Ragnar had the honor of being the Lorekeeper in King Hreidmar''s court. For centuries he toiled in the Great Library of Nidavellir. There, under a mile of stone and the melody of a thousand anvils forging weapons and armor, he lived among books and scrolls containing the wisdom of a dozen worlds.
He couldn''t keep reading. Something bothered him.
But the omens were there. Already dark whispers warned people of incoming Ragnarok. The end of all ages was nigh at hand. Ragnar sighed. It could be just a false alarm, but why was he so on an edge?
A herald entered the library. "Loremaster, His Majesty summoned you," the young dwarf announced and left as fast as he came.
The Lorekeeper knew better than to leave the King under the Earth waiting. He stood from the desk and barked orders to his apprentices before leaving the library. ''I hope they don''t set it on fire,'' he mused with a chuckle to ease his tension.
Nidavellir, the golden city, was alive with activity. He saw battalions of warriors marching on the stone bridges and passages above and below him. Were they going to war? Was that what disquieted the Loremaster so much?
He made his way to the throne room. The ancient halls of the dwarves beckoned him, whispers of glory old and new. Like when the sons of Ivaldi bested Loki and gifted the Aesir with mighty weapons. But they also told tales of tragedy and ruin. The dvergar princes were missing. òtr was killed by Loki, Fafnir is rumored to have turned into a mad dragon. Regin left to raise a human hero. The tall columns and the smog of the forges felt nostalgic for him.
The hall of King Hreidmar could hold thousands of dwarves. His liege once assembled legions there to take them to fight an incursion by Surtr''s forces. Now, it was almost empty. Only the King, some nobles, and a few guards. His eyes found Hreidmar wearing his battle armor. Not the ceremonial battle armor, but the one made for actual combat. Ragnar was surprised. What could prompt Hreidmar to prepare for battle?
He knelt at the proper place. The King turned to face him. "Stand, old friend. Doom is upon our doorstep and we shall meet it head-on like dwarves are ought to do!" He bellowed with a chortle.
"What would you have me do, my liege?" Ragnar said without raising his head.
"Stay by my side. See and hear our last moments. Be our witness as we march into ruin," The King answered without letting the grim situation tarnish his mirth.
Ragnar raised his head. Hreimdar had his shoulders squared and his spine straighter than ever before. His eyes had the fire of a hundred forges burning behind them. The King approached and put a hand on the scholar''s shoulder.
"Though this world is doomed, though the V?luspá sang our end, it is only this world that ends, my friend."
Hreidmar''s firm hands pulled Ragnar on his feet. "I don''t understand, my lord."
The King approached and spoke words only for the Lorekeeper''s ears. Mirth was replaced by gravitas and the weight of a mountain settled on Ragnar''s heart.
"When a world ends, another begins anew from the ashes of the former. Jaffnhar bestowed me with a vision. Know that I march unto certain death with my people with the knowledge that every dwarf that breathes shall perish in the coming conflict, but this will not be our end. Only one of us will survive but that will be enough."
Ragnar kept his mouth shut. Tempted as he was to weave words of praise, it wasn''t proper.
"I shall do your bidding, my King. If we are to march into doom, so shall it be."
Hreidmar replied with a wry smile. He could see that deep down the embers of the King''s heart-forge were dying down. The end was indeed upon them.
"Yes, my friend Ragnar. Come with me. Tonight, we shall stand on the hills of Throlgret where we will fight to our last. But first, follow me. There is something I must show you."
Ragnar followed the King into the inner palace. Towering columns of dark granite with specks of silver decorated the ancient hallways. Near the King''s own chambers, they entered a side bedroom. There he heard the unmistakable sound of a child crying.
There was nobody in the room but them and the child. A marble crib dominated the middle of the room.
Still silent, Ragnar approached the crib. There lied a newborn dwarf. A prince? Though the young royal''s features were too soft. Too... pretty.
"If you wish for a sign of the end of time, look no further. Here''s the first dwarf princess to be born in decades. Here I present you with Hesliheidr, my granddaughter. You can pick her up."
With extreme care and reverence, the Lorekeeper raised the newborn princess from the crib. The girl''s cries ceased and Ragnar met her hazel eyes. The shades of brown and green played around her irises, giving these orbs the appearance of jade gemstones.
"She''s beautiful, Your Majesty!" Ragnar gasped.
"Yes. Lofnheidr''s daughter. But she needs to be kept safe from her uncles and aunt. I lost ótr to Loki''s machinations, and Fafnir was driven crazy by Andvari''s curse. Lyngheidr had a daughter a few decades ago, but that girl''s fate is to avenge me."
"Your son wouldn''t dare!" Ragnar said, thinking of the prophecy that Fafnir would slay Hreidmar.
