A Mid Winter Night's Dream
Winter solstice was nearing and Freya had gone out into the woods seeking a cluster of mistletoe to hang over the doorways.
Meanwhile, Roger was at home fashioning a couple of large holly and ivy wreaths out of a few branches he'd snipped from the holly bushes outside the house.
One wreath was going to be hung on the front doors of the Karloff Library for decorative purposes as the tall Rowan trees in front, were already standing guard.
The other was to be hung on the door of the house to ward off any 'neighbors' who would work mischief during the mid winter's season.
Smaller holly and ivy cantrips would be made next and placed on the doors of the staff and guest cottages behind the Karloff Library.
Silky was in the living room busily cleaning the hearth in the big fireplace, prior to the yule log being placed there.
The log itself had been carefully selected from the wood pile and laid under the back porch to dry all through the Summer and Autumn months.
"Salamander will love this!" Roger had commented when he and Freya had carried it in from the wood pile to dry.
Dena herself was nowhere to be seen and the tiny sprites were snugly ensconced in their favorite hidey holes high in the kitchen, where the huge cast iron stove kept things warm.
Anita Larsen was working up at the Karloff library with Warren Johnson and they were accompanied by their two giant wolves.
With nearly everyone busy, the only sound was the steady tick, tock coming from the enormous grandfather clock in the front hallway.
Taking up a strand of freshly cut ivy, Roger carefully entwined it in and around the holly wreath and tied the ends into a bow where the tiny silver bells Silky loved, would be attached.
He smiled at his handiwork, he was definitely becoming domesticated and smiled at the thought of what Henri DuValliere would say if he could see him now.
The chiming of the one o'clock hour interrupted his musings.
Shouldn't Freya be back by now? He thought.
She should be alright as she had taken the wolvies with her, he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to bother the towering 15 year old, especially not when she had a mating pair of giant wolves with her.
Anita came in through the kitchen door with Axel close behind and hastily closed it behind herself.
She slipped out of her bulky jacket and hung it on the coat rack, while Axel quickly made himself at home in front of the front parlour's fireplace and its cheery fire.
Stamping her booted feet on the snow grate just inside the kitchen door, she said briskly, "It may not be winter solstice yet, but it's cold enough for me! Brrrrr!...Do we have any hot water? I need something hot!"
Roger grinned at the diminutive 15 year old and pointed at the hot water tank atop the massive iron stove.
During the cold season it was kept full at all times and the steamy vapors helped keep the dry winter air moist.
She smiled and got out her favorite tea, tea mug and tea ball.
Filling the tea ball she stepped over to the hot water spigot and Roger said quietly, "Careful now, Silky's making a souffle`for dinner and if it falls, we're all dead meat."
Anita smiled at him as she filled her mug and stepped away from the enormous stove with its twin big ovens and one smaller oven, and all of them presently in use.
With six burners, multiple ovens and a ten gallon hot water reservoir, it was the iron heart of their home.
"Freya's still out?" She asked as she sat across from him in the breakfast nook.
"Yes she is and I'm starting to wonder if she's having any luck finding some mistletoe to collect."
Anita sipped at her mug and commented, "It's funny how when you're not looking for something, it's always right there in front of you."
"That's true" he replied, "Still, there's no shortage of mistletoe around here, half the oak trees have some growing on them. It shouldn't have taken her this long to get some.
"I haven't been too concerned because she's quite the big girl now, and she has the wolvies with her."
Anita smiled and remarked, "If anything, she has the big girl part locked up, what is she now, eight foot six, or seven? And only a suicidal idiot would annoy those big wolvies!"
Roger shrugged and remarked, "Even by herself she's quite the opponent, her natural strength never fails to amaze me...I'll give her another hour before I start looking for her and the wolvies."
Silky came into the kitchen and carefully inspected her souffle`, she peered through the quartz crystal windows in the oven doors and seeing they were coming along nicely, she began preparing the rest of their dinner.
Roger found himself repeatedly glancing at the clock, looking out the window then back at the clock, sighing and fidgeting some more until Silky swept out of the kitchen only to return laden down with his winter boots, his heavy jacket, his gloves, a pile cap and his muffler.
She thrust them at him and with a stern look on her delicate features, practically threw him out into the cold.
Suddenly finding himself out on the back porch, he quickly pulled on his boots and donned his outerwear before sticking his tongue out at the kitchen door.
Silky had just thrown him out of the house!
Fortunately, it wasn't snowing at the moment and Freya's tracks were easy to pick up and follow.
Freya's tracks led into the forested plot of land next door, the one that was being incorporated into the library property.
