THE TALE OF THORKELL AND THE TROLL

By Robin Artisson
Copyright © 2007




CONTENTS

I. How Thorkell became an Outlaw
II. Garmund's Farm
III. Mixed Company
IV. Loyalty to Kin
V. Secret Knowledge
VI. Rannveig's Hut
VII. Troll, Ice, and Blood


* * *
I.

THORKELL, son of Olvir, grandson of Hormstein Long-Leg, was in his thirty-fifth year when he was declared an outlaw by the local assembly of free men in Langidal. Standing there in the domhringur, the circle of judgment, the sentence of lesser outlawry was passed on him.

Some would say that Thorkell was lucky; he had killed Ivar, son of Hogni, whose family was the wealthiest in the region. Thorkell could not afford the man-price for Ivar, but the assembly accepted half of his herd of sheep as a fine, and expelled him from the land for three years. Cooler heads prevailed at the assembly because no one desired a new blood feud, which could spill over into further killing. It also happened that the assembly leader, Thorgest, was a friend of Thorkell's father from years before, and through some means, he worked out leniency.

Even with his life and some wealth spared, Thorkell was devastated, for he knew that the judgment was a death sentence on his two sons, who were not yet men. Even though the law allowed Thorkell to put aside the rest of his wealth to support his family in his absence, he knew that Hogni's men would find a way to kill his sons. He knew they would take his sheep, and burn his home, and he could not be there to stop it.

Thorkell had come to Langidal from the mainland in his twenty-fifth year, and married Elsa, the daughter of Hjalti. After eight years of adventure and raiding southern lands, he had become weary of constant voyages and fighting, and weary of the constant feuding at his home overlooking Hardangerfjord. He had sailed across the Northern Ocean to find a calmer life.

His marriage and the birth of his twin sons was a further sign to Thorkell that the Gods favored his decision, but after three years, hard winters had thinned his herd and his other fortunes. His sons grew to their tenth years, but his wealth did not grow, and want began to stalk his family. While drowning his sorrows in ale at the Winter Nights assembly, he found himself in angry, drunken words with Ivar, in a fight over a slave girl.

Thorkell held no grudges, but Ivar was rash and young. A month later, Ivar picked a fight with Thorkell while he was rounding up sheep on the Blanda heath, and in a heated struggle, Thorkell crushed Ivar's skull with a stone.

Thorkell was given one month to prepare for his departure. By law, he could stay at three homes or farmsteads, all of which had to be on his way to the coast, and to a ship that he would arrange to take him away. If he should leave any of these three farms, or the narrow roads between them, he could be killed on sight. If he lingered too long without sailing away, he could be attacked and killed. Taking his family away from their farm was not possible; their farm was all they had, and nothing remained for him on the mainland. Hjalti, his father-in-law, was very old and had no sons to protect his daughter or his grandsons.

Thus, his family's safety during his three-year absence fell to his close friend Vestein, son of Orm. Vestein was also from the mainland, and had his own problems and distractions. Thorkell found himself in a raging sorrow that he could not escape, which only got stronger as he came to his final stopping-place, the last farm at which he would take refuge before he boarded a boat the next morning for points unknown.

Vestein had traveled with him, and if it were not for his friend's counsel and assurances, Thorkell would certainly have remained at his home and died there. Leaving was the hardest thing he had ever done. Riding together through a very cold night, Thorkell and Vestein arrived at Garmund's farm.


II.

"THORKELL THE SHEEP HERDER… even after all this time, it's still hard to believe."

Vestein drained his horn of ale and looked around the fire-lit inside of Garmund's lodge-house, looking for the girl who was carrying the pitcher among the laughing guests. Several children were darting barefooted around the knees of the men and women.

Thorkell answered without looking up. "I'm a husband and a father now, and when there isn't ice in your beard and in your arse, sheep are a fine enough living."

Vestein grinned as the slender girl refilled his horn. "A husband and a father? You don't miss the sailing and splashing through the foam and taking other people's money?"

Thorkell finally looked up. "That life is piss and wind. The 'glory gold' never lasts. Sheep make more sheep, and if you keep 'em fat and safe, and get a good market day, that's months of supplies and wood. Besides, you grow to like a land, and get to know a place. Last I heard, you were still laying girls in ports and camps, girls whose names you don't even remember. When you find a good woman, you'll want to settle down on a farm somewhere, too."

Vestein shook his head. "You know, they still tell stories about you back home. 'Thorkell the reaver' they call you, and they say the boats that go raiding now never have the luck they had when you were on them. You were young, but you inspired boys to glory. Now you're an old man watching sheep out here in the middle of the ocean."

Thorkell didn't answer. Vestein pressed him. "Hey old man- did you hear me? They still tell stories about you back on the mainland."

