Trollbound

On the distant shores of the Faroe Islands, during the golden era of the vikings, lived Aada, daughter of Jarl Birgir, son of Hersir Einar. Aada was proud, beautiful, strong, and capable. She was skilled at weaving and possessed a beautiful voice.

Aada walked tall amongst her people because of the reputations of her father and grandfather. Her grandfather Einar had been a great conqueror who had claimed the islands for her people. Her father Birgir was the chieftain, and had once defeated and driven out a monstrous troll who had terrorized her people. When everyone gathered in the longhouse to drink, sing, and make merry, they always honored her father and grandfather with epic ballads of their heroic deeds.

One day, a man was found shipwrecked on the shore. He was brought to her father, who thought to make him a slave. But the man claimed to be the famous sorcerer Galdramaꝺur, and said that he could be of use to the chieftain. He could advise him, and protect the people from any dark spirit or creature. Aada did not like him. He stooped and bowed too often, like he had no pride. And he looked side to side furtively, like he was a thief not wanting to be caught.

Galdramaꝺur impressed her father by using magic to boil the mead in his cup. Her father said wittingly that at least the sorcerer would be useful in the kitchen. He allowed him to stay as a free man and to work in the longhouse.

Little by little, with his clever tongue, he gained the ear of Jarl Birgir. He was treated with more deference and respect. It was found he could heal the sick and drive out evil spirits. When he spoke, it felt like a pleasant breeze in the spring. It was unthinkable to disagree with him. Galdramaꝺur began to walk taller, wear rich clothing, and assume to command around the other servants. He never dared command Aada, though, for she only had glares for him.

Galdramaꝺur looked with admiration upon her father, doting on him and congratulating his wise decisions. More and more, Jarl Birgir asked the sorcerer’s advice. More and more, he invited him into the decisions made for the entire village. But Aada saw that when her father was turned away, Galdramaꝺur’s face turned into one of resentment and disgust. She tried to warn her father, but he would hear none of it. What did a woman know of the dealings of men?

Soon, during the gatherings at the longhouse, Aada noticed a change in the atmosphere. She could scan the room and pick out the warriors who had fallen prey to the spellcasting words of the sorcerer. They looked about like they were nervous and did not trust their own people. Aada was clever. That was all she needed to conclude that Galdramaꝺur was building his own army. She knew the evil man would try to become Jarl and kill her father. Since no one would listen to her warnings, it was up to her to do something about it.

Fate brought her the opportunity the very next evening. As she returned from the forest where she had been gathering yarrow, thyme, and meadowsweet, she saw the figure of the cloaked sorcerer quickly moving through the trees in the direction of the rocky seashore. She dropped her basket of herbs and made pursuit.

At the shore, the wind and waves created a great noise. The clouds were gathering to make a storm in the west. The half moon was rising over the eastern horizon, providing just enough light that she could make out the shadowy figure of Galdramaꝺur making his way amongst the rocks. He never glanced back, to her relief. There was nothing to hide her.

Soon he reached a series of caves that lined the shore. Her people knew to never come here. This was where the troll lived. Surely the sorcerer did not want to be a troll’s supper? Or maybe he was so powerful he wasn’t afraid of trolls. She kept pace and rounded a corner just in time to see him slip into one of the caves. The faint glow of firelight soon lit up the walls behind him. Aada hurried to get closer.

The cave was damp and narrow. Soon, the sounds of the wind and waves died down behind her. She followed the light quickly, worried that she would get too close and be heard, or too far behind and get lost in the darkness.

Suddenly, she rounded a corner to see a cavern filled with crystals jutting from the walls. The small light from the tip of the sorcerer’s finger was amplified and reflected in every direction. At first, it blinded her after so long in the dark. As her eyes adjusted, the scene was laid out before her.

Water dripped from the ceiling into a pool on the floor. Next to the pool and crouched low, like an animal ready to pounce, was the form of the great troll. He was as impressive as the songs claimed, large and naked, slimy and gray, his head looking too big, his belly bulging, and his arms too long. His ears were pointed, enormous and tufted. He sat chewing on a bone and eyeing the sorcerer.

