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irreverent-saints · 23 hours ago

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Unwanted Visitors

Idun had salt in her nostrils and a breeze through her hair. There were no clouds upon the sky, no whitecaps in the sea, and no buildings for miles. She snuck into a dense patch of growth and hauled out a narrow boat. To even call this vessel that was generous. Worms had left intricate patterns as they burrowed into it. The planks had warped apart, held together by straw, tar and faith. Were it not waterlogged, it could have made for decent firewood. Not much else. Idun looked over her shoulder. She dragged the boat over the most sandy part of the bay and mounted a makeshift trolling line with a bright red bobber. Then she pushed herself out. She did a test run in the shallows, making sure no holes were leaking. After gathering confidence she rowed out at sea.

She ventured further, a long stretch of bright white sand. Then she passed an underwater cliff, and there was nothing under her but black sea. She swallowed, staring back at her line. She rowed carefully, testing the give against waves. The sea remained calm. She held her hand against tar. Dry. For now. Idun moved slowly for about half an hour. The red dot ebbed. She leaned over, wrapping the line around a sturdy stick. The boat kept jerking. She pressed her thighs against the edges and lowered her torso, intent on reeling in her catch. With each wrap around the stick, the fight grew heavier. The first glimmering fish emerged near the surface. A sizeable cod. Two more. She grinned, strands of hair sticking to her face and briny grime up to her elbow. She lugged them in and bled them. Then she rowed back to shore. She hid her boat near the roots of a tree, covered with twigs and straw. Then she put her catch into a waxed cotton sack, tucked her flyaways to the side and softened her face. She walked up to the road when she gleaned a figure near the shore. She adjusted her coat and straightened her back. The man approached. Idun tensed up.

“Good day, nice place to go for a walk, isn’t it?” Paal said. Idun nodded.

“Fresh air is good for you.” she said.

“Are you sure thieving from the ocean is a good idea,” he asked bluntly. Idun froze.

“What. Why?”

“I saw you. Don’t do that again. At best you could drown, at worst the curse could spread to our seas,”

Iduns heart pounded as she stared at the man. He stood in the middle of the road. A stern look on his face as he carried himself with the understated discipline of a soldier.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she said, continuing to slowly walk. He stepped in front of her.

“These waves have pulled so many good men under, I would hate to see you go as well,” he said. Idun took a deep breath.

“Would you?” She sneered. “I’d be shocked if anyone at all cared what happened to this hag,”

He smirked.

“They are scared of your curse, not you,” he said, bringing out a small notebook. He scribbled something down. “in fact, I’m sure they would love to be able to talk to you under less… tense circumstances,”

He handed her a small piece of paper.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Summer festivities. I will help host it. Give yourself a break from all this suffering and have some fun for once,”

Idun looked at him stunned. He kept that same sly grin.

“I’ll… see if I can fit it into my schedule.” She said, tucking it away.

They parted ways, and she hurried home. She glanced at the paper one last time before settling in to prepare the fish. She put them in a smoke chamber and bundled up in her chair. There she grabbed hold of a large cape. One side was pale and dusty, the other a deep, varied green with hundreds of scraps poking out. She sewed bits of dry moss, old rags and whatever she could find onto it until it moreso resembled peat than an outfit. If nothing else it meant she could spend her evening stabbing something a few thousand times. By dusk she looked over her piece, satisfied with her progress.

And by early morning Idun was back in the birch forest. The trees grew sparse, rarely taller than her head, She held a long spike in her hand, making her way to the Deep Woods. Her steps were silent, always aware of her intrusion. She reversed her cape to the beige side and put up the hood. The cloth limited her vision. Small price to pay. She picked up speed. On the way she looked out for lichen, birchbark and the odd spire. Those giant trees loomed in the distance, shrouded by mist.

She trudged her way through a dense patch of birches. As she emerged from the foliage, a large shadow shifted. She jumped, tripping over herself. There, so deceptively quiet, a Jotun walked across the terrain. The fog softened his outline, and it was as if every sound had been wrapped in cotton. A gentle wind howled throughout the landscape. She froze in place, ever so slowly moving closer to the ground. He was in no hurry. Each step gingerly placed ahead until he was close enough to reach out and grab her. Idun cowered. He sauntered in her direction. She tried to shuffle backwards as his paw landed a few meters from her. The faintest sound of gravel shifting, and a wash of displaced air. Were she to close her eyes, nothing more would indicate his presence. Another step. Closer. She could barely think as his massive shadow fell over her. A few hairs from the tip of his tail grazed her, and with that he had passed through. Idun felt as if her chest was going to burst. The Jotun looked to the side, assessing his surroundings with curiosity. He glanced down. His whole body seized. His tail flung and he slammed his foot down, quaking the earth. Idun ran towards the trees. He stood still. They both stared at each other.His shoulders slowly sank, and the quills that had stood out in all directions soon laid neat against his skin. He nodded slightly, lowering his ears.

