Chapter 8: Tyranno Fin Stew

I tried to get up and managed but I was stiff as a frozen snapper fur in Longnight, I was more sore than I realized and colder than I ever was. This time he let me get in. The door led into a short tunnel shaped corridor passing through the tall massive rock wall. Judging by the length of the tunnel, the walls must have been at least 10 meters thick. The steel door swung close behind us, making absolutely no sound as it did. Two boys perhaps my age, wearing dark long fur coats were behind the door pushing it into the frame. The Old man walked on and I followed onto a huge court yard, the wind was as cold here as outside, but there was no snow. A group of different aged boys pushed brooms at one end of it, revealing the reason why there was no snow.

The old man kept a brisk pace and approached a smaller stone house leaning against the mountain side wall of the burg. Across the yard a tall building with arched windows and what appeared to be at least twenty meters tall double doors. He pointed at it with his flat hand. “The Halls of Hasvik! Sacred, huge and as cold as this world, very impressive and that hall has lots of polished stone floors that must be cleaned and polished every day. Would you like to polish those floors?”

“Old Man I will do what you ask me to do, as long as I can raise a hand or lift a finger I will try, I gave my word. It matters not what I want or like, it never has in all my life why should this place be any different.”

“You do sound very bitter for a boy going on to be fourteen.”

“Well you sure are good at guessing my age, Old Man. So show me where the mop is or the broom or whatever is used to clean that stone floor and I will start.”

“You would start in your condition right now? You didn’t ask me for food or a bed or anything.”

“I never ask for anything. I would not get it anyway. So why be disappointed. I simply accept whatever you deem to be my labor or punishment or whatever you call it and abide my time.”

“You are actually surprisingly wise for a young whelp, in a fatalistic sort of way of course.”

“I think I will accept you. Let us go inside and things you want do matter. It is one of lives greatest challenges to find out what one really wants.”

I followed him. “This is no mystery to me, Old Man. I want only one thing and that is to grow old enough and strong enough to challenge my father and then kill him.”

We reached another, but smaller metal door set into the front side of the small building and the door again opened without him touching it and without a sound. From inside the warm orange glow of fire greeted us.

“Don’t linger young Olafson. It takes a long time to get these stone buildings decently warm, so I like to close the door!”

I went inside following him, expecting again someone pushing the door, but the door closed without anyone behind it. So they weren’t completely rejecting technology after all, I thought to myself.

The room was archaic there was no other way to describe it, the walls were rough big boulders set to an arching ceiling. Furs were used both for wall hangings as well as floor covering. The few furniture pieces, like shelves and a big table were made of carved stone. Carved stone furniture was incredibly expensive now and you would usually find one sample or maybe two as a show piece in rich patriarch’s drawing rooms. The Ragnarsson clan had lots of it in the burg, and it was the real old kind from the early days of settlement, before they used Duro-Crete, Mix-a-Wood and metals.

The Fireplace was made from the skull of a smaller Tyranno Fin bricked into the wall, it was covered with thick black sod and inside the maw burned a fire not fed by oil and it did not smell or smoke like an oil fire either, but it burned with a bright almost white flame from a large perforated metal ring connected to a copper pipe.

He sat himself in a big high backed stone chair made more comfortable with soft coppery Nubhir furs and soft stuffed Nubhir wolf skins as pillows. The use of stuffing an animal’s skin to use as a pillow was also of ancient tradition, something my father still insisted upon but allowed only for himself and his favorites of course.

The Old man looked even smaller than he was in the big chair and I noticed his feet, did not reach to the ground, he tried to hook a foot stool with his left leg to shove it closer so he could better use it. I wordlessly went up to him and pushed the heavy little thing under his now booted feet, then stepped back and waited for what would transpire next.

It was quiet and he simply looked at me from his grizzled old face, his beard was stringy and thin like the rest of him. If he had any hair left on his head, besides the thin beard and the bushy eyebrows, I could not tell, he wore a fur brimmed skull cap, like many Neo Vikings, mostly older men did.

“You are sure this is your only wish?” He finally continuing our conversation we had before entering.

With determination I nodded.” Yes this is all I really care about!”

“How about your grandfather? You care about him! You cared enough about Annar to jump into the water to face two Tyrannos. You tell your friends you want to be a Star ship captain and leave this world; these are all things you do not care about?”

I was caught off guard by the questions of the Old man. He knew far more about me than he initially led on. I had to think for a moment and said.” I care about Grandfather. He is the only one alive who cares about me. I did not care about Annar; I just don’t like unfair situations. Yes I want to be a star ship captain but it is only a dream. I will turn sixteen hopefully alive enough to fight my father. He already forbade me to attend fight classes after the summer break and Greifen said he heard him say he will cripple me to make sure I won’t ever be trouble to him.”

He prodded his chin up with the palm of his right hand while resting his elbow on the arm rest.” I see!”

He then waved with the left.” Why are you standing around? Didn’t you tell me you were tired and exhausted climbing our stairs?”

