by J. A. Snow
Fornjot felt the blood rush to his face, hoping the darkness would cloak his embarrassment, for, as big as he was, he was still very naïve when it came to relationships with women. “Did you not love my moder?” he asked boldly. “Did you not tell me she was beautiful beyond measure? Is that how you knew you were in love with her?”
Kaleva continued watching the lights in the night sky, remembering his dear Helga, and he raised his hand and pointed upward. “See there?” he said to his son. “See that one streak of orange in the midst of all the green flashes? See how it is set apart from all the other colors?”
Fornjot looked upward. He had seen the nororijos in the night sky all his life, for as long as he could remember. It is just the gods painting on their magic slates, he thought to himself. What has that to do with loving a woman?
His father went on. “When you truly fall into love with a woman, she will be like that single streak of orange among all the others. There will be nei other like her. You will see beauty in her that others cannot see.”
Fornjot was confused. He thought about the whiskered women in the village. “Does that mean I will see an ugly woman as beautiful only because I am in love with her? And, all others will find her repulsive?” he asked. “Would I have thought my own moder ugly because only you could see her beauty?”
Kaleva suddenly laughed out loud. His giant voice boomed in the stillness of the night air. “Nei,” he said with amusement. “You would have seen her as beautiful because you would have loved her as I did. When you love someone, you see their beauty, not the other way around. But, others may not have seen her so fair as you and I.”
Fornjot paused to reflect on his father’s words.
The old man had been sitting too long on the rock wall. His back ached and he needed sleep after a long day of sanding and shaping the hull of a ship. He took one last gulp from his horn and lowered himself down from the wall, reaching out and squeezing his son’s knee with affection. “It matters not what anyone sees except you,” he said. “Besides, you are almost seventeen! It is high time you married and gave me some grandchildren.”
Chapter Two “The Yggdrasil”
Young Fornjot was indeed falling in love with the beautiful Hildi, and he began to spend a great deal of time with her and her family, who were camped just north of Kaleva’s land. On many nights, he sat around an open fire pit, listening to the tales of their journeys across the frozen tundra. Fornjot knew he had only the few short weeks of summer left to win Hildi’s affection, for the reindeer people always moved south with the first winter frosts. A fortnight later, he proposed marriage to her and he brought her home to meet his father. Her parents were pleased that the son of the giant jarl had chosen their daughter from the dozens of women in the village and there was great celebration in the Saami camp. On the night of their marriage, the nororijos put on a most spectacular show for the newlyweds. Everyone believed the gods had spoken.
Hildi was quiet and gentle, with a soft voice that whispered sweetly in Fornjot’s ear, half in her native Saami language, half in the few Kvenish words that she had learned from the people in the village. Despite her broken tongue, she knew well the language of love and she was a blessing to both men, for she had skills they would never master, such as cooking and sewing and cleaning. Her sweet voice, said Kaleva, was like that of the Valkyries, and she rarely asked for anything from Fornjot with one exception; she asked if they might build a separate shelter beside the longhouse in which to house the animals. Cleanliness and hygiene never entered the minds of the men of the house; they were accustomed to shoveling the manure out and bringing in fresh straw to cover the floor, which was never enough to get rid of the ever-present stench in the longhouse. But, in the beginning, Fornjot was so smitten with his new bride, he would have done anything to please her and the construction of the new animal barn was completed just before the first snows came when her family packed up their tents and moved on.
It wasn’t very long before the longhouse echoed the sound of more voices, those of their three sons, Logi, Kari and Aegir, who came along in quick succession soon after their marriage. Logi, the oldest, was the biggest and bravest of the three, bold and afraid of nothing, a handsome young lad with yellow hair the color of spun gold and prominent cheek-bones beneath his sharp, blue eyes. Kari, who came next, was a bit smaller and not nearly so pleasing in his appearance, being very swarthy in skin and stout in stature. He grew to be the wise, logical brother. And, the baby, Aegir, who was the smallest of all (although still very large compared to the average Kvenish boy) was nervous and shy compared to the other two. His hair and eyes were a dull, mousey brown, with no distinguishing qualities, and he walked with a limp, for he had been born with one of his legs slightly shorter than the other.
Kaleva dearly loved all his grandsons, despite their differences. As they grew older, he would gather them together in the evenings on the same rock palisade he had shared with Fornjot and tell them the same stories of the gods, demons and mythical beings that lived in the dense forests of Kvenland. They would listen, fascinated by his stories just as their father had been, until Hildi would insist they come inside and go to bed. When Kaleva grew too old to work any longer and became bedridden, they would linger near his bedside even when he was asleep.
The years passed and Kaleva was growing old. When he finally drew his last breath, all the boys were grief-stricken. They hovered in the corner of the longhouse and watched sadly as their parents removed the clothes from his lifeless, grey body and prepared him for burial. The men in all Kvenland took up spades to dig a deep burial pit and they carried the unfinished boat he had been working on and lowered it into the pit, so that he could finish it in the next life. Then they laid him to rest in it, with all his earthly belongings, his axe and sword for protection and all his hammers and chisels he would need in his work. They covered the ship in a huge mound of earth there at the entrance to the great snow forest, alongside his beloved Helga, and built up her grave with earth also, so that the mounds looked like two great breasts, green-cloaked in the summer and blanketed in white the rest of the year. Then Fornjot became the jarl of Kvenland in his father’s place.
