Selwin and the bittersweet new life

 Selwin felt an unexpected unease when they crawled out into the early morning gloom out of the deep black of the caves. He could scarcely imagine what his co-traveller Sosir felt. The Norn had experienced a far deeper and anxious darkness than he had, and for a far longer time. He glanced at the tall and dour Norn. Somehow, despite all that had happened in the monastic ettin catacombs, he seemed none worse for wear.

The Ettinae following them however, were heavily shaken. Some of the elder ettin stared almost blindly ahead, following meekly after the preceding terrors. They bore a leathery egg amongst them, the reason for their departure from their tunnels. Without the incubation retarding temperatures and gases, the egg would soon hatch. 

Their reverence for the egg had made them the curators of it for endless generations of Ettin. When the machinery had been damaged by a monster of a grendel, and proved irreparable, the remaining caretakers had agreed it would hatch soon. 

The despair they announced this with had shocked and saddened Selwin, who felt responsible. Sosir instead announced boorishly that if it could live it should, and to wait forever was only a death without living.

The nearby norn village was welcoming. However befuddled they were by the presence of the ettins and their desire to live in the town they welcomed them nonetheless. Sosir was even welcomed gladly, his stature and grit a welcome addition to the agricultural community.

The elder ettins had admitted that what little they knew of what a “shee” was, it would be much happier in the pleasant and comfortable homes of the Nornir than the dark Ettin tunnels. Selwin had shrugged, admitting in his turn that he was unsure whether he was a Norn or an Ettin himself. When it became apparent to him they could do little to help him, he sighed and simply did what he could to assist them in transforming their assigned hovel into a hatchery.

Sosir thought little of all the extra effort. Like all Nornir he considered a comfortable nest and warmth the only needs an egg could have. When the Ettins refused the hay he had collected he considered his part done, and had joined the other Nornir in their harvests.

The strangeness and odd requests of the Ettin seemed equally unnecessary to Selwin, but he had decided to at the least try to be an Ettin, now he in a way was one. He even tried to eat as they did, eating his porridge bland and little else. He studied under the tutelage of the Elders, refusing to give up despite the difficulties. At times he wondered whether the egg had gone stale in the endless ages since it had been left in the monks' care, but the Elders admonished him for the suggestion.

Sosir was a tireless worker. The life led on the road, caring for himself, his youthful and accidental apprenticeship with the Ettins, the violence and horrors he sustained on his journey, combined this had given him an immense constitution. When the other Nornir paused he stoically worked on, as they ate he dragged and carried harvests to storage. At first he was found to be stubborn, even somewhat frightening due to his silence. Yet they soon learned he would never refuse an invitation to breakfast or supper, and spoke freely when away from work.

The ombre journeyman was pleasant, if a little rough in conversation. The tribe he grew up in was one that had known hard times, and had a certain sombreness and direct honesty to their culture. However many different tribes Sosir had lived with, this nature he would never truly lose. The purple Nornir of the hamlet had lived their entire lives among the same fields and peaks, enjoying a steady harvest. They had never even heard of the labyrinthine monastery below their feet, let alone the places Sosir had seen. They would show their hospitality with simple brewed barley wine, which loosened his tongue even more.

He would tell of the more brutal exploits on his name. He would tell of the violence he had inflicted upon others, and that he had received. He told of the electric adders that had stood in his way, grendels as well, even the aberration that had guided him through the tunnels below them, and had been disposed of when it went fully mad. The latter tale had offered to the Nornir an explanation for his earlier worn silence, and the utter strangeness of the scarred elder Ettins he had brought along. He inspired the youths and turned the adults to introspection.

When the harvests and firewood had been collected, Sosir was offered a plot of land for himself. Along with some bored youths he started building an eighthouse as the nornir of his original tribe had done before.

Selwin had learned more than he had experienced. His life on the road had perhaps prepared him for the scientific methods. Identifying plants and herbs for food and healing, picking locks, dismantling traps, studying a victim's daily rhythm to safely steal from them. He had clearly underestimated himself. His tutors had clearly fared worse though. Life on the surface was not bad to them, per se. Yet it seemed some sort of homesickness made them wither. Combined with the sustained shock and injuries from the incident with the giant monstrous Grendel, many simply did not wake up after a while. One by one, his teachers breathed their last. In the end he woke up, alone in the state of the art hatchery. The last three Ettins had left before he had awakened, and he had by default become the sole caretaker.

