Interlude 4: The lady of determination
September 15th 2045.
Northern Iceland, 10:43 PM.
Something stirred that dark blizzard night. A living thing that was neither man, beast, nor monster. This wooden emissary wandered through the biting snow, the blinding blizzard, unmoved and unhindered. Eventually, the house's moving hen legs creaked as they came to a stop.
Outside was the worst winter the country had ever seen. The year before that was also the worst winter the country had ever seen. And the year before. And before.
Hundreds of wet snowflakes splattered on the old farmer's windowpane every minute like dying flies. The wind blew and howled like an old winter ghost, bringing so much fury it seemed like it would carry the farm off the earth. The darkness was incomprehensible. The farmer could not see farther than he could throw, and the skies above were starless and cloudy.
He remembered, as a child, he had experienced a storm so bad it felt like the end of the world. This one was ten times worse than that, and Gunnar could barely feel stressed. All he feared now was that his goats would survive this winter.
"A red alert is still in effect all around the country," the man on the television said in Icelandic. "Citizens living in the Reykjavík area are advised to, at all costs, stay indoors. The exceptions are cases of emergency, and so, all night, hospitals will be operational. The storm is notably worse in the northern counties and anyone still there is recommended to shut and seal all doors, windows, and openings, preferably using ducktape and or nails, and to, no matter what, never leave the house even in cases of emergencies."
Way ahead of you, Gunnar thought.
At this point, anyone living on a farm who did not know how to prepare for a storm would be dead, he figured.
He poured water into the pot on the stove while listening to the newscast drone on and on. He then fetched a bag of tea and put it in. More frugal than a tea kettle or those self-making tea machines.
But more natural, nevertheless. There are so many machines and bots these days. The old farmer felt nostalgic for a time he wasn't even born for yet. His father raised him to use his hands, and so did his father before him. All these kids in the big city with all their fancy gears and "eye-watches". Where was the connection? The humanity? People were so distant from each other, hence why he gladly locked himself off from the rest of the country at his father's house.
His ex-wife did not appreciate his attitude much, and now she's gone.
Part of him said: "good riddance".
Another part said that he misses her dearly. Now that even his children refused to speak to him, that old wound only festered inside him.
But that is in the past, and the past is unchanging. On the other hand, the future's arrow marches ever forward.
He sat down on his sofa, cup in hand, and watched the experts warn that this autumn will have storms of the most unprecedented proportions for about the fifth year in a row.
Currently, they were talking through screens halfway across the world from each other. Perhaps one of the few good things from social media these days, he admitted.
"Unfortunately, the signs have been here for a long time," one expert said. "With the severe dryness and droughts in countries around the equator, plus record strikes of hurricanes each year, just to name a few examples."
He's been hearing it for years, Gunnar recognised. They've been saying it for years.
He took a big sip of the tea and placed it on the living room table. A bit bitter, he felt.
"Rumour has it," the Icelandic news anchor began. "Storm patterns have been stabilized in the northern hemisphere for a while now. Wouldn't that mean that the worst is, perhaps, behind us?"
"Well," another expert began. "There has indeed been some stability from the reports recently, but that doesn't mean that things won't get worse. They will get worse, and if things continue at this rate, then most of the northern hemisphere during autumns, and especially winters, will be uninhabitable in about say-"
Gunnar reached the remote and turned it off. Of course, things would get worse. They always get worse. He didn't need to be reminded of it anymore.
He looked at the window, the pane almost completely encased in the ice. It was like a dead, dark world out there. He couldn't even see a glimpse at the barn where the goats sat. As far as he knew, the wind had spirited the barn away, scattering the goats all over the country.
What then, he wondered. The goats were the only thing close to companionship nowadays.
Not that I really need it, Gunnar thought to himself.
The storm outside was almost hypnotic. The sounds and sights of splattering rain and snow plus the whistling of the wind were enough to make Gunnar sleepy. He couldn't stop staring at the chaotic weather, almost lost in the gaze. Could anything truly live out there? Or had the world been swept-
Wait. What is that?