“morning. I didn’t see you there,” he said. Idun laid there dumbstruck.

“G-good morning...” she stuttered.

“You look familiar,” he said, taking a step closer, she hid behind a birch, it failed to provide cover, “you’re the one that didn’t attack,”

“Oh no, I would never,” she said.

“How interesting. What are you doing here?” He asked, Idun shrank.

“Oh the usual, enjoying this wonderful nature we have all been blessed with,” she bluffed, doing her best to project her voice.

He squinted.

“And what does that entail?”

“Observing the birds, getting some fresh air in my lungs, exercising my body,”

The Jotun nodded.

“What great activities. Have fun with that, and don’t go further into the woods,” he said with a grin. Then he stood up, looking over his shoulder with narrow eyes, “also. I don’t recommend wearing those colours out here, I can barely distinguish you from the ground,”

“Thanks for the advice!” she said, clenching her jaw. He reached into a satchel strapped to his waist, retrieving a bright red leaf. The giant knelt down before her, in doing so his thighs encased her like walls. Any and all escape routes cut off. He stretched his hand out, leaf pinched between two claws that somehow failed to even bruise it.

“Here, carry this. Lets not startle each other again,” he said. She reluctantly grabbed hold of the leaf, big as parasol above her head.

“How nice of you,” she said. With no further courtesies the Jotun left.

Idun stared, puzzled and amazed. The Jotun disappeared into the Deep Woods. She didn’t follow.

Idun then spent a few days eating cod and pondering her life.

Then more time passed, the Jotun’s word had fallen on deaf ears, and she was halfway up an almond tree. She had arrived by vine, and from there it grew so tall that she could more or less walk upright along the branches. She inched toward the drupe when the ground shook. She froze in place. The huge wooden doors opened, as if the very mountain pried apart. In between foliage she gleaned the Jotun as he stretched and looked around. He hunched slightly over, letting out a deep rattle, almost a yammer. She draped her camouflage over herself and flattened against the tree. One gruelling pull forwards, one glance over her shoulder. Repeat.

The jotun scratched his chin. He proceeded to move in a casual, yet deliberate fashion, scanning the ground. A lean on caught his eye. He furrowed his brows, gently poking at it with his paw. Idun stared, praying that no human remained inside. He paused, ripping a part of the wall off before studying the makeshift shelter further. Satisfied with his assessment he kicked it apart as if it were made from tissues and matchsticks. She heaved. He made his round. When he was on the very opposite side of his garden she crawled further out on the branch. One almond of this size could make for several meals. The best way to go about it was to cut the stalk, and hopefully not go tumbling along with her catch. She could then collect them on her way back. She wrapped her legs tightly, retrieving a machete as she began to hack off a pod. As each fell down, the branches shook. She clutched against the branch, palms sweaty and a heartbeat in the hundreds. Four down, and she didn’t die on the way. One would have to consider that a victory.

She inched backwards, always aware of the fifty feet drop. She made her way down one branch, and from there she could climb the vine she had come from.

A huge shadow moved between the leaves. She seized. Then she flattened against the branch, barely gleaning a huge torso. She put up her hood and ruffled her cape, making sure every single piece of her was covered up. The Jotun browsed the shrub. He snapped an almond off of the branch. Idun clutched, knuckles white. He popped the whole thing, pod and all, into his mouth. A sickening crunch rang out. She laid there frozen as he helped himself to more. His wrist went past her, barely avoiding her cape. The spurs on is arm flew over her head. His chest hummed subtly, rapid, deep clicks.

He froze in place. Idun held her breath. His hand hovered just over her, radiating heat. He turned his head to the side. His eye flashed, a strange, crescent pupil. His ear flicked. Iduns arms began to tingle, numb from holding onto the branch with all her strength. This being was infathomable in scale. Not just in mass, but in the way he seemed tuned into the most subtle of movements. As if his very senses moved through the land in fractals, any and all intrusion accounted for. She felt as if a single stray hair, or a little too sharp an inhale would betray her location. She had his breath on her neck. Warm, slightly damp air washed over her. She clenched her jaw, moving only her eyeballs to gaze up at him. The side of his face took up most of her view as he slowly continued to chew the almond. She stood still. His pupil moved. He stared directly at her. A single, yellow eye through thick foliage. His pupil narrowed. Neither of them moved an inch.

A loud crackle. Singed fur. She grappled the twig, breathing in sharply. The jotun twitched. He stumbled backwards, holding his hand up to under his armpit. She gleaned a bright red stain. He heaved. Her ears rang. The jotun rubbed his wound. He glanced back at the tree before stepping away, slumped back and ears hanging low. He moved sluggishly, massaging the bloody spot as he slowly retreated to his cave.

Idun hurried down, collecting her catch. She rushed away from his garden. On the way she passed three bright red puddles in the soil. If not him, me, she thought, looking away.

#im so busy with life so this was delayed sorrryyyy #also i am changing update time to Thursdays to accommodate life #monster romance #anyways #STARTLED

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