5. Stories of Old
Stories of Old
Larissa
C hilly evening air creeped into the cab as the sun set on a long, stressful day.
Larissa closed the windows, but wind whistled through cracks at the top.
Helga bounced and rattled down the road, shaking Halla against the floorboard where she sat cramped against the seat.
Even her small frame was too large to fit comfortably in such a tight space.
She shivered, huddling under the jacket Larissa had tossed her way.
Satisfied they were safe, Larissa reached out to touch where Halla’s head lay against the ripped seat cushion. “You can get up now.”
Halla turned toward Larissa with half-closed eyes. Had she actually slept during the past few hours? Terrified of passing another truck, or worse, Larissa had told Halla to stay hidden. But this road was familiar, as was the forest. They were nearly home.
Halla clambered onto the seat.
With her sister out of danger, Larissa’s anxiety finally gave way to the question that had been straining to escape her lips. “How did you get in the truck?”
Halla squeezed her knees against her chest. “Mamma went to join Pappa. She told me to run to the barn, but they were too close. I was afraid they would see me. The truck was right there, and the tailgate was down. I just squeezed in.”
Larissa pinched the bridge of her nose; the fear she’d felt upon realizing that Halla was in the truck ran through her again. “Do you know how dangerous that was?”
“It’s not like I had a choice,” Halla argued.
“Oh yeah? Did you think about letting me know you were in the truck before we got to the Wall?”
Halla chewed at her cheek in anxious contemplation, a sign Larissa knew all too well. “I didn’t plan to come, Lara, I swear on the Kings and Queens, I didn’t. But I thought if I was already in the truck, and if I was quiet, then maybe I wouldn’t be seen. And I could see the city.”
Larissa groaned. She’d suspected as much.
“Besides, I had Frigg with me.” Halla raised her hand, rattling her bracelet in Larissa’s face. The amulets for Frigg, goddess of children, and Eir , goddess of protection, clinked together.
Larissa eyed the amulets with distaste but held her tongue. She didn’t want to argue about the ludicrous nature of believing in the AEsir . If the stories were true, they were dead—long dead. They couldn’t save themselves. So, how could they protect Halla?
“Are you mad at me?” Halla asked.
“No. Well, maybe. Mostly annoyed.” To be honest, Larissa understood why Halla hadn’t revealed herself. In Halla’s mind, the gods had placed her in the truck for a reason. In her place, Larissa might’ve done the same thing. “You’ve got to be more careful, Halla; you know the law.”
“I was careful, Lara!” Halla crossed her arms. “You wouldn’t worry so much if you believed.”
Larissa scoffed. “The AEsir have never given me any reason to.”
“They’ve answered my prayers before, you know.”
Her voice was so matter-of-fact that Larissa nearly laughed. “Oh really, what did you pray for?”
“An older sister.”
“That’s not how it works. I came first.”
“Well, duh .“ Halla rolled her eyes as if Larissa was the one missing something. Then her face turned wistful. “I wish I could’ve seen more of the city.”
Larissa wrinkled her nose. “The Intake Yard is as far as I ever go, so you’ve gone just as far as me.”
A sly grin crept onto Halla’s face. “At least I got to see you with Darien.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I have eyes, Lara.” Halla poked Larissa’s arm. “You like him.”
Larissa grasped the wheel and took the next turn too fast. Halla’s body thumped against the door.
“You did that on purpose!” Halla said, glaring and rubbing her arm.
Larissa evened out the wheels. Ahead, the farmhouse came into view. No Mamma or Pappa outside, but lights burned through the windows. Larissa turned onto the gravel path leading to the house and parked in the usual spot before turning to Halla.
“I,” she said, adopting an innocent air, “don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know what I saw,” Halla insisted.
Larissa snorted. “Yeah, the backside of some crates where I should have left you.”
Pappa and Mamma emerged from the house, their feet slamming against the porch steps.
Before Halla could move, they’d thrown open her door and drawn her into their arms. Torrents of words and questions crashed over one another.
Squished in between her parents, Halla sent a pleading glance in Larissa’s direction. “Lara—help—”
Larissa smiled, hopping down from her seat onto the dirt. “Maybe the gods will save you.”
Noticing Halla’s distress, Pappa withdrew his thick arms. The color returned to his face as he spoke—not to Halla, but to Larissa. “How could you let her go with you?”
