This is a modern-English version of The Valor of Cappen Varra, originally written by Anderson, Poul.
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We have said that there are many and strange shadows, memories surviving from dim pasts, in this FANTASTIC UNIVERSE of ours. Poul Anderson turns to a legend from the Northern countries, countries where even today the pagan past seems only like yesterday, and tells the story of Cappen Varra, who came to Norren a long, long time ago.
We've mentioned that there are many strange shadows, memories left over from distant pasts, in this AMAZING UNIVERSE of ours. Poul Anderson draws on a legend from the Northern lands, places where even now the pagan past feels like it was just yesterday, and shares the tale of Cappen Varra, who arrived in Norren a very long time ago.
the
valor
of
cappen
varra
by ... POUL ANDERSON
"Let little Cappen go," they shouted. "Maybe he can sing the trolls to sleep—"
"Let little Cappen go," they shouted. "Maybe he can sing the trolls to sleep—"
The wind came from the north with sleet on its back. Raw shuddering gusts whipped the sea till the ship lurched and men felt driven spindrift stinging their faces. Beyond the rail there was winter night, a moving blackness where the waves rushed and clamored; straining into the great dark, men sensed only the bitter salt of sea-scud, the nettle of sleet and the lash of wind.
The wind was coming from the north, bringing sleet along with it. Harsh, shuddering gusts whipped the sea, causing the ship to lurch as men felt the spindrift stinging their faces. Beyond the rail, there was a winter night, a moving darkness where the waves rushed and clamored; leaning into the vast dark, the men could only feel the bitter salt of the sea spray, the sting of sleet, and the whip of the wind.
Cappen lost his footing as the ship heaved beneath him, his hands were yanked from the icy rail and he went stumbling to the deck. The bilge water was new coldness on his drenched clothes. He struggled back to his feet, leaning on a rower's bench and wishing miserably that his quaking stomach had more to lose. But he had already chucked his share of stockfish and hardtack, to the laughter of Svearek's men, when the gale started.
Cappen lost his balance as the ship pitched below him, his hands were pulled from the icy rail, and he stumbled onto the deck. The bilge water felt like a fresh chill against his soaked clothes. He managed to get back on his feet, leaning against a rower's bench and wishing hopelessly that his churning stomach had more to give. But he had already thrown up his share of stockfish and hardtack, much to the amusement of Svearek's men, when the storm began.
Numb fingers groped anxiously for the harp on his back. It still seemed intact in its leather case. He didn't care about the sodden wadmal breeks and tunic that hung around his skin. The sooner they rotted off him, the better. The thought of the silks and linens of Croy was a sigh in him.
Numb fingers anxiously searched for the harp on his back. It still felt intact in its leather case. He didn’t care about the heavy woolen trousers and tunic clinging to his skin. The sooner they rotted off him, the better. The thought of the silks and linens from Croy made him sigh.
Why had he come to Norren?
Why did he come to Norren?
A gigantic form, vague in the whistling dark, loomed beside him and gave him a steadying hand. He could barely hear the blond giant's bull tones: "Ha, easy there, lad. Methinks the sea horse road is too rough for yer feet."
A huge figure, blurry in the whistling dark, appeared next to him and offered a steadying hand. He could barely make out the blond giant's deep voice: "Hey, take it easy there, kid. I think the sea horse road is too bumpy for your feet."
"Ulp," said Cappen. His slim body huddled on the bench, too miserable to care. The sleet pattered against his shoulders and the spray congealed in his red hair.
"Ulp," said Cappen. His slim body huddled on the bench, too miserable to care. The sleet pattered against his shoulders and the spray hardened in his red hair.
Torbek of Norren squinted into the night. It made his leathery face a mesh of wrinkles. "A bitter feast Yolner we hold," he said. "'Twas a madness of the king's, that he would guest with his brother across the water. Now the other ships are blown from us and the fire is drenched out and we lie alone in the Wolf's Throat."
Torbek of Norren squinted into the night, his weathered face lined with wrinkles. "It's a grim feast we're having," he said. "It was madness on the king's part to invite his brother over from across the water. Now the other ships have been blown away from us, the fire's gone out, and we're stranded alone in the Wolf's Throat."
Wind piped shrill in the rigging. Cappen could just see the longboat's single mast reeling against the sky. The ice on the shrouds made it a pale pyramid. Ice everywhere, thick on the rails and benches, sheathing the dragon head and the carved stern-post, the ship rolling and staggering under the great march of waves, men bailing and bailing in the half-frozen bilge to keep her afloat, and too much wind for sail or oars. Yes—a cold feast!
