True to Saffron’s word as night begins to descend on the forest we come to its’ edge. Up ahead I can see the twinkling of tiny pixies lighting up the dark forest and beyond it, a small dwelling can be seen built between two massive trees.
Just like Barley before him, Rye canters forward eager to get to our destination. Rye skids to a stop in front of great mound of thick tree roots attached to a narrow tree trunk that smoothly splits off into dozens of tiny branches loaded down with gold star shaped leaves. It stands out from the rest of the black leafy gray trees in the forest. Camouflaged among the twisted roots of the tree sits yet another old hag; this one sitting on a stool busily spinning wool into thread.
“I’ve been expecting you,” the woman says in a singsong voice. She doesn’t even bother looking up from her spinning wheel but I can tell she’s younger than her neighbors, less wrinkled, but her eyes are more narrow and her nose longer. “Give Rye one of those apples by the house then let him get going back to Saffron,” she instructs as her foot controls the pedal effortlessly.
I rub Rye’s sweaty neck and fetch an apple for him which he devours quickly. Once he’s done I pat him on the neck and send him home.
“I’m here because Saffron thought you might be able to tell me–” I start off the same way I’ve started twice before but this woman cuts me off.
“My sister thought I’d be able to tell you the way to the prince that lives in the castle that lies east of the sun and west of the moon,” the woman finishes for me.
“Yes,” I nod eagerly as I step closer. “Do you know the way?”
“Maybe it’s you that was supposed to have married the prince?” The woman asks, ignoring my question for the moment.
“Yes, it’s me,” I reply quietly, hating my mistake being brought up over and over again.
“I’m sorry,” the woman’s tone softens as she looks up at me for the first time. Her blue eyes look genuinely remorseful, “I don’t know the way any better than my sisters did, just that it lies east of the sun and west of the moon.”
“Oh,” my face falls as my hope is dashed. How many more of these sister-neighbors will I be sent to before I find someone who does know the way?
The woman continues as if I haven’t spoken, her eyes going milky and vague, “and there you’ll come, late or never.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
The woman blinks, “nothing dearie, just these blasted visions I get now and then. Why don’t you stay for the night and in the morning I’ll lend you my horse, Wheatley. I think you’d best ride to the East Wind’s house and ask him. Maybe he knows those parts and can blow you there.”
“The East Wind,” I repeat, “Okay, thank you.”
“Of course,” the woman nods as she gathers her things, “now come, child, before you catch your death.”
I grab my pack and follow her into her home, “I’m Hel, by the way.”
“You don’t look like the goddess of the dead,” the woman replies. “You may call me Juniper.”
I nod before checking out the inside of her home. Where her sisters’ homes were decorated using the natural stone of the structure they were carved from, Juniper has chosen to use the forest as inspiration for her home. If there weren’t a roof over our heads I would think we were still outside with all the carved furniture and natural influences.
Juniper offers me something to eat and a spare cot by the front door to sleep on before leaving me to my own devices.
I reach into my growing pack and pull out the glass heart Dyre left for me. I wrapped it back up in fabric after first discovering it and thankfully it’s made it this far without shattering.
“I’m coming for you, Dyre. I hope you know that,” I whisper as I hold the heart in my palms, rubbing the smooth surface with my thumbs.
“What’s that, dearie?” Juniper asks from her position crouched in front of the hearth.
“Nothing,” I reply, embarrassed, “Just talking to myself.”
“Sometimes those are the best conversations to have,” Juniper muses, “Especially when you don’t see other people very often.”
I pick up on the sad tone in Juniper’s voice easily and I wonder when she last had a visitor or saw one of her sisters. They each have seemed so isolated in their lifestyles and I wonder what caused them to choose to live so far from one another. Even after Bjorn and Donar married they continued to live with the rest of our family. Even though there are a lot of us, we’ve all always been very close. I push my thoughts aside and place the glass heart back in my pack carefully before laying down on the cot.
Sitting down on a little stool and switching to a large wooden spinning wheel near the hearth, Juniper resumes her spinning, humming a tune that soothes me to sleep as I curl up on my side.
Juniper shakes me to wake me the next morning, “It’s hard for outsiders to distinguish day from night in this forest. The trees tend to give a false sense of nighttime.”
“Thank you for waking me,” I smile sleepily as I stretch and excuse myself to dress for the day ahead. I select a plain blue woolen gown that would have been much too plain for Dyre’s palace but won’t trouble me to get dirty as I journey to the East Wind’s house.
I share a silent meal with Juniper before she leads me around the back of her home and helps me saddle her aristocratic looking stallion, Wheatley. His pure white coat stands out among the black forest.
“He has a little bit of an attitude,” Juniper explains, “but he’ll get you where you need to go. Once you get to the East Wind’s house just give him the signal and he’ll trot home all by himself.”
“I’m grateful for your hospitality,” I say as I hug her briefly. “You and your sisters have done so much for me. I’ll never forget this kindness.”
“Wait, before you go I have something for you,” Juniper holds one finger up indicating I should wait before running back into the cottage. She returns with the gold spinning wheel in her outstretched hands. “I think you may find a use for it soon,” Juniper says with a shrug.