The troll said, “Do not try your bewitching voice on me, or it will be the last thing you do, magic maker.”

“I would not dream of it,” Galdramaꝺur said hurriedly. “I am here to offer you a deal, one I am sure you can’t refuse.”

“I need nothing you can offer,” said the troll.

“Nothing I can offer now,” agreed the sorcerer, “but if I were Jarl, we could make an arrangement. I am sure you miss the taste of human flesh … you have been so long in exile in this place.”

The troll raised an eyebrow. He was interested.

“I have many men loyal to me in the longhouse. But many others still are loyal to Birgir, and their will is not swayed by my magic. However, if Birgir were no more…” the sorcerer trailed off, assuming the troll understood.

“I will not fight that man again, for it would be my death,” said the troll.

“You need not fight him. Everyone knows a troll’s blood is like acid, a poison that eats all it touches. Give me a small vial and I will do the rest.” The troll grunted in response. “Then it can be said you became brave after hearing of the Jarl’s death. You can return, and taste human flesh again.”

“They will surely come for me,” said the troll.

“Oh great troll,” said the sorcerer, “you know they are no match for you. Without Birgir, they are like ants beneath your feet. If they come, you will kill many, and have a feast.”

The troll replied by sliding one sharp claw along his arm and letting his own blood. It dripped to the ground, metallic green, and began eating and burning the very earth beneath it. Quickly, the sorcerer caught it in a golden flask. Gold was the only substance a troll’s blood could not burn.

“Do not fail to kill my enemy, magic maker,” said the beast, “or my next meal will be you.”

The sorcerer bowed, backing away, and then scurried down the passageway. He passed by Aada without knowing. She waited to follow until the light was almost out of sight. They made their way back to the beach. Aada felt palpable relief at being out in the open again. An hour later, they were back in the village. Thankfully, Aada had not been missed. She brought her herbs to the kitchen, thinking all the while on what to do to prevent the sorcerer’s plan from being realized.

Aada watched the sorcerer like a hawk, learning his comings and goings. She knew he was planning a big coup. He visited his men in the night in small groups. The celebration of the summer solstice was near. She suspected he would enact his plan during the celebrations. If all her father’s men were drunk, that would give Galdramaꝺur an advantage.

Sure enough, the night of the solstice eve celebration, Galdramaꝺur’s men were very sparing with their mead. Many stood watching the festivities stoically, arms crossed, or sat too upright, keeping their weapons close by. They were a stark contrast to the drunken songs, laughter, and carousing.

Aada began to relax little by little, despite herself, giving in to the joy of her people and the warm feel of the mead making her head dizzy. After several hours, she was singing as loudly as anyone to songs like this:

Lifeblood

Wyndreth Berginsdottir

Drink, for the wind blows cold and
Drink for The Wolf runs free.
Drink to the ships with sails like wings and
Drink to the storm-tossed seas.

Drink to the lasting nights
and those who warm our beds.
Drink to the mead that warms our hearts
and the cold that clears our head.

Drink to the Allfather’s Eye
for Odin’s sons are we.
Drink to the World-Tree where he hung
and the Runes of Mystery.

Drink to the truth of steel
and blood that falls like rain.
Drink to Valhalla’s golden walls
and to our kinsmen, slain.

Drink to the Glory-field
where a man embraces death, and
thank the gods that we live at all
with our joyous dying breath!

Drink for the wind blows cold and
Drink for the Wolf runs free
Drink to the ships with the sails like wings
for Odin’s sons are we!

After many hours of merriment, Aada suddenly noticed the sorcerer was missing. Cursing her negligence, she hurried from the room and out into the night, looking every which way for a sign of him. She found him leaving his home and slipping the golden flask into the folds of his cloak as he went. She followed as he made his way back to the festivities. Some of his men met him on his way. One held an object bundled in cloth, which he handed to the sorcerer.

