Skrymers Glove

  Chapter 6: Brimir

  Tjalfe fought hard to keep warm in the cool cell. He and Roeskva huddled in a corner and though it helped a bit, they were both trembling. Fortunately, he had been allowed to keep his cloak, which at least kept them warm enough to be able to think reasonably straight. As far as he could see in the darkness, the cell was empty except for him and his sister, but sometimes they could hear cries coming from somewhere nearby, probably from another prisoner down the corridor. The commanding Yetten in the throne room had given the guards strict orders to never talk to them. Tjalfe wondered why this was so important, but the commander had been very insistent about it cautioning them that any who disobeyed him in this matter would be harshly punished. If Tjalfe hadn´t known better, he would probably have concluded that the commander was a bit afraid of them. But that wouldn´t make any sense at all. Two human children could not hope for even the slightest chance in a fight against these giants, of which even the smallest were at least one and a half the size of a grown man. But why else would he make such a fuss? He had even ordered them to double the number of guards outside their cell. Four giant Yetten to guard two insignificant and very tiny human children. One of the guards had been particularly unpleasant when they arrived at the cell. Roeskva was afraid of the dark, so she had hesitated for a moment at the entrance to the cell. Just a moment, nothing more. But one of the guards, a small tempered Yetten, whom the others called Fenrir, had brutally pushed her so hard that she twisted her ankle and fell forward into the cell hitting her head on a bench. One of the other giant had given Fenris a piece of his mind and ordered the others to give the kids a cloth to wipe away the blood on her face. Then the door shut tight and the cell was even darker than before. The kids could not see guards and the door to the cell was as thick as the large oak door, Tjalfe had once seen in the palace, and there was no peephole. The door seemed to be made of iron, like the kind of iron the Rusen used to forge swords with, just smoother and more delicately made, so Tjalfe was pretty sure that it was not quite the same material. He came to think of the doors on Alfheim, but they were more slender and not even remotely as heavy.

  This door was quite solid, as he had discovered physically on his own body. As they had thrown him and his sister into the cell, he had hammered on the door to get them to at least give them a little light for Roeskva´s sake. They hadn´t cared one bit and completely ignored it. Now he his hand was hurt and the cell was still pitch dark.

  Tjalfe sat with his back to the wall massaging his tender hand as he listened to what was going on outside. It sounded as if the guards were playing some kind of game. He heard rattling coins on a table and at regular intervals the warriors cheered or complained loudly, depending on their luck. They were speaking in their own language, but unfortunately Tjalfe didn´t understand a word of it.

  “Tjalfe?” Roeskva looked up an sent him a forced smile. He was a bit surprised. He thought she was sleeping, but apparently, she didn´t.

  “Tjalfe, could someone learn other peoples´ languages just by listening to them, when they speak it? I mean, really listening to it?” He sent her a surprised look and shrugged. “Ehm..” he said, “I.. I really don´t know... I suppose so... If you really take your time... What makes you say that?”

  “Nothing...” she answered almost unhearable and tugged herself tighter to him. “I just wondered,” she continued, “Maybe it would help, if we knew what they were talking about...”

  Tjalfe hadn´t thought about it that way. In fact, he hadn´t even found it worth the trouble to even try. But it made sense. In the throne room the commander had yelled at them in his own language and at the time, Tjalfe thought he had just been trying to scare them, but thinking about it, maybe there was something else to it. Maybe it had also been a kind of test to see if they understood their language? Maybe this was also the reason why the commander didn´t want the guards to have any contact with them. As a precaution to make it difficult for them to learn and understand them?

  Quietly he started listening to the guards and to his astonishment he actually began to make sense of the structure of what they said. He began noticing how some words were said rather often. For every time they cheered as if a game had just finished and a new one was about to begin, one of them would say something along the lines of ‘speifsatser’ and then again, as something seemed to call for a response, he thought he could hear a word like ‘speifon.’

