To Slay the Beast, Ymir

Darkness. The smell of hot soup from down the hall. The door to my room cracked open allowing only a slim crack of light in. The light from the open door divided me from my sleeping brothers but the angle crossed over to my right eye.

Just enough light. Enough to read by if I had had a book. We were all still so young, but we would grow up fast. Our parents were in the other room. Eating soup. The old wooden door to the front of the house creaked slowly. More people. I thought I could hear my father dap a spot of grease on the hinges. Not the act itself, but as he fanned the door open and shut and open again it made a soft wind that made the door to our bedroom wave. The crack of light grew and shrank. Eventually the front door made no more noise and the air settled. But I could still hear the sound of people entering, usually in pairs every few minutes. Many of the visitors ate the soup and it made me hungry. The smell and the thought of eating kept me awake. The light from the door across my face and curiosity egged me even further.

What time was it? Summer had faded into autumn months ago. Longer nights and clouds deceived my senses. The new moon and and starless sky could have been early morning. It was cold enough and I felt awake and rested. Many mornings would I wake to see my father down the hall making a hot breakfast. But tonight's company I have never seen. Nor heard before.

Then after they were finished eating in silence, I heard the whispers of my parents. Footsteps came down the hall and shadows blocked the light over my eye. I held perfectly still and then the door opened. Two people walked in and the dusty light came from behind them. I could feel my brothers move, reacting to the sudden light on their faces, but I was still in the shadow of the figures. They took two steps closer into the room and then I could tell who was paying me the visit.

"This could be the last time," my grandmother lightly whispered. She smelled of sweet honey and berries like she always did. I remember thinking it, but now, I can only remember the memory. With all I have uncovered about the world, none of it can bring back the actual memory of her smell. But if I would recognize it in an instant if smelled it again.

"Let them sleep," my grandfather replied in his low voice. He smelled like grandmother also, but his hair was also a bit smokey and he always seemed to bring the cold air with him. I squinted open my eyes to watch them watching my brothers sleep.

"I have something here," Grandfather motioned to his large bag. He never parted with it. He quietly dug inside and handed to Grandmother three small boxes that she placed accordingly next to our shoes. Then he stood there motionless as Grandmother finished arranging things. I knew she was trying to make things nice. My grandfather's shadow still blocked me from the light and so he was still just an outline. We started at each other, unaware. Did he know I was awake? And why were out grandparents here? Grandmother returned to his side, doubling the shadow all over the room.

"Shall we then?" my grandfather asked.

"Yes, everyone's waiting for us now," she returned in her small whisper. She left down the hall, but Grandfather stayed a moment longer.

Finally he turned towards the growing company in the other room. But as he was shutting the door he paused.

"Take care, grandson. And get some sleep." And then he shut the door and I blanked out.

***

My grandfather always spoke of how he had been released from the prison of the ice. Audhumla, the goddess of aurochs, licked the ice until all that remained looked like a man. Grandfather sat down with me when I was young to tell me all about it. The trouble was that even though he was there for the deicing, he could remember almost as much about it as I could my own birth.

"She told me very little. That some day I, or one of my line, would be responsible for repairing the damage that was Ymir. To this day we still endure the pain of Ymir and the strife of his children." He would go on like that until the subject changed.

The subject never changed, not until I was older. For the first few years of my life, when Vili and Ve were too young to remember, this was all he spoke of. Grandfather spent his life fighting Ymir. "Our family, he would say, "has spent a lifetime in a small area of the world on the edge of the nonthingness of the Ginningugap, the ices of the north, the fiery sands of the south, the mountains of the east, and the wide ocean of the west." I had known very little in my years at the time.

There is much that I cannot remember anymore, and much more than I never knew. My mother and father were Bestla, daughter of Bolthorn, and Bur, son of Buri–Grandfather Buri. My brothers were Vili and Ve. I never knew my grandmothers' names. Our home was the edge of the sky before it touched the ground near the shores of the ocean. But Ymir was ever-present, and even though our grandfather Buri might have known of the world beyond, before he was encased in the ice, all that I knew was simple and terrible. Grandfather's tales of the world beyond did little to soften life.

