Nifflheim

Trust in the Untrustworthy Pt. 1

The creature writhes in agony, hammering its body into the ground, pulverizing everything beneath it. Its unrest sends shock waves into the terrain toward us. The beast slithers its colossal body inch by inch into the sea to our left, the vibrations underneath us subsiding as it escapes. Soon all that is left of the creature is the aftermath of its rage, permanently engraved on the ground where it used to lie. 

I'm finally able to catch my breath. My mind is helpless as it tries to comprehend everything that had just transpired. I recognize the same bewilderment on my companions bloodied, disheveled faces as I peer over to them. I am comforted and thankful that they are still breathing. I owe our escape mostly to them. I push myself to my feet, ignoring my body's opposition, and head to help them both to stand.

My eyes gravitate to the man with the bow and I notice two more standing behind him. One was an older man wearing a thick grey cloak with a maroon scarf wrapped around his neck. His hair was grey, dirty, and kept longer than most would find comfortable. He wears no armor and seems to only carry a small sword. The other appears to be much younger but their face is covered by a green hood that hides their features. They stand quietly and unmoving, giving off a cold and emotionless feeling. Leather armor guards their chest and is held together by black and gold straps. A sword and numerous daggers can be seen resting beneath the green cloak as it flails in the wind.

"Thank you," I say nodding my head towards them.

"No issues at all," the man with the bow replies. His words are soft and inviting as he speaks.

"Did you just slay a dragon!?" The boy interjects with excitement, unconcerned for the injuries he has just endured.

"That was Nidhogg, and no I didn't slay him. If anything, he has fled back to his castle." The man answers as he points to our right.

In the direction of his finger, a massive castle sits on a snow-covered ridge a few miles away. Its giant structure now visible as the heavy snowfall concludes. The castle commands a menacing presence as it stares down at us. My eyes are captured by its obscurity. It faintly whispers to my heart, warning me of what lies within.

Heavy footsteps sound behind me. Their thuds being more familiar as they grow closer and closer to me. I turn sharply, recognizing who the footsteps belonged to. Approaching us was the behemoth of a man whose stature seems somehow much smaller after encountering the creature. Wounds cover his body and I can't help but think that he got what he deserved. That it was a shame that the monster didn't bite that arrogant, hot-headed dome off his shoulders.

"W-why did y-you do this to m-me?" The man stutters. His eyes shifting between us, still filled to the brim with rage.

Before the arrogant behemoth has any chance to react, the old man steps forward to greet him. "Bjorn, I know you have been told that you are too stupid to be this recklessly hot-tempered."

"Old man Frode is that you? I heard you gone and croaked a few years ago," Bjorn utters, the rage now beginning to vanish from his eyes.

"I did you dolt! And if constant agony wasn't enough, the gods have punished me further by making me spend it with you!" Frode shouts back clearly annoyed.

"Well, that's some bad luck for the both of us. So, what's new?" The man replies, his rage now completely subsided.

*****

I ram my foot into the base of the hatchet, snapping the handle off. This was all we had to use as a substitution for firewood that would give us a break from the blistering cold. The man with the bow gave us his name, Iver, and each of us instructions. No one complained since he seemed to understand what he was doing, and I wasn't going to interject and challenge him without a plan. I still don't completely fathom the situation and Iver's commanding, calm presence made him easy to follow. Even the fierce warrior woman and Bjorn followed without objection.