  Speifsatser - speifon - maybe the name of the game was “Speif” and the endings of the other words were some kind of call and response? He remembered a game, they used to play at home: “Kings game.” Each team had five square pieces made in wood, which were placed in a line of each team´s home base. The goal of the game was to knock down each of the opposite team´s pawns with sticks as thick as three fingers. When all the opponent´s pawn were knocked down, you had to knock down the King, a square piece the size of two pawns, which was placed in the middle between the two teams´ home base. And when the last of one of the teams´ pawns were knocked down, both teams went for the King and usually someone would cry “Knock down the King!” Maybe the Yetten played a similar game out there?

  And he remembered the merchants coming from every corner of the world to the market in Heathby. They tried hard to speak the local language, but he had noticed that most of them spoke the words in a different order. Instead of saying “20 skeatta for the iron sword” or whatever they were selling, they said something like “You give skeatta 20 - I give sword iron.” He had never understood it before, but now he realized that it could have something to do with the structures of their own languages? Maybe this was the same. Maybe ‘speifsatser’ meant “new game” or “new round” and ‘speifon’ was a sort of warning to your opponent, like “ending the game” as a way of saying “you´re about to lose?”

  Tjalfe went on listening and gradually, as he caught on to more and more words his hope returned. Maybe there was still a chance to escape? He didn´t know how long he had been trying to learn their language, because here in the dark he had lost any sense of time. But suddenly it rattled with chairs in the hall way outside and he heard the sound of authoritative footsteps coming closer till they stopped right at the door.

  “Roeskva!” he called and poked her in the side making her jump in shock. They sat up straight and stared at the door as the sound of the lock filled the room and the door opened. A bright light from the corridor burst inside the once so dark room and they had to cover their eyes to protect them from the sudden change in lighting. A big figure was standing in the door breaking the light and even though it was impossible for them to see anything meaningful, there was no doubt in their minds that this was Loki.

  “Follow me!” He commanded. Slowly they got to their feet and approached the door. They went out in the brightness of the corridor hands covering their eyes while trying to get used to the light. They followed Loki along a long corridor with the group of guards right behind. No one said anything, not even the feisty Fenrir, who had apparently been beaten into line. He almost slouched with his head bowed glaring at Loki, as if he was expecting him to make some kind of concession and was disappointed he didn´t. Right in front of Fenrir was the guard who had defended Roeskva and Tjalfe could have sworn that he kept a close eye on Fenrir as if he was just waiting for an excuse to fight Fenrir and set the children free. But of course that was just wishful thinking. There was no one here who could help them. They were all alone and without hope that Thor and the others would ever find out where they were.

  “In here!” Loki barked as he stepped aside revealing a door to a room slightly larger than the cell they had left just a few moments ago. Tjalfe sighed in relief seeing the interior of that room through the door. It was better lit than their cell and there was a table inside with four chairs, two on each side of the table.

  Loki threw his head to the side in the direction of the room. “Get in there!” he yapped his hand gesturing through the door, “Take a seat.” Tjalfe and Roeskva go
t in and sat on two chairs on the one side of the table, but apparently it wasn´t what Loki wanted and he immediately grabbed Tjalfe´s shirt. “Not you, boy. The girl!” Tjalfe sent Roeskva a brief nod and she hesitantly got back in her seat her eyes exuding fear. Then Loki pulled Tjalfe and dragged him toward the door. Roeskva went pale as she realized she was going to be alone in there, without the comfort of having Tjalfe close by.

  “No!” she cried and moved to get up, but an angry glance from Loki quickly made her change her mind. This clearly wasn´t the time to disobey. With a terrified look on her face she couldn´t hide despite of all her efforts, she sat down again and let Loki take away Tjalfe. The children fixed their eyes on each other as long as they could before the door closed and Loki dragged Tjalfe further down the long hallway. He was shown into a room completely identical to the first and was placed at the table. Loki left the room and punched a button on the wall outside, then the door closed and the room went silent...