I am Vodin, and that was the most I knew for a very long time. My brothers and I, we knew nothing but the creek, the beach it lead to, and the forest around it. Grandfather Buri told us of land, mud, and clay, but there was the nothingness of the gap. All around us, but only the sliver of existence. "Everything is consumed or shall be consumed by Ymir, my child," he would say, not to scare us, but to remind us. "I am nothing more, now, than the servant of Audhumla. Never forget this, her, or me, else you all be lost."

Ymir was the giant of giants, the father of the frost giants, the chief Jotunn. "He is not a god! We will never allow him that!" Grandfather knew that if Ymir found a way out of the edge of the gap into the world he would rise to power. He would destroy everything, not that I knew what everything was yet. Grandfather told me stories to help fill in the blanks, but things usually defaulted to Ymir. "When he sleeps he breaks out into sweat. It beads up between his legs and there the frost giants are born."

The repeating theme of an old warrior gone mad, all too common is every history of Earth. Buri had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike Ymir. But over the years he spoke of it less and less. I think my father was tired of hearing about it. But then he took on the torch of telling my brothers.

***

The next morning was very strange. I can only tell you what I know, but some of that comes from what I remember and the rest from evidence left behind.

My brothers were awake first as if they could sense the gifts that our grandparents had placed neatly by our shoes. My brothers, like the twins they were, both received toy longships. The design was so accurate that had we shrank ourselves down by some magic, we could have set sail for the other side of the world.

My gift seemed less impressive at the time. It was a necklace of wooden beads. At the end, hanging out of place was a key. I picked it up and the beads rattled faintly. The key felt colder than ice. It was old and made of blue metal.

"Let's go try out our new ships."

"We can race them down the creek to the waves!"

Together my brothers would ally with themselves and sometimes that meant without me. They stomped outside before I even put on the necklace.

I walked around the house looking for clues as to why there had been a large gathering. But there was nothing except the lack of anything. The dishes were clean and on the table was the usual setting of breakfast that happened once every two weeks when Mother and Father both had business.

My brothers and I took these days off to play. Vili and Ve had grabbed and gobbled some of the portion of the food as they had run off. I sat down at the table and took a bite of the cold jam on thin rye bread. It felt stale, like maybe our parents left earlier than usual. No butter.

Our house had one glass window in the kitchen which was rare at the time. The sun was peeking through the clouds. It was cold enough that a sprinkle of snow from a week ago still lightly covered the ground. The air was dry and wind blew just fast enough to give notice.

But after a few minutes I saw something outside that started to answer my questions.

***

Outside I found my father's walking stick. It wasn't right that he would have left it; it was outside on the ground. I picked it up. My father who was still taller than me was at least two heads shorter than the stick. I looked straight up at the head of the walking stick. But above that was one of the branches of the ash tree. On it was my father.

Panic. Where are my brothers? I thought. The creek. I dropped the walking stick and sprinted down the path to the creek. I thought he was dead. I ran as quickly as I could until my breakfast caught up to me. I started to feel like I was about to vomit in mid-gallop down a small hill. I lost my balance and fell to the ground, scraping my hands. I swallowed hard, but the reflex was too much and I lost to my stomach, quivering and drooling out the last of it. My hands would be okay but I had to wait until the heaves subsided before I could wipe the dirt away and pull out the slivers in my palms.

I was glad I threw up because it took my mind away from what I saw in the tree. I was out of breath from running, but I was calming down. Drool pooled up on the dirt path and I stared at a leaf in front of me. It was brown and dried out with veins scattered around like lightning in slow motion. Endless salivation. My eyelids sagged, I felt removed, but I focused on the leaf. I closed my eyes but I could still see it from memory. Father in the tree. The veins of the leaf. My breathing was out of control and my head felt light. I gulped a rock of nausea down to my gut. The pain was going and I took a deep breath. I stood up and rubbed my stomach hoping the warmth might take away what I had seen.