Thorkell drained his horn. "They do? Hey… what about that girl from Bergholm… the one with the long red hair that we met that time- does she still tell stories about me?"

"Who, Gyda? Yeah, she tells stories about you. She says you must like sheep more than women; she says you fell asleep while rutting her that night."

Thorkell narrowed his eyes while Vestein laughed at his reaction. "She said that?"

"Is it true?"

"Yes, but that had nothing to do with her. I was just tired."

Vestein laughed harder. "More ale for my friend!" he called to the serving girl, just as the doors to the lodge opened and three men entered, trailing a gust of wind.

Vestein craned his neck to get a look at them, but Thorkell already knew them. "That's Herjolf. His boat takes me away tomorrow." His looks darkened.

Vestein looked at Thorkell and softened his voice. "You're coming back in just three winters. Bersi and Anlaf and I won't let any of Hogni's men within five miles of your farm. You have my oath on that."

Thorkell couldn't meet his eyes. "I think you mean what you say, but Bersi is a drunk and Anlaf will be outlawed before long. You travel all the time, and you're landless now. Your heart's good, but I don't know that anyone can watch over my wife and my sons the way they need."

"Thorgest won't let anything happen."

"Thorgest can't stop anything. He's fallen behind since his brother died, and Hogni and his kin are the power now. Everything is coming to ruin for those I love the most. I cannot get on that ship tomorrow."

Vestein leaned in closer. "We were followed all the way to Flosi's farm. Rhorvald and Runolf are probably camped outside right now, up on the rocks, hoping that you step too far away from this house to take a piss, so that they can kill you. There's no going back now. I told you, I'm going to take care of your wife and boys- I'll die to protect them if the Allfather decides it so."

Thorkell leaned back and closed his eyes. Death would have been preferable to this punishment.


III.

THE ALE had finally begun to take affect and Thorkell found himself dazed, staring at the wall as Vestein told stories about the newly-discovered lands further west. Thorkell was unable to escape his memories of his sobbing wife. He could still feel her tears on his hands. He kept seeing the faces of his sons, trying hard to act brave for him as he laid swords in their hands, telling them that they were men now.

He snapped out of his daze when another cold air blast hit him- the door had opened again, and this time, a figure in a heavy hooded fur cloak entered. The door slammed shut and the people sitting near turned to look. Without fail, they all fell silent and looked at one another in surprise.

Vestein turned and looked for a long moment. He whipped his head toward Thorkell with alarm on his face. "Thor's hammer! I can't believe she has the gut to walk in here!"

The figure let the fur hood drop and indeed, it was a woman. It was impossible to say how old she was, but her tangled black hair was streaked grey in places. She had deep lines around her mouth. Her dark eyes were sharp and clear, and they swept back and forth around the large room that was suddenly much quieter.

"Who is this woman?" Thorkell asked with a lower voice to Vestein.

Vestein whispered back. "Rannveig. She's a witch, a sorceress who isn't allowed around the farms up here. She should have been killed a dozen times, but the godi Thorgrim won't let the local assembly just get rid of her."

Thorkell looked at the woman again. "A witch?"

"A gods-cursed seeress who brings death and ill-luck on the people that she lives near enough to. A year ago, at Moberg, I saw her sit on one of those high seats and make all sorts of howls and noises, and begin talking to what she said were 'spirits'. She made all kinds of predictions, not all of which made the company there very happy. She wasn't made welcome again."

"Why does Thorgrim protect her?"

"Who knows? She probably has some spell on him. She isn't allowed near people, so she lives by herself up on the rocks somewhere. Two of the men at Moberg that she said would die before the year was out did die. Their families accused her of bringing the bane down on them that led to their deaths. She's trouble, Thorkell."

Rannveig hadn't moved from the door since she entered. People began to mutter, and one man even stood up, glaring at her. Rannveig met his gaze with an icy look.

From across the lodge-room, Garmund's wife Alfhild walked quickly towards Rannveig. "You are welcome here, Rannveig," she said in a voice that seemed loud in the hushed room. "As the woman of this house, I welcome you and offer you drink." She offered Rannveig a silver cup.

Rannveig's look softened and she gave a half smile and accepted it. The man who had stood slowly sat down, and the conversation in the room gradually grew louder.

From his seat, Garmund, the master of the farm, was watching intently. His wife turned her head and met his eyes, not breaking her look until Garmund nodded once and went back to his guests.

"Did you see that?" Thorkell asked Vestein.

"Yes, I saw. I can only wonder what that witch has hanging over the heads of Garmund and Alfhild that would lead them to welcome her here. Thorkell, we should get out of here and get to our beds; this isn't a very good place to be now."

"I think you're shaming yourself, being so afraid of a woman," Thorkell said. "I've seen a seeress make predictions before. I don't think they can make things happen the way you think they can. I think people just like to blame other people when bad things happen."