“But you might need this,” I protest as I try to hand it back to her.
“Nonsense,” Juniper shakes her head. “The wood one suits me just fine.”
I sigh, “Well if you’re sure.”
“I am, dearie,” Juniper nods vigorously as she helps me tuck the spinning wheel into my pack. The bag is nearly bursting at the seams, heavy with everything I’ve placed in it since I woke up in the forest.
I tip my head to Juniper in farewell as I mount Wheatley, placing the pack between the vee of my legs and swinging my quiver over my shoulder.
“May you reach your destination safely,” Juniper calls to my departing back as I nudge Wheatley forward.
I turn back and smile reassuringly at Juniper as Wheatley carries me out of the forest.
Chapter Fourteen
Wheatley carries me over hills and through valleys, through forests and wastelands for three days without incident. I camp wherever I can, one night sleeping beneath the stars another burrowing into the crook of a tree. I ration the food Juniper gave me before I left; making it last and occasionally supplementing it with berries or small fish I catch in nearby rivers and cook over a low fire.
On the fourth morning, everything begins to unravel. I wake up to angry thunderclouds forming overhead. The rain holds off until Wheatley carries me into a series of networking caves through a mountain. The mouth of the cave and the rock above it transforms into a woman’s face frozen in a horrified scream before my eyes. I nearly turn Wheatley away before remembering he knows where we’re going, I don’t.
We’ve been inside the system of caves for several hours it feels like when Wheatley’s footing abruptly falters. He lets out a painful neigh and refuses to take another step.
“What is it, boy?” I ask as I dismount and crouch down to inspect the horse’s feet. Wheatley holds his front left hoof off the ground painfully. Closer inspection shows me the animal’s horseshoe has pulled away from his ho
of wall. I grimace and lean back, “what are we going to do to fix this, boy? I don’t have any spare horseshoes with me.”
Wheatley nickers helplessly.
“I can’t leave you here, and you can’t get home with your hoof like that,” I murmur as I meet the horse’s frightened gaze.
“Can I be of assistance?” A gritty voice asks.
I turn and from my crouched position come face to face with a dwarf with long auburn hair and a thick auburn beard that hangs over his portly body. A pickax is slung over his shoulder nonthreateningly.
“My horse slipped a shoe,” I explain as I gesture to the offending piece of metal.
The dwarf whistles, “That’s a doozy, but I can fix it.”
“Really?” I ask in surprise. From the stories Father told to us as children I thought all dwarves were monsters.
“Yeah, it’s no trouble at all,” the dwarf nods, swinging a small satchel off his shoulder and digging through it. He extracts a new shoe, nails, and a small hammer. “Move aside and I’ll get started.”
I oblige, straightening to a standing position and taking a few steps out of his way. The dwarf bends down and pulls the nails out of the old shoe, tossing them uselessly into his satchel and muttering about the quality of metals used in horseshoes. He pulls the old shoe the rest of the way off, pausing to ask me if I want it before shoving it into his satchel as well.
“We don’t get many humans from Midgard up this way very often,” the dwarf comments as he holds the new shoe in place and positions a nail.
“Is it that obvious I’m not from around here?” I ask.
“Oh yeah,” the dwarf laughs, “you can tell just by looking at you. You haven’t been broken by this place yet.”
“I don’t even really know where ‘this place’ is,” I admit as I watch him hammer the nails into the hoof wall.
“This here, unless you’ve been wandering too far north, is Aldavellir, a middle land between Alfheim and Nidavellir,” the dwarf gestures, meaning to encompass the world around us. “It’s become a melting pot of creatures with good and bad intentions.”
“I think I’ve met a little bit of both,” I smile briefly.
“I’m sure you have,” the dwarf replies sympathetically. He hammers the last nail into place and straightens.
“Is there any way I can repay you for your help?” I ask.
The dwarf shakes his head, “no, there’s nothing I need. May I offer you a bit of advice though?”
“Sure,” I nod uncertainly.
“Do whatever you came to this world for and return to Midgard as soon as you can,” the dwarf says. “This land isn’t safe for young women traveling alone. Not every face you see is a friendly one, and it’s usually the ones you wouldn’t suspect that can do the worst damage.”
“Thank you for the advice,” I smile. “I don’t hope to linger too long. Say, you don’t know the way to the castle that lies east of the sun and west of the moon, do you? Nobody seems to be able to tell me the way.”
“No,” the dwarf shakes his head. “I’ve heard tell of it and of the ruthless queen that rules over this land from afar but I’ve been lucky enough to never find myself there.”
“Oh,” I mumble, “well thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” the dwarf replies as he watches me mount Wheatley and gather the reins in my hand, “I hope you find what you’re looking for. The name’s Grimsbird, by the way. If you encounter any trouble in these caves just tell whoever you meet up with that Grimsbird said it’s alright for you to be here.”
“I’ll do that,” I promise. “Thanks again, Grimsbird.”
Grimsbird bows deeply before stepping aside to let Wheatley pass down the stone corridor of the cave.
