Chapter 50
Returning from the ramen shop, Roger pulled the van into their driveway and parked it.
He picked up the ramen orders they had brought home for Anita and Dena to enjoy and they entered the big house once owned by a retired circus giant couple.
Sasha was in her usual place, sprawled in front of the fireplace in the front parlour where a cheery fire crackled slightly to take the edge off the cool of the evening.
Dena sat up from where she had been curled up on Sasha's mighty form and grinned when Roger set her ramen order on the counter, she had developed quite the fondness for ramen and Roger always brought some home for her to enjoy as well.
As if on cue, Anita toddled down from her room clad in her P.J.'s, hair all tousled and coffee cup in hand.
She smiled at him and said, "You guys finished already?"
Roger chuckled and replied, "Not hardly, this is only the first load. We're going back in the morning to pack more books for the next load."
He held up her ramen order and said cheerfully, "I brought you a little something..."
Anita smiled and replied cheerfully, "Thank you! Just what I needed, some calories!"
She rose on tip toe and pecked him on his grizzled cheek, picked up her coffee, took the fresh ramen then made her way back up to her room and her writing.
Anna smiled and remarked, "She's really been working on her new story, I guess getting published recently really lit a fire under her."
Roger smiled and replied, "Nothing like getting published to boost one's ego a bit. Have you seen any part of her new story?"
Anna grinned and replied, "Nope! She's being a little mysterious about what she's working on. Says she'll let me see it when it's nearly finished. Of course I've been busy on my own stuff, so we don't see much of each other these days."
Anna smiled as she looked around the house, "This house is like an island of tranquility. I love coming up here just to write, no fans, no editors, just pure uninterrupted writing in my literary cocoon."
Having conked out fairly early the night before, Roger rose from his bed after gently disentangling himself from Dena's tiny form.
He washed up and shaved, pulled on fresh clothing and after a nice breakfast with Freya, they drove to the airport and went through the preflights before starting up the massive, eighteen cylinder engines and shattering the morning stillness, just after dawn.
Soon after getting the greenlight from the tower, Freya throttled up the engines and engaged the huge, four bladed propellers.
Biting into the cool early morning air, the huge props pulled the heavy sea plane forward at a surprising rate and before long, Portland, Oregon was far below and disappearing behind them.
It was a good day for flying!
The flight was uneventful and by mid morning, Freya was gently easing the big Martin Mariner onto the chilly surface of Ape Lake, where her enormous father and a couple of giant wolves awaited them.
Freya idled the sea plane fairly close to the wooden dock and Roger tossed a rope to Sigurd, who then tied it off to the dock.
With the plane now secured, Freya shut it off and engaged the cool down mechanism, once the propellers ceased their whirling.
They exited the plane and locked it up before Freya greeted her father with a big hug for meeting them at the lake.
Sigurd grinned at Roger and remarked, "Ah've heard tell ay some braw elk bein' seen near uir hamlet. P'raps ye coods lend us a hain wi' yer rifle an' we can make some smoked meats fur th' faa?"
Roger grinned back, "Of course, We've got plenty of time for an elk hunt."
Sigurd smiled and soon, they were underway back to the little hamlet hiding in the shadow of Ape Mountain.
With the huge wolves strolling alongside, they made the long uphill slog back to the hamlet in good time.
Roger gleefully managed to avoid being greeted by Freya's rambunctious auntie Barbara, her habit of snatching him up and smooching him as a joke, always embarrassed him and annoyed Freya.
Dodging her was seen as a minor victory on Roger's part.
Oddly enough once he was there, she simply smiled at him and said 'hello' as his arrival unmolested was now an accomplished fact.
Roger had long since stopped trying to figure her out.
They spent a quiet evening in her parents home and because he had an early day tomorrow, Roger turned in before Freya did.
Well before dawn the next morning, Roger left the rock built house Freya's parents lived in and met up with the two Jotun men he was going hunting with.
Rolf Bristlebeard grinned at him and said, "Guid morrow! Ah hink thes will be an easy hunt. Me auldest boy has been watchin' th' berry thickit we're headin' tae, th' elk hae been fattenin' themselves up thaur an' gettin' careless."
Roger smiled grimly and muttered, "And we get to teach them a bitter lesson."
Shouldering his granddad's old Marlin rifle and pocketing some extra ammo, Roger fell in with the small group of very large men and they set off towards the game fields surrounding their tiny hamlet.
Roger always marveled at how quietly Jotuns could travel through the woods.