Vestein gave him a bewildered look. "Do you hear yourself? She's a witch! She doesn't just know people's fates; she gets spirits to do bad things to people. Either she willfully does it, or she can't control whatever evil follows her around, and I don't want her near me in either case. So much for Garmund's hospitality!"

Thorkell took another cup of ale from the table. "I don't care about the witch. I have my own problems. I still don't think she can make people die. There were sorcerers and witches back on the mainland too, if you recall. My father didn't think they had all the power people said they did, either. Let's just drop it."

Vestein a sip from his horn, but didn't take his eyes off Rannveig. Suddenly he reached out and swatted Thorkell's arm.

"She's coming over here!" he whispered urgently.

Thorkell looked up. Surely enough, Rannveig was not only staring at him, she was walking up his side of the long table. He felt a moment of trepidation, but he calmed himself quickly. He didn't fear the woman, but he did find it hard to dismiss a lifetime of stories about the dangerous powers of witches.

Rannveig sat on the long bench only two body-spaces from Thorkell. For Vestein, that was too close. Summoning courage, he spoke up.

"I know that you have been made welcome here by the woman of the house, but we don't want the wind of you. Find another seat."

Rannveig took a sip from her cup and ignored Vestein. She spoke to Thorkell.

"You're Thorkell, Son of Olvir. I see that hard times have entangled you."

Thorkell looked at Rannveig. "Everyone in these parts knows my troubles, but my business is my own. I want nothing to do with you, woman. Leave us in peace."

"You're Thorkell, Son of Olvir, who is preparing to board a ship when the sun comes up. You fear what will happen to your sons when you are gone. And you are right to fear- if you go, they will not live to see their father return."

Thorkell's face went cold. His first impulse was to strike this woman, but he held back. Assaulting a guest who was made welcome by the lady of the hall would be breaking the peace required by Garmund's hospitality.

Vestein spoke before he could. "Woman, his sons will be looked after, and you aren't doing any good being here. Leave before we have to break the peace of this table."

Rannveig finally looked at Vestein. "Olvir's son already knows in his heart what you know in your head- that you can't always be there to watch over his family. And you won't be staying here much longer, anyway; you too will be forced to leave."

Vestein struggled not to let his jaw shake. "What? That's absurd. I wouldn't-"

"You will, because Hogni's sons won't leave you with a choice, and we both know you treasure your own life more than any other. I have come here to speak with Thorkell, not you."

The color drained out of Vestein's face.

Thorkell stood up. "That's enough," he said firmly. He towered over the seated witch, but she didn't move. She slowly looked up at him.

"Thorkell, I can help you. Your sons don't have to be abandoned to the wolves that circle them. If you have any share of wisdom in you, you will hear me out. I did not come here to trouble you or any other."

Thorkell smirked. "You came here to help me, a total stranger, out of the goodness of your heart? I can't believe that, and now, I have to rest before I board my ship."

Rannveig's hand shot out and seized Thorkell's arm, as he moved away. "No, Thorkell, I didn't come here just to help you; I came here because I know that we can help each other. I need a service of you. If you do something for me, I can see that your outlawry is reversed."

Thorkell blinked once and stared at her. His heart began to pound.

"This is her idea of a joke, Thorkell. Leave the witch and let's go!" Vestein was insistent.

Thorkell couldn't move. The woman's gaze was paralyzing. He couldn't believe her, but what if she knew something?

"We can't talk about this in here," Rannveig said. "If you want to hear the rest of my offer, then meet me outside when the moon is high, at Garmund's cattle-pin."

Rannveig put her cup on the table. She looked across the room at Alfhild, who was watching, and nodded to her. Then she tied on her cloak and vanished back into the windy night.


IV.

"YOU AREN'T GOING to speak to that witch. I won't let you. There's no telling what she's doing out there." Vestein was staring incredulously at Thorkell from across the table.

"Vestein, you're a good friend, but don't think to tell me what I can't do."

"Thorkell, stop being pig-headed! There's no chance of her reversing your outlawry! She probably wants to take blood from you or try to get you to kill someone that she hates, in exchange for false promises. She knows you're desperate for a chance to stay here. Think this through! Let's just go to sleep now!"

Thorkell got up and walked out into the freezing night. The door hadn't even closed fully when Vestein threw it open and came running up behind him.

"Thorkell, have you ever considered that she's luring you out here so that Hogni's sons can get a shot at you? They could have paid her!"

Thorkell spun around. "You have helped me enough, Vestein. You have my thanks. Now, I will do what I feel I must. I'm a father who is about to lose his sons. I owe it to them and to my wife to give an ear to this woman. If Hogni's kin are hiding somewhere, let them come at me. I'm armed; fate will decide who wins. I'm not afraid of dying in a fight. But I am afraid of losing my family. You'd understand this if you had sons."