The rest of the journey to the east wind's home is the longest leg of the entire journey so far. We travel so many days I start to be afraid Wheatley will perish from overexertion. To the world’s end it feels like we were traveling to and I'm unsure if the noble horse beneath me will ever find his way home. The nights are filled with loneliness and longing that Dyre was here to hold me in his arms, his touch telling soothing stories of his childhood. My longing for him is the force that drives me onward until the day Wheatley stops in front of a home with curving roofs adorned with dragon statues topping an airy red house. There aren’t any windows, just interlocking metal bars in the window frames that look more decorative than practical. Flanking the house on either side are flowering trees with beautiful pink blossoms.
I’m so busy admiring the house and the trees that I don’t notice a young man with umber colored skin and an amused look on his face step out of the entranceway to the house.
“May I help you?” The man asks, his voice bringing memories of childhood tricks my brothers played on us girls to mind. The man leans against a pillar, not worrying about dirtying the silky red pants and matching high-necked shirt he wears as he runs his hand over his shaved head in a show of vanity. His accent is hard to place, but his clothing looks like clothing worn by slaves brought back from the far eastern side of the world. Have I really traveled that far, or is this man just a wanderer who’s seen that side of the world?
“I’m looking for the East Wind,” I raise my chin confidently.
“Why do you seek him out?” The man asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I need to ask him something,” I explain vaguely. “It’s urgent, is he here?”
“He is standing before your eyes,” the man smirks.
“You?” I question, “You are the East Wind? But you look–”
“Human?” The East Wind asks humor lighting up his eyes.
“Well, yes,” I admit.
“It’s merely a form I take when I am not blowing here and there.” The East Wind explains. “So what is it that you think I can help you with?”
“Do you know the way to the prince who lives east of the sun and west of the moon?” I ask hopefully, “I was told you might be able to help me.”
My question piques the East Wind’s interest, “why is it that you wish to see him?”
I avert my eyes as an embarrassed blush colors my face and neck.
“Ah, so you’re the one,” the East Wind supplies for me.
I nod slowly, “yes.”
“I’ve heard tell of the castle and the prince that dwells there,” the East Wind says, “but I cannot tell you the way for I have never blown that far in my entire existence. However, if you wish, I will take you to my brother the West Wind. Maybe he knows the way; he’s older and stronger than I am. I’m sure he’s blustered his way to many places in his time.”
“You’d really take me to your brother?” I ask eagerly.
“Of course,” The East Wind replies. “I haven’t blown anywhere for a few days, I could use the exercise.”
“Then yes, please take me to your brother,” I answer as I lean down to tap Wheatley behind the ear. The tired horse looks at the East Wind doubtfully before nuzzling my arm and leaving down the path we came on. I hope he makes it back to Juniper safely but I have to keep moving.
The East Wind cracks his knuckles and pops the bones in his neck before shaking out his arms and fingers. “You’ll need to be on my back before I change forms because once I lose this solid body I won’t be able to pick you up.”
“Okay,” I reply as I approach the East Wind, unsure what he wants me to do.
Rolling his eyes at my confusion he explains, “The only way to take you to my brother is to travel in my other form. I’ll carry you there on my back. I’ll crouch down and you climb on my back. Wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist and I’ll hold onto you when I change forms.”
I nod my understanding and tie my pack to my body using a sash from inside the bag before doing as the East Wind instructed.
“Do you need to bring that?” The East Wind asks as his eyes roam over the overstuffed bag.
“It has everything I need in it,” I explain.
; The East Wind snorts, “Women and their things.”
I grin and hold tighter to his neck.
“Ready?” The East Wind asks.
“Yes, I’m ready,” I reply.
“Good,” the East Wind says, “now just remember one thing and you’ll be fine.”
“What’s that?” I inquire nervously.
“Don’t let go,” the East Wind yells as his human body dissolves leaving a gray mist underneath. I gasp but keep my hold as the East Wind propels us into the sky and becomes one with the clouds.
I look down at the ground far below us and gulp at the impossible height we hover at. The East Wind’s form has expanded to a hundred times larger than his human form, his face, shoulders, arms, and hands the only parts of him distinguishable from where he melts into the clouds.
“Relax,” the East Wind chuckles, amused by my anxiety.
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter just before the East Wind stuns me again by shooting headfirst through the sky.
The world below us whirls by in a blur as we cross the length of the world as quickly as one would cross a room.
“Hang on,” the East Wind instructs as he dives downward to the ground.
My heart seizes as the ground comes closer and closer, a sea or ocean coming into view to my left and a sandy coastline appearing on the right. I close my eyes, unable to watch the East Wind bring us down onto the sand. I can only tell we’ve landed because I feel his human form solidify under my viselike grip.
“It’s okay,” the East Wind laughs, “You can open your eyes and get down now.”
I open my eyes slowly and the first thing I lay eyes on is a massive white structure with a grass covered roof. The air is warmer here, so warm in fact that it feels heavy and wet. I slide off of the East Wind’s back, my feet sinking into the sand beside him.
“Come on,” the East Wind beckons as he bounces toward the front door. “I know he’s here, he’s been in a little bit of a funk lately.”
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