Skrymers Glove

  ***

  Egil Bowman was working hard on his field swinging his pick axe. For every blow he gave it all he had and swung the axe forcefully pulling it fiercely through the clayey soil. There was something therapeutic about using his strength. The past few days had been hard and he couldn´t stop thinking about his children. Where were they? How did they manage? Did they get enough to eat? Where they even alive? He had a faint hope that maybe, just maybe, the gods had taken them in, providing for them and helping them. He tried keeping that hope alive, but the sad fact was, that he hadn´t a single one of them since that dreadful morning when strange soldiers dressed in clothes of material he couldn´t quite pinpoint the origin of had marched through the village pillaging and destroying everything on their way.

  The village elders had sent a message to the king pleading him for help and to his defense it had to be said that his response was quick. Unfortunately, gathering forces of such magnitude isn´t done in a day and by the time his warriors finally reached the village, the enemy had already gone leaving nothing more than rubble and a few wooden houses, which were probably only spared because they were placed in a bit of a distance from the rest of the village.

  Instead of coming to a fight, the king´s soldiers began helping out in every way they could chopping down trees for new homes, bringing food and water (the well inside the village had been destroyed by the enemy) and generally coordinating the effort of rebuilding the village.

  The villagers did appreciate the soldiers helping out, but still they moaned and complained about the time it took the king to respond to their plead. If his soldiers had arrived just a few days earlier they may have been able to stop the enemy from setting at least some of the houses on fire, they thought. Little did they know that if the kings soldier had in fact reached the village earlier, they would have been slaughtered and then they wouldn´t even have been able to help them rebuild. But the villagers didn´t know and maybe that was for the best. If they had known, there is no telling how they might have reacted.

  Even so, the enemy soldiers had been quite ruthless. The brutality of which they had taken control of the village was unseen of by even the oldest in the village, who had witnessed quite a few battles in their time. But Egil had noticed something else as well. Something that made him wonder and gave him hope. He had noticed that these strange soldiers seemed stressed and frustrated, as if they were in fact loosing instead of winning. Egil hadn´t told anyone about his conclusion. He knew better. He knew that none of the villagers, not even the elders, would gain hope with his observations. It was much more likely that they would tell the enemy soldiers and then who knows what would have happened?

  Egil had no idea why they seemed so stressed out, but talking to his wife, Groa, he and she had a feeling it had something to do with the gods and the kids disappearing. Of course, Egil knew this could very well be nothing more than wishful thinking, but he had to hold on to the hope that Thor and Sif had taken care of the children. He just couldn´t cope with the notion that they may both be dead and gone. He would much rather believe the incredible that they were with the gods. He even preferred the idea that he and Groa wouldn´t see their children ever again to knowing that they were both dead. Their hopes grew with the fact that the bodies of their children hadn´t surfaced somewhere and that no one had heard from the gods since that day when everything lit up brightly and some of the Muspelheim Coals moved around on the sky.

  The first two days after, the entire village had searched for Tjalfe and Roeskva in all directions looking in all the usual and unusual places, but with time their hopes of finding them fainted and it was hopeless to continue the search. Both Groa and Egil then decided it was better to keep the farm and the animals and prepare for winter. It was still spring, but they knew they had to work hard to be sure to have enough food when the cold came and the soil froze.

  Tjalfes father dropped his pick axe on the ground and wiped his forehead with the small cloth, he always wore in his belt. The first swipe made the cloth dripping wet with sweat. Egil´s eyes flickered as he glanced shortly at the burning sun that made it almost unbearable to work during the day. It wouldn´t be long before Groa would bring food and water and then they would both sit down eating lunch together in the shadow of one of the large oaks, his grandfather had planted so many years ago as a natural fence to break the winds blowing over the flat country side where his family had been living for generations. There they would talk about the children trying to encourage each other as they had done so often these past few days. Then they would sit together in silence hoping for some kind of miracle to occur.

  He put the cloth back in his belt and reached for the pick axe. Maybe he would have just enough time to finish one or two furrows before Groa brought lunch. He lift up the axe and was just about to swing it when something caught his attention in the corner of his eyes. He let down the axe and put his hand flat over his eyes for shade and saw four figures far away over the nearest hill top. His first impulse was to drop the axe and run away as fast as he could, but there was something those figures that seemed familiar. He squeezed his eyes. The four figures weren´t the strange soldiers, that much was certain. Two of the figures were tall, but the two figures walking between them were rather small, one a bit taller than the other; probably children.

  Then he realized who they were! For a short moment he froze and just stood there paralyzed, hesitating to give in to the hope building up inside fearing that if he did, that very hope would soon be squashed. He wasn´t sure he could cope with getting his hope up and then see that hope disappear like sand running through his fingers... But the tears running down on his cheeks revealed that he had already given in to the hope. He dropped the axe on the ground and stormed forward to meet his children. It was as if his feet suddenly regained all the energy that had been drained from him and he felt as if he almost hovered inches above the ground, floating easily over the knobbly soil approaching the four figures faster than he had ever thought possible. Coming closer to his children, Egil shouted at the full strength of his lungs.