"I have loyalty to my kin, you don't have to remind me what it is!" Vestein yelled back at him.

"What kin you have left are a thousand miles from here, and in no danger. When the sun is up tomorrow, my wife and sons will be like sheep left for the wolves. I'm going to talk to this woman. If she tells me nonsense, I'll laugh her off and go to bed. That's all I have to say. Wait for me by the fire inside."

Vestein shook his head and walked away.


V.

RANNVEIG was standing with her back to Thorkell as he approached. The stars were out, with a full moon spilling pristine white light on the rugged landscape. Standing on the low hill near Garmund's cattle-pin, Thorkell could see for miles around. He could hear the sound of wind and water, and smell the salt of the nearby ocean.

"How can you reverse my outlawry, woman?" Thorkell spoke to her back, impatient to hear what she had to say.

"I can show you something- a secret- that will force Hogni's brother-in-law Sturla to revoke his decision to outlaw you. He will convince Hogni through bribery to call a new assembly, and he will vote in favor of overturning your outlawry. Thorgest, and all the other men who voted in your favor will be happy to do so again; as I recall, you were outlawed by only one vote to begin with."

Thorkell felt his heart sink. The woman was speaking nonsense.

"Are you mad, woman? There is nothing you could show me that would make Sturla do any such thing! And Hogni would never be swayed; I killed his youngest son. Speak sense to me or I'll go back inside."

"Hogni hasn't just lost a son recently. You know as well as I that he lost a brother, too."

"Yes, his brother Hord got lost in the last ice storm. What of it?"

"His brother Hord wasn't lost to a storm. Sturla killed him."

Thorkell's head spun. "What?"

"Sturla and Hord got into a fight, and Sturla killed Hord. Hord slew Sturla's favorite slave, and in anger, Sturla slew Hord. Fearing what Hogni would do, Sturla buried the bodies on his own property. People assumed that Hord had been lost when the storm made the glacier wall collapse, because Hord was taking the road through that valley the day before."

"How could you possibly know this? Did you witness it?"

"Hord told me himself."

"Wha-" Thorkell stopped before he could get the rest of his words out. Rannveig turned and met his eyes with her own. They seemed like dark lumps of coal in the moonlight.

Thorkell felt fear begin to crawl in his gut. "Hord… told you?"

"I can see the dead and speak to them," Rannveig said. "Hord found me and told me."

Thorkell swallowed hard and then shook his head. "This is nonsense. Whatever dreams or visions you claim to have are no evidence for your wild accusations. No one would believe a word you say, besides. You aren't welcome anywhere."

"It is precisely because people do believe my words that I have found myself to be unwelcome," Rannveig hissed. "But I can offer you more than my word, and more than the words of a dead man. If you help me, I'll show you where the graves are. If you tell Sturla what you know, and threaten to reveal him to Hogni, he will help you, even though he will despise you. Hogni hates Sturla; he hates that his sister married him. Just finding these graves will be enough proof for Hogni; he would feud against Sturla, and he would kill him and burn his home to the ground."

"What you say may be true about Hogni, and all the rest, but I still don't know that you aren't making this up to get me to do… whatever it is you want me to do. You can't show me the graves beforehand, because then I would have no reason to help you."

Rannveig walked forward and put out her hand to Thorkell.

"What do you want?" Thorkell asked, backing away a bit.

"Your hand," Rannveig said.

Thorkell forced his hand to stop shaking and put his palm in hers.

Rannveig closed her eyes for a moment. "There are a woman's tears on this hand. This same tear-stained hand put two swords of poor quality into the hands of two boys, less than a fortnight ago. Those swords aren't fit to be wielded, but they are all you could get."

Thorkell pulled his hand back roughly. He was the only person, aside from his sons and his wife, who had been there for the gifting of those swords.

"Woman, you are wicked. You have no right to gain this knowledge of other people. It doesn't belong to you!"

Rannveig's voice softened. "Thorkell, you wiped your wife's tears away because you love her. Though her tears have long ago dried, those hands are stained with love for her, and what you need to know is this: the bitter events that are looming over you like a bird of prey can be checked. Stop letting your fear of the unknown cloud your judgment and listen to my words. I am no fraud; you have to trust me."

Thorkell looked down at his hand and then back at Rannveig.

"What do you want of me? What could a herder of sheep do for you?"

"You can kill the troll Hragrun."

Thorkell was certain he had misheard the witch.

"I can kill who?"

"You can kill the troll Hragrun, who lives in a cave on the Skagastrond. There is something in the troll's horde that I need. I only need one thing, one object- you can keep whatever other treasures you find there for yourself."