There was some strange, bright yellow print on the window. Gunnar figured it was simply a stain, one he was too comfortable to stand up and clean. But as he kept staring, it became clearer that this "stain" was, in fact, not on the pane. It was, actually, outside, far away. It was faint and yellow, like a warm light. Like a lit room seen from a distance. There were no other houses nearby, no farmsteads. He thought of the possibility of someone stranded in a car, but to bring oneself to drive in this weather, one would have to be mad. Then again, there were plenty of equally dumb people in the world.
Should he go out to check, he wondered briefly.
Nah, too dangerous. Even if it were a person, it was not his trouble. As he told himself before, only someone mad or stupid would be out there.
Then again, as he peered closer, the resemblance to a car light began to wane. It looked more like a distant hearth than an electric headlight.
Feeling justified with inaction, Gunnar felt himself sink deeper into his chair.
Maybe just close my eyes for a moment, he thought.
Sometime later, a loud noise woke him up. It took him a second to realize he was awake, so he could barely take it in. Then the noise came again.
It sounded almost like a knock on the front door.
Of course, that was ridiculous, he figured. Maybe something hard just flew on the door with the storm.
But just as the reassurance finished settling, it came again: A knock on the front door and louder this time.
Gunnar stared at the door for a moment, then looked at the window. The blizzard was still going, harder than before, but the yellow light was still there.
A fourth time the knock came, now much louder.
"Who's there?!" Gunnar called out. "Hello?"
There came no response except the blowing of the storm.
Surely, this wasn't what he was considering. Could a person truly be standing outside his house? In the middle of the night during the worst blizzard that the country had ever seen? And without being blown away?
Maybe they were trapped, their car stuck on the side of the road? Then maybe that strange glow out there is simply a car's headlight. But why would someone be out here in the storm in the first place?
Suddenly, ideas of old country myths came into his head. Stories of the Huldufólk, the hidden people of the mountains and hills. Ghosts, fae, and monsters. Could that be it? Could there be one standing out there?
He immediately emptied that thought. Silly superstition, he figured. Still, he couldn't remove the suggestion.
The knock came a fourth time.
He could not wait any longer. Even if there was nothing at all, it was better to check than risk the chance of a person freezing to death all because he couldn't be bothered. Not to mention, the police would not hear the end of it the day after.
"Stay still!" Gunnar shouted as he walked to the front door. "I'm coming."
Nervously, he grasped the doorknob. With a lot of effort, he strained against the terrible wind to pull it. In the immediate chaos of wind and snowfall that followed, he could barely pay attention to the strangest thing standing on the other end. A short, black hooded person. Thick but half his size.
"Goodness me," said a voice sounding like a hoarse old lady. "Hurry up and shut that dreadful weather, young man!"
Gunnar did not even waste a second before he slammed the door shut. He breathed heavily, wiping thawed snow off his hair and sweater.
"Bah, took your time!" the old lady said harshly in fluent Icelandic.
Only now could Gunnar look and behold the elderly lady brushing off the snow from her black wool cloak. The absurdity of the situation began to settle in.
"Thank you so much for inviting me in," the old lady began, smiling. "Seems the climate has truly become dreadful since last I was here."
"Jesus, what the hell were you doing out there?!" Gunnar exclaimed. "Were you trying to kill yourself, woman?!"
"Oh, pardon me, is that how you treat your newly arrived guests, young man?" the old lady replied. "Even poor strangers stuck in the wild, with a storm neverending? Tsk-tsk, you're not off to a great start."
"Great start?" Gunnar replied. "What do you mean-?"
That's when he noticed her eyes, her grey, almost dead, glassy eyes.
"Wait, are you blind?!"
"Pardon?" the lady replied calmly.
Gunnar found himself unable to comprehend the situation any further. An elderly blind woman out in the storm all by herself? There was no logic in any of this. He figured this must be a dream.
"Oh?" the lady said. "Oh, you must be confused. It's my odd eyes, aren't they? Ah, well, I see your worry now, hehe. But there's no need, no need."