By comparison, his own efforts at stealth were marked by his seemingly blundering about, stepping on every dry, crunching twig he could find.
An hour or so later, they were hunkered down near a berry thicket eyeing a small gang of young bull elks, bachelors not yet mated but in their prime.
Roger figured he could get at least two of them if he got the drop on them.
Minutes passed very slowly as the young bulls browsed about, blissfully unaware of the man with a rifle hiding nearby.
Unwittingly, two of them lined themselves up perfectly and Roger took the shot.
His granddad's rifle barked and jabbed his shoulder as the 400 grain soft nosed bullet sped to its targets, it slammed clear through the first bull and buried itself in the second bull, killing both of them instantly.
Working the lever quickly, Roger took aim at a third bull and moments later he too, fell to the impact of the heavy bullet.
The two remaining bulls took off in great leaps and bounds and were soon beyond range, the whites of their eyes widened in their fright.
Roger out of long habit, reloaded the rifle and stuffed two fresh cartridges in the tubular magazine.
This was grizzly bear country and one never knew if one might come nosing about, drawn by the scent of freshly spilled blood.
Placing the rifle on safe, he slung it over his shoulder and smiled as the Jotun boys picked up the empty brass cases ejected by his granddad's old rifle.
They looked the dead elks over, Roger had killed them instantly and they lay in crumpled up heaps where they had fallen.
Rolf Bristlebeard grinned through his very heavy, very unruly (Hence his name) beard and said, "'At's a fine bit ay shootin' thaur, three fer twa, cannae complain abit 'at!"
Rolf easily picked up one of the bulls and carried it over by the nearest tree where Carl Petersson had thrown a rope over a low hanging branch.
Carl called to his son Robert and the two quickly strung up the first bull for gutting and quartering.
While Carl and Robert quickly field dressed the first young bull, Roger and Rolf's oldest son Harald wrestled the other two bulls over to another branch and began trussing them up for field dressing.
Rolf meanwhile, stood nearby with a great spear at the ready, grizzlies could be quite aggressive when they caught the scent of blood and Rolf's task was to keep nosy grizzlies at a respectful distance.
They'd had to leave their guardian wolves at home because their scent would spook the elk gang into running away.
Of course, no grizzly bear would willingly tangle with a fully grown Jotun male armed with a heavy spear.
Having finished with the first bull, Carl and his son Robert stepped over to the last bull and Carl deftly slit open its belly, letting the steaming entrails spill onto the cold ground with a wet, plopping sound.
Carl was living up to his nickname "Quicknife" as he speedily removed everything but the heart from the body cavity.
Jotuns rarely bothered with saving many of the internal organs as they generally left them for the bears and other animals to eat.
Their preferred sources of meat being wild game such as elk, deer, moose, caribou and in some parts, bison, were too lean for making sausages with and so, the intestines were largely ignored.
Roger fondly recalled the first time Freya had seen sausages in the meat department at a supermarket, they were new to her and he had to explain what they were.
Of course she quickly took a liking to them, like many other new foods she was introduced to.
The two boys, Robert and Harald unlimbered the long poles they had brought with them while Rolf being the strongest, strapped on an elaborate harness.
Roger was a bit mystified at the purpose of Rolf's harness until he saw the boys rigging the poles into a travois of sorts.
This was hitched to Rolf's harness and the freshly quartered and bundled elks were loaded onto it.
With spear at the ready, Rolf led the way back to the hamlet with Carl and the two boys, also armed with spears guarding the fruits of their labors that morning.
Roger strolled alongside them with his granddad's old rifle slung across his back.
Once again, the old rifle had earned its keep.
Roger glanced at his watch, it was barely mid morning.
If they hurried, he could get back in time to enjoy a late breakfast.
Roger returned to the house carrying his share of the take, a rump quarter from the second and larger bull he'd shot.
It weighed nearly as much as he did, the Gunnarsson household would eat well this coming fall.
He entered Gudrun's kitchen and laid his portion of the hunt on her cutting board.
Gudrun smiled at the size of the quarter he'd brought home, the young bull had been a healthy one indeed!
She patted the well rounded rump quarter and said, "Ah'm gang tae smoke some ay thes an' we'll hae it thes faa!"
Roger asked, "Is Freya around?"
"Nae, she's gang aff tae pack maur book boxes. Ef ye dorn't min' Ah kin pack a lunch basket an' ye kin take it wi' ye after ye change yer clase."
Roger grinned and went off to wash up and change out of his blood spattered clothing from the mornings hunt.