Thorkell laughed, finally. His fear evaporated. He began to feel anger building up inside him. He knew of Hragrun; everyone in Langidal knew about the troll that made the Skagastrond uninhabitable. He was a monster of immense size, cunning, and viciousness. Though many had attempted to kill him, all had failed, to a terrible price. Farm after farm lost their cattle and sheep to Hragrun, and the only thing the people could do was move further away from the thing's lair. Even boats wouldn't sail near the Skagastrond.

"You tell me you can help me, then you slap me in the face with an impossible price to pay for your help? I can't do what you ask. No man can."

"The troll is a beast that breathes and eats. It bleeds, and it can die," Rannveig said.

"A beast that stands taller than three men and has limbs thicker than trees!" Thorkell responded. "Mightier warriors than me have gone to kill it, with many companions, and they failed. The thing is too powerful."

"They failed because the beast is not fated to fall at the hands of many, just one."

"Why don't you use your sorcery to kill it, if it's so important to you?"

"The beast isn't fated to die by sorcery, either. One man will kill it."

"Are you saying that you've seen my future, and I'm fated to be that one man?"

"No, I'm not saying that. I can't see your fate that way; the spirit of your family-line is too strong; she stops me from seeing your doom."

"That's convenient for you, witch! What makes you think-"

Rannveig interrupted him. "Thorkell, I've asked many men to kill the troll. Some wouldn't do it because they feared me. Others wouldn't because they feared the troll. But you will do it because you fear something more than me or the troll. You fear losing your family more than anything."

Thorkell had to sit down. He pulled his axe out of his belt-loop, dropped it, and sat heavily next to it.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Rannveig asked.

"I feel like I'm caught between two ice floes," Thorkell said.

"You are, in a way," Rannveig answered. "Come sunrise, you don't want to board that ship, because you know the outcome of that. You don't want to go to the troll's lair, because you're certain you'll die there. But I think you'd rather die than live to see the ruin of your family and the deaths of your sons. At least if you go to the troll's cave, there's a chance you'll see your sons live to be men."

"A woman who can see men's futures is now talking to me of chance," Thorkell said darkly. "I don't know how to take that."

Rannveig just smiled a bit at him.

"What's so important in that thing's stinking cave that you're willing to get others to die for it?" Thorkell asked.

"An arm-ring," Rannveig answered. "An ancient treasure crafted by hands on this island long before our people ever came here."

Thorkell furrowed his brow. "There were… people here before we settled this rock?"

"Not people as we know them. They were an older race, and they excelled in sorcerous metalcraft. They lived in caves that are still undiscovered, deep in this land."

Thorkell just stared at her. "Why have we seen no traces of them?"

Rannveig seemed impatient. "Their fate was done here, and they vanished away long ago. But their spirits are still here; I sometimes see them. The people here butcher cattle for them, and pour the blood on hillsides, hoping to keep them satisfied. Three years ago, Thorhall Gamlason and his men found some of their artifacts in a cave. He had the arm-ring until the troll destroyed his farm. I know that the troll has it now."

"What's so special about this arm-ring?"

"It has great power. I require it. That's all you need to know."

Thorkell sighed and put his hands over his face, leaning on his elbows.

"So now you want me to choose between shame and the loss of my family, or suicide in a troll's den, looking for a magic ring made by spirits," Thorkell said.

"No, Thorkell, I think your choice is already made," Rannveig said. "You and I must leave tonight, so that I can hide you from Hogni's sons. My home is hidden about three miles from here, in a gully. The moon will be low soon. If we leave under the cover of darkness, no one will see us."

Thorkell spoke up. "This is no plan, woman. Even if you could hide me from Hogni's sons, there's no way for me to reach Skagastrond. No one with a ship will sail near it, and it's too far on foot. I'd be found before I got there."

Rannveig just smiled at him again.

"There is a ship that will take you. Your father's friend Solmund will be arriving here two days from now, in his ship. He will take you."

Thorkell had reached the end of his patience. He stood up. "I've grown sick of you acting like you know everything. You don't know men as well as you think. You can't know where Solmund is, and he wouldn't agree to this. Sailing is his livelihood. You are all just wild moaning, talking about elves and trolls and nonsense. I think you're manipulating me because you know my misfortune."

Rannveig acted as if she hadn't heard him. "Solmund left Hrafnkelsstadir over a week ago. He'll be arriving here tomorrow or the next day. He'll help you because your father saved his life- that story is well known. He owes your father, but cannot repay a dead man. He can only repay the son. Solmund will do what you ask, no matter how mad he may think it."

"How can you know where Solmund is? How are you so sure?"

"Berabrak has told me."

"Who?"

"The spirit that tells me of things hidden."

"This is all madness," Thorkell spat and turned his head towards Garmund's farm. From this distance, the fires burning there seemed very inviting. Rannveig spoke from behind him.