Wind howled sharply in the rigging. Cappen could barely see the longboat's single mast swaying against the sky. The ice on the ropes formed a pale pyramid. Ice was everywhere, thick on the rails and benches, covering the dragon head and the carved stern-post, the ship rolling and staggering under the powerful waves, men constantly bailing in the half-frozen bilge to keep it afloat, with too much wind for sails or oars. Yes—a cold feast!
"But then, Svearek has been strange since the troll took his daughter, three years ago," went on Torbek. He shivered in a way the winter had not caused. "Never does he smile, and his once open hand grasps tight about the silver and his men have poor reward and no thanks. Yes, strange—" His small frost-blue eyes shifted to Cappen Varra, and the unspoken thought ran on beneath them: Strange, even, that he likes you, the wandering bard from the south. Strange, that he will have you in his hall when you cannot sing as his men would like.
"But Svearek has been acting strangely ever since the troll took his daughter three years ago," Torbek continued. He shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the winter cold. "He never smiles, and his once generous hand now clutches tightly to the silver. His men get little reward and no thanks. Yes, strange—" His small frost-blue eyes shifted to Cappen Varra, and the unspoken thought lingered beneath them: Strange, even, that he likes you, the wandering bard from the south. Strange that he wants you in his hall when you can’t sing like his men would prefer.
Cappen did not care to defend himself. He had drifted up toward the northern barbarians with the idea that they would well reward a minstrel who could offer them something more than their own crude chants. It had been a mistake; they didn't care for roundels or sestinas, they yawned at the thought of roses white and red under the moon of Caronne, a moon less fair than my lady's eyes. Nor did a man of Croy have the size and strength to compel their respect; Cappen's light blade flickered swiftly enough so that no one cared to fight him, but he lacked the power of sheer bulk. Svearek alone had enjoyed hearing him sing, but he was niggardly and his brawling thorp was an endless boredom to a man used to the courts of southern princes.
Cappen didn’t bother to defend himself. He had wandered up to the northern barbarians thinking they would appreciate a minstrel who could offer them something more than their own rough chants. It had been a mistake; they had no interest in ballads or lyrical poems, and they yawned at the idea of white and red roses under the moon of Caronne, a moon less lovely than my lady's eyes. Nor did a man from Croy have the size and strength to earn their respect; Cappen's light sword moved quickly enough that no one wanted to fight him, but he lacked the power that comes with sheer bulk. Only Svearek enjoyed listening to him sing, but he was stingy, and his rough village was endlessly dull to a man used to the courts of southern princes.
If he had but had the manhood to leave— But he had delayed, because of a lusty peasant wench and a hope that Svearek's coffers would open wider; and now he was dragged along over the Wolf's Throat to a midwinter feast which would have to be celebrated on the sea.
If he had just had the courage to leave— But he had hesitated, because of a tempting peasant girl and a hope that Svearek's wealth would increase; and now he was being pulled over the Wolf's Throat to a midwinter feast that would have to be celebrated at sea.
"Had we but fire—" Torbek thrust his hands inside his cloak, trying to warm them a little. The ship rolled till she was almost on her beam ends; Torbek braced himself with practiced feet, but Cappen went into the bilge again.
"Had we just some fire—" Torbek thrust his hands inside his cloak, trying to warm them a bit. The ship rolled until she was almost on her side; Torbek steadied himself with practiced feet, but Cappen fell back into the bilge again.
He sprawled there for a while, his bruised body refusing movement. A weary sailor with a bucket glared at him through dripping hair. His shout was dim under the hoot and skirl of wind: "If ye like it so well down here, then help us bail!"
He lay there for a while, his battered body refusing to move. A tired sailor with a bucket glared at him through wet hair. His shout was faint under the howl and wail of the wind: "If you like it down here so much, then help us bail!"
"'Tis not yet my turn," groaned Cappen, and got slowly up.
"'It's not my turn yet," groaned Cappen, and got up slowly.
The wave which had nearly swamped them had put out the ship's fire and drenched the wood beyond hope of lighting a new one. It was cold fish and sea-sodden hardtack till they saw land again—if they ever did.
The wave that almost capsized them had extinguished the ship's fire and soaked the wood, making it impossible to light a new one. It was cold fish and soggy hardtack until they saw land again—if they ever did.
As Cappen raised himself on the leeward side, he thought he saw something gleam, far out across the wrathful night. A wavering red spark— He brushed a stiffened hand across his eyes, wondering if the madness of wind and water had struck through into his own skull. A gust of sleet hid it again. But—
As Cappen lifted himself up on the side shielded from the wind, he thought he saw something shining in the distance, out across the stormy night. A flickering red spark— He rubbed his cold hand across his eyes, questioning if the chaos of the wind and water had seeped into his mind. A blast of sleet obscured it once more. But—
He fumbled his way aft between the benches. Huddled figures cursed him wearily as he stepped on them. The ship shook herself, rolled along the edge of a boiling black trough, and slid down into it; for an instant, the white teeth of combers grinned above her rail, and Cappen waited for an end to all things. Then she mounted them again, somehow, and wallowed toward another valley.