Emerging from the bathroom freshly scrubbed and changed into clean clothes, Roger submerged his gore stained clothes into a bucket of hot soapy water to soak and soften the dried gore.
Gudrun smiled at him and handed him a breakfast sandwich she'd made for him before pointing at the cloth covered wicker basket filled with their lunch and afternoon snack.
"'At's yer lunch an' a snack afore scran tonicht"
Taking the sandwich and the basket, Roger noshed on the sandwich as he strolled down to Induna's cottage and his towering companion.
He enjoyed the sandwich as he walked, exchanging nods and smiles with the other Jotuns going about their daily business.
Old Harald raised a tankard and called out, "Th' swally ye brooght is verra guid, Ah'll try not tae drink it aw up afore ye cam by thes e'enin'!"
Roger laughed and replied, "Take it easy on that ale, I had to pull in a few favors to get those two barrels you're suppin' from. I do want a taste at least!"
Harald laughed in reply and said cheerfully, "Ah'll send ye haem wi' a coupla firkins ay me ale tae make up fer whit ah drink up."
Roger just grinned and kept walking.
He found Freya seated amongst a pile of boxes already packed, sealed and numbered.
In her hands lay a weary looking doll.
When she looked up at him, he saw she was crying.
Hastily, he set the basket down and knelt alongside her.
"You okay?" he asked gently.
In a small voice Freya murmured, "Ah miss me granny, Ah miss camin' doon tae visit 'er an' hear 'er stories ay the aulden days frae afore we cam athwart th' briny tae thes lain."
She held the old rag doll to her swelling bosom and sobbed, "Thes auld doll was 'ers an' she gie it tae me when Ah war oanlie five. Ah took it e'erwhaur wi' me an' one day it war gane...Ah looked aw o'er fer it an' coodsnae find it, Ah thooght Ah lost it. Ah cried an' cried o'er losing it 'til me granny tauld me it war awright."
She looked at him and said, "Ah hadnae lost it, it war haur aw alang, me granny had put it awa' fer safe keepin'."
she smiled at him and said,"Ah feel silly fer cryin' loch a wee bairn o'er thes auld bit ay rag."
Roger smiled at his companion and said softly, "You're not silly dear heart, you're sentimental and there's no shame in that. You might be a young woman now but in your heart, that little girl inside you still loves that little bit of rag doll and remembers her granny with love."
Freya smiled at him and wiped away her tears before enveloping him in one of her memorable hugs.
After a long moment, they separated and Freya remarked,"Ah'd packed thes mony boxes while ye waur oot huntin' thes mornin'...Onie luck?"
Roger smiled and replied, "We got three young bulls, I got two with one shot and I brought home a rump quarter for my share. Your mom's gonna smoke most of it for the fall.
Freya grinned,"'At's guid." she remarked,"Atween th' foods we brooght wi' us an' whit she's prepared, they'll feed guid thes winter."
Winter was always hard on the Jotuns and they preserved a lot of their meats by smoking or drying them into a sort of pemmican to be cut up later and added to soups or a stew.
Any game hunted during the winter was left outside to freeze solid before being placed inside an icy cave for storage.
Consequently, gifts of food were greatly prized and always welcomed.
The two of them spent the rest of the day packing Induna's books into boxes.
Some of her books were quite old and these were carefully wrapped in tissues, slipped inside a ziplock bag and carefully packed away.
It was mid-afternoon when they stopped to eat the lunch Gudrun had packed for them.
Roger grinned when he saw the vacuum bottle filled with hot coffee nestled in Gudrun's basket.
Evidently, Gudrun had commandeered his thermos and filled it with the hot beverage she'd brewed that morning.
"Well, I guess I'll have to get your folks a coupla these since your mom now likes them."
He muttered as he poured the steaming coffee into the cups also packed in the basket.
After their meal they relaxed a bit, while Roger mentally calculated how many more boxes need to be filled for the second load.
Freya meanwhile, simply held her little rag doll and smiled wistfully as she reminisced about her grandmother.
Roger finally said, "There's about fifteen boxes packed so far, that's just about a quarter of the space we have. If we can keep up this pace we could take another load down south by Sunday, that's assuming we don't have any problems or get dragged into a social gathering."
Freya grinned at his remarks.
Summer was the season for traveling and visiting other Jotun enclaves across Canada, at the moment there was a couple of young men who came down from the Yukon and the other girls her age were being on their best behavior, while trying not to be too obviously interested in these potential suitors.
To Roger's surprise, they did not seem too surprised at his presence, evidently they were used to seeing a 'wee man' among Jotuns.