Perhaps they thought him ready, perhaps they felt their end near and decided to meet it in their cavernous home. Selwin cared little. They were harsh and emotionless creatures. He had determined he was certainly no ettin himself long ago. He checked up on the egg, ate his breakfast of sweetened porridge with fruits and went on his way. He had made himself fairly useful in the hamlet by producing potions and medicine, and identifying poisons, and met clients along the way as he walked over to Sosirs sturdy eighthouse. A small way apart from the hamlet, Sosir had built the crude looking construct and managed to entice some younglings out of their comfortable burrows, starting off a small tribe for himself.

“Ho there, tall brother!” Selwin hailed his friend. 

“Patience, wizard” Sosir mumbled back. He had somehow learned to keep bees on his travels, a bizarre pastime to some, but both their influence on herbs and flowers, and the healing properties of honey were known to Selwin. He waited patiently until the skeps were once again closed.

“There, that's the last one. So, how is the egg, Selwin?”

“Fine enough. If everything works out it could hatch any day now.” He held a little pause. “The last Ettins left this morning. There's not a trace of them.” 

Sosir noticed his friend's uncertainty. “I know you wanted to look up to them, Selwin. But you’re a Norn. A wanderer like me, but not an Ettin. They don’t feel the way we do.”

“You have a heart, Selwin. And whatever creature hatches from that egg, I am sure it will be better off raised and guided by one who has one.”

Selwin looked a little surprised, but was comforted by his friend's words. As they stepped inside, Selwin noted the irony that he didn’t have to duck through Sosir's front door as they went inside. His eyes accustomed quickly to the low light in the smoky hall, lit by a single small central fire. Sosir and the few Nornir that lived with him always seemed to be preparing for something, though for what, he couldn't tell. 

“You seem worried, Sosir. Quite a lot more than you seemed to do before, and certainly more than when I met you sleeping out in the open.”

The tall Norn laughed a hollow laugh. “so I do, Selwin. I suppose my worries are close to yours, but not the same. It is the egg you care for now, whatever is in there is special. It is no Norn nor is it an Ettin.”

“So, you fear a hatchling before it is born?”

“I fear what might come looking for it. You have seen the world like I have, once something is different it is bound to attract attention. If it is special or unique, it will herald strife.”

Selwin did not quite know what to say. He knew the directness of the answer shouldn't surprise him, but this egg had become his purpose.

“No need to feel threatened, Selwin. I mean no ill to the egg. I have a responsibility towards it. These Nornir will need to learn to protect themselves though.”

“Fair, Sosir. Thank you for your frankness. Once word would get out of its existence at all troubles might arrive, you might be quite right there. I suspect I can teach some here of herbs and medicine, and I guess you are training your followers for hardship?”

Sosir laughed with some irony:”That is what I’m hoping to do. I fear the youths are just hoping for adventure rather than real work and danger. Out of the three of them only Millie seems well able to fend for herself, but whenever we speak she seems to find a reason to go against me.”

“She looks up to you, and she is youthful. Were you any less brash when you were a youth?”

Sosir shrugged.

Selwin had joined Sosir’s work crew on their way to the lower coppices. He had since befriended the more sickly and the elder members of the hamlet, and they remained with the egg in his absence. In them he had found willing students in herbalism, even if only because it benefitted them. Still, he was happy to be out with the more able-bodied now. Despite his recent curse of frailty and a diminutive stature, he was still fit and enjoyed the exercise. The wood the workers would gather would be used for repairs and reinforcements of the roofs and burrows, perhaps for some fences and cages for their animals. Selwin cared little for the details, even before his transformation he had little interest in construction or husbandry, it was the entire reason he had left the comfortable life to be a trader, or thief when he saw fit.

The crew had left him to his devices when they arrived at the treeline. Each seemed to know very well what they needed, and they spread out so they wouldn't get in the way of each other. He set out seeking the hillside for useful herbs, or perhaps plants he could take home and replant in the kitchen gardens. He relaxed and worried little about not chopping and breaking any wood himself, he would soon enough have to drag it home along with the others anyhow.