He stumbled his way to the back between the benches. Huddled figures cursed him tiredly as he stepped on them. The ship shook itself, rolled along the edge of a boiling black trough, and slipped down into it; for a moment, the white teeth of waves grinned above her rail, and Cappen waited for everything to come to an end. Then she somehow lifted herself again and lurched toward another valley.
King Svearek had the steering oar and was trying to hold the longboat into the wind. He had stood there since sundown, huge and untiring, legs braced and the bucking wood cradled in his arms. More than human he seemed, there under the icicle loom of the stern-post, his gray hair and beard rigid with ice. Beneath the horned helmet, the strong moody face turned right and left, peering into the darkness. Cappen felt smaller than usual when he approached the steersman.
King Svearek held the steering oar, trying to keep the longboat facing into the wind. He had been standing there since sundown, massive and unwavering, legs braced with the swaying wood cradled in his arms. He looked almost superhuman beneath the sharp silhouette of the stern-post, his gray hair and beard stiff with ice. Under his horned helmet, his strong, brooding face turned right and left, scanning the darkness. Cappen felt smaller than usual as he approached the steersman.
He leaned close to the king, shouting against the blast of winter: "My lord, did I not see firelight?"
He leaned in close to the king, shouting over the howling winter wind: "My lord, didn't I see a fire?"
"Aye. I spied it an hour ago," grunted the king. "Been trying to steer us a little closer to it."
"Aye. I saw it an hour ago," the king grunted. "I've been trying to get us a bit closer to it."
Cappen nodded, too sick and weary to feel reproved. "What is it?"
Cappen nodded, too sick and tired to feel blamed. "What is it?"
"Some island—there are many in this stretch of water—now shut up!"
"Some island—there are a lot in this stretch of water—now be quiet!"
Cappen crouched down under the rail and waited.
Cappen squatted down under the rail and waited.
The lonely red gleam seemed nearer when he looked again. Svearek's tones were lifting in a roar that hammered through the gale from end to end of the ship: "Hither! Come hither to me, all men not working!"
The lonely red glow seemed closer when he looked again. Svearek's voice was rising in a roar that cut through the storm from one end of the ship to the other: "Hey! Come over here to me, all you guys who aren't busy!"
Slowly, they groped to him, great shadowy forms in wool and leather, bulking over Cappen like storm-gods. Svearek nodded toward the flickering glow. "One of the islands, somebody must be living there. I cannot bring the ship closer for fear of surf, but one of ye should be able to take the boat thither and fetch us fire and dry wood. Who will go?"
Slowly, they moved toward him, large shadowy figures in wool and leather, looming over Cappen like storm gods. Svearek pointed at the flickering glow. "One of the islands, someone must be living there. I can’t get the ship closer because of the waves, but one of you should be able to take the boat over there and bring us back some fire and dry wood. Who will go?"
They peered overside, and the uneasy movement that ran among them came from more than the roll and pitch of the deck underfoot.
They looked over the side, and the restless feeling that swept through them was due to more than just the sway and tilt of the deck beneath them.
Beorna the Bold spoke at last, it was hardly to be heard in the noisy dark: "I never knew of men living hereabouts. It must be a lair of trolls."
Beorna the Bold finally spoke, though his voice was barely audible in the noisy dark: "I had no idea there were people living around here. This must be a hideout for trolls."
"Aye, so ... aye, they'd but eat the man we sent ... out oars, let's away from here though it cost our lives ..." The frightened mumble was low under the jeering wind.
"Aye, so ... yeah, they'd just eat the guy we sent ... out oars, let’s get out of here even if it costs us our lives ..." The scared mutter was soft beneath the mocking wind.
Svearek's face drew into a snarl. "Are ye men or puling babes? Hack yer way through them, if they be trolls, but bring me fire!"
Svearek's face twisted into a snarl. "Are you men or whiny babies? Fight your way through them, if they’re trolls, but bring me fire!"
"Even a she-troll is stronger than fifty men, my king," cried Torbek. "Well ye know that, when the monster woman broke through our guards three years ago and bore off Hildigund."
"Even a female troll is stronger than fifty men, my king," shouted Torbek. "You know that well, considering how the monster woman broke through our guards three years ago and took Hildigund."
"Enough!" It was a scream in Svearek's throat. "I'll have yer craven heads for this, all of ye, if ye gang not to the isle!"
"That's enough!" It was a scream in Svearek's throat. "I'll have your cowardly heads for this, all of you, if you don't go to the island!"
