A Visitor in the Night

By Martin Calderwood

 

The crisp shock of frigid arctic air stung the face of the miserable creature as he kicked his sled forward over the eternally frozen, snow splattered ground of the farthest reaches of the country humans called Norway.  At this time of year it did not matter what time of day he traveled, the dim light of the two heavenly orbs always seemed to cast an eerie cris-cross of shadows as first one than the other sent real or reflected light through the small, short-lived gaps of the burgeoning young storm so common to the season.  Up ahead lay a stunted village of eight or ten perpetually frozen, steep roofed hovels that passed for houses this far North.   It was a village so far removed from civilization it would never appear on any map and only a very few knew it existed.  Fewer cared.  It was a village that held a breed of being that was at best uncomfortable around the usual denizens of the countryside and beyond.  The approaching visitor knew that no one on the face of the planet would care or even notice if one or all of the inhabitants of this so called village or its surrounding plots (which a few even hardier souls called farms or ranches) vanished.  This was especially so since the primary products were alluvial rock and glacial ice.  Most of the village occupants were stone cutters or stone artists who’s native skill was sought by a few on the open market and elsewhere.   Others were hunters or fisherman who fed the village and traded their grizzly byproducts on the edge of society for those things they could not make themselves.   A few, as mentioned, coaxed out a meager bit of food from the near dead land during the few months of the year when life awakened.  Still others harvested the scrawny vegetation that grew locally to help keep the animals alive during the harsh winter months.  The inhabitants depended on each other yet remained aloof from each other and the rest of the world.

As the cold and heavily bundled creature approached the edge of the town he passed a small coral full of sheep, goats and a handful of despondent elk all huddled together awaiting placidly whatever fate held in store for them.  It was a sign of the upcoming warmer weather that they were even outside.  In life or in death they would provide some of the needs for the village. The sledder paused his steady pushing allowing the sled to glide past with only the hissing of the runners on the snow.  His passing caused not the slightest murmur among the stock.  Still his stomach growled as he passed the easy prey.

“Soon.” he thought licking his lips, “soon.”

Coasting several feet to a stop the visitor looked carefully around at the crude houses focusing briefly on each.  No sign of anything living caught his eyes. Even the smoke that whispered from the low chimneys seemed to crawl lazily upward into the cloud filtered light before it vanished among them.  He glanced casually at the horizon where the sun hung low in the sky and gave a brief smile as he noted the moonlight filtering through the clouds.  Satisfied that he could pass undetected he kicked off on a slow silent course through the village.  He was confident that his passing would not disturb the village occupants even though it was the middle of the night.  However,  if anyone saw or even smelled him there would be no small stir among these isolated citizens of the North.   Besides, there was no other way to easily get to his final destination by dawn.

It was not these poor wretches he was interested in, his target was in an even more remote spot about 3 kilometers outside of town to the North.  The traveler kicked off softly, an ironic smile forming on his rough lips. 

“If this one were to die,” he thought speculatively about the hunter he was going toward, “no one would miss him until summer, not even his own neighbors.” 

 In a matter of moments he was passed the village moving silently toward the distant homestead.  He licked his lips in anticipation of what was to come while increasing his pace knowing his own scent would linger if he did not hurry.  With the village behind him he relaxed,  pleased that his carefully selected timing had come to such a successful head.  Cold days and bad weather had cooperated as if they had been part of the conspiracy of surprise from the beginning.  Still it had been a very uncomfortable and tiring journey even for one as healthy and strong as he was.  Fourteen days on a trail that would vanish suddenly and then reappear unexpectedly a few dozen meters later.  Fourteen days through remote, untrackable territory.  Fourteen days that challenged even his tough hide with cold and occasional winds that penetrated to the bone. 

He ate sparingly.  A bit of dried meat, some fresh water kept close to his body to keep it from becoming too frozen and some dried fruit and nuts were all he wanted not wanting to spoil the feast that he anticipated at the end of his journey.

 He pushed on knowing that he still had to leave the area after completing his mission because his kind was not too welcome on even the most friendly of visits to this god forsaken area.  He was not sure if it was the overall churlish nature of these folks or their clannishness or just bad blood between them and that which was civilized that drove them this far out but he did know that any reminder outside their own ways could be met with deadly reprisal.  He did not even pretend to understand all these prejudices but he knew what he held in store for the stonecutter/hunter he was moving toward would be considered treacherous by even these villagers.

   He looked back at his path cut in the snow and frowned then looked skyward and squinted.  As if it was written into a script the sky began changing, the clouds darkened adding an ominous feel to the silence of the land.   By the time he had traveled another kilometer every sign of his passing had vanished in the deepening, wet snow.  As he turned back from admiring the storm’s furious efforts his eyes fell upon the foot long wrapped bundle tied securely to his own gear.  He smiled a toothy grin as he anticipated the use of its especially sharpened contents. 

The blowing storm added to the gloom as it imposed it’s darkness over the region bringing to the landscape a surreal appearance where every craggy rock and ice encrusted object gave the appearance of an unfortunate troll who had been caught unprepared.  He knew that no true troll would go out into the elements unprepared for it’s cruelest onslaughts.  Even those breeds that could be turned to stone by one or more of the elements could brave their worst enemy in the worst conditions if they took the time to think and prepare.  Only when they were tricked or rushed on a task they thought more important than life did they fall victim to things thought to be common occurrences.   Even though he was out in the middle of a world that would destroy him without feeling he knew he would never be found among the frozen forms left over as the Spring blossomed.  Still he had taken every precaution and if anything ill did befall him or keep him from accomplishing his intent it would not be his fault.