He was happily digging at a blueberry shrub, and already eyeing some angel root that stood in full seed, when he heard the bickering of Sosir and his stubborn protege, Millie. At least, that was Selwin's assumption. He heard Millie talk very vividly and somewhat irritated, answered by the loudly stubborn silence Sosir wore so well.

He walked out towards the chattering, carefully weaving and ducking through the shrubs and branches. He was smiling to himself. He knew it wasn't nice, but the dark brown giant always seemed to go through life with an air of destiny and determination. He wanted to see his friend struggle, even if just for a moment. He would intervene to save him once he thought he would have had enough.

He had been too late to see the bickering. In fact, once he had reached them closely enough, her chatter had already ceased. The boorish Norn had a little more guile than Selwin had given him credit for, as instead of witnessing an argument, he was now peeping at a more private moment.

Selwin grinned to himself, and he turned away to retreat back to his plant and seeds. He couldn't quite admit it to himself, but the grin was at least in part to hide an empty pain within, from himself.

The hovel he and the elder ettins had transformed into an infirmary the town had never seen before no longer housed just Selwin and the strange egg. It had become his workplace and school, and the infirm overnighted there, as did ancients, newborns and so did the the students that assisted him in the treatments and care. He enjoyed the company. The elder Ettins that had taught him had left months ago, and even if the egg did shake and rumble more and more often, it was still not much for company.

Sosir had sent Millie to the infirmary more and more often. At first for small errants, to collect herbs, to bring him honey. Later he would send her out to have Selwin check up on her preggnancy. Somehow Sosir had always been busy, had important matters elsewhere, and simply been unable to attend. He had asked Millie to spend more time at the infirmary when her belly had grown. “Hard labour is simply too much right now for you, take your rest and take the opportunity to learn from that pale lavender master. The more you know the better you can tell us how to help.” He had bluntly said.

Selwin had no idea what Sosir hoped to achieve. She would gladly spend her time at the eighthouse, tending to the fire and the bees. She missed the tall, course Norn. Instead she lived now almost none stop at the infirmary, tending to the weak despite her own preggnant state. She was a quick and sharp witted student, perhaps fueled by spite towards her distant partner. As strong of will and body she was, she proved to be a kind soul to those in need, and her soft side endeared Selwin. 

One day Millie came back from the eighthouse, carrying a bee skep with her. “That course outlander won’t mind. He has plenty, and its a waste of time for me to walk back and forth for honey.”

Selwin looked at her in amazement.

“Yes, outlander I called him. He remains a drifter, a stranger. No pressure I put on him or words between us can change him or retain him. He does exacly what he wants. You however have put yourself out for the community, and never seem to live just for yourself. Sometimes it feels like you were born here, rather than crawled out of the ground like Ettins do.”

Selwin was unsure whether he should be offended, but realised he did crawl out of the ground during the night of his involentary rebirth.

“What does this mean, Millie? That you won’t be going back to the eighthouse?”

“It means I will live with you, and you with me.” She paused, looked down and blushed. “If you will have me, of course.”

Selwin in turn blushed, or as much as an Ettin can blush. “I will have you, dear Millie. I will go out to talk to Sosir.”

He walked around the hamlet. The path followed the curve of the hill, burrows sat above the path, fields and pens below. A light evening fog crept over the heather and the fields. He was a little anxious, but had a suspicion about Sosir’s motives.

On the edge of the hamlet, by the path and strategically placed on the hill stood the solid eighthouse. Build of stacked stone and roofed with slate tiles, the building felt mpre like a small fortress than a home. The walled yard grew simple vegitables and held the bee skeps. He hollered out to Sosir, but as he stuck his head in the hut, only the two remaining disciples were there.

His friend had left. The trail had long gone cold, as he could only guess to which direction he might have chosen, and now had too much to lose to go after him.

He thought of the things Sosir had left behind, and smiled. The hamlet had become far safer and more comfortable for all, but the greatest act of goodbye had been to drive Millie to him. He would have a child that would both have looks of a purple mountain norn, and the heart of a wanderer like himself. He would have a child like himself, despite never being able to sire it himself, with a woman that would love him.