They looked at each other, the big men of Norren, and their shoulders hunched bear-like. It was Beorna who spoke it for them: "No, that ye will not. We are free housecarls, who will fight for a leader—but not for a madman."
They looked at each other, the large men of Norren, and their shoulders hunched like bears. It was Beorna who spoke for them: "No, we won't. We are free housecarls who will fight for a leader—but not for a madman."
Cappen drew back against the rail, trying to make himself small.
Cappen pressed back against the railing, attempting to make himself look smaller.
"All gods turn their faces from ye!" It was more than weariness and despair which glared in Svearek's eyes, there was something of death in them. "I'll go myself, then!"
"All the gods turn their faces away from you!" It was more than just exhaustion and despair that burned in Svearek's eyes; there was something of death in them. "I'll go myself, then!"
"No, my king. That we will not find ourselves in."
"No, my king. We won't end up in that situation."
"I am the king!"
"I'm the king!"
"And we are yer housecarls, sworn to defend ye—even from yerself. Ye shall not go."
"And we are your housecarls, sworn to defend you—even from yourself. You shall not go."
The ship rolled again, so violently that they were all thrown to starboard. Cappen landed on Torbek, who reached up to shove him aside and then closed one huge fist on his tunic.
The ship rolled again, so violently that they were all thrown to the right. Cappen landed on Torbek, who reached up to push him aside and then closed one massive fist around his tunic.
"Here's our man!"
"Here’s our guy!"
"Hi!" yelled Cappen.
"Hey!" yelled Cappen.
Torbek hauled him roughly back to his feet. "Ye cannot row or bail yer fair share," he growled, "nor do ye know the rigging or any skill of a sailor—'tis time ye made yerself useful!"
Torbek roughly pulled him back to his feet. "You can't row or bail your fair share," he growled, "nor do you know the rigging or any skills of a sailor—it's time you made yourself useful!"
"Aye, aye—let little Cappen go—mayhap he can sing the trolls to sleep—" The laughter was hard and barking, edged with fear, and they all hemmed him in.
"Aye, aye—let little Cappen go—maybe he can sing the trolls to sleep—" The laughter was harsh and barking, tinged with fear, and they all crowded around him.
"My lord!" bleated the minstrel. "I am your guest—"
"My lord!" the minstrel cried. "I am your guest—"
Svearek laughed unpleasantly, half crazily. "Sing them a song," he howled. "Make a fine roun—whatever ye call it—to the troll-wife's beauty. And bring us some fire, little man, bring us a flame less hot than the love in yer breast for yer lady!"
Svearek laughed in a creepy way, half out of his mind. "Sing them a song," he shouted. "Make a good round—whatever you call it—to the troll-wife's beauty. And bring us some fire, little man, bring us a flame that's not as hot as the love in your heart for your lady!"
Teeth grinned through matted beards. Someone hauled on the rope from which the ship's small boat trailed, dragging it close. "Go, ye scut!" A horny hand sent Cappen stumbling to the rail.
Teeth showed through matted beards. Someone pulled on the rope from which the ship's small boat was hanging, bringing it closer. "Get lost, you scut!" A rough hand shoved Cappen toward the railing.
He cried out once again. An ax lifted above his head. Someone handed him his own slim sword, and for a wild moment he thought of fighting. Useless—too many of them. He buckled on the sword and spat at the men. The wind tossed it back in his face, and they raved with laughter.
He shouted out again. An axe was raised over his head. Someone gave him his own slim sword, and for a brief moment, he considered fighting. It was pointless—there were too many of them. He strapped on the sword and spat at the men. The wind blew it back in his face, and they laughed wildly.
Over the side! The boat rose to meet him, he landed in a heap on drenched planks and looked up into the shadowy faces of the northmen. There was a sob in his throat as he found the seat and took out the oars.
Over the side! The boat rose to meet him, he landed in a heap on wet planks and looked up into the shadowy faces of the northmen. There was a lump in his throat as he found the seat and took out the oars.
An awkward pull sent him spinning from the ship, and then the night had swallowed it and he was alone. Numbly, he bent to the task. Unless he wanted to drown, there was no place to go but the island.
An awkward tug sent him tumbling off the ship, and then the night engulfed it and he was all alone. Numbly, he focused on the task. Unless he wanted to drown, the only option was to head to the island.
He was too weary and ill to be much afraid, and such fear as he had was all of the sea. It could rise over him, gulp him down, the gray horses would gallop over him and the long weeds would wrap him when he rolled dead against some skerry. The soft vales of Caronne and the roses in Croy's gardens seemed like a dream. There was only the roar and boom of the northern sea, hiss of sleet and spindrift, crazed scream of wind, he was alone as man had ever been and he