Father was missing his legs. What did that? I wanted to turn around in circles to see if something was following me, but I stood petrified in fear and illness. All I could see was the forest and the path that lead to the creek. No one, not my brothers, not a stranger, not even the rest of father. I took one last deep breath in and out and back in again and then continued to run down the trail.

***

It was a beautiful day out. The air was cold but not completely freezing. The sky was dark blue. I could see my breath but the frost on the ground was melting in places where the sunlight touched. I was the loudest noise in the forest. I wasn't paying enough attention.

When finally I rounded the last turn of the path to the creek, there were my brothers playing with their new toys and they were completely unaware of the body floating slowly behind them, downstream.

I held my breath, fighting my burning lungs and holding back tears. They were on the other side of the water facing boats with backs turned towards me and whoever was washing their way out to the sea. My brothers were four years younger, almost nine. They didn't care about getting wet or cold as long as they were together. I fought my breathing until I heard them laugh at Vili's boat beaching itself. I wasn't out in the open, but I was visible on the path. I needed to get them back to me but I wanted to keep it secret. There was no immediate danger, just the chance of two terrified kids. I didn't need the attention of our father's killer because my brothers lost their nerve.

***

We were not allowed to go north or south except to go to and from the house and the creek. My brothers and I were supposed to always be careful of strangers, especially if our parents were not with us. It had only happened once. I was alone in the house resting in bed, sitting up. I had cut my foot on a rock in the creek. My brothers were at the creek with Father and Grandfather and Grandmother. Mother was outside in the field. I could see out the window to where she should have been, but all I could see was vegetation, the crops, tall grass, and the trees. It was a warm summer day and the wind blew the tops of the trees gently back and forth.

Then pounding came from the door. It kept on getting louder and angrier. I wanted to hide but the noise froze me in place. I had trouble breathing; I had never been so scared.

"Bestla, come out!" he shouted. Usually when I heard people say my mother's name I phased it out and replace the name with "mom" in my conscious thoughts. I could not do that right now.

I turned my head back to the window, but Mother was gone. The wind blew a gust. I focused on the sound of the air, but it paled in comparison to the front door, now apparently the drum of a mad man.

The door had a special lock but the intruder broke through. He splintered the door, crying out my mother's name. He stomped from room to room, crashing over chairs and shouldering into door frames. I still sat in my bed. Then he found me. I was confused and terrified. He was dressed better than anyone I had ever known and he was strong and handsome for someone so enraged. But his huge blue eyes told the story of a murderer and his grin, when he saw me, showed that he liked this; he enjoyed frightening people.

***

Grandmother was a collector and to a smaller extent so was my father. Something of the mother rubbed off on to the son. When I was young it was harder to see. I could understand other things better. I used to watch ants in long trails marching from the garbage heap back into the woods. To me it made sense.

But I could not eat garbage. For me, gathering berries was more intuitive. My brothers and I would collect a bucketful of them and bring back what we spared from snacking to Grandmother. She made jam, along with other jarred and bottled foods that would last for years. To me, back then, I thought it would last forever.

***

"The Ginningugap was the nothingness and in it was Ymir." Our parents made us say these words often so we would not forget them. But we never were told exactly what it meant. I blame this on old memory. Either we were too young to understand or our parents were keeping something from us. Or something more?

"What is the Ginningugap?" Vili asked father one night. The sky was clear and cold. Spring had melted some of the snow and we could hear the usual sound of the overflowing creek.

We sat inside on the wooden floor. A warm fire lit the dusty room. Father smiled and walked to the window. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned to Vili. "Do you see the stars?"

My brother nodded.

"The Ginningugap, The Gap, is everywhere where the stars are."

"You call Mommy a star. Does that mean she is in the Gap?"

With Ymir? I remember thinking, but I kept quiet. But the idea was correct. Ymir was here with us, somewhere.

***

The body felt like it took an hour to float down the river past my brothers. It was an older man, possibly a friend of my father's. He was intact but he was face down. I tried to breathe slower and finally I held my breath, but my beating heart pounded in my ears. I was sure my brothers would be able to hear it.