“She didn’t know, Pappa,” Halla piped up, still coddled in Mamma’s arms. “I couldn’t make it to the barn. Lara didn’t know I was there until we reached the Wall.”
Their parents stilled; Mamma’s arms tightened around Halla. “You went in the city?”
Larissa shrugged, feeling a sudden exhaustion settle on her shoulders.
“It wasn’t like we had much of a choice.
By the time I realized Halla was in the back, I couldn’t turn around.
They would have followed me.” In short words, Larissa recounted her day, smoothing over how Halla had not revealed herself earlier and skimming through the harassment of the sentries.
When Larissa mentioned Darien, she paused at the look her parents shared.
“Aagenson?” Pappa asked, his eyes meeting Mamma’s. “You are sure he said Darien Aagenson?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Do you know him?”
“I used to know an Aagen, but I thought his wife died during childbirth, along with their child. Finish your story.”
Larissa did as he asked. Once she was done, Halla fidgeted under the combined weight of their parents’ gazes. Though Larissa had not told them what Halla had said about wanting to see the city, she knew that they knew.
Pappa ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Let’s just unload and get inside.”
Halla sighed and looked at Larissa, her face full of gratitude.
She ran to the back of the truck and waited dutifully as Pappa opened the tailgate and pulled himself up onto the bed.
Box by box, he passed down the rations to his family who took them inside to be stored safely.
With Halla and Mamma inside, Pappa passed off the last box to Larissa.
“She could’ve told you she was there earlier,” he said with one eyebrow arched higher than the other.
Larissa shifted the box in her hands. “She must’ve been too scared to think about it.”
He humphed, dropping down into the dirt beside his daughter. “Is that the story we’re going with?”
“It’s the stories that got her into this mess,” Larissa muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Larissa’s fingers tightened around the box. The words she’d held back for so long spilled out. “Halla thinks that all of your stories are true, that Frigg and Eir were protecting her today.”
“Who says they weren’t?”
“I do, because I was the one protecting her!” Larissa snapped her mouth shut.
His expression remained unchanged. “Did you ever think,” he said, his voice calm, “that maybe the AEsir sent you to protect Halla?”
Larissa held her tongue, resisting the urge to shake her head.
“You used to love the story of Aurvandil the Valiant,” Pappa continued.
Unwittingly, Larissa’s eyes flashed to the constellation above Pappa’s head. He was right; it had been one of her favorite stories before the constant fear of Halla’s discovery had set in.
Halla . She was an ache in Larissa’s chest. Unbearable guilt pressed in on Larissa’s heart every time she thought of Halla’s desire to see the world, knowing that her own status as first-born stood in her sister’s way.
Pappa rubbed the back of his neck. “Larissa, the AEsir —”
“I should probably go help Mamma with dinner,” Larissa interrupted. She didn’t want to talk about the gods any longer. It wouldn’t change a thing.
Pappa nodded. “We’ll talk when you’re ready.”
He wasn’t one to push, though Larissa wouldn’t put it past him to tell Mamma about their conversation. She always knew when Larissa needed to talk.
They went in, leaving their boxes on the floor and joining their family at the table. Mamma and Halla sat with Tucker, an older farm hand, who listened with rapt attention as Halla retold her journey to the Wall.
“You’re lucky the old man of the sea was looking after you,” Tucker replied when Halla finished. “Old Njorer is known to be fickle at times, but you must have caught him in a good mood today.”
Larissa’s chair scraped across the floor. “She’s lucky we met another field hand as kind as you, Onkel.”
At the endearment, Tucker’s eyes crinkled in delight.
Although there was no blood relation between them, Larissa had grown up referring to Tucker as her uncle.
With no family of his own, he’d embraced his role as “uncle” with full enthusiasm.
He had been working on the farm before Pappa had married Mamma.
When Larissa came around, he taught her how to protect her hands against thorns and biting insects on the vines.
When Halla was born, he took her birth in stride.
He didn’t care for the Empress’ mandates.
He’d often been the one to hide Halla in the barn or the woods when the sentries arrived for Inspection Days.
“So she tells me.” Tucker’s wrinkled eyes crinkled further. “Darien, was it? Halla said you were quite taken with him.”
Larissa spun toward Halla who smiled defiantly back. “That is not true!”
“Now, now.” Mamma’s soft voice was enough to stop Larissa’s next words, but they didn’t stop her thoughts of payback. One swift kick while Halla was sleeping ought to do it. As Halla smiled in triumph, Larissa pondered her revenge. The rest of their meal passed in a blessed mundane routine.