  “Tjalfe! Roeskva!”

  Broad smiles appeared on the faces of Tjalfe and Roeskva and they waved wildly as an answer to his call. The children looked at Sif and Thor, who nodded smiling. Tjalfe and Roeskva picked up the pace and ran to their father. Kisses and hugs warmed up the entire area and shortly after Groa appeared far away with a braided basket hanging from her arm. At first she was afraid, but then her face turned astonished and as she realized what was going on, her mother instinct took over. With her right arm holding on to the basket and her left hand trying to keep her tears away from her eyes, so she could see, she started running holding the basket tighter for every step. She flew quickly toward them and they all hugged and kissed as if they would never let go of each other even if the world was coming to an end and they were the only ones who could prevent it. The family was together again!

  Sif and Thor smiled. Then they nodded at each other and excused themselves by pushing the buttons on their bracelets. Groa and Egil didn´t even notice how the two gods disappeared like magic into thin air. They focused only on their children, whom they had almost lost and they sure weren´t going to let them out of their sight ever again.

  When all the kissing and hugging was done, Groa and Egil started checking their children for possible wounds but to their relief found nothing wrong with them.

  Groa spread out a blanket from her basket and they all sat down while she emptied the contents of the basket and set the table - or the blanket, to be precise. Of course, she had only packed lunch for her husband and herself, but still there was more than enough food for all of them and Groa´s smile grew broader for every mouthful Egil, Tjalfe and Roeskva consumed.

  After a while the food weighed heavily in their stomachs and they sat for a moment in silence, looking at each other and smiling contently. It wasn´t an awkward silence. Rather, it felt like silence was just the right thing at the right moment. As if speaking
would somehow ruin the magic of this moment.

  Then Egil broke the silence asking the children to tell what had happened since that day they vanished at the fortress of the gods. Tjalfe and Roeskva took shifts telling their story and both of their parents listened while looking at them with an expression of deep and sincere love. The children didn´t tell them everything, though. Sif and Thor had been very clear as they had instructed them that neither the village people nor their parents should know everything that was going on. All for their own protection, of course. The children couldn´t tell anyone about the ships in the sky, but instead just explain to their parents that the gods had taken them to a safe place, where the gods could protect them. It would be dangerous, if they knew too much. Even if the Yetten had left Earth and probably were very far away, they couldn´t take the chance. Maybe they had even left spies on the planet gathering information and if the Yetten would in any way suspect that a group of people on Earth had the slightest idea of what was going on, they wouldn´t hesitate abducting dozens of humans to interrogate them using every means to get the knowledge, they so desired.

  “Make no mistake,” Thor had told the children with such a seriousness in his voice that Tjalfe and Roeskva knew for sure, how dangerous it would be to reveal too much, “The Yetten will stop at nothing to get hold of the Fyrkat device and its technology. Nothing! If they have just an ounce of suspicion that someone on Earth knows anything that can bring them closer to that goal... Well, suffice to say that the Yetten have absolutely no conscience at all. Not many people have ever been subjected to Yetten interrogation and lived to tell about it...”

  But there was still a lot they could talk about and Tjalfe found it much easier to get around the secretive parts than he had expected. He explained how Thor, Sif and Baldur had saved from the grip of the fierce Yetten soldiers and how they had brought them both to a safe place, where they had been working to lift the curse that the Yetten had cast upon them both in an attempt to make slaves of them.

  Tjalfes father listened silently to their tale, although constantly with a concerned expression on his face, but their mother just couldn´t keep quiet. She interrupted them again and again trying to comfort them with soothing words and continuously confirming her love for them. “Oh, no Tjalfe!” “How dreadful for you!” and “praise the gods!” streamed out of her mouth like a never ending river of motherly love and concern as their story went forward.

  Coming to the end of the story everything was silent again and they sat there for a while looking at each other... Now the silence was rather awkward, but somehow Tjalfe understood it had to be. He instinctively felt that his parents had to be given time to wrap their heads around this strange and not very comprehensive story. The air was thick of something unsaid and Tjalfe had the notion that his parents had questions, but were for some reason afraid to ask them. He just didn´t know how to make it easier for them and he also wondered if he should even try making it easier. Maybe it was really best, if it was left to them to ask in their own time?

  Finally Egil built up the courage and broke the silence.

  “Tjalfe?” he hesitantly began and cleared his throat, “This ehm... this Yetten curse..? Is it? I mean... Was Thor able to..?”

  Tjalfe and Roeskva knew exactly what he was trying to say and they both shook their heads quietly.