***

How could I keep it secret? I gathered my brothers with their ships. We headed back to the house. My brothers were starting to chill, their legs were turning pale blue from the cold creek water. I kept them moving to get them home. Inside it would be safer. The fast walk make their hearts warm them up. Vili complained and I told him to hush. Ve gloated with a smirk that he remained unscolded. I grabbed both of their hands and tugged them behind me. I wanted to go back to the long way to the backdoor so we could avoid seeing the remains of Father.

Then the ground shook. Loud noises, stomping and the cracking of wood. The three of us froze in place. Vili squeezed my hand tighter and tighter. I started to smell smoke. Then the ground shook again and again. Each quake happened sooner and felt stronger than the one before. We could see trees ahead of us rocking back and forth. One of them fell over and then we heard a scream. I thought it was Mother, but I never found out for sure. I heard men yelling out and what sounded like a dozen whips repeatedly cracking on rocks. More trees fell over. The louder quaking stopped and I heard a deep roar that echoed and caused wind.

I yanked around my brothers to run back down to the creek and hide in one of our play forts. Vili and Ve knew something bad was happening now, but they were very quiet about their fear. We had only run around a small bend in the path when we ran into Grandfather.

He looked rugged and hurt. Over his head he wore a white bearskin with the upper-jaw and face above his eyebrows. The skin, which was new and terribly fearsome to me, flowed down his back as a cloak. I could see his regular carrying sack slung underneath. In his hands he held a large walking stick that was smoking at the top, near his shoulder. The disturbances continued behind my brothers and me, but we were so glad to see Grandfather. Vili and Ve pulled themselves out of my graphs and hugged him. Grandfather stared at me with pain and anger in his face, but I knew he was relieved.

"I was looking for you," he said.

I was out of breath again and the sounds of whipping and breaking stone made me startle. I started to cry silently as I thought about Father. Grandfather already guessed it.

"I know. But we need to leave. Be strong for me. I need you." He was exhausted too. Finally he took his eyes off me and looked from side to side at my brothers. "They need you, too."

We traveled east, walking up the creek. The trail was less traveled but the sounds of battle in the distance drove us. This was a horrible dream come to life. My brothers and I knew just enough about the events to cloud our minds with terror and imagination. The feelings were so strong that our cold bodies ignored the winter. We walked farther up the creek than we were usually aloud to, to the point where the water came from the south off the side of the mountain as a waterfall as tall as a house. There was an old bridge just before the waterfall that lead to the mountain pass.

The climb was a winding and steep ordeal through thick forest. The path looked well traveled enough. I saw deer droppings and frosted-over berry bushes, fruitless, waiting for a new season to come and take the frost away. Everything felt cold, and the higher we rose, the worse we felt. Grandfather trudged ahead, followed by Vili holding my hand, me holding Ve's hand, and Ve dragging behind. My brothers still had their boats in their free hands.

"When we get to the top, just on the other side is a safe place," Grandfather assured us. It was the first thing anyone had said for what felt like a long time. The Vili and Ve started to whine, but I hushed them. Grandfather was staring to stumble and I cried hot tears on my frozen face. I stayed quiet.

At the summit of the pass I had enough time to look back down while I urged Ve to keep walking. The sounds of the battle had faded across the distance. We could still hear very faint sounds of rocks. But looking west I saw that it was not over yet. In the endlessness of the sea ran the creek. North of it were lands I had never seen before. But I was not interested in that or anything beyond what had been our small strip of land. the high angle from the mountain altered how things looked. But not enough to keep the truth from me. Again I stayed quiet.

Moments later we arrived at the safe place our grandfather told us about. From the outside it looked like a large knoll on the mountain ridge. The door was an illusion that looked like a solid face of rock, but it was actually a trick with unfrozen water, glimmering light, ice, and the surrounding vegetation. Inside we followed a short curved hallway before we came to a wooden door that opened up to a large room. The size of it was so vast and open that it could have held two life-sized versions of my brothers' toy boats.

