to which they came. She learned new tales and songs from the Loremasters and apprentices she met and taught them hers.
The last village she came to was the one in which she was born and lived the first three years of her life. Her father's family still lived there, and she was warmly welcomed. In many ways, it was unlike any other village she'd stopped in, as here she met her cousins and their children and had to deal with the quiet disappointment when she said that no she did not have any sisters or brothers. As a future Loremaster, the pressure on her to marry was less than on other girls her age, and she could feel weight of that here.
She had been in the village a few days before she felt free to escape the duties of family and lore long enough to go down to the sea. As it was not a rest day, it was relatively easy for Alfífa to find a stretch of shore that was empty. She wasted no time in shedding her clothing and moving into the surf.
The water was cold, but she welcomed it. Alfífa delighted in the surf as it lapped at her calves and then her thighs. When she reached waist-depth, she stopped and stood, arms spread as if in welcome, her face tilted up, and her eyes closed. She listened to the song, renewed.
Alfífa spent all day swimming, laughing, and when she floated, she sang along with the music.
At times, she thought she saw someone else in the water, but whenever she approached the form would disappear so that she was not quite sure if she had seen it or imagined it.
She was not able to return for a couple more days, as she spent a day with the village's Loremaster and the next, being a rest day, she was asked to share her tales and sing.
When she did return to the beach, she was followed by a small raven she had managed to lure with her singing and crumbs of bread, a dagger, and a small bit of brännvin. She sang the song of the sea, as she sat in the surf. Pricking her finger, she allowed three drops of blood to fall into the foam and then poured out a measure of the vodka, as the raven watched.
There was a sound of laughter and she looked up to see another approaching her from the waves.
"I never knew what exactly we were supposed to do with all this. Perhaps it's just a test to see if you truly are worthy." The voice was warm and deep, and Alfífa blushed. "To be honest, all you need to call me is to sing my song. It has been too long since it has been a duet, and I had hoped you would return."
"I..." Alfífa found herself at a loss for words and looked away as the other studied her.
Again the other laughed, but not a mocking cruel laugh, more one of wonder and joy. "Sing with me?"
The raven was fed a few more crumbs and released, but chose to remain near most the day.
The hours passed as they sang together, Alfífa having moved into the waves. They sang. They laughed. They played.
When the sun began to dip across the horizon, the Fosse seemed genuinely sad, "You'll return?"
Alfífa nodded, "I'll return."
She came again the next day, and the two found a shallow pool under a cliff to pass the day. The raven came for a bit to listen before flying off after its own pursuits.
"I did not think anyone believed in me anymore."
"My parents," Alfífa sighed, "believed enough to move away. They thought I was in danger."
The Fosse sighed as well, a hand running through long hair which shortened as it did so. "I mean no harm."
"I know."
They sat in silence for a bit, Alfífa watching the ways the Fosse constantly changed. The creature was definitely a being of the sea, constant but ever changing.
"I can't do what you ask, you know?"
Alfífa blinked, caught off guard as she looked into green eyes-one of the few constants. "I'm sorry?"
"I can't give you the gift of music. It's already a part of you." The creature smiled, and again Alfífa blushed.
"Oh."
"Do you know we have our own legends?" The Fosse leaned back, hair splayed over water as small pert breasts breaking the surface of the water, "Plenty of stories about the other sea creatures who share our world, but one or two about you humans." She laughed, "Most are as scared of you as you are of us."
Her eyes carefully averted, Alfífa tilted her head to listen. "Really? Is that why our legends say you're all male?"
The creature laughed, "There would not be many of us then!"
"I suppose not." Alfífa ducked a splash grinning. "What do your legends say?"
"They tell of beings who would trap us. Who would silence our songs. They tell of hunting parties seeking vengeance when we try to warn them of danger, of spears and boats." She smiled, "And they tell of those who are music-touched, those who would learn from us. Those who have, occasionally, loved us."
Alfífa swallowed. "Oh?"
"Mm-hmm. Though those stories rarely end well. The heartbroken Fosse must leave his beloved song-born to return to the water."
"What if..." Alfífa bit her lip, and the Fosse hummed quietly waiting for her to form her question. "What if the human lived near water?"
"It would have to be very near."
When Alfífa came again the next day, she waded into the water, by now more than accustomed to its cold greeting, and sang into the waves. She did not have to wait long until the creature joined her.
"What is your name?"
The Fosse smiled, "Zenevieva, and yours music-touched?"
"Alfífa."
Again, they swam and sang and played in the water, though when they returned to the pool, their music took on a new quality. Together they sang of love and lust, of beauty and desire.
As they lazed in the water, afterwards, holding hands, Alfífa smiled over to Zenevieva, "You lied."
"What?"
Alfífa laughed, "You said you could not teach me music, but you taught me a new instrument altogether."
Her response was Zenevieva's laughter blending with her own, "And you are an apt pupil-and a magnificent instrument yourself."
On what was to be her last day in the village before returning home, Alfífa ran her fingers through Zenevieva's ever changing hair as the other laid her head upon her lap. "The village is less than an hour's walk away, and their Loremaster is older than my own master. Perhaps I could build a little house on the shore and you would not have to choose."
Zenevieva smiled, "I would like that, but you would need a boat, so you can come further out with me at times. I'll keep you safe."
And that is what they did.
The people of the village, to this day, still talk of the strange Loremaster who lived by the sea and occasionally kept company with ravens. A woman who never married, but who always sang with a twinkle in her eye and told stories of worlds beneath the ocean's foam, a woman who at a ripe old age died not in her bed but in a shallow pool of water under a cliff, smiling.
Some few who are gifted enough to hear it say that the voice of the sea changed after she died. The music, they claimed, was still beautiful, but at the sea near the small village the song now held a deep sense of sorrow.
And still today, the Loremasters teach Alfífa's songs, but the most loved of all is the Song of the Sea, a duet.
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