"Madness maybe, but madness conceals a pathway to power, as the Lord of the Runes has shown. Was it madness for him to stab himself, and hang bleeding for nine days from a tree, all to plunge into the deeps of Hel? Most would say so, but he won great power and wisdom. You can win a treasure of no less worth- the lives of your sons."


* * *


A little while later, Vestein was staring at Thorkell in disbelief.

"What did I say before you went out there? Madness doesn't begin to sum this up!"

Thorkell had walked back to the farmhouse, and found Vestein standing outside with Svein, Garmund's brother.

"Svein here can tell you how the witch entrapped Garmund and his wife."

Thorkell looked at Svein. "Is that right?"

"Garmund's boy Arinbjorn took a fever three moons ago, and no one could help him," Svein said. "Rannveig came in from the heath with some plants, chewed them up, and spit them into a kettle of water. She cooked it and told Alfhild to give it to him. Two days later, Arinbjorn was up, running around and laughing."

"That's how she operates," Vestein interjected hastily. "She ingratiates herself to powerful people by helping their children, winning her the protection she needs to carry on with whatever other evil she's planning."

Thorkell didn't respond. He seemed distant. Finally he spoke. "She saved Garmund's son?"

Svein nodded. "Yes, and I think she did the same for Thorgrim- his daughter Thordis took sick, and she was laid low. They were preparing for her funeral when Rannveig showed up and put some walrus bones under the girl's bed. She sang those songs of hers, and the girl recovered."

Vestein laughed. "She's probably causing the same fevers she pretends to cure!"

Thorkell gave a hard look at Vestein. "As a father, deeds speak louder to me than words- and louder than your paranoia. I don't see evil in saving people's children from the maws of a fever-death."

Vestein stepped forward with a serious look. "She's bewitched you, man. You don't see it, but it's clear to anyone else who looks. She's using your children against you, too!"

Thorkell lost his temper. "Good! Then the Gods protect me! I'm bewitched, and I'm going to leave with her, and go back to her hut."

Vestein turned his face skyward and threw his hands up. Svein just looked on, the line of his lips very tight.

"Listen to me now, Vestein. If you're my friend, you'll do what I ask."

Vestein ran forward and grabbed Thorkell's coat. "You're throwing your life away for that witch! Don't do this! I'd rather see you die fighting at the door of your farm, than to have you eaten by a gods-cursed troll in his shite-smelling cave!"

Svein stepped forward to part them. "Thorkell, Vestein's right. This is suicide. Hrein Hermundarson and his men tried to kill that thing last year. He took his best fighters, and Hrein was a legend himself. The troll's too tall for anyone to get a shot at its head or neck. All they did was nick up its legs and put some arrows into it. It killed all of them except one, and they were bad deaths. It crushed men inside their armor like pig bladders. It even killed and ate Hrein's hounds."

"Don't forget to tell him about Tosti's ships."

Svein continued. "The troll waded out into the water off the Skagastrond and tore up Tosti Olafson's ship, when the tide took them too close. Tosti's other boat escaped, but couldn't help Tosti or his men. Their bones are probably still out there on the strand."

Vestein looked into Thorkell's eyes. "Would you expose Solmund and his ship to that? He'll die out there with you."

"I've done nothing to this woman. Why are you convinced that she's out to weave evil for no reason?"

Vestein couldn't contain himself. "Thorkell! How many stories do you need to hear? Evil people don't need a reason to do evil! It's just what they do!"

Thorkell regained his composure. "Vestein, I hear you. But I have to do this, and as my friend, you have to do what I ask. You said you'd die to protect my family. Now I'm asking for a lesser boon."

Vestein stared at the ground and shook his head.

"You have to tell Herjolf to go without me in the morning. Thank him, and tell him that I no longer need a place on his boat. You have to stay here. Rannveig says that in a day or two, Solmund will arrive. Have him wait for me."

"Do you know what you're asking me to do? You're asking me to collude in the death of a friend."

"I'm asking you to do this for me and my sons. If I leave here tomorrow as you want me to, my sons will die. If I stay, I may die, but I'll die fighting, and feast with the heroes in Valhalla. After that, my sons will have their chance to join me. If I succeed, I'll see my sons live long enough to grow beards and have their own families. So, this ends well for me however I go. It's fate, Vestein; it's a father's doom. I have to do this. As a father, I have to try."

With that, Thorkell gathered his belongings and walked to meet the witch who waited for him on the heath.


VI.

RANNVEIG'S HUT was a brittle dome of turf and hides, with a central fire-pit. Fetishes of bone and fur hung from the inner walls. Drying herbs hung from the low ceiling. The whole place had a smell like faintly decaying flesh and pungent herbs.