As the years passed, however, Fornjot began to forget the teachings of his father and the people of Kvenland began to see a difference in their new jarl. His noble status had begun to go to his head. He soon tired of doing all the work himself, as his father had done, and he went out to purchase thralls to build his boats, for he no longer took pride in them. He left the tending of his livestock to his thralls, as well, and it wasn’t long before he had squandered almost all the silver his father had saved over the years, for Fornjot had grown accustomed to living a lavish lifestyle and having his every desire fulfilled. To take in more money, he began to tax the villagers for the privilege of living on his land and for the security of his protection, although he provided very little of the latter. Fornjot grew fat and lazy, sitting inside his longhouse and he spoiled his sons by telling them they were above all others in Kvenland until they began to believe it was true. He began to speak harshly to his wife, reprimanding her for the slightest infraction and beating her with a leather strap if his food was not hot enough or his bed had not been made properly. Soon, poor Hildi began to fear her husband. There were whispers in the village that Fornjot had been cursed since birth by the witch, Nordrana. Whatever the reason for the change, the people of Kvenland were beginning to see that the son was nothing like the father.
The boys did not forget their grandfather, however. His stories remained so vivid in their memories that the boys, especially Logi, began to believe them and soon became enamored with seeking out the mystical beings that supposedly lived in the woodlands that surrounded the village. When it was time to cut lumber in the spring and they had nothing better to do (for Fornjot never allowed them to perform menial labor) they would follow along behind their father’s woodsmen and slip away at the first opportunity to explore the darkness in the forests, with L
ogi always leading the way.
“We can find the Yggdrasil if we look hard enough!” he told his brothers on one such excursion into the woods as they explored the dense, silent world beneath the trees.
The Yggdrasil was what their grandfather called the great ash tree that was believed by most people in Kvenland to be the tree of life. From the stories Kaleva had told them, they believed that the tree was what held the entire cosmos together and one had only to search for the entrances to it through the tree roots that drank from the rivers and lakes. There, they were told, they would cross over a rainbow bridge called Bifrost, that it would be lit up with brilliant lights and where they might have to slay the Midgard serpent, a dragon-like snake whose coils were believed to encircle the world and hold it together. The fantasy of it all soon consumed the boys.
“But, how can we find one ash tree among the hundreds in the forest?” asked Kari, the skeptical brother, thinking their quest was quite impossible. “And what shall we do if we find it? What if the great serpent reaches up and swallows us?”
Logi laughed at his brother. “What an idiot you are! We are the giants of Kvenland! There is nei serpent alive who can swallow us whole! We would choke him sure!”
It was true that the boys were the biggest and strongest in Kvenland, partly because their father provided them with enormous amounts of nutritious food, more than the poorer folk in the village, but also because they inherited their tremendous size from their father and grandfather. But, even though they disagreed on the logistics of the matter, they continued their quest every day.
After the death of Kaleva, under the lax rule of Fornjot, Kvenland had become a lawless place, with wandering tribes of gypsies, pickpockets and thieves; no one was safe out on the roads at night where there were predators waiting to jump out of the darkness and steal a man’s purse. It was worse for the women and children; there were tales of them being snatched up and carried off into the woods where they suffered unspeakable atrocities. Hildi tried to keep the boys inside the palisade after sunset for their safety. So, for much of their childhood, the three boys searched at every opportunity for the Yggdrasil without success. Their grandfather had told the boys to look for special animals that guarded the tree, ravens and squirrels, as well as ogres, trolls and wolves, that hid themselves in the mist that floated down from the chasms between the mountains. The stories tormented the boys, even in their sleep, and they became even more determined to find the great ash tree and the rainbow bridge. But, day after day, they searched to no avail.
Then, on one night in late summer, the boys waited until their parents were sleeping soundly in the longhouse, with brave Logi leading the way, ventured out into the woods. Summers were short and pleasant in Kvenland. It was the only time of the year when the ground wasn’t frozen, when they could run barefoot with nothing between their feet and the earth beneath, leaving their wooden clogs behind on the doorstep. They had searched and searched during the day and decided it was time to try something new, to search at night, when the gods and other magical beings might be out and about. They set out with their whittled pine fishing sticks and some twine, so, if their father missed them, he would think they had risen early when the fish were biting. Deep into the woods they trekked, with Aegir carrying his axe for protection against any creatures they might encounter in the dark. The further they got into the woods, it seemed as if the nororijos, which were particularly vivid that night, were following them, illuminating their path.
“It’s a sign!” said young Logi. “The gods are showing us the way! Surely we will find it tonight!”
They reached the edge of a lake deep in the middle of the woods, where the colored lights danced brilliantly on the surface of the water like faceted jewels. The shoreline was choked with tree roots reaching out into the shallows and the boys made their way along slowly, climbing over and crawling under them, until they came across a fallen tree that was arched upward, forming a natural bridge.