"He''s been driven insane. Before Regin''s adoptive son kills him, I shall perish by my own child''s fangs. My fate is written in stone, old friend. But I do not shun from it," Hreidmar caressed the girl''s hair. "Every dwarf''s fate is the same. We shall all perish during Ragnarok. All but one. The Norns were merciful with this girl''s thread. She and her keeper will survive the end of the Nine Worlds and revive Nidavellir in the distant future. Through her, my bloodline shall survive."
It hurt Ragnar''s chest as if a boulder had been placed over it. He sucked in the air and smelled the comfortable scent of molten slag and ashes. When he opened his eyes again, he found the King right in front of him, holding both his shoulders.
"Ragnar, listen to me. What I said in the throne room, was a hoax. There are too many ears, too many eyes in there. Here is your task. Flee Nidavellir. Flee Myrkheim. Take the princess with you and keep her safe. You are to go to Midgard, the realm less affected by what is to come. Hide her there. Nurture her, watch her grow, teach her the ways of our people. This is a task only you, my Lorekeeper, can perform."
Ragnar lowered his head and looked at the quiet princess. The girl raised a hand and touched his nose.
"I shall do as you ask, my lord."
"Sorry, friend. I am taking you out of the battlefield to live a beggar''s life. The humans of Midgard changed too much. Their industry now rivals ours, though they know nothing of magic. Take their guise. Hide among them. Jormungandr''s poisonous blood will kill the oceans, but humans will endure."
Ragnar''s voice caught. He felt moisture in his eyes. "I shall do as you ask, my lord."
"Go, friend. With the royal blood alive and the lore of Myrkheim in your head, we shall never be completely lost. I''m sorry, Ragnar."
The Lorekeeper wished to die fighting at the side of his King, as was his place. To hide like a coward and flee from the battle was not a dvergar''s way. He closed his eyes and shapeshifted into a human, shrinking, and becoming lean. Hreidmar touched the princess''s brow and changed her shape into a fragile human baby.
"Farewell, my King. Know that I''ll protect her with my life."
Hreidmar squeezed Ragnar''s shoulder. The King of the dvergar looked like a black-skinned giant now.
"Your fate is clouded to me, Ragnar. But you carry with you all our hopes. Take that pack over there. It has some Midgard currency and some books for you. Learn their culture. Keep my granddaughter safe."
<hr>
He changed into proper human clothes and slung the pack on his shoulder. Holding the princess in his arms like a precious jewel, Ragnar walked to the magical portal that would take him to Midgard under a cloaking spell cast by Hreidmar. The way was conspicuously deserted. Once he reached the massive gold and platinum arch, it flared to life on its own, connecting this dimension to another. On the other side, he saw a sprawling forest of stone, metal, and glass spires, a cavern without a roof. He smelled smog and oil, but nothing like what they had in Nidavellir. Metal carriages cruised on stones of black stone and tar.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
The portal shifted its viewpoint and dashed from city to wilderness to city until it closed on a back alley. This place had two and three-story tall buildings only. He could see rectangular metal crucibles filled with garbage littering the walls of the alley. A narrow street ran in the middle but the alley too was deserted. The viewport stabilized and the connection settled. It was now safe to cross.
He walked through the portal and felt the way back home close forever. Squinting to adapt to the bright sunlight, Ragnar walked out of the alley to emerge in a wide street. Humans of all kinds bustled to and fro, like ants preparing for winter.
Hesliheidr stirred in his arms and started to cry.
"Hungry, Your Highness?" Ragnar asked. The baby didn''t answer. "I think we need to find an inn fast. Let''s ask someone."
The princess was sturdy as any dwarf should be. Ragnar soothed her and she stopped crying for now.
He looked around. These humans didn''t use runes to write. Ragnar closed his eyes and attuned himself to the magic of the world. Midgard barely had any but what he found would suffice. He muttered the spell under his breath and coerced the world to reveal its secrets. The Loremaster''s spell plucked the knowledge of the human language out of the minds of the humans around him. It was too easy, the people barely had any resistance to magic. The knowledge flooded into his mind and he understood.
"Their language is called English," he mumbled. "But where are we?"
Ragnar walked around, dodging the pedestrian traffic. Reading the signs and asking for directions, he entered a side street and found a bookstore after wandering for a few minutes. "Chapter''s Charity Bookstore", the sign read. It was squeezed between a restaurant promising "chips & fish" and a shop that sold... vision aids? An optometrist, maybe?
He entered and was quickly approached by a clerk wearing an apron.
"Welcome to our Charity Bookstore, sir. I''m Sylvie and I''m at your service. All proceedings help fund the ''Hereford dial a ride'' initiative. How may I help you?"
"Well met, young lady," Ragnar said trying to copy the local accent. "I''m visiting your beautiful town, and found myself in need of some local guidebook."