Grandfather brought us over to a large bed and even though it was only just midday, my brothers and I crawled up and fell asleep. That afternoon I had a dream about my parents and grandparents. It was unpleasant and I would not have wished it upon anyone, let alone my brothers. But they soon would grow up with it, or the reality that fed my nightmare. These events stole more of their childhood than mine, and years later they would affect us all in unique ways, some of them poor.

I lived the imagined suffering of my family in that dream, if not some sort of ghostly vision of what happened. It still haunts me.

***

For the first two days, Grandfather made us stay put. My brothers missed Mom and Dad and the house, but they were easily distracted. The main floor had several bedrooms, a large parlor, kitchen, dining room, privy, and a workspace. The workspace was full of tools and weapons.

"Leave the tools and weapons alone!" Grandfather was strict.

A canal that supplied the water illusion at the door flowed from room to room along the ceiling at the top of the walls. They were inlayed with silver and gems, and light came from the water so that even when no candle burned, every room still had enough light to manage.

Down the stairs into the basement below there were more tools, weapons, and piles of rubble. There was also a passage to tunnels that went down and down into the heart of the mountain.

"In these tunnels there is something we need, and then I will tell you everything." This news made my brothers very excited, and luckily it was enough to keep them distracted. And so Grandfather traveled down there alone. The disguised hatch led to another stairway and continued into the darkness. I peaked my head in, but Grandfather scolded me. "But you must not follow me down, unless I give you permission."

I alternated guarding the two doors, one to the world outside, and the other into the deep of the mountain. My key on the necklace of beads was nice and felt important, but I could not entertain myself with it. Occasionally, Grandfather opened the hatch to pop out with a bucket of rubble.

"This is the one," he said. "Look through it, pick out the larger rocks and pile them up in the corner. Look through the rest. You'll know you have found something worth while."

So I spent my time searching.

Meanwhile, when my brothers thought they were by alone, they speculated about what had happened and where our parents were. They had the only two toys, the boats.

"They sailed away and left us the ships as a clue," Vili whispered, convinced he knew more than anyone.

"No, not out to sea! Mom went to the stars and Dad is close behind in the other ship." Ve did not know how right he was. "The gap is the nothingness, and it is was Ymir.' Mom says Grandfather used to talk about it all the time, but then Dad got upset and he started telling it instead."

"Maybe he wanted to be the storyteller. I want to tell the stories now!" Vili was getting excited, but I could still hear them getting louder. Soon they both realized this and returned to whispering.

This continued for hours. I was getting anxious of moving stones and rubble when Grandfather popped up from the hatch again. "I found it. Let's get washed up for a meal, and I will tell you all a story before bed."

Grandfather fed us aebleskivers and meatballs with a side of jam that came endlessly from a jar larger than his head. Also, just as huge were the plates and the mugs–these held frothy milk, the best I ever had. He was very proud of the feast and encouraged us to eat more even when we should have had our fill. The food warmed our bellies and made us sleepy. The three of us drowsily made our way to the beds from the dining table. I was still clutching my mug.

"Where did the milk come from?" I asked while kicking my shoes off.

"Good, very observant even after such a meal! True, we lack the animals for milk at the top of this mountain. But what you drank," he poased when he saw the mug in my hand, "or what you are drinking will never go sour."

I yawned and then finished the mug. "Then it must be difficult to turn into cheese."

He laughed at this and it made me feel very clever. He waited for the three of us to get settled and then told us to quiet down for his story. "I heard you Ve, and Vili, talking about the stars in the Gap. Tonight I will tell you about Night, the wise woman named Nott."

***

Nott was the daughter of a giant named Nšrfi. They are not of the frost giants, nor the ice where I came from, nor are they of the fiery giants of Muspell. She came from the Gap. Her skin and hair were beautiful and dark like the night and her eyes and teeth gleamed and shimmered even in the dark. Wherever she was the sky would darken and her eyes cast a motherly spell on whoever saw them.