A chance remark he overheard while having an ale at Old Harald's piqued his curiosity.
The remark he'd heard alluded to a Jotun woman who was living with a 'wee man' in the Yukon region.
He meant to ask about what he'd heard, but other events drove it from his mind.
Freya's aunt Barbara was being courted!
He was a widower from the Ottowa region, his children were all grown and he was interested in Barbara.
In all the excitement, Roger completely forgot about the cryptic remark he'd heard that night.
Two days later Roger and Freya stood in the biggest room in Induna's cottage looking over the pile of boxes they'd filled.
With single minded purpose, they had toiled mightily to fill the boxes with Induna's books in time to fly them south on Sunday.
Roger glanced around and muttered, "This is only our second load and we've just cleared this room and part of her bedroom."
Freya leaned against him and said, "Aye, an' we still hae twa maur rooms tae clear afore we can git tae th' closets an' cupboards full ay books."
Induna had not been a stickler about using bookcases when an empty cupboard would suffice.
Roger smiled as he recalled Dena's remarks about how even she, had troubles getting into parts of Induna's cottage.
He slipped an arm around Freya's supple waist and muttered, "Sorry about turning your summer vacation into a work party when you should be out socializing."
Freya snuggled against him and replied," Ah dornt min', Ah've nae interest in swannin' aboot pertendin' Ah dornt see th' young cheils cam a'cawin'"
He chuckled and remarked,"You'd probably intimidate them. Not many Jotun girls have had your experiences. How could a young backwoodsman impress a girl who flies airplanes and kicks ass!"
Freya could only shrug in reply.
Dinner that night was grilled bison steaks Sigurd had retrieved from the ice cave they had nearby.
Roger had idly noted that the glaciers near Jotun settlements did not seem to be retreating like they were doing in so many other places.
Maybe there really was something to their being thought of by the Norse as earth lords, protectors of the environment.
Roger had only one small tankard of ale with his dinner and at Sigurd's puzzled look, Roger quipped,"I brought two barrels of Fraoch ale with me and I intend to have at least one tankard of it before I leave!"
Sigurd let out a booming laugh and exclaimed,"Well noo, we cannae hae Auld Harald keepin' aw 'at fine ale tae heemself noo, can we?"
Gudrun rolled her bright blue eyes and remarked,"Noo dornt gae makin' spectacles ay yoorselves!"
She glanced over at Freya and said, "Ye make tae keep an eye oan them tonicht!"
As a bribe, Gudrun pulled a box of Pocky out of her voluminous apron pocket and waved it about.
Freya grinned evilly and remarked, "Ye'll hae tae dae better than 'at! Ah've got twa men tae keep oota mischief!"
Gudrun pulled out a second box and muttered, "Ye're drivin' a hard bargain lass."
Freya gleefully snatched the two pocky boxes away from her mother and retorted,"An' who was it 'at taught me tae drive a hard bargain?"
Sigurd laughed and clapped one mighty arm over Roger's shoulder, nearly driving him to his knees from the power of his manly gesture of affection.
"Cam, let us be aff afore Gudrun changes 'er min'!"
With that, Roger found himself sitting besides Sigurd's massive form as he quaffed an ale outside Old Harald's brewery.
Sitting on his other side was Freya's slender form.
Of all the Jotuns there, she was the smallest one present.
Her drink was a summer shandy while her enormous father and Roger were enjoying the Fraoch ale that he had brought with him from Portland, Oregon.
Roger had just finished his tankard and was pondering another order when he heard a familiar voice.
"Noo haur's somethin' tae see! Me brither in law, me favorite niece an' me favorite wee cheil aw skitin ale at me uncles!"
Before he could react, Barbara enveloped him in her arms and squeezed him against her ample bosom so proudly displayed by the low cut frilled top and snug fitting bodice she was wearing.
Barbara sat down across from Freya with a foaming tankard in one hand and a smile on her pretty face.
She was joined by her suitor, a well dressed man in his mid fifties who had a touch of gray frosting his hair and luxurious beard.
His gray eyes twinkled in merriment as he said cheerfully, "Guid e'enin'!"
He smiled at Roger and extended a massive hand, "Me name is Eric Ericsson an' me faither was named Eric Ericsson and ye ur?"
Roger shook his proffered hand and replied,"Roger, Roger Tate, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Eric smiled,"Th' pleasure's aw mine. Ah've heard teel ay ye frae Barbara haur an' Ah wanted tae meit th' wee cheil she was talkin' abit."
