Skrymers Glove

by Per Holbo

  ***

  Within seconds after appearing, Tjalfe and Roeskva knew something was wrong. They were in a very different place than they expected. The transporter room looked almost like the one on Alfheim, but the mysterious letters on the wall by the door were different from the Aseir symbols and the door itself looked heavier and more massive than the doors on Alfheim.

  “Welcome to Skrymer!” the big Yetten standing by the console said cheerfully. Although he looked kind, the children knew at once that he was a Yetten - and that meant he was dangerous. He shut down the screen, moved around the console and approached the children. They moved back a few steps. Roeskva looked down, but Tjalfe kept his eyes firmly on the Yetten soldier. Seeing their reaction, the Yetten stopped moving and looked at them pausingly.

  “Don´t worry, children,” he said kindly, “I won´t harm you.”

  They all stood there for a while, looking at each other, measuring each other. The kind voice and seemingly calm nature of the Yetten clearly didn´t change anything in the children´s suspicion of him and he realized, there was nothing he could do to win their confidence. Then his appearance and character seemed to change. As much as he had just looked kind and forwarding, he now looked harsh and unforgiving.

  “Follow me!” he ordered and opened the heavy door with a movement of his hand, “the commander wishes to see you.”

  The children abided at once. There was something in his voice making it clear that this was certainly not the time for any kind of debate or even hesitation.

  “My name is Loki, by the way,” the Yetten said as he led them down the hall way. Tjalfe had a hard time hiding his surprise when hearing that name. Could that really be true? Thor had held Loki highly when speaking of him and Tjalfe just couldn´t believe, even in his wildest dreams, that Thor could have been so wrong about his friend. No, it had to be some sort of misunderstanding... Maybe several Yetten had that name? Neither Tjalfe nor Roeskva knew all that much about the Yetten, even less than they knew about the Aseir or the Vanes, of which they had only met a few - and Loki could be a very common name among the Yetten... Yes, that had to be it...

  Tjalfe looked at his sister, but Roeskva didn´t look as if she had been wondering in the same way he had, but then he remembered that Roeskva hadn´t met any of the gods before that day, when the Fyrkat fortress had been attacked. That meant she had probably never heard about Loki before. Although Tjalfe had told her quite a few stories about the gods and about his experiences at the fortress, it had mostly been late in the night after they had gone to bed. And she had often fallen asleep during his tales, no matter how much she had fought against it to hear everything, he told her... So, maybe, she had never heard him mention Loki? It was a farfetched hope, but he had to hold on to it. The less Roeskva knew, the better her change of survival. Maybe the Yetten would then quickly realize how little she knew and leave her be?

  It seemed to be very far to where Loki apparently wanted to go and Tjalfe realized that Skrymer had to be much bigger than both Svalinn and Alfheim. It was hard to grasp that any ship could be so big. They passed many doors on the way and finally they arrived at a huge double door at the very end of the hall way. It opened by itself and made a sound that reminded Tjalfe of the times he had gone with his father to the miller. The sound was quite similar to the sound of grinding stones rubbing against each other.

  Loki gestured them to go through the door and they entered a huge hall with massive pillars on both sides of a 3 yard broad isle. By and behind the pillars small groups of Yetten warriors stood ready to defend against potential intruders and the isle between the pillars was lit by small spots of light on the floor.

  Furthest into the hall was a wide staircase that led up to what looked like a throne and on the throne an obviously important Yetten was surrounded by guards on both sides. He sat like a king and gazed condescendingly at the mob on the floor, while a giant stood slightly bent over him and whispered something in his ear.

  Overwhelmed by the hall's interior Tjalfe and Roeskva slowed down and ambled off with their eyes panning around the vast number of scary pictures on the walls. Pictures of warriors in battle and large machines shooting what looked like arrows and thick spears against various enemies. The images themselves were scary enough, but it was even worse that they were moving. Some of the images were not quite as scary, but consisted only of symbols and dots in different colors, moving in and out between each other. Loki nudged the children.

  “Better get moving,” he recommended, ”the commander does not like to wait.” Roeskva was frightened and she tightened her grip on Tjalfes hand, which she had firmly held on to ever since they left the transporter room. Tjalfe squeezed her hand in an attempt to sooth her fear. It seemed to help a bit. Her shaking diminished and her breathing seemed less heavy.

  At the foot of the stairs, Loki placed himself beside them and knelt before the commander. Tjalfe found it best to follow his example and pulled Roeskva’s hand to let her understand she should do the same. The face of the big Yetten was hard as stone, although Tjalfe noticed something that looked like the beginning of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He had a smug appearance and looked like someone who looked forward to whatever was about to happen next.

  The big giant nodded to the guards, who immediately left the room, leaving the four alone. Then he got up from his throne and walked down the stairs. He put his hand on the shoulder of Loki, who raised his head and came to his feet.

  ”Nice work,” the commander nodded in appreciation at Loki. Then he moved his attention to the children, who still knelt with their eyes fixed on the floor.

  ”Get up!” He commanded.

  Gently and with all antennas up the kids rose with fear shining from their eyes, which were still fixed on the floor.

  ”It certainly looks like you´ve brought yourselves into quite a mess. Maybe you shouldn´t have interfered in our business...” continued the commander and looked at them letting his body language show them his superiority. Tjalfe felt the urge to protest. After all, they weren´t the ones who had decided to get involved in all this. It was the Yetten who had attacked the gods, and they had just ended up in the middle of it all. But he said nothing. It would probably not be wise to complain. Besides, the commander did not look like someone who was used to being contradicted. Suddenly he lit up and flung out his arms as if he wanted them to feel welcome.

  ”But now you're here!” He almost cried in a cheerful voice that reminded Tjalfe on one of the village idiots.

  ”Welcome to my realm!” he continued. Then he lifted Tjalfes head with a finger and stared into his eyes.

  ”We'll get really, really ... cozy, ” he said stiffly. A tear rolled down Roeskva’s cheek and no matter how well she usually was able to control herself, Tjalfe saw at the corner of his eye how her body trembled - out of fear, out of crying ... maybe even out of anger ...