"She was never content," Grandfather told us. Nott married Naglfari when they were both very young, at the beginning of the Gap, or the way things are now. Naglfari was a simple giant. He did not create life or cause death, but it was his job to move and regulate the draugr, spirits, and other dead souls. "What you might call ghosts," Grandfather noted; he always had more than enough to say when describing things while storytelling. He continued, "They had a son together, named Authr or Aud, depending on who you asked."

It was not to say that Naglfari did his job poorly, but like many things in life, this cosmic match between Nott and he was not eternal. Nott left him and traveled the Gap for a new love. Eventually, she found another husband named Annar and they had a daughter who is now the keeper of this world. "We live on something called a planet."

"A plant?" Ve asked. Our parents had told us little about the world.

"Earth. That is her name," Grandfather continued speaking. One day she will leave Annar just as she did her first husband. She will find a new husband named Delling. He is one of the Aesir. With him, she will have another son, named Dag.

"From Night will come Day. They are the family that came from the Gap. Dag is a marker. A landmark. A good sign that things will be better, at least for a while."

"What are the Aesir?" I asked. "I have heard it before, from Mom and Dad."

"There is more to tell, yes. But I am tired. And you will find out the answer on your own. Soon. Goodnight!" Grandfather left the room and dimmed the light in the water. It was the last time he told us a story, and one of the last times we saw him. I miss Grandfather Buri. I only knew him for a short few of the years I was alive, but he remained frozen into my memory, greater than most. He had a hand in shaping what I became as an adult. Years later when I dreamt, I would still see him, and if I was lucky, we would talk to each other just like when I was young during that last night when he told my brothers and me stories.

***

I woke up in the middle of the night. Time was difficult to tell inside our hidden mountain home. The air was not so cold, but I felt chilled inside like the black of night was piercing my skin, causing goosebumps and making me shiver just enough to wake me up. I clung to the blankets to try to warm up. After a few minutes I gave up. I was impatient and I realized it was because I had drank too much water before bed. I swept away the covers and walked over to the pot.

The air felt too quiet. Something was missing. Our new home already lacked most of the things that had given our former house the comfortable feelings of security and warmth. Only the running water lights gave it a mysterious, and at this time of night a creepy sense of foreboding.

Grandfather? No snoring of an old man who had seen ages and lived longer that he remembered. I checked to see if he was in bed, lying awake. But usually he would have spoken by now, urging me to get back to bed. He was not in bed so I checked, next, the basement. The hidden door into the mountain was shut and covered with a sack of rubble to keep the air from blowing the door against the latch. No where could I find him. He must have left through the front door.

This reasoning is important when telling an old story. One never knows exactly what is going on in the head of a young boy. Especially when it is my own, separated by more years than you know yourself. I could have been scared to find my brothers and myself abandoned. I could have found Grandfather dead of natural causes. Or I could have found not found him at all because he was intentionally hiding. These thoughts all briefly had crossed my mind at the time, but the emotion I felt was a mixture of fear and curiosity.

The front door was a water illusion. This time I met something different. A large, thick, wooden ash door blocked the way. The hinges were dark grey and the size of my hands. There was no handle or knob, just a keyhole in the middle of a faceplate that matched the hinges. I ran back to the bed. My own present from my grandparents. I had been so unexcited about it, wanting a toy like my brothers. I put on all my clothes and while doing so I found it inside my hat. The key began to glow as I approached the door with it. It slid in perfectly and the door opened and disappeared and another small wooden bead lightly added itself to my necklace with the key. It was one of the most peculiar things I had or have ever seen to this day.

Indeed it was night. But it was not dark as I had expected. Not only were the stars and the full moon out, but fires all along the side of the mountain blazed with hate and vengeance. I could see my grandfather, pouring flame and shouting louder than I had ever heard anyone shout. Everything was new that night. I witnessed so many things that night that redefined my life.

The smoke was thick and the bright orange and red flames blocked my view of most of the landscape. I could see the ocean down below in the distance. The waves crashed against the beach and rocks, imitating the fires.

