In Search of Helgafjell

Chapter Three: Acting The Scyofant

Looking presentable has never been one of my strong suits; I have always found it far too easy (and far more fun) to get oneself bedraggled than to keep oneself prim and neat. It is presentable, however, that I must look if I have any chance of the village Elders helping me. I dress in silence this morning, not even chatting to Lara or singing a poem to myself, as has been my custom since I arrived here. My breakfast today is the same as the rest of the family's, an indication that I am on the road to recovery. There is still no memory of the events I have forgotten and I think that it has been a great deal more unproblematic keeping my mind at bay on those matters when it has the advantage of the distraction of Lara’s presence. 

My mind wanders there now as I sip at my thin vegetable broth. Despite not having been to any of Lara’s local paradises, I have heard her describe them so often I can picture them as vividly as the room is around me. I sit with her at my personal favourite-the field of wild horses- and picture the exact expression she wears when acquainting me – from my seat by the fire – with this particular place. My arm stretches out in my imagination and traces her features, her ringlets twisting in the crisp air, her eyes glittering in the rising sun, her safe hand on mine,  my lips just nearing hers...

Alas, it is a fantasy and I am being chivvied along by Olaf and all else are shooed outside. I sigh and shrug simultaneously and involuntarily. The real world is not the fantasy one. Convincing myself of this fact can, at times, be quite a trial. This is hardly unexpected when such a utopia exists in mine today. Unfortunately, I fear, it will not be a fantasy that diffuses through the divide into reality; that is why I cling to it so determinedly, but suppose, just suppose, that Lara is experiencing the matching parallel setting as I. Maybe she too wastes her days and nights dreaming of any and every situation that could possibly involve the both of us, together, in happiness.

I hope that she does.

Or do I?

Would it be easier if she did not?

Perhaps the pain would be far less at a goodbye where her lack of tears spoke volumes?

No. I do not think it would be.

No Foss. First, I have to be leaving and then I can worry about the prospect of not seeing her or any of these newfound friends ever again.

Maybe I do not actually want to leave....

The thought occurs to me rather late; already we are confronted by the apparition of the five village Elders. They remind me so strongly of those from my past that all that can jam my head is my opening meeting with the Elders back home. 

It was just a few months after the night with Dótt. My eldest brother Gunnar (the one that killed her in the end) had, until then, remained horribly polite about the whole business. Well at least he had whenever in the vicinity of my father. At other times he had made it irrefutably evident that he loathed my horse, how I had came by her (and by extension me). Dótt was my world and an envious relative would not spoil any spec of my (then seemingly perfect) life.

He managed to find a way. Gunnar always does get what he desires, eventually. He, and my other two older brothers Knut and Ivar, stole out in the twilight and, taking a farm each, released each and every animal on the south Slopes and sent them scattering in all directions. Naturally, this caused utter pandemonium.

I do not remember exactly how many days and hours were devoted to restoring order. Many, I imagine. When the chaos had (finally) died down the Elders- including my father but unluckily not Erik-were gathered and an explanation demanded. They were the type of people who cared little whether the decisions they reached were measured or the sentences they handed out justified, just so long as ‘order was maintained and the traditional values and practices retained’ . So, when I, a seven year old boy who had as much will to cause trouble as a cat has to be washed, was accused of being the sole perpetrator of the crime, they of course took my brothers at their word.