Chapter 11 Freija
Freija
Dawn arrived with a flurry of tasks and activity. My list wasn’t long today, but there was still plenty to do and deadlines to meet. So, I got ready, donned an emerald green dress, and strolled into the hallway.
Halvar and another soldier straightened as my door bumped shut behind me.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” I said and adjusted my portfolio of notes, setting it in the crook of my arm. “Are you both well?”
The soldier bowed his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Halvar grumbled as if that were response enough.
Very well.
“To the garden?” he asked.
That was on the docket, but… “First I need to head to the library.”
His nose twitched, but he didn’t reply. Looked like he was listening and learning. Perhaps this arrangement wouldn’t be too bad?
He motioned for me to take the lead, and I strolled ahead down the hallway, aiming for the mountain’s library.
Instead of down toward the dungeons, we took the tunnels heading upward. Higher and higher we climbed until the passage opened up into a three story room.
Thick and sturdy pillars of stone rose into large archways around us, revealing nooks filled with books.
Tomes of times gone by sat proudly on each shelf, interspersed with newer volumes from the humans.
In the center of the cavernous space sat an array of wooden tables and leather chairs.
Light streamed from cracks in the ceiling that had been sealed with light-hued stones to fill the gaps, refracting the light downward.
The Fjell Fae library was awe-inspiring and felt like walking into a ray of sunlight on a cold winter’s day, sending a burst of joy through my body.
Aside from my garden and personal chambers, it was my favorite place in the mountain and I could spend hours here.
But, as it was, I had work to attend to, a garden to show my shadow, and a Council meeting today.
Said shadow wandered in and leaned against one of the pillars by the door.
Those black-clad shoulders were almost as wide as the stones holding him up.
He looked out of place. How often had the great Halvar Haraldson been in a library?
I’d wager not very often, but then again, the man was supposed to have a knack for strategy and that must’ve come from somewhere.
With a shake of my head, I turned back to the task at hand: finalizing my initial report to the Council on a new food distribution system.
I would present it this afternoon and needed a few more pieces of historical data before it was perfect.
Or as perfect as I could get it with the information at hand.
Last night, as my mind whirled with unnecessary thoughts, I decided I may as well present what I could to the Council and show them what else was needed.
Then I could pivot the discussion to why we needed it and where I could go to get it.
Specifically, alternate food resources like dietary changes and a stronger focus on foraging from our southern neighbors.
While our current distribution and rationing system worked well, it wouldn’t survive the population growth we were seeing. And I’d be damned if we let little mouths go hungry in this mountain.
I found the tome I was looking for, set it on the table in the middle of the room with a thunk, and got to work.
Pages and pages of numbers and birthrates blurred together in front of my eyes as I scribbled down what I needed.
From the number of mouths to feed years ago to the amounts of grain obtained before and after the humans took up residence in what was now known as the hamlet of Skolvik, the facts flowed through me and into my presentation.
The time and effort put in here, carefully noting the statistics and hypotheses, could make a remarkable difference to so many.
Quill and ink danced across the pages as I happily jotted down the numbers in tidy little rows. With the final tally of deer noted, I set aside the book I’d opened and rose to find another. There was just one number I needed, one more tidbit, and this would be presentable.
Ambling into the alcove that housed the mountain’s ledgers, I scanned the shelves for the records I needed.
“Where…oh, where…” Muttering, I brushed my fingers across the spines. “Where is it?”
Horticulture.
Hunting: foul.
Hunting: large game.
It should have been here. On this exact shelf.
Someone must have moved the book. All I needed was the number of fish we’d hauled in last winter.
But the ledger wasn’t where it was supposed to be.
My fists clenched and unclenched as I breathed sharply through my nose. Where in the mountain could it be?
“Everything all right?” Halvar’s voice carried across the room.
I waved my hand over my shoulder without turning, my gaze locked on the shelf before me. “Fine.”
It wasn’t wholly true. I didn’t feel fine.
Quite the opposite. I wanted those numbers.
Needed them. If I didn’t have them… What if the Council rejected my idea?
What if they asked for them and I couldn’t offer an accurate statement?
What would happen if we didn’t implement this plan as swiftly as possible?