“You are an Elder and I am not allowed to sit without permission!”

“You had no trouble calling me Old Man and you did find some choice descriptions when I closed the door on you. So why the honor treatment now?”

“I think you are one of the Faceless Seven and thus equal if not higher in rank to our traditions than the Members of the Circle.”

“No Eric I am not one of the Faceless Seven. The faceless seven are stone effigies, huge statues inside the Hall to resemble Odin, Thor, Balder, Heimdall, Ydun, Freya and Loki. Our forefathers who build this place right after coming here on Muspelheim, doing it with old tools, great endurance and incredible hardship could not decide what faces to give the gods and so it was decided to leave them blank so if the gods decided to come to this world so far from Midgard they could give the statues their real likeness.”

He then pointed to another stone chair. “Use that one. It is close enough to the fire to thaw your bones, but before you do, be a good lad and pull of my boots. That’s one simple task I am getting almost too old to do myself, and I am way too comfortable to get up and use the boot puller.”

After I had done that and sat into the chair that made me feel equally small as my feet also did not reach the ground, I was certain the chairs were made to accommodate giants like my father and Uncle Hogun.

“You do know why this mountain is called Muspelheim?”

“No I do not, but wasn’t Muspelheim the realm of the fire Demons and sons of Muspel and Sutr, the giant with the flaming sword?”

“Yes Eric, and when the first settlers from Earth arrived here this was still a somewhat active Volcano and in our cold world it was a source of warmth and geothermal heat. Underneath the ice around this mountain, if you would dig you would perhaps find the remnants of the first settlement. This Mountain however cooled and became a dormant volcano. Specialists from Earth predicted it will never be active again and so the focus shifted to the big island where Halstaad Fjord and the new thingstead is.”

He paused and leaned over the side. “How good are you at preparing a meal? I am quite hungry you know and I would like to talk to you a little longer before retiring.”

“You want a man cook for you? I don’t mind but would that not be against the traditions?”

“No Eric, cooking and preparing food is not the sole responsibility of women. Your Uncle Hogun is a well known cook in his famous Inn and during Festivities he will let no one else near the grills. I guess one of the task I have before me is to educate you about the real meaning of traditions and why they never meant to be laws, but became laws never the less.” He sighed but with a smile. “I am not an Elder at least not one of the Circle, none of the men here are. Even though all of them should be by age and family heritage.”

“But they speak of you with respect, everyone does!”

“How much did you know about us and this place before your grandfather decided to send you here? How often has your father or any of your peers spoken about this place?”

I had to think a moment and said. “Midril and Greifen spoke about this place but in such a way I never thought it actually exists, but was just some lore. I never really heard anyone else talk about it before Grandfather mentioned it.”

“Because we are fading away, Eric. This place might be occupied for one, two or maybe three more generations but then it will be empty and forgotten, perhaps in a distant future it becomes a museum or a shrine again but the real meaning of the place will then be forgotten.”

He didn’t sound angry or sad but I could not help to sense the melancholy behind his words. “I did read up on this place after Grandfather made his recommendation at school and it is an honor to be here and being accepted means a place in the Circle. Would that and our religion not guarantee this place?”

“Eric, our religion was never as worshipful as some of the others. We do not have missionaries or set up churches and temples. We don’t have a dedicated priest class or caste. There are no monks, no Orders or cloisters, no seminary schools. All these are needed for a successful religion. We call ourselves the Keepers of Hasvik, as the old Settlement was once called that has sunken into oblivion and under the ice and we never saw ourselves as priests or our faith as a religion.”

He waved his hand. “Don’t let me stop you preparing something to eat while I try to educate you, young Olafson! I am still hungry and thanks to your slow ascent I had to watch, our kitchens are closed.”

“Where are the kitchens and where is the food?” I asked.

“You were able to make a fire out there. This isn’t a very big place. Look around see what you can find and surprise me.”

I got up and looked around. I found that one shelf did hold basic cooking utensils and earth ware jars with herbs and salt, grease, oil vinegar and pickled fish. He leaned forward so he could look around the high back. “Don’t stop there; open the pantry, that’s the door behind that large old Snapper fur next to you!”

The pantry was cold, maybe as cold as the outside and there hung smoked sausages, long strips or Tyranno meat, on hooks gutted and skinned Nubhir and a whole Snapper leg.

In the Olafson household it was always deemed that cooking was for Low man and women, nothing a warrior would do. However since I was never considered to reach that loft position, my father had me more often than not help in the kitchen. I did not just mob floors and scour pots. Midril had taught me many of her skills and if this was a Challenge by the Old Keeper, I was confident I could earn some points.

I decided on our Burgs favorite: Tyranno Stew with plenty of Snapper bacon, seaweed flower buds and bread.

I found the needed ingredients easily enough and the big stone table was more than a suitable work surface.

He was still looking past the arm rest, seemed satisfied with my choice and watched me for a moment cutting the meat.” I like onions in it!” He said,” Midril does put Onions in hers, does she not?”