With less than a kilometer left to reach his goal he was not worried about his survival but he was concerned about the possibility of failure.  All his careful planning now depended on his continued luck which he knew was always fleeting.  For his plan to be effective the surprise had to be complete.  Just as important was the fact that his stay had to be short to avoid any unnecessary danger like getting caught by the neighbors.  If that was not bad enough there was always the even more treacherous return trip home that he had to consider.  To be safe his departure would be during the day and there would be less chance of being spotted by the villagers.  This would help him avoid a roundabout path of 10 or so kilometers over still rougher terrain than he had traveled already.   This path, to the North,  would be the  only option left  to take if he was spotted.  He knew the further North he went, the greater the chance was of him becoming a permanent addition to the landscape.  Failure in this awesome wasteland was not an option.  If he stayed within his time table and his luck held he knew all would be well. 

After making several minor course adjustments he started his approach to the remote farm from downwind.  His keen wilderness trained senses began to detect the rich scent of home fire smoke about a half of a kilometer away from his goal.  Shortly thereafter he caught the flicker of a softly lit home in the now pitch black shroud of the stormy dawn.  He slowed and came to a silent stop studying the scene with the eyes of a skilled predator, he was somewhat disappointed that the home’s occupant was still up but he was here and stealth was now his best friend.  Silently he kicked his sled to within a hundred feet of the home and again glided to a stop well within the wooded area he had used to cover his approach.  Peering cautiously between the trees he watched a shadow move inside the house.  With a shake of his shaggy head he settled back on his haunches to wait.  To complete the surprise, enduring the cold and discomfort for a short time would be worth it.  He smiled as he imagined the shock and amazement that would manifest itself on the hovel owner’s face when he awoke and recognized this visitor standing beside the bed, knifes in hands. 

 Idly he reached up and carefully removed the bundle from its securing  strap.  With barely restrained anticipation he gently unrolled the sealskin wrap that had held the contents he had so carefully transported to this site.  Inside he found three razor sharp knives each skillfully set in a carved horn handle.  Almost reverently he picked up the ‘skinner’.  The slightly curved tapered blade, sharp on both sides, had always been his favorite.  With this jewel he could remove the hide from even the toughest old beast with near professional artistry.  If done right, the slashing and cutting of connecting tissue could be minimized as the knife glided along the thin connecting layer between muscle and skin.  A skin removed by such a knife would always fetch a high trade regardless of the species.  Included in the trio of blades was a long thick knife used to cut tendon and gut.  The heavy serrated edge could saw through small bones and remove the meat and heavier tissue from a body.  The third knife was sharp and used to slice the muscle into usable pieces.  Smiling he re-wrapped the bundle and squatted staying low so he could see without being seen.

An hour passed, he was growing cold and the possibility of turning into a huge ice block was becoming a reality.  He stood wondering if his plan was somehow flawed.  He debated bursting into the cabin yelling in surprise and doing what he had come so far to do.  Slapping his arms he walked out away from the cabin getting the kinks and stiffness out of his aging joints as the sun began its slow climb of a new day.  He turned back a few moments later and was rewarded with the site of the light from the cabin beginning to go down.  Inside he knew that the lamps were being shut down and soon the fire would be banked in order to conserve fuel while maximizing the fires warming effect as the brightest part of the day was slept away.  With a huff of steaming breath he picked up the bundle and stuffed it into one of the deep pockets of his coat.  He waited until all the windows in the house were heavily curtained and then a little longer for good measure. 

It was surprising how silently he could move for someone of his size but nary a sound could be heard as he slipped across the yard to the door.  Without hesitation he lifted the catch softly and pushed in. The door whispered open for who would need a lock this far from civilization. 

The warm shock of air nearly stopped him in his track as his system absorbed the shock of the sudden change.  He resisted the urge to rub his arms and move near the fire where the heat would cause pools of water to appear soaking the bear hide cover that lay warm and invitingly close.  He was also all but overpowered by the smell that burst into his nostrils like an explosion of gas on his nasal passages and taste buds.  Body odors, new and old cooked food, fire smells and his own steaming dampness swirled in and out of his awareness like a twister on the ocean.  He stifled the urge to cough, to gasp and to groan as he pulled the bundle out and held it in his hands in anticipation of the surprise. 

He listened intently and was rewarded by the sound of a slumber in the back room, a room nestled up against the hill to give it the maximum protection from the elements.  A room with a natural sound proofing and thus the perfect room to sleep.

He walked slowly passed the pantry area and noted fresh rolls.  His stomach growled slightly.  Realizing how hungry he was he removed his gloves and  grabbed a roll Greedily he ate it than another and another.  He washed it down with a picture of cream he found nearby.  It was if the old one anticipated his arrival and left the food out for him but he knew that this could not be, he had planned things so well and the old one had no reason to expect him now.

Stepping lightly he entered the room.  For as big as he was he could move quite silently. His eyes quickly adapted to the dimness as they focused on the low rough wood bed upon which the figure slept with what appeared to several old hides covering him.  The slow rise and fall of these covers told him what he wanted to know as he took another step forward bringing him completely into the room. 

With a grin he took out the bundle of knives and lifted it over his head taking careful aim as he did.

“Gotcha!” he roared as he sent the bundle hard into the sleepers mid-section.

Awakening in near panic the occupant bellowed and rolled hard to his left off the bed.  Crashing to the floor the startled sleeper knocked over a crude stand he had next to the bed.  The bundle of knives flew high into the air and was snagged easily by the visitor who began to laugh.

“Gotcha.” he repeated though almost gasping for air as he watched the bedroom occupant struggle to his feet. 

“Charlie?” the voice was gruff and a little shakey. “Charlie!  I will  rip your heart out and eat it with dinner.”

“Only if you can slow yours down.  You know Thok, for a Troll you sure scare easily.”