When they arrived at the longhouse, more men appeared, armored and at ready. They formed two lines behind Galdramaꝺur. With a great swing of his arms, he cast a wind which blew back the great doors of the longhouse, causing the merriment to cease in astonishment. There he stood, his men at his back, the center aisle of the longhouse before him, with Jarl Birgir seated at its end.

“What’s this, sorcerer?” said the Jarl, looking calm and unperturbed.

“Your men and I have prepared for you a great gift to present on this solstice eve,” said Galdramaꝺur, enhancing and augmenting his voice by some spell. “Tomorrow’s sun shines brightest and longest in all the year, and makes us think of the greatness of our chieftain, a sun shining amongst men. For this, we thought to prepare you a gift worthy of the splendor of your reputation.”

He marched forward confidently, his small army following him into the hall. The audience looked on apprehensively, feeling the threat in the air, and the warriors loyal to her father toyed with their weapons. Aada, going round the side of the hall, quickly made her way to the dias at the back, where the head table was placed with her father center stage. She slipped into the chair beside him.

When Galdramaꝺur arrived at the head table, he presented a golden chalice, inlaid with jewels. “We have gathered our gold and treasures from the spoil of our battles, and created for you a chalice worthy of a king.”

“You mean my men have done so,” said Birgir, “what spoil of battle does a sorcerer have?” He laughed loud and long. The people laughed nervously with him. “I am honored by such a gift, and even more honored to have such loyal and skilled warriors at my side.” He eyed them, one by one, taking his time. They returned his stare without flinching. The sorcerer’s spell on them was indeed strong!

The Jarl took the chalice from the sorcerer, turning it round in his hands, admiring the craftsmanship. “It is an incredible piece,” he said in true wonder.

“Let me be the first to fill it for you,” said Galdramaꝺur, “with the strongest and finest mead. Then let us make a toast to our great Jarl.” Instead of motioning for a slave to bring drink, he turned to receive a pitcher of gold from one of the men behind him. Aada’s heart leapt to her throat.

Galdramaꝺur poured the mead ever-so-carefully, sure to not spill a single drop. Silence filled the longhouse. Aada’s father lifted the cup, and the whole longhouse lifted their own drinks to cheer him. He went to drink, and Aada slapped the cup from his hand, spraying the troll’s acidic blood all over the table and onto the sorcerer’s face.

Galdramaꝺur screamed hideously, grasping at his face like some crazed animal. His clawing ripped a corded necklace from his neck, flinging it and the dark, smokey crystal amulet tied to it to the floor. The crack of the amulet sounded through the hall like a thunderbolt. People screamed and covered their ears.

An eerie numbness followed as everyone’s ears slowly recovered from shock. A smoke sailed up from the fissure in the crystal. Everyone watched as it split into multiple trails, each finding one of Galdramaꝺur’s men, and being absorbed by their nose and eyes. The men shook their heads as if waking from a drunken slumber. They looked about in astonishment.

Her father quickly took control. “Surround him, mínar stríðsmenn!” The men snapped to action, weapons out and pointed towards Galdramaꝺur, but the sorcerer was in such pain he did not notice.

“Bind him and guard him well. Tomorrow he dies for his crime, but tonight we celebrate not only the high sun,” Birgir looked to Aada fondly. Grabbing her hand, he lifted her arm high. “But also Aada, daughter of Birgir, son of Einar! Sing songs of her brave deed, tell tales in all the land. She has saved my life and the lives of our men. The brave and bold blood of our forefathers runs strong in her! To Aada!”

“To Aada!” everyone roared, and she beamed with pride.

The rest of the night was a whirlwind. So many congratulated her with admiration shining from their eyes. So many toasted her that she was quickly very drunk. And the most well-known of the warriors eyed her with desire, like they were seeing her for the first time. Her father kept her by his side like his most prized treasure. He would surely treat her with more respect now! Perhaps she would even become one of his favorite counselors.