She smiled. "You came to the right place. We are the largest second-hand bookstore in Hereford. This way, please."
Hesliheidr decided she''s been too quiet and sounded her Royal displeasure at Ragnar''s ineptitude to keep Myrkheim''s scion fed.
"Oh, she''s hungry," Sylvie remarked. "I have triplet sisters back home," she shared.
"I need to feed her Highness. Where can I do so?"
"Please, use our backroom," she replied looking at his backpack. "Do you have her formula there?"
Ragnar nodded. "Yes. I have her food here with me."
Ragnar had a few bottles of goat milk for the princess. He let Sylvie guide him to the backroom, walking around piles of paper books that littered the center of the shop. All the walls were covered in bookshelves but very few books had leather covers. Most of them were just bundles of paper. The Lorekeeper found himself a bit offended at the careless way the books were treated. Some of them were yellowed at the edges, a clear sign that there was no preservation spell on the bookshelves. He was itching to ask her what she meant by second-hand.
he read some spines as they went. He wanted to read the whole bookstore, but that had to wait. Feeding the princess had priority.
In the backroom, Sylvie reached out to pick Hesliheidr. Ragnar drew a huge breath, tensing for a moment. Should he trust this human?
"I have a way with children, sir. I can hold your lovely daughter while you prepare her bottle."
Bottle? Did humans feed their young with bottles? Ragnar surrendered the princess to the human clerk and removed his human backpack. Opening the zipper, he took a goatskin out and set the closed pack aside.
"I''m ready. You can give her back."
Sylvie''s eyes were wider than normal. Ragnar took Hesliheidr and eased the hollow horn at the tip of the goatskin into the girl''s mouth. The princess took and greedily sucked the milk.
"I must confess, I''ve never seen someone feed a baby like that. Feels like we are in a renaissance fair," she said to make small talk.
"Back home, all babies are fed like this," Ragnar answered. He regretted giving out this piece of information right away, because of the inevitable follow-up.
"What''s the baby''s name, sir?"
"She''s called Cless," he lied, using a female name he read on one of the book spines.
"That''s a very English name," Sylvie chirped with a smile. "Are you Nordic by any chance? You have this strong Norwegian vibe."
Ragnar smiled back. "Yes, I come from a cold realm far to the north," He said with pride, forgetting to mimic the local accent.
"Iceland maybe?" Sylvie tilted her head as she kept the smile firm. "Your fake British accent broke," she added with an innocent giggle.
"Erm..." Ragnar found himself a bit flustered.
"There''s not much world North of here," she pointed out.
"Of course," Ragnar replied noncommittally. The Lorekeeper was embarrassed at his lack of knowledge of Midgard.
"Iceland, it is. Welcome to England sir..." She reached out and left her hand hanging.
"Ragnar," he held her hand and shook.
"She has the most beautiful eyes," Sylvie cooed looking at Hesliheidr.
Ragnar released her hand and checked. The princess wasn''t feeding anymore, just playing with her gums on the goatskin horn. He replaced the cork and gave the girl to the clerk. With his hands free, he returned the goatskin to the backpack.
Sylvie held Hesliheidr against her shoulder and patted her back until the princess burped. "Atta girl!" She cooed.
He stood up and slung the backpack. Picking the precious princess, he spoke to the clerk. "The guidebook?"
Sylvie led him back to the main room, "Sure. This way."
She took a book as they went to the front desk. Sylvie ducked under the counter and put the book on it. "This is the best guidebook for Hereford and outskirts, sir. It''ll be two pounds."
"Whoa!" Ragnar gasped. "Two pounds, right! Erm..."
She extended her hands for the baby, "I can hold her while you get the money from your backpack, sir."
"Sure..." Ragnar was flustered. Two pounds? He might not have that much money. With the carelessness the humans treated the books, he wasn''t expecting them to be THAT expensive. But he had to respect it. Books were precious. He fiddled with the backpack zippers and pouches until he found a gold coin. "Here. I''m not from your country as you noticed. How much is this coin worth, lady Sylvie?"
Sylvie stared at the gold coin, froze. "Sir, is that a gold coin?" Her voice broke and her hands trembled.
Ragnar feared she''d drop the princess. He focused his metal senses on the coin. it wasn''t pure gold but a gold-copper alloy. It was still ninety-one percent gold, though. As he talked to the clerk, the dvergar Lorekeeper was extremely embarrassed.
"It''s ninety-one percent gold. This is a coin of your country, isn''t it? Look, lady Sylvie, I''m afraid I don''t have enough money to buy your guidebook. I wasn''t expecting it to cost two pounds and I''m afraid I don''t have four hundred of these. Maybe you can just show me the way to an inn?"