"I don't understand," Gunnar replied. "Are you blind or not?"
"And even if I were, so what?" the lady answered. "Heh, there are more ways to see if you're clever enough. Nah, Nah, I can see. I can see. But… maybe not in the same way you understand it."
"The hell does that mean?"
"Pfft, are you always so inconsiderate, young man? You invite an old lady stuck outside in dreadful weather into your building, and instead of making sure she feels comfortable, the first thing you do is pester her with questions? Why? Are you expecting some sort of mythical answer here? Gah, you're overthinking things, boy. An old lady stuck in a blizzard. Nothing more complicated than you need to know."
Gunnar looked down at her, unable to fathom a proper response. Then he shook his head tiredly.
"I'm sorry," he said, a bit grumpily.
"Ah, much better," the lady said, smiling under the cloak. "Now, how about giving me some proper welcome this time? Start all over, y'know?"
Gunnar sighed.
"Well… greetings."
"That's it?" the lady said, grinning playfully. "Aren't you going to offer to take my cloak, or are you expecting me to do everything by myself?"
"Fine, may I take your cloak?"
"You may not take my cloak, thank you very much."
Gunnar examined the wet snow stain leaking from the black wool, filling the floorboard with wet puddles.
What the hell is up with this hag? he wondered
"Please, I insist," Gunnar added.
"Hmm," the lady said. "Well, since you asked nicely."
She quickly removed the cloak, letting it fall lazily onto the floor. Underneath, she was wearing a shorter yet almost identical wool cloak, except one fully dry. The tired farmer kneeled and picked it up like old laundry.
"Aren't you going to remove your hood?" Gunnar asked tiredly.
"No!" the old lady quickly said.
Her voice had taken on a strangely hostile tone for a moment. Gunnar looked at her silently, furrowing his brow in surprise.
"Ah, my apologies," the lady added, sounding cheerful again. "That was mighty rude of me. But no, I prefer not to take it off. I feel very self-conscious without it on."
"Why?" Gunnar asked. "Is it hiding some bald spot?"
"Nah, it's to conceal my horns."
Gunnar looked at her silently for a good few seconds before chuckling awkwardly.
"No, but really, why?" he said.
"I'm serious," the lady said, smiling. "My horns. Very ugly, very unappealing to most human eyes. It's because most humans shouldn't have them. Well, maybe not full breed humans, so I keep them hidden. Much less of a fuss, that way."
Gunnar stared at her for additional awkward seconds, his smile completely dissipating.
"Erm, ok?" he said. "Keep the hood then, whatever."
The strange old lady grinned happily with her yellowed teeth before strolling into the living room, slowly and almost wobbling like a penguin.
"Is that your car out there?" Gunnar asked, pointing at the distant yellow light through the window.
"If you mean my ride," the lady began. "Then yes. Sort of."
"Huh," Gunnar said. "And you wandered all the way from there on your own?"
"Eh, it's not so bad when you get used to it," the lady said. "Believe me, boy, I've been in much worse weather through my many ages on this planet."
"I find that hard to believe."
"Well, you best try believing then. Anyway, you don't happen to have anything to drink, would you?"
"I have some tea?"
"That'll be lovely, thank you."
The farmer nodded and went to the kitchen, viewable from the living room. He reached the kettle, still containing a little bit of tea, and poured it into two cups, not bothering to start over.
"I don't think I caught your name?" Gunnar pried while he did that task.
"Oof, that is a very complicated issue," the old lady said across the living room.
"Err, how come?"
"Just the name given to me has some bad history. For good reasons. You wouldn't take me seriously if I told you."
"Ok, try me."
"Grýla."
A quick burst of sudden laughter escaped the farmer's lips, so much so that he almost spilt the kettle.
"Seriously?!" he asked. "Like the Christmas ogre? The one who eats naughty children and has a big black cat?!"
"Hehe, the very same," said "Grýla".
"Ok…" Gunnar replied. "I don't recall any stories saying Grýla having "weird eyes"."