In the wee hours of the morning, she crawled into her bed. Her maid had to wake her when she came in to change her into her nightgown and brush out her braided hair. For the first time in her life, she understood why the warriors craved glory. She slept the happiest sleep of her life.

The next morning, Aada woke with a start, and then moaned in pain. The earth beneath her seemed to be bouncing. Her headache from drinking the night before spiked painfully at every jolt. She looked around and found herself with her hands bound, her mouth gagged, lying in some hay in the back of a covered cart. And the cart was moving along an uneven dirt road.

Aada stared wide-eyed as she realized the situation. Who had taken her? What was happening? She resolved to pretend to still be sleeping, so she might find out some clue. Soon she heard a man’s voice egging on the horse. It was Galdramaꝺur!

Her mind raced. What had happened? Surely he had escaped. But why kidnap her? Revenge? She felt a pit open up in her stomach as she imagined what he might do. He was powerful; she had to act quickly and surprise him, or she’d have no chance against him.

Before she could begin plotting, the cart slowed to a stop. She was out of time. With the racket of the wheels and hooves quiet, she soon made out the sounds of the sea. She heard the vile man’s footsteps as he made his way to the back of the cart. When he lowered the door, she was ready. She kicked outward hard, hitting him in the chest and sending him sprawling.

In her mind, she had pictured she could just jump up and run. But with the tarp pulled tightly over the cart, and her bound hands, the reality was she could only wiggle helplessly like a worm, trying to get to the exit.

Galdramaꝺur recovered almost instantly. He flicked his wrist like he was holding an invisible whip. She felt its lash snap against her outstretched ankle and wrap around it. Then he yanked, hard. She flew from the cart and onto the ground, feeling something tear in her hip. She howled in pain, a sound muffled by her gag.

In seconds, he was standing over her, seething anger behind his eyes. She started, surprised there was no sign of his injury the night before. The reaction made him smile viciously. “Do you prefer this face?” he said, as the illusion faded and was replaced by the reality. Half his face and neck was covered in open, boiled skin, blood-red and deeply bruised, oozing and hanging off in places. Aada stifled a scream, and then wanted to kick herself. She should never show an enemy fear. Never. She schooled her face, trying to appear calm.

“It is much more handsome,” he quipped, “and fear keeps people under control.” He barked a laugh. For some reason, he took one of her slippers from her feet and flung it into the cart. He led the horse around to face back towards the village. With a yell and a wack, he sent the horse galloping back towards home, the empty cart bouncing and bumping behind it.

Again, he snapped his wrist. She felt the sting of the invisible lash on her hip and cried out. “To your feet!” he snapped sternly, “We’ve not much time before your father comes looking for you.”

She listened to the sea gulls and waves, sounding from over the next ridge. Understanding dawned on her face. She was a hostage. She would be exchanged for her father…to the troll. But trolls did not keep promises. Surely he would just eat them both… and the sorcerer. Whatever happened, she knew this was not going to end well.

Getting to her feet was hard. When she stood on her left leg, the tear in her hip gripped her with pain. She mastered it, insisting that her body cooperate with her, and did her best to stand tall. Keeping her chin up, she made her way painfully to the rocky seashore.

The sorcerer was impatient with her slow-going limp. He kept striking out with the whip as if that would help her go faster. She felt the sting of new wounds forming on her back. Her nightgown clung to the sticky blood. The wind whipped at her face and hair, carrying away her streaming tears. The sharp rocks mercilessly cut her feet. Her one soft slipper was never meant to be worn in such a place. It did nothing to protect her.

Though the remaining distance to the troll’s cave was short, it seemed to stretch on forever. With each step, she could feel her resolve and anger growing. She would find a way out of this, and she would see to it that the sorcerer would not see the morning. She let such thoughts fuel her. Soon, she no longer cried. Soon, the whip and the shooting pain from her hip only served to make her stronger.

They entered the dark, damp confines of the cave. The sorcerer let a small flame dance on his finger. It shone just enough to make their way forward. The noise of the shore faded to almost nothing; it was replaced by the drip, drip, drip of water dropping into the troll’s small pool.