Roger grinned at the giant seated across from him and replied,"I hope you're not too disappointed to see that I'm just a mortal man."
Eric chuckled and remarked,"Actually, Ah am quite relieved tae see 'at ye ur a maur mortal an' nae th' second comin' we aw heard abit but hae yit tae see."
Barbara smiled and said cheerfully,"Roger haur is bein' far tay modest. Ah main gie a bit tay playful wi' heem at times but Ah hae naethin' but respect fur heem an' wish only happiness fur heem an' Freya."
Eric smiled and politely ignored their reddened faces.
Barbara had told him of how close they were and the many adventures they had shared.
Her pride in her niece was quite evident to him.
Taking a sip from his tankard of ale, Eric smiled as he smacked his lips while tasting the potent beverage Old Harald had served him.
"Ah loch thes!" he exclaimed. "'tis verra guid ale Ah must say. Me mother was a brewster an' brewed an ale is fine as onie brewers, thes is unlike onie brew Ah've had afore."
Roger grinned at him and replied," What you're drinking is an ale that came from Scotland and is made with heather instead of hops. The recipe is claimed to be 4,000 years old and it's called Fraoch heather ale.
I've brought two barrels with me just to make sure I get at least one tankardful for my troubles!"
Old Harald seemed to come out of nowhere and he clapped a massive hand on Roger's shoulder, "An' fur 'at, he has me gratitude!"
"Hoo sae?" Inquired Eric.
Old Harald grinned and replied,"He has shoon me other ways tae brew me ales an' braggotts. Y'see Ah can taste whit goes intae a brew an' Ah can adapt a recipe tae me equipment. Reit noo Ah'm tastin' thes ale fur me research an' takin' notes oan whit Ah hink th' ingredients ur."
"Ah see" remarked Eric as he took a big sup from his tankard then said,"An' ye plan oan makin' thes tae sell?"
"Aye, me lad 'at ah am, 'at Ah am. Ah'm nae jist an' auld man brewin' fur fun. Ah'm brewin' tae sell me ales an' braggotts an' leave somethin' fur me grandsons tae carry oan."
Seeing that Roger's tankard was empty, he whisked it away and handed it to a young woman passing by with several other tankards in hand.
"He gets th' Fraoch oan th' hoose!" he declared as the girl walked into the brewery, nodding her blond head in reply.
Roger grinned and said to Freya, "This reminds me of Germany during Oktoberfest, particularly around Munich. They set up these huge tents with long tables in them and it seems like every pretty girl in Germany is working in them keeping the tankards full of beer."
When the young woman returned with Roger's tankard and set it before him, Freya smiled at him and asked drily, "Dae aw th' burds in Germany shaw aff their bosoms loch she did jusnoo?"
Failing to note how thick her accent had gotten, Roger took a sip before answering her then said, "Yes they do, it's kind of a tradition. Tourists expect to see pretty girls in low cut tops serving beer in one liter mugs and oom pa pa music playing in the background."
Freya mulled over his response then asked, "Wull ye take me tae thes Oktoberfest?"
Roger smiled at his youthful companion and said cheerfully, "I'd love to, however we'll have to wait until you're at least sixteen or better yet, eighteen."
He grinned and remarked, "You'll certainly attract attention while you're there."
"Because ay me size?"
"That and your looks."
"Whit abit me looks?"
Eric at this point, cleared his throat and spoke up,"Ef Ah may..."
He looked at Freya, "Yoo're th' stoatin' granddaughter ay one ay th' most beautiful Jotun women ever, Alfriede the Fair. Fowk say ye look jist loch 'er an' Ah can see whit they mean. Ye wull become a great beauty someday."
Roger smiled and thought to himself, "You already are, a great beauty."
The seven and a half foot tall girl blushed freely at Eric's remarks and stammered her thanks at his compliment.
She looked over at her aunt Barbara who smiled at her and said, "It's true ye ken, ye ur th' verra image ay me granny. Ah dae wish ye twa coods hae mit, Ah ken she woods hae bin sae prood ay ye an' aw yoo've dain. Watchin' ye lain 'at huge airplane oan th' loch made me sae prood 'at yoo're me niece!"
Eric grinned and remarked,"Yer auntie got raither excited when she realized 'at ye waur flyin' 'at plane an' nae Roger. Me ribs ur still a wee sair frae aw th' huggin' an' squeezin' Ah was gettin'."
Roger grinned and said drily, "Better you than me my large friend, you're built to take a coupla hits or three. Me? I'm a delicate flower by comparison!"