And then out of the darkness and the smoke, behind the fires, came Ymir. He frightened me as much as he was disgusted to look at. Out of his nose oozed snot that mixed with the drool from the corners of his mouth. When is slopped and dripped onto the ground it froze and put out the fires it touched with a loud hiss that added steam to the smokey night. I could not smell it, but I felt sick watching.

Grandfather saw Ymir approach and retreated down the slope. Every few steps he would turn to point the staff at the Master of the Frost Giants and it crackled and fire poured from the end. I ran down to follow to keep them both in view. I tripped over roots and skinned my hands. The dirt and blood mixed together on my palms and stung making me tear out of my left eye. I knew that I needed to keep Grandfather in plain view. As I got closer I noticed something more: At the base of the slope, standing in the frozen creek there were more giants.

***

The other giants at the base of the slope were not as terrible as Ymir, except for one. I recognized him, the face that cornered me back in our house over the summer. He was larger now. My father had tried to explain that the giants were capable of changing themselves. Some could grow larger, others shift into other forms of animals. The most horrible ones, like Ymir, were able to play with the reality of the world.

At this point it seemed like all of the attention was on Grandfather. No one noticed me, or if they did, I was not even grown up enough to matter to them. Even though he was serious threat to the giants, grandfather was clearly not enough to face them all alone. His fire burned many of the giants and they raced around and around him, falling farther down the slope of the mountainside, away from me.

I continued to chance after the fire and ice until I came to a dead giant who was sizzling in blood, ash, and charred vegetation. Under a branch I found a pole arm, nearly twice my height. The blade gleamed icy and everything around it was still cold and untouched by the roasted master. It must have been only a short sword to the giant. I struggled to free the blade, but was surprised to find that it was as light as air. I had to help my grandfather.

The landscape smoked with burning and vaporizing bodies and ice. Fear and anxiety bit at my stomach. I started to feel sick, but I continued toward grandfather. But hope was leaving me. He was no longer running from them. Many of the giants lay dying and shrieking in agony, but the rest surrounded him, keeping their distance only out of fear of the fire from the staff. Some of them might have even been afraid of Ymir's icy slobber.

I knew that it was suicide, but I decided to charge the group. But instead, I ran into Vili and Ve, who had somehow followed after me without my notice. "If you think it was easy for the giants to miss someone as small as you, it was even easier for us to avoid you, big brother."

"Don't leave us alone," whispered Ve into my sleeve.

"Grandfather is gone. Look at him. Throw the weapon at Ymir if you are going to help at all." Vili spoke louder, not afraid of being heard. "You need to take care of yourself and us first!"

I remember feeling a lack of confidence. The giant's weapon was light enough to throw, no heavier than a small stone. But I was unsure of my aim. My hands were covered in blood and ached from scratches and cold. Seeing my brothers here with me reminded me of the danger I should have felt for myself. They should have been in bed, safe in our hideout. I was supposed to be the one to follow grandfather! I looked over to him, toasting another giant. His face was bright from the fire. Fatigue and sweat marked his face. We made eye contact and I saw panic. He felt the same about me as I did for my brothers.

Vili gave me a face that pressed me, "Now, now, now!" I told them to stand back, took a deep breath, and threw the magic weapon as straight as I could at the chest of the beast. I must have had help from the weapon because it flew precisely where I had intended. Ymir gave one final roar before falling to his knees. Blood spurted out faster and faster until a river gushed. Nine of the giants closing in on grandfather met their cold fates in Ymir's bloodbath.

Two of the giants fled and one turned to face me. The giant closing in gnashed his teeth and stuck out his snake-like tongue that forked at the end. I turned to look for my brothers to get them to run away, but they were already moving to hide behind a boulder. But then the huge monolith came loose and tumbled down the mountainside. I dodged out of the way, hands in even worse pain as they softened my landing.

The avalanche grew. Grandfather yelled out and blazed one last burst at the giants. The giants never touched him, but Ymir's blood slashed over him and the remaining giants, making frozen statues. The landslide crashed down and covered everything down there. I never saw Grandfather again. His body had returned to the ice.

***