"Ragnar... where are you from? That''s..." still holding the princess in one hand, she used the other to pull a small polished metal slab with a glass pane in the front from her apron''s front pocket. Moving her finger over the glass, it flared to life. So humans had magic! But Ragnar couldn''t feel any mana. Sylvie passed the slab in front of the coin as the image of what the slab''s magical eye was seeing showed on the glass. Then it beeped and some text flared to life under the glass. She frantically slid her finger as more text and images scrolled in the glass.
"Ragnar! That''s an Edward III quarter noble!" Sylvie''s breath was ragged as if she''d ran a few leagues. "And all the coins up for sale are old and tarnished. Yours seems to be minted just yesterday! I have to ask, sir. Is this a prank? Is that coin counterfeit? Are we in some hidden camera show? Should I be worried?"
She looked around, searching for something hidden. Hesliheidr decided her royal countenance had been ignored for too long and protested by crying.
"Lady Sylvie, I can assure you I am no prankster and you are safe with me. I mean you or your shop no harm. I have other coins here with me, both gold and silver. But they can''t add up to two pounds. I''m ashamed to admit I cannot purchase this guidebook."
She made a stuttered laughter that evolved into cackles and sobs. Biting her lower lip, Sylvie stared at Ragnar''s eyes.
"You are not from Iceland, Norway, or Sweden. Ragnar, be honest with me. What is the land ''up north'' you hail from? Two pounds? I''m talking about money," she opened a drawer under the counter and took a piece of parchment. "This, Her Majesty''s money. Not the measurement of weight."
She glanced at the princess and back to Ragnar''s eyes. "Who are you, Ragnar? Should I be afraid of you?"
Ragnar raised his hand and pressed against his chest. "No, milady. I can assure you I would never hurt a fellow librarian."
It seemed she believed him as she relaxed her guard. She was still holding the princess, Ragnar worried.
"Don''t dodge the question. This coin in your hands is worth... at least four hundred banknotes like this one. And this note here, it can buy five guidebooks, Ragnar. Where are you from, to carry such treasures and not know anything about modern money?"
Ragnar hesitated.
"Are you running away from something? The authorities? Christ, do you even have a passport?"
Ragnar placed the coin on the counter. "Take this coin, milady. Hand over her Highness..." He cursed his Freudian slip internally.
"A PRINCESS?" Sylvie shouted. Suddenly panting, she seemed to be out of breath.
"Yes, a princess, milady," Ragnar admitted. He gently took Hesliheidr from her arm. "Give me the guidebook and as many of these... banknotes as you think my coin is worth in exchange. I don''t mind if you don''t pay full value. Consider the balance the price for your silence."
Sylvie shook her head and pushed both coin and book away from her. "Ragnar, I can''t. No. Take your coin and the guidebook. It''s on the house. I don''t want any trouble, I won''t tell anyone I saw you."
"I can''t take the book for free, milady. It is too precious. I must give you proper compensation. A silver coin then?"
She whimpered. "This is a second-hand guidebook from six years ago! Seriously, we charge two pounds for it just to fund our charity! The book is worthless, just take it and leave!"
Ragnar''s face lit up. "A charity! Would you take donations?" he flipped the coin in one hand while holding the princess in the other.
"No!" She protested. "I mean, yes! But don''t go around donating gold coins!" She paused then added. "By Thor''s beard!"
Ragnar relaxed and smiled as he recognized the reference.
Sylvie pushed on, "Norse. Odin, Freya, Valhalla..." As she studied Ragnar''s face, she gasped and stared at the baby. "Good Lord. Who feeds a baby from a goatskin?"
Hesliheidr squealed and giggled. She liked being the center of attention. Ragnar didn''t answer her.
"Lady Sylvie, well met. I must go now, to find an inn, and book a room."
She deadpanned at him. "Hotel, Ragnar. In this century, we call your inns hotels. And you still don''t have any money to pay for the room. Don''t go flashing those gold coins everywhere, you''re going to get mugged!"
Ragnar sighed. "Can I trust you, lady Sylvie?"
"Trust is a two-way road, Ragnar. Are you some kind of fugitive? Refugee? You don''t seem like a criminal to me."
"I never broke the law, milady. And yes, you can consider me and princess... Cless as refugees."
She bent under the counter and returned with a book. She pointed at a metal contraption on the cover. "Ragnar, what is this object?"
"Some sort of ranged weapon?" He guessed. "The grip and trigger look like a crossbow''s."
She sighed again. "Is this the first time you see such a contraption?"
Ragnar decided to be honest. "Yes."
"Are you a time traveler? From another world? Where are the cameras?" She continued but it seemed she was in a daze.
He felt he could trust Sylvie. Midgard had changed a lot from the records he had but the mention she made to the Aesir and Vanir deities showed it was still the same realm. He needed an ally and who better than a fellow librarian?
"Sylvie, promise me you''ll keep our secret, and I''ll explain everything to you."