Mamma rose to her feet, collecting the plates. “A month without sentries will be a blessing.”
Halla followed suit, piling up cups and silverware in her hands. “Maybe I should visit the Wall next Produce Day too. Since it worked out so well, you know?”
Four pairs of startled eyes landed on Halla, whose nose turned bright pink. “Too soon?”
Tucker roared. Pappa’s laughter was the loudest of all, but Mamma and Larissa shared a look amidst their uncertain chuckles. Halla was joking, but would she always? Would this one escapade give her the confidence to try it again?
Tucker’s large boots clomped against the wooden floor. “Today’s been much too exciting for these old bones. ‘Night all.”
A chorus of goodnights followed him as he disappeared down the hall. On other, larger farms, it was normal for the field hands to sleep in the barn, but Tucker was family.
Through the open window situated above the couch, purple rays streaked across the clouds.
The nightlife stirred, carrying with it the croak of frogs in nearby streams, the steady hum of insects, and the scurry of the field mice.
The symphony of noise soothed away the chaos of the day, easing the tightness that had been in Larissa’s chest ever since that morning.
She wore her weariness like a heavy winter’s blanket.
It settled around her, lulling her toward slumber.
“We all should head to bed,” Mamma announced.
Halla spun from her place at the sink, her eyes coming alive. “One story! Please, Pappa.”
Larissa’s sleepiness vanished as alarm shot through her. Surely after today, Pappa would say no. Surely he would see the way these stories only fueled Halla’s recklessness.
Instead, he leaned back against his chair and held up a finger. “One story, little one. I’ll be there after I help Mamma clean up.”
Only Pappa could still get away with calling Halla “little one.” She kissed his cheek, springing off to their room to get ready for bed.
Larissa finished clearing the table in silence before following Halla, who had already changed and situated herself on their bed, burying her nose in one of their few books.
It wasn’t even a real book. The paper was bound by leather cut by Pappa’s hand and words written by Mamma’s nimble fingers.
After Ragnarok , so little had survived.
When the Empress took over, the few remaining books were destroyed or restricted to those at the highest levels of society.
Like everything else, like rations and electricity, knowledge was regulated.
Larissa changed, then settled into bed beside Halla, peeking at the story she was reading. She recognized it immediately. Baldr the Beautiful was written in swirling letters at the top. Her eyes skimmed over the story she knew so well.
Baldr was the most beloved of the AEsir, son of the high chief, óeinn, and the high chiefess, Frigg.
When the mara sent nightmares of Baldr’s death, Frigg used seidr to save her son’s life.
She journeyed across the world, compelling every living being to swear to never harm her son.
Once she covered all the lands, convinced that Baldr was invincible, she returned back to the grand halls of the AEsir .
Despite all her efforts, Baldr was killed in an accident orchestrated by the trickster god Loki. Frigg had forgotten to request an oath from the lowest plant of all, mistletoe, and it was that plant that Loki had tied onto a spear wielded at Baldr’s heart.
Halla shook her head in frustration at that part, as she did every time. “Why would Frigg not remember to make the mistletoe swear the same oath as everyone else?”
“Even the gods make mistakes.” Pappa’s shadow crossed the threshold.
“But remember the lesson this story teaches us. Each winter, we hang mistletoe as a reminder of Frigg’s tears that became the berries on the leaves, for mistletoe did not have berries before Baldr’s death.
We remember how Frigg did not take her vengeance on mistletoe, but showed mercy and compassion as her son would have wanted. ”
Larissa always thought the moral of the story was a bit different.
Frigg overlooked the small plant because she didn’t deem it necessary to lower herself to request an oath from it.
Frigg’s arrogance resulted in her son’s downfall.
This story was about pride and its consequences, not mercy or compassion.
Pappa settled on the edge of their bed, but when Halla offered him their storybook, he turned it down. “I have a new story to tell tonight.”
Even Larissa jolted at this. She’d heard all of Pappa’s stories dozens of times. What could he possibly have to tell them that they didn’t already know? Halla nearly bounced off the bed in excitement.
Pappa’s eyes drifted toward Larissa, then he nodded to himself as though coming to a decision. Larissa had never seen him hesitate to tell a story before.
He cleared his throat. “Let me tell you about the Great Hrun .”