Accompanied by the soft crunching of the snow underfoot, Roger followed the distinctive size 50 boot tracks of his Jotun companion, where the gigantic wolf tracks hadn't obliterated them as they gamboled about while she searched for the mistletoe.
Some distance ahead Roger thought he saw movement, it appeared to be a large stag moving through the trees.
Coming closer he realized it was no stag, it was like a centaur with the body of a powerful bull elk and a muscular human male upper torso.
His face was covered by a mask and great antlers rose from his head.
In one hand he clutched a stone tipped spear, his breath like puffs of steam in the cold air.
Sitting on his back was a very pregnant woman with pale skin, long dark hair, and little else in the manner of clothing.
Something about these two prompted him to be cautious and he was pondering on how to greet them when suddenly, a large, powerful hand clamped over his mouth and he was hauled right out of his tracks and pulled out of sight behind a large tree stump.
A familiar voice whispered, "If ye value yer life, be still, an' be silent!" as the much larger form of Freya pushed him down into the snow.
Roger looked around as best he could while pinned down by the young giantess.
Even the two wolves lay flattened to the snow with their great ears folded back.
What the hell were these two beings?
Just as suddenly as it had began, the moment had passed and Freya let him sit up in the snow, "What the hell was that all about? Who were they, what, were they?" Roger demanded in a hoarse whisper.
Still peering into the woods, Freya replied softly," That war th' Horned God an' his lady, th' Dark Lady. E'en th' fae fear them fer they ur far aulder an' unpredictable. Had ye greeted them, they coods hae reacted verra badly tae yer seein' them."
Getting back on his feet, Roger brushed himself off and asked," Are those two, the old gods, the heralds of yule mentioned yesterday? Aren't they also fae? Normies can't see them, right?"
Freya, still looking towards where the horned god and his lady had been, replied in a low voice, "Normies hae naethin' tae fear frae them, they cannae see them. Those ay us who can 'see', dae hae somethin' tae fear frae them.
"It's best tae avoid them if at aw possible. Ah didnae think tae carry a sprig ay Yew wi' me tae hide meself an' carryin' somethin' wi' iron in it also helps, they wull sense it an' avoid it."
She looked down at him and continued, "They ur supernaturals, but they arenae loch th' fae. Th' horned god also leids th' wild hunt whaur he an' his minions gang huntin' fur onie unwary fae nae hidin' frae them.
"He is a mirk god, a winter god, a god of daith an' woe tae onie fauns, wuid elves, sprites ur ariels who fall intae his clutches. 'at is part ay th' reason wuid elves wull partner up wi' a guardian wolf, th' horned god wull lae them aloyn."
She reached over and scratched one of Sasha's velvety ears. "These wolves ur powerful enaw tae protect th' smaller fae frae th' wild hunt pack, an' th' pack will lae them be."
Roger looked up at his towering companion.
As usual, she wore only her long sleeved, plaid shirt over a sleeveless knit top, faded jeans and boots.
Her sole concession to the cold was a knit muffler made from wooly bug wool wrapped around her neck.
In the cold, her skin had turned nearly milk white in color, an indicator of her frost giant heritage and a good indicator of just how cold it really was.
In the years that he had lived with her, he had noted that winters seemed to be longer and colder than he remembered, and he often wondered if her presence had something to do with it.
"So why did we see them now and here, of all places?" He asked.
Freya shrugged slightly and replied."Ah didnae tak' anythin' wi' iron in it tae cut th' mistletoe, ah used a bronze saw tae cut it. An' ye didnae bring yer rifle wi' yer when ye cam lookin' fer me."
"I had little choice in the matter, Silky got tired of me looking up at the clock and looking out the window for you. I kinda got kicked out of the house and came looking for you, I figured with the wolvies by your side, no one, no thing, would bother you. I hadn't figured on encountering a couple of beings even Titania will try to avoid."
He chuckled and remarked drily,"If I'd had that rifle with me back then, I wouldn't have met you and if I'd had that rifle with me today, I wouldn't have seen the horned god and his lady. Funny, how lacking that old gun at the time, would've had such an influence on my life."
Freya smiled and remarked wistfully,"Sae true, by noo Ah woods be thinkin' ay which young man Ah woods wish ta marry. Instead Ah'm livin' far frae me haem wi' a wee man who's taken me athwart half th' warld."
Roger grinned at his lovely companion and said teasingly, "Let's get back inside, you're turning white!"
Freya laughed, she always turned whiteish during the cold winter months.
Roger had seen her turn almost completely white during last year's winter solstice ceremony when she had worn little more than a smile and a diaphanous gown at the stroke of midnight.
The ability of the Jotuns to physically adapt to the weather was just one of their attributes.
Freya's bone and muscle density was greater than human norms, meaning she was proportionally heavier and stronger than a human of equal size and build.