Thorkell and Rannveig made good time. She knew secret ways through the rocks, and the sky was not yet grey when they arrived. Thorkell looked around before he went inside her shelter, wary of Hogni's men, but they hadn't been followed.

Before the sun came up, Rannveig offered what advice she could give Thorkell for the task ahead.

The sound of her rune-sticks clattering onto her floor brought Thorkell back from a daydream about his wife and sons. Rannveig collapsed forward over the bent twigs, which were all carved with rows of dark red runes.

"The Lord of secret knowledge speaks through the runes," she said. "He has something to tell you that will help you to kill the troll."

Thorkell leaned forward.

"The man who kills Hragrun will not be armored, nor will he wear a helmet or hold a shield" She said, while looking down.

Thorkell, unwilling to voice his disbelief, kept his thoughts grimly to himself. Wonderful. The fool who goes after the troll by himself will also do it naked. That's a fitting end to this story.

Rannveig continued. "The land and the waters themselves will show him the way to victory."

"That's all?" Thorkell asked.

"Odin's words are few on this matter, but he has said all you need to hear."

Thorkell fell back onto a pile of furs. This was probably the last night he would sleep in the middle-world of men, and he was spending it in a witch's hut, surrounded by her magic and madness.

He sat up again, unable to let his life go so easily. "Woman, you've already asked much of me. This is too much. It was already madness to chase your troll, now you're asking me to give up what protection I have!"

"I know you're afraid, Thorkell, there's no shame in that. But don't fight this. It runs counter to your instincts, but then, wisdom often hides in places that the instincts of men tell them to avoid."

"That's lovely, but it's coming from the mouth of a woman who doesn't have to face a troll soon."

"I've faced death many times, Thorkell."

Arguing with her was impossible. There was no way he was going to go into the troll's cave without at least a shield to guard his life. He fell back again into his furs and fell asleep. He expected to dream that night, but no dreams came.


VII.

SOLMUND the Mariner, son of Eldgrim, did arrive as the witch predicted. Though he was aghast at Thorkell's request, he swore to honor it, so they sailed away from Langidal and into grey waters.

Solmund showed the depth of his friendship by taking his boat to the Skagastrond. He promised Thorkell he would remain for a day near the shore, watching for him. Thorkell told him to leave if he hadn't returned in that time. Hragrun's cave was not far from the shore; this trial was to be decided early in the day.

As the ship cut through the mist towards the strand, no one on board dared speak louder than a whisper. Vestein had come, but had been curiously quiet during the short voyage. As Thorkell was preparing to leave, Vestein came up to him.

"Imagine the tale they'll tell when you get back," he whispered. "Thorkell the Sheep-Herder will become Thorkell Trollkiller. That alone would be enough reason for the assemblies to revoke your outlawry."

Thorkell looked at him and smiled. "Thank you for your confidence. If I don't come back, tell Elsa and my sons everything. If I can see what's happening from Valhalla, I'll expect you to keep your word to protect them."

Vestein went quiet. He leaned closer to Thorkell, and put his hand on his shoulder. "May strong Thor, the killer of monsters, go with you and give you victory."

Thorkell finished tying on his armor and slid his axe into his belt-loop. He put a small silver hammer on a leather cord around his neck, picked up his helmet and shield and dropped into the water. The men on the ship watched him walk up the shore and disappear into the fog.


The rocky terrain of Skagastrond was desolate. The only sounds were wind and the crunching of his boots on the ground. As he walked through the mist, visions of his wife cooking fish and baking bread taunted him. He could see his sons running and playing in the field next to his sheep. He wanted to get lost in the visions, but he kept leaping to alertness every time he thought he heard a noise.

About a mile in, the land began to rise steeply, and Thorkell decided to walk around the ridge. As he walked, Rannveig's rune-cast was bothering him. What if Odin actually did give Rannveig a message? Maybe stripping off his armor would be the ultimate sign of trust in the Gods that would render him worthy of killing the troll, and of living a life with his family. He dismissed those thoughts, but they kept returning.

The ground beneath his left boot suddenly gave out with a loud crack, and Thorkell pitched forward. He had wandered onto a frozen lake, and nearly fallen through the ice. He laid flat on the ice and pulled his wet boot out of the hole. He sat up and looked around at the small lake. He looked down at his boot, and then over at his shield, which he had dropped to free himself.

All at once, a smile spread across his face. Here, on a frozen lake and amid his despair, Thorkell finally understood what the Allfather told him. He knew what he had to do, and for the first time, a feeling of exciting possibility flared in his chest. "Okay, witch," he laughed under his breath, "Let's do it your way."

Thorkell stripped off his mail shirt and dropped it on the edge of the frozen lake. He dropped his helmet and laid his shield down. Holding his axe, he looked up at the ridge looming over the lake, and started climbing to the cave-mouth that was visible a ways up.