Before rounding the final outcropping of rock to see the crystal cave, they heard the troll’s deep, raspy voice. “I can smell you from here, magic maker. And you brought the same little mouse with you as last time.”

Aada swallowed. Mouse? Did he mean her? The troll had known she was there last time! Galdramaꝺur grew wide-eyed, staring at her as he caught the meaning. “So that was how…” he trailed off. “No matter.” He pushed her forward. She fell into the cavern in a lump.

“And something else in the air,” said the troll, eyes gleaming in the dark, “fresh blood.” He smiled hideously and let the words sit in the dankness. Aada shivered.

As the wretched man came forward, the troll saw his face. “You return a failure,” he said. An impatient animal growl came from deep within him. “Why return at all? You know the consequence.”

“To make a deal,” said Galdramaꝺur. The troll coughed his disbelief. “Birgir could still be yours, but in a way that is sweeter still than what we planned. You could be the one to kill him. You could taste his flesh yourself.”

“Hhmph,” said the troll, staring into his pool as if he was already bored.

“Birgir loves this girl,” Galdramaꝺur spat out, like she was a pariah. “She is his child. He will come for her.”

“And you are leading him here?” said the troll, alarmed, “He will come with an army at his back, fool. You invited my death, not my victory.”

“I will meet them on the road and make sure he enters alone,” he said reassuringly, “with no weapons. I’ll let him know his daughter is safe, but if he enters armed or with others, I cannot promise her safety.”

“And then?”

“When he arrives, simply propose a trade. The girl goes free if he stays.”

“What do you gain by doing me this favor?” he growled.

“You said I would be your dinner. If I do this favor, you cannot pursue me. You must swear it on this,” he threw a palm-sized stone, which landed with a thud in the sand at the troll’s feet.

The troll turned it over with one claw. “A bloodstone,” the troll replied. “You’d have me spellbound.”

“Only so that you cannot harm me,” he claimed. Aada sensed deceit in it, but the beast did not seem to notice. The troll pondered, turning the stone again and again.

“Whoever marries the girl is the Jarl,” he explained. “I will return with another face,” and as he said it, his face changed. His black hair grew blonde, his shoulders grew broad, his stature was taller. “I will assure she loves only me. She will choose me over the others.” He glanced towards her with a sudden smirk. She felt gross.

“So she too will be spellbound,” said the troll, who grinned knowingly, showing sharp teeth. “All this work so you can be Jarl of these small islands, the king of these puny people? Why?”

“Revenge,” he admitted. As he spoke, his false façade faded, and his grotesqueness returned. “With the loyalty of the warriors here, all of them bold and battle-hardened, I can return to the land of my birth and take back what is mine.”

“Ah,” said the troll. “Revenge I understand. So be it.”

The sorcerer began a low chant under his breath. The bloodstone began to glow a deep red. Suddenly he stopped. “Hold the stone and swear it.”

The troll grasped the stone in one giant hand, picking up a fistfull of sand with it. “I will never harm the magic maker, so long as he does as he has said he would, and brings me the Jarl,” he swore, and then yelled and dropped the stone. “It burns,” he hissed angrily.

“It was necessary to mark you,” said the sorcerer, “or the spell is not complete.” Galdramaꝺur walked confidently over to the troll, stooped down, and retrieved the stone from where it had landed in the sand. The troll ignored him and instead thrust his burned palm into the pool of water.

Galdramaꝺur stalked out of the cave, taking with it the precious bit of light. Suddenly, Aada was enveloped in darkness, alone with the troll. The only sounds were the drip, drip, drip, of the water and the heavy breathing of the great monster. She jumped at the sound of water stirring as he removed his burnt hand from the pool.

Aada sat huddled in a ball, terrified, trying not even to breathe. Minutes dragged on. She felt as though the darkness would consume her. She was completely focused on the sounds of the troll breathing. Every time he adjusted his position, terror ran through her. But he made no move towards her.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to realize the cave was glowing. As her eyes adjusted, she became aware of some kind of lichen all over the walls, clinging to the black rocks from which the crystals jutted outward. The crystals themselves reflected the light, shining beautifully. Awe grew within her. Everything was lit with a gentle green glow. It was breathtaking.