Thus explaining her agility, being big was not a handicap for her as so many opponents had found on the ball courts at school.
As they began heading back, their path was suddenly blocked by none other than the Horned god himself and his very pregnant Dark lady.
Stopping dead in their tracks, no one moved as they faced the old gods of winter and death.
The Horned god, clutching his stone tipped spear, made no sound other than his breathing, the mask he wore hid any facial expressions he may have had.
The sound of his breathing filled the air as Roger, Freya and the wolves stood absolutely still.
The Dark lady's eyes fell upon the bundle of freshly cut mistletoe Freya had in her hands, she smiled and Freya slowly extended her bundle towards the Dark lady with a smile of her own.
The Horned god snorted loudly and stamped a cloven hoofed fore foot, scraping at the frozen ground in his impatience.
With smile still in place, Freya slowly approached the pair with her offering held before her.
The Dark lady smiled brilliantly and graciously accepted the proffered bundle of freshly cut mistletoe.
As it was clutched to her ample bosom, the Horned god stamped his foot again and snorted loudly, his exhalation like a puff of steam.
Abruptly he turned, leapt into the woods and they disappeared, leaving Roger and Freya with the rest of their lives to live.
Roger sank to the ground in relief, his strength having given out at last.
"Man, that was close!"
He muttered as he held out his hand, it was shaking.
He smiled weakly at his giant companion and said quietly, "I've been through some pretty hairy situations, ones where my opponent was at least a human, with human weaknesses. This... Was, far beyond human. I had the feeling that I was like an insect to that being, my entire existence was no more to him than a bug's existence would be to me.
"It was pretty scary knowing how little I mattered to him...Thank goodness she accepted the mistletoe you offered her!"
Freya smiled at him and gently hauled him to his feet to envelope him in her arms and hold him tightly against her wonderful bosom.
Roger closed his eyes and squeezed her in return as he snuggled against the young giantess in his life.
The tender moment lingered until Sasha playfully nuzzled them, she wanted some affection too!
Roger laughed as he reluctantly separated from his companion and gave the massive wolf a big hug and an ear rub.
He also gave Golden eyes, her mate, a big hug and an ear rub as well.
Having recovered from their encounter with the two ancient gods, they resumed their trek home.
While crunching along in the freshly fallen snow, Roger commented, "I guess we'll have to cut more mistletoe on the way back."
Freya smiled and replied, "'T'is nae problem, Ah'll jist cut some frae th' auld oak tree near th' library."
"You mean the one that's mostly mistletoe now? The poor thing's not long for this world with all that mistletoe choking it to death."
"Tha' woods be th' one Ah hae in mind."
Freya took his hand in her much larger one and the two with their pair of gigantic wolves in tow, trudged through the deep, freshly fallen snow.
The soft crunching of the snow under their feet barely disturbing the winter's stillness.
One of the side effects of the acquisition of several large plots of nearby land and the subsequent removal of the old iron fencing, had been the increase in 'neighbors' dropping by to visit and winter time was no exception.
They drew near to the ailing oak tree and Roger thought he could see an aged, ailing woman sitting on one heavy limb, her hair long, stringy and grey, her limbs and bosom withered and sagging.
The winter had not been kind to the old tree, many of its branches were dead and mistletoe weighed down many of its still living branches, with only a few oak leaves still clinging to what healthy branches remained.
Roger waited below with a white sheet and caught the mistletoe clusters as Freya cut them loose with her bronze saw.
Wrapping them up in the old bed sheet, he carried them back down to the house while Freya walked alongside him.
As he walked he commented, "If I get my pole saw, do you think clearing away some of the mistletoe would help that old tree recover?"
Freya shrugged and said simply, "Ah dorn't see how it coods hurt onie? Why not?"
Back at the house, Roger handed the bundle of mistletoe to Freya and fetched his longest pole saw out of the grounds keeper's shed, near the nearly finished barn where Samson, the big horse lived.
Trudging back to the tree, Roger set to work reaching up into the tree and sawing off one clump of mistletoe after another.
The falling clumps soon formed a green ring around the ailing tree which grew denser as he climbed into the tree and kept at his work of reaching out and sawing off the offending greenery.
It was nearly dark when Roger climbed down from the tree, a mass of dead branches and freshly cut mistletoe surrounding the sickly tree.
For Freya's purposes it was worthless, having been cut with a steel bladed saw, but the dead wood could be burned and the mistletoe was no longer draining the old tree of its life force.
At the edge of his vision, he almost imagined he saw the aged woman now sitting up straighter and smiling at him.
He would come back in the morning and gather up the cuttings to feed to Salamander, once he was finished with the yule log.