Feeling apprehensive and lightheaded from the hard climb, Thorkell stood in the maw of Hragrun's cave, straining to see into the darkness. The cave-mouth was strewn with the bones of cows and other beasts, and there was a stench of rotting flesh pouring from it.

Thorkell steeled himself and walked ten paces in before stopping, tightening his grip on his axe, and shouting "TROLL!" at the top of his lungs.

The echo of his voice in the cave was sharp, and it fell quiet after a few seconds. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow, alert to any sign of movement. From behind him, there was a slight crunching noise, causing Thorkell to spin around in alarm. There, standing behind him at the cave's mouth, was a nightmare.

Hragrun the troll, towering some twelve feet tall, his massive, heavy jaw hanging open to expose a row of yellow teeth, was glaring at Thorkell from the cave's entrance. The thing had been outside! Thorkell's eyes widened and his heart began to race. Hragrun let out a terrible, thundering roar and raised its hands above its head.

Thorkell couldn't get by the troll, so he ran deeper into its cave. He could hear the massive bulk of the thing plunging towards him from behind, and he could no longer see in the darkness. He expected to run into a cave wall, or trip over a stone and be crushed by his monstrous pursuer.

With a shout, Thorkell hurled himself to the side, hard against the tunnel wall. Hragrun plunged right by him before halting and turning, roaring in frustration. Before Thorkell could get back to his feet, Hragrun's huge, crust-packed nails raked across his chest and left shoulder, hurling him backwards and into a pile of bones and refuse. Thorkell pulled his axe against his body, rolled and kept rolling, his torso stinging like it was on fire. He could feel the cave-floor shaking under Hragrun's weight.

Leaping to his feet, Thorkell darted as fast as he could towards the cave entrance. Hragrun was still behind him, howling in rage. Thorkell burst forth, back into the dim light of day, and immediately lost his footing and began to slide and roll down the side of the ridge. He let his axe go and it sailed down below him, landing with a clink. Hragrun looked down at him, roared again in rage, and began climbing down with great swiftness.

At the bottom of the ridge, Thorkell snatched up his axe and began to run for all he was worth. His feet plunged into frost and puddles as adrenaline drove him to move as fast as he ever had. It wasn't long before he heard the beast behind, easily gaining on him.

Ahead through the mist, Thorkell could see the frozen lake. He darted out onto the thick ice near the bank, and headed onto the thin ice of the lake-center, his lungs burning. He could feel the frozen surface under his feet shake as Hragrun's feet landed on the ice to follow him.

Giving a final shout, Thorkell dove forward and slid across the ice, gritting his teeth. If he had been wearing his armor, he wouldn’t have made it that far; he would have fallen through the ice ten paces before.

Directly behind him, Hragrun let out a roar of shock as the lake's ice near the center split and broke underneath him. The massive bulk of the monster disappeared into the lake with a tremendous splash that sent ice-chunks sailing and caused cracks to cobweb the ice under Thorkell.

Thorkell turned and slid to the hole made by the troll's plunge, and waited. He didn't have long to wait; Hragrun's feet could reach the lake-bottom, and the troll's snarling head broke the surface of the water as it struggled to free itself.

That was Thorkell's moment. With a loud cry and a wide swing of his axe, he sent the blade deep into the neck of the troll, which was now at hip-level. The blade sank in, but did not sever the head of the beast; a clean decapitation was prevented by one stubborn patch of flesh and tendons on the side of the thick neck. Still, blood spurted out of the gaping wound, and the monster's mouth went wide.

Thorkell pulled his axe free and swung again with all his might. Hragrun's head flew off and landed on the ice with a solid thud. Bright red blood spurted and ran from the twitching body, which now bobbed in the water; it was hot blood, which hissed on the ice. Thorkell, his face spattered with the troll's blood, screamed a loud shout of triumph, all of his adrenaline rising to a fever pitch of euphoria.

The victorious Thorkell staggered forward and buried his hands in Hragrun's neck-stump, bathing his hands in blood. "See here, Thor!" he shouted to the sky. "Old redbeard, killer of giants, look here! I am Thorkell, Son of Olvir, and I give the bloody remains of this foe to you!"

He ran both of his hands across his forehead, blessing himself with the blood sacrifice to Thor, and shook the rest of the blood onto the ice around him.


* * *


A few hours later, Thorkell emerged from the troll's cave, holding a bag thick with gold and silver cups, rings, and other treasures. In his left hand, he held what Rannveig was looking for- the strangest arm-ring he had ever seen, set with red gems. As he began to walk back to the shore, he noticed that the mist had faded. He closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face as he went.

The witch was going to get her magical arm-ring, the people of that coast were going to get their lands back, but Thorkell, Son of Olvir, was going to get the best prize of all: together, he and his wife would watch their sons grow into men.