"Eh, I suppose there was no need for that. A detail lost in time, like many things."
"You're a very odd lady."
"Heh, I get that a lot. Of course, it's not my real name. Though, is it?"
"Ok, then what is it?" Gunnar pried. "What is your real name then?"
The strange lady looked thoughtful for a moment.
"What is a "real" name exactly?" she replied after a while. "Just a useful tool to call things, right?"
"Alright," Gunnar said, looking weirded out. "If you really don't wanna tell me, just say so."
"Oh, but you have to call me something," the lady said. "Names hold power and values. Aside from being useful tools for politeness."
"Erm, fine, I'll just call you Grýla then."
"As you wish," Grýla said.
Gunnar sighed tiredly. This lady is probably nuts, he figured. But at least she's harmless, and it is just one night.
Hopefully, the weather gets better soon so she can leave earlier, he thought.
The strange lady seemed quick to make herself comfortable, maybe far too much for Gunnar's liking, sitting on the sofa chair and laying back like she owned the place.
"This is a fancy home," the lady said. "Not as homely as my hut, or even my mountain home. But for human design, it's not so bad."
"Yeah," Gunnar said as he brought to bottles of tea. "I don't really have any extra room to sleep in."
"Ah, it's no need, no need," the lady said. "I don't really sleep much."
"Lucky me," Gunnar said as he sat in the chair opposite her.
The lady stared across at him quietly with her grin open in an uncomfortable way. They looked almost fake, like an alien trying to mimic a human smile.
"So, what brings you to these fields?" Gunnar asked.
"Oh, lots of things," the lady said. "Hunger, for one."
"Erm, I have some food in the fridge," Gunnar said.
"Nah, not that kind of hunger, no," the lady clarified. "It's a, um, oh, how do I describe it?"
"A longing?" Gunnar asked.
"Maybe. Oh, I've been to so many places recently. I've almost lost count of all the places and towns and countries and so on."
"Countries? You travel a lot overseas?"
"Oh, yeah. Plenty of times. Believe it or not, my journeys once brought me all the way down to Antarctica. The south pole."
Gunnar almost spat out the tea he was just sipping.
"You're joking, right?" he asked.
"Heh," the lady replied. "No. I am not. My line of work has brought me to the strangest places sometimes."
"Oh," Gunnar said. "So you're like a, eh, meteorologist? Whatever the word is?"
"You may think of me as such if that's easier for you."
"Is that a yes, or a no?"
"Doesn't matter, really. You wouldn't understand it either way."
Gunnar, once again, didn't know how to respond to that and lightly nodded in thought. Although, he was beginning to see a pattern with her.
"So, how's the south pole?" he asked.
"Tsk-tsk, a bit ruined," the lady said. "Very much so. It has turned so small across the last few centuries. Lucky I got there before the time the ocean will eventually swallow it whole."
"Yeah…" Gunnar replied.
"So much precious life, gone," the lady continued, seemingly talking to herself now. "So much beauty and evolutionary potential, just gone. Even The Crawling Things have taken leave from the southern pole."
"Er, what did you just say?" Gunnar asked. "Crawling… things?"
"Oh, you don't want to know about that," the lady said and chuckled softly.
Once again, there came a silent pause with uncomfortable suggestions, and all that could be heard was the ever raging storm outside. The lady stared at him as if waiting for her turn to speak. Gunnar really hated it. There was a lot about her that was clearly not right.
"Now," the lady began. "What do you usually do to pass the time?"
"Hey, can I ask you something?" Gunnar pried.
"Of course, deary," the lady said. "You can ask me whatever you please. I'm like an open book, as you people say."
"Right," Gunnar began. "Where are you from, exactly?"
"What kind of question is that, dear?" the lady asked back mischievously. "I'm from the storm outside, the far southern poles and down from the highest mountains. I'm from this land and other countries across the sea and further. I'm from Iceland, from Greece, the Americas-"
"Ok, that's not what I'm asking," Gunnar said impatiently. "Jesus, lady."