A lump grew in my throat. I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing before I could become lightheaded. It would be all right. I would be all right. I brushed my hand across my forehead.
Probably.
Most likely.
Or not.
Deep breaths, Freija.
Once my heart rate settled, I sat back in my chair at the table and finalized the report without the number—leaving the space blank in my chart even though it pained me to do so.
Prickles ran up and down my spine. I was being watched. By the only other being in the room. I carefully peered to my right and found Halvar regarding me intently from the shadows. He looked like a silver ghost. Lurking, waiting, observing.
“Are you just going to stare at me?” I asked, keeping my eyes on my notes.
“That is my job, princess.”
I huffed. “You’re in a library. How many threats could the books possibly pose?”
“More than you think.”
“Oh, really?” I leaned back in my seat and turned to face him. He hadn’t moved. Those arms were firmly locked across his chest, eyes adhered to me in the middle of the room. “Do tell.”
His lips quirked as if he’d enjoyed something I’d said. “Several books in here describe how to draw and quarter someone for medicinal purposes.”
Bloody limbs. Slicing through cold, pulpy bodies.
Decaying chunks of flesh that would ultimately be displayed on a pike and pecked away at by ravenous birds.
I could picture it all. My seat suddenly grew uncomfortable and I squirmed.
It wasn’t that I abhorred the sight or discussion of blood, but I had my limits.
“Then there are the books about insurrection,” he continued, “and the history of the last Fjord Fae King who tried to amass more power than the other factions. Not to mention the number of sharp artifacts hidden away in some of those chests on the second floor shelves.”
Ah, I’d forgotten about those. “You raise a good point.”
A single silver brow rose toward his hairline.
My toes curled involuntarily in my boots. Damn that man. Perhaps he had spent some time in here. Especially if he knew about the chests upstairs.
Our eyes locked and I cleared my throat. “I need to focus.”
“You do.” He remarked with a minuscule smirk. “And then follow through on your promise to show me to your garden.”
The door opened behind him and he whirled toward it, blade appearing, from ancestors knew where, in his hand. The woman in the doorway squeaked, blood rushing from her face at the sight of the general prepared to launch at her.
“I-I need to b-borrow a book f-for the kitchens.” Her voice trembled. “I can return—”
“You are quite all right,” I said. She looked like one of my maid’s friends. “Tove, isn’t it?”
Her wide eyes moved to mine and she nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Please do come in. You aren’t disturbing anyone.”
She nodded again and gave Halvar a wide berth as she passed and scurried up the stairs, taking the tension that had lingered between Halvar and I with her.
Once her footsteps disappeared, Halvar collapsed his stone blade. Those blue eyes turned back to watching over me. “The garden?” he asked.
“I’ll take you as soon as I am finished here and we’ve dropped this off in the Council chambers for this evening’s meeting.”
“Good.”
“This is it,” I said with a wave of my hand a few hours later.
Halvar surveyed the patch of green nestled on the cliffside under the midday glow. Wind swept up and over the mountain’s edge bringing with it the scent of pine and dew.
“It’s not much,” I said, “but it’s mine.” And I was proud of the work I’d put in and the lessons I’d learned here. With a little time, patience, and care, wonderful things could grow. If they decided to cooperate.
The woody shrub at the back—Mezereon, Daphne mezereum—had responded well to pruning and would have a good show of pink blossoms in the spring.
The rows of herbs just beyond it were doing well, especially the thyme and rosemary, though I noted that the basil had gone to seed.
Before the first frost, I’d collect them for replanting at the end of winter.
I gleefully noted the yellow star-shaped blooms on the mountain saxifrage at the front, near where Halvar stood.
I’d only planted it a month ago, but it had settled nicely into its sunny position.
Halvar remained quiet, studying the plants and the location.
I knelt down and brushed my fingers across the tiny green leaves of the saxifrage. “It’s a nice place of refuge for when I want to get away from the mountain.”
“How often do you come here?” Halvar asked, turning to face me.
“It depends.”
“On?”
“The pressures of everyday life as princess and heir to the Fjell Fae throne.”
He grumbled. “Be more specific… Please.”