As soon as Logi set foot on the fallen log, the colorful lights in the sky suddenly flashed, illuminating it with bouncing rays of blue and green and orange. The rainbow bridge! They had finally found it! No wonder their daytime searches had been futile! The bridge’s colors could only be seen at night under the nororijos! Happily, they each started across the bridge until the thought of what guarded the bridge came to their minds and they froze in fear. Was the great serpent lurking under their feet at that very moment waiting to devour them and spit out their bones?
Logi leaned closer to his brother and whispered, “Hold tightly to your axe! We may have to slay the serpent!”
They tiptoed a bit further and nothing happened.
“Perhaps, he is asleep,” said Kari, half in jest, for he was not even sure that the serpent existed in anything beyond their imaginations.
“I think we should go back,” Aegir warned his brothers, not at all excited at the prospect of fighting off a giant serpent.
But Logi was not going to let fear of the unknown stop him. Ready to confront the serpent, he put down his fishing stick and quickly dove into the water at the base of the bridge. Under the water, he opened his eyes and swam deeper, away from the shimmering lights above him. Then the water grew dark and he was blinded. He struggled and kept swimming, holding his breath, through the tangle of tree roots in the weedy, slimy pool that clutched at his arms and legs and threatened to drown him. When he could hold his breath no longer, he swam furiously upward, finally reaching the surface of the water and gasping for air. Looking around, he found that he was inside the trunk of a great tree, hidden in the bowels of what he was convinced was the great Yggdrasil!
Back on the bridge, Kari and Aegir began to fear that their brother had surely drowned, for he had been too long below. They stood there for a long time, staring down into the water, contemplating what they would tell their father when they returned home without Logi.
Chapter Three “Asgard”
The air at the base of the old tree was musty and dank. Its giant roots were gnarled and tangled, like hundreds of motionless reptiles slithering around him. Above, inside the great tree, was a dim light that emitted from high up inside the trunk, shining down on him. Logi sat down on a huge, exposed root to catch his breath from his underwater swim and to pull the slimy weeds from between his toes. I have found it! he boasted to himself proudly. I have found the great Yggdrasil!
Around him, between the tree’s roots, were huge clumps of sandy soil and great, fat worms moving silently in and out of them. When he stood up and took a step forward, a swarm of ugly black bats shattered the silence with their flapping wings and flew away up into the great tree. What shall I do now? he wondered. Shall I just march right up to Odin and shake his hand?
He laughed out loud, so loudly it echoed up the hollow chamber above him. Before he could answer his own question, there was another movement in the shadows and another fluttering of wings. Two enormous ravens suddenly appeared, dropped down and perched on a tree root near where Logi was standing. Their feathers were blue-black and shimmering; on their legs were brilliant blue rings made from abalone shell.
“Whom do you seek?” one of the birds asked in a quite human-like voice.
Logi’s eyes widened in awe at a bird who could speak. He stared at the birds with his mouth agape. Something tells me I am going to encounter many strange creatures here, he thought. I needn’t be afraid of two black birds!
The bird spoke again. “We are Huginn and Muninn,” it said, its clawed feet bouncing and tapping along on the root, cocking its head and eyeing the boy curiously as it came closer. “Who are you?”
Logi’s heart was pounding wildly. “I am Logi, son of Fornjot and giant of Kvenland!” he announced, puffing up his chest with pride. “I have come to see Odin, the god of gods, in Asgard. Will you show me the way?”
The two birds cackled in laughter. “You are the giant of Kvenland?” the second raven chided. “You are only a boy! Odin could pick his teeth with you and spit
you out!”
“Nevertheless,” answered Logi bravely. “Show me the way, bird, or I will wring both your necks and have you for supper!”
The birds then flew off and disappeared inside the tree, toward the strange light that shimmered above him. Logi examined the trunk of the tree and saw that steps had been notched out, forming a very steep, very narrow stairwell leading upward. He stepped onto the first notch and began to climb.
He was fighting the fear he felt in his gut. You’re not afraid of a couple of birds, are you? he thought, determined to go on. He climbed on, stepping carefully, clenching his toes to hang onto each notch of wood. The light above became brighter as he neared it; it seemed to be beckoning him to follow. Logi summoned all the courage he could muster and pressed upward.
When he had at last reached the source of the light, he found it to be a large knothole in the side of the tree and when he looked out he could see that he had climbed far above the clouds. There was a man in front of him, sitting cross-legged on the branch just outside the knothole. Beside the man was perched a great snowy owl with very large eyes, and he was feeding it seeds from one hand; Logi could see that his other hand was missing, lopped clean off at the wrist. On the man’s good arm, he wore a blue arm ring and his golden hair was long and braided. The man was enormous, bigger even than Kaleva or Fornjot! He looked at Logi without surprise, as if he had been expecting him. “So, you are the giant of Kvenland!” he said, smiling with white teeth that looked blue in the mist. “And, you say you want to meet my papi?”
“Ja,” said Logi, “If your papi is the great god Odin I have heard so much about.”
“And, why do you think he should grant you an audience?”