"Oh, but it's all just a bit fun," the lady replied. "Answers are good, but going through life demanding them can suck the wonder out of you."
"Can you just," Gunnar began, hand in the air. "Answer any question straight? I'm really not in the mood for any more of your cryptic bullshit."
The lady's grin didn't fade, yet somehow, she looked slightly insulted.
"Rude," she said.
"Oh, you think I'm being rude?" Gunnar asked sarcastically.
"I've told you nothing but the truth," the lady replied. "Nothing but a truth, at least."
"Ok, great," Gunnar said. "Then where do you live?"
"Hmm," the lady said. "That is not an easy answer. It requires a bit more-"
"Ugh, see? You can't give me a straight answer."
He quickly rose up from his seat, palm on his face.
"I'm going to bed," he said. "It's late and way past my usual sleep schedule. I really don't have time for this. You just sleep on the couch. Just leave in the morrow when the storm subsides."
With that, he began to take his leave, the eyes of the old lady following behind him.
Then, there came a loud thud on the kitchen table.
"Tell me," the lady said. "Have you heard… of the Dark Worlds?"
Gunnar stopped and turned around with his mouth in a confused frown. On the table, there was now a massive and dusty book. The many pages were yellowed with age, and the painted cover was almost illegible.
"Bah, of course, you wouldn't know," the lady responded. "I'd be more surprised if you did. Lightners and Darkners. Humans and Monsters. Such flimsy memories humans have. All forgotten so easily, tsk-tsk. They must be nothing but vague concepts for you now. A bastardization of the old truth."
"Where were you keeping that book?" Gunnar pried.
"That's your first question? Hehe, you're so practical. It's almost dull. But come here, dearest. Before the night is over, I want to tell you a story. Since you're so keen for answers."
"Please, miss-"
"Just one story. That is all. Come now, can't you entertain an old lady just for a few moments?"
Gunnar looked at the lady, pondering.
Sure, she was eccentric and maybe a bit irritating, he figured.
In fact, he was starting to suspect she was a runaway from a nearby asylum.
But she seemed kind and maybe even harmless.
Well, if it was enough to make her stop pestering him.
Reluctantly, Gunnar walked back and sat back down on the seat.
"Alright," he began. "Just one story."
"Deal," the lady said.
"And it better not be too long."
"Oh, it won't be."
She smiled gleefully.
"And if it is long, well… hehe, time moves funny. Maybe, it'll be over before you know it."
Author's note:
Alright, after some consideration, I've decided to just keep going with the extra-long longfic as I originally planned, rather than to overly complicate things.
Thanks to Tbikape, http_PILLS, and Kaeli on AO3, plus WillooODST on for the super kind words and for helping me come to a decision.
There were various opinions, but overall, most of you who commented either didn't really mind or felt I should just keep it as is. Only one of you really liked the idea, and http_PILLS, if you're reading, I hope you're fine either way.
Now, the chapter itself. As some of you may have known, I put some "teasers" for this chapter beforehand in an independent "chapter". I don't think anyone managed to guess them, and when I decided to make the links less vague, even then, no one got it right. Well, good for that, because I feel no one would've pieced all the teasers together here. Maybe 1 or 2, but the third one was perhaps way too vague.
But all the hints relate to this brand new character introduced here, "Grýla" or "the old lady". How they relate to her, I will answer later. For now, I will just say this character is much more important than it might seem.
You may even notice some of the Deltarune references I made her, mostly in terms of the "Dark Worlds" and mentions of "lightners and darkners".
Of course, I had planned a lot of this chapter before DR chapter 1 was even released, but it gave me ideas to tie it into this AU much better. On the other hand, when Deltarune is finally finished and all my ideas and theories of the "Dark World" are proven wrong, this fic might just be a bit dated(unless I find a way to tie these inconsistencies together or something).
Either way, I'd say we are "unofficially" in act 2 of this fic that's been going on way longer than I expected. I'm really excited to see all the speculations and/or theories you people might have going forward.
Please leave a comment and/or critique, and hope to see you again in the future.