  “No, dad...” Tjalfe said in a serious voice sounding almost like an adult, “I´m sorry, but... He hasn´t been able to lift it...” Tjalfe paused and looked at his father, who was clearly both disappointed and worried. Tjalfe almost wished he´d lied to his parents about this part. He almost wished he´d just told them that everything was alright and that they would all live happily ever after. But this was all the child in him speaking. He knew better. He knew that the truth had to be told, no matter how much it hurt.

  Roeskva leaned into her mother tucking herself tightly in her bosom and Groa’s tears flowed slowly down her cheeks dragging themselves through her long golden hair and further through Roeskva’s equally long and golden hair.

  Tjalfe felt the heavy burden of responsibility and decided to try and cheer them all up.

  “But he will succeed!” he suddenly said, hoping that he sounded more certain than he felt, “Thor is very close to finding the solution...” His effort didn´t have much of an effect and both his parents and his sister looked at him, searching his eyes for more comfort, more strength. But Tjalfe simply didn´t have it and he had no idea how to build up more strength or how he could find a way to give them what they wanted. Still, he had to try and he felt that anything would be better than nothing.

  “Roeskva?” he pleaded, “remember what Thor said?” Roeskva attempted a smile and pulled together all the strength she could.

  “Yes...” There was something strange in Roeskva’s eyes. Tjalfe didn´t know what to make of it, but something was definitely going on inside her, as if she just needed a little notch to regain hope and right now it looked as if that very hope was growing inside of her. “Yes!” she said again, this time with much more certainty as if she had just found something, she had lost a long time ago. And in many ways, this wasn´t far from the truth. She had found hope and much to Tjalfes surprise she suddenly sat up straight looking firmly in her mother´s eyes with a broad smile on her face.

  “It´ll be okay, mom!” she said in a loud voice, “It really will!” Tjalfe observed his sister with astonishment as she assured them all with a strength and a certainty he had never seen in her before. “Thor promised to fix this!” she continued, “and if Thor says he can do it, he can!” She turned to her father and fixed her eyes on his. “He just needs to do it somewhere else, dad...” she said, this time with a more tender, soft voice, “He can do it in Asgard, dad...” She paused for a bit, allowing her father time to let it sink in. Then she looked at her brother and continued. “Isn´t that so, Tjalfe?” she asked.

  Her renewed joy and hope and the glow of comfort beaming out from her was infectious and even Tjalfe, who had just minutes ago felt as if he had drained himself of every little bit of strength he had to tell their story, was smitten. Just one second ago, he felt despair like he had never felt before, but seeing his sister like this filled him with hope.

  “Yes, Roeskva!” he nodded and sat up straight looking as if he had just grown an extra few inches, “Thor can lift this curse - in Asgard!” Then he looked at his father, his eyes pleading for approval.

  Egil didn´t look even remotely thrilled at the thought of letting his children, whom he had just lost and then miraculously found again, go to some distant place he had never seen or even had the slightest chance of finding, if they didn´t return for some reason. Adding to this, he had already realized the extent of this proposal. He knew this could very well be the last time he would ever see his children again. Tjalfe knew his father well and he understood what he was thinking.

  “Dad, we must go to Asgard,” he said, “it is the only way Thor can lift the Yetten curse...” He paused to let the good part of it all sink in. Then he continued:

  “Listen, dad,” he said, “if you don´t want us to go, we won´t. It is your decision and we will abide by it. But I really think this is the best way - no, the only way. At least send Roeskva and let me stay here with you. She shouldn´t have to live with that curse for the rest of her life...”

  Groa looked at her son with pride and then she nodded at her husband, who nodded back. Egil sighed deeply...

  “No, Tjalfe,” he said, “you´re right. You must go. Both of you!” Tjalfe was just about to say something, but was interrupted by Egil, who grabbed his shoulders firmly and held on to him looking firmly in his eyes.

  “I understand, Tjalfe!” he said, “I get it. If you go now, you may never return - ever! Thor may not be able to lift this curse, but...” He looked lovingly at them both trying to smile and drawing them close at his side as he squeezed them with his arms. “I understand it,” he continued, “and frankly, I´m crying inside at that thought, but... No ma
tter what... I would much rather that we can never see each other again for all of eternity, if that means you´re safe and guarded by the gods. As much as it pains me, I prefer this to having you here and forever looking over our shoulders constantly fearing the Yetten coming to get you and hurt you. You have my and your mother´s blessing. Go with them! Be safe!”

  Egil had hardly finished his sentence, before they heard the sound of the Aseir transportation system returning Sif and Thor and it almost felt as if it had all been staged and rehearsed. The family stood tall together as Egil and Groa greeted the approaching gods with bowing heads. Then they took one final look at their children, smiled lovingly and hugged them with a firm grip.

  Then they gently pushed them toward Sif and Thor, who had patiently been waiting for them to say their goodbyes. They put new bracelets on the arms of the children and activated them. Tjalfe managed to get a proud nod from his father, before they all disappeared before their parents and everything went silent. They were no longer on the surface of Earth...