A low chuckle from the troll riveted her eyes back to him. “I see you have adjusted to the dark.” In two great strides, the troll was inches from her, filling her vision with his monstrous face. His breath was hot and putrid. She felt like she might gag.

“You don’t need this anymore,” he said, and hooked her gag with one claw. It sliced the cloth easily. “Or these,” he said, slicing away the ropes on her hands. She massaged her wrists, holding them close, not knowing what to think.

“If you decide to escape, just know I am an expert at the hunt. I will find you. For every escape attempt, you will lose a body part. You do not need to be whole to be good for the trade. The smell of your blood makes me crazed,” he said with sudden desperation. “I will go hunting to satiate my belly, so I can stand to be near you. The only fresh water is through there,” he pointed to a corridor running off deeper into the earth. From it, she could hear the sounds of the sea. “A spring flows from the far wall of the cavern. But the cave fills with sea water at high tide. You can only drink when the tide is low.” And with that, he loped away into the dark and was gone.

It took quite a long time before her heart settled to a normal beat and her breathing slowed. Suddenly, and quite uncontrollably, a sob rose from deep within her. Then she was crying profusely, unable to stop. Finally, after some time, it died down. She sat feeling relieved from the release, like she had been cleansed. A spark of something, anger perhaps, started to grow. And she sang:

Trøllabundin

Eivør Pálsdóttir

Trøllabundin eri eg eri eg

Trollbound am I am I

Galdramaður festi meg festi meg

Wizard stuck me stuck me

Trøllabundin djúpt í míni sál í míni sál

Trollbound deep in my soul in my soul

Í hjartanum logar brennandi bál brennandi bál

In the heart burns a burning bonfire a burning bonfire

Trøllabundin eri eg eri eg

Trollbound am I am I

Galdramaður festi meg festi meg

Wizard stuck me stuck me

Trøllabundin inn í hjartarót í hjartarót

Troll-bound into the root of the heart into the root of the heart

Eyga mítt festist har ið galdramaður stóð

My eye was fixed on where the wizard was standing

Aada knew it had been three days since the sorcerer had left her in the cave. The tide came and went twice a day, so she could keep count by watching the water levels in the cavern. She spent most of her time there. The troll ignored her. He came in the mornings and left at twilight, to hunt she presumed. Her fear of the creature was such that she did not dare attempt to leave.

The cavern at low tide was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. Small bioluminescent creatures lit up the tidepools which trapped them, capturing her imagination. The spring gurgled and glowed as it streamed from a fissure in the far wall, trickling the freshest water she had ever tasted down onto an outcropping below. From there, it cascaded down, mixing with tidepools as it went down deep, deep, deep, to where the ocean water lapped against the jagged rocks below.

At high tide, the entire thing filled slowly, over several hours. Then the water was aglow, all greens and blues, as it rose higher and higher. When completely full, she could see fish swimming about. Some of the fish were quite large. It made her wonder if the hole where the water entered the cave might be large enough for her to fit through. Could he hunt her if she left by water? Surely he could not follow her scent.

The morning of the fourth day, the troll returned, and approached where she normally sat, throwing down a freshly caught herring. “Eat,” he said threateningly.

Her stomach felt sick at the thought of eating something raw, but there was no way to make a fire. She did not want to starve herself because, although she did not want to be bait for her father, she trusted Jarl Birgir more than any man alive. She believed he could best the troll. Aada bit into the fish and then ate heartily, surprised that she liked the taste. The troll watched for a bit, satisfied, then returned to his crystal cave.

At the second high tide on the fifth night, while the troll was out hunting, Aada was sitting and watching the movements of the fish in the soft glow of the water. Suddenly, she saw the tail fin of a great fish flash above the surface ten feet distant. Excited to see it, she plunged her face underneath the water up to her ears, laying on her belly. What she saw left her astonished. A siren stared back at her. She was surreal and strange, with blue-green skin and seaweed-like hair. The siren decided she was a threat and swam instantly away, down into the deep.

Aada lifted her face from the water, gasping for breath, with her heart racing. A siren! A siren was here, in the cave! She quickly reviewed everything she knew about them. They could be good to humans at times… at least, she had heard of the females saving drowning men. But she had also heard of them killing men, dragging them down to die in the depths of the sea. She knew the males were supposed to have faces more like fish, to be very strong, and generally dangerous. Would the siren help her? What if she was so frightened she never returned?

The sixth night, at the same hour, Aada decided to try her luck. She knew the merfolk sang to each other like whales or dolphins. They didn’t know how to speak. Aada had no idea how to call for help, but she had to try something. She sang.

The Frozen Call

Jonna Jinton

She let her song carry her longing, her sorrow, her fears, and her plea. It echoed throughout the cavern. Her only hope was that the siren was there, and able to hear it. Taking a deep breath, she plunged her face into the water up to past her ears, letting her golden hair fan out over the surface around her. She listened for some reply. Nothing.

She tried again, this time with a bit of her hopelessness slipping into the tune. She took a breath, immersed herself, and listened. Some clicking came from the distance, like dolphins, and then suddenly the clicking seemed very close. She sang one last time. The third time was successful. A haunting, high-pitched reply came back. It was definitely not a whale or dolphin. And it echoed a bit of her sadness.

Excited, she sang again, a wordless song that told her whole tale. She sang of the sorcerer, and of the troll, of missing her home, her people, and the wide blue sky. When she lowered her face to listen, there was the siren, staring back with large, deep eyes, only a few feet away. The siren softly replied, a high keening sound that somehow said she understood.

Astonished, Aada stared. The siren’s face was long, covered in luminescent miniature scales, with lips too small and gills undulating along her neck. She had no ears, only dark membranes, and her hair was like thick seaweed crowning her in golds and greens. Her limbs were long and elegant, her hands overly large and her fingers webbed. Her scales gradually changed from a blue green to an emerald green over the length of her body. Aada had never seen anything so strangely beautiful.

Just as her lungs began to burn again, the siren swam close and reached out her long hands to cup Aada’s face. She hooked her middle fingers into Aada’s ears, and suddenly she felt she could breathe the water. Like she was breathing through the siren’s gills.

The siren’s face remained expressionless. She tilted her forehead and placed it directly on Aada’s. Memories came rushing forward, as if dragged out of the depths of her mind. The siren was reviewing all that had taken place. Starting from the events of that day, the siren traced the memories backward, moving faster and faster as she read the past. She stopped only after seeing the first day the sorcerer had been brought to her people.

Suddenly, the siren began pushing images and feelings into her mind. Aada felt how the merfolk detested the troll. He had killed and eaten them as well. Aada quickly caught on that she was forming a plan to orchestrate Aada’s escape and the troll’s death. Like it had already happened, she saw it all done perfectly according to the siren’s plan. The last thing Aada felt from the siren was hopeful reassurance. It hit Aada’s heart like a wave of love. Aada sent back her thanks.

The siren pulled away and released her ears, still expressionless. She swam quickly out of sight. Aada pulled out of the water, gasping the air. Hope sprang anew in her heart. She smiled.

Three days later, on the morning of the ninth day, about halfway to high tide, the time came for the siren’s plan to be enacted. Aada climbed the rocks about the cavern as the water slowly filled, making her way to the opposite edge where the spring created a pool. She stood on the edge of the pool. The sea water was only a few feet below her. She knew that if she were to jump in this place, she would not hit the rocks. The next outcropping was too far below, and already well beneath the surface.

She waited patiently for her friend to arrive. By the time she saw the siren’s face above the water, it had risen a good six feet more. Aada gave a sigh of relief. She stood and shouted, “Troll!” At this time of day, the creature was usually asleep. She got no response. “Troll, come witness my death!” She screamed.

That got his attention. Soon, his huge shadowed bulk was silhouetted in the entrance to the cavern.

“I have been a coward,” she called to him. “Not worthy of my father’s blood. How can I sit here and wait for my father to come for me, when I know that would mean his death? I will jump into the sea and drown! I will rob you of your revenge!” With that, she let herself free-fall into the sea.

She hit the water with a great splash. Underneath, the siren met her, holding her ears so she could breathe. They both looked up to see at least fifteen of the great male sirens swimming up to the surface.

Above the water, the troll bellowed, “No!” as Aada fell. But he knew to jump after her from where he stood would be too risky with the rocky sharp bottom below. The troll scrambled to reach the ledge she had just leapt from. As he reached the freshwater pool, he suddenly noticed many heads rising from the surface of the sea water. Mermen, with heads like great fish, quietly watched him. He looked wildly about, not knowing what it could mean.

The mermen raised their heads high and began to screech out their song. The pitch was so painful and deafening that the troll grabbed his ears, roaring in agony. His acid blood leaked from his ears through his fingers. He threw his body about, trying to escape, and then fell headlong into the depths.

From under the surface, Aada saw the male sirens pursue the sinking troll, ganging up on him and dragging him down to drown. Eventually, they were too far away to see. The siren held her ears from behind as they both waited.

Clicking came from the depths. That was the signal that all had gone well. The siren came around in front of her, placing her forehead on Aada’s again. Pride and joy came from her newfound friend and savior. Aada sent back love and thanksgiving. She then thought to her, You are a sister to me. I will forever be thankful. On the solstice each year, I will return, until the day I die. Meet me here, let us be sisters and friends forever. The siren seemed to understand, for a thrill was sent through Aada.

When the siren pulled away, a dolphin was waiting below. The siren filled Aada’s lungs one more time with air. Aada held tight to the dolphin’s dorsal fin, and it swam quickly down. It was fast and strong! She felt warm tears stream from her eyes and wished she had one last look at her friend.

Aada saw daylight at the end of the cave. Soon, the dolphin was in the open sea and swimming straight up, up, up. Her lungs burned so painfully, she was sure they would burst. Before she knew it, they broke through the surface. Aada gasped, clinging shakily to her animal friend. After she had recovered, it seemed to sense it, and started gently forward, towards the shore. Other dolphins came alongside, squeaking and clicking, excited to meet her.

The sand rose up to meet her and she found she was standing, waist deep in the surf. The dolphins backed away, back to the depths. She waved and smiled, her heart full. She was free!

Looking towards the beach, she saw men on horseback. She recognized the helm of the one in front. Her father! Waving and yelling, she sloshed her way clumsily onto the shore. They noticed her and sped to her at once.

“What’s this,” said her father, beaming with joy, “My daughter has come home from the sea!” His men cheered as he dismounted, rushing to her and scooping her up in his great arms.

“Father! I thought I would never see you again,” she laughed and cried, so relieved.

“I am sorry for taking so very long,” he said. “We came upon the sorcerer days ago, and I knew the bastard had something to do with your disappearance. But Elof here,” he motioned to a man who was hanging his head in shame, “shot him through the throat before I could even ask him a question!”

“Elof is your savior, then, father! For the sorcerer would have led you to a trap laid by him and the troll. They used me as bait to bring you to your death!” Elof lifted his head in surprise, and then grinned.

“You don’t say?” said her father.

“And I killed the troll!” she proclaimed. The men looked stunned. “Well, not really, the sirens did. But I helped.”

“Tell me all about it child,” said Jarl Birgir, placing her gently on his horse, and then mounting behind her. “Let us hear the whole tale all the way home.” His men gave an approving shout.

Aada, daughter of Birgir, son of Eiser, had the attention of everyone there the whole way to the longhouse.

For the remainder of her life, she returned to the cave on the morning of the summer solstice. And every year the siren met her. Their friendship grew, a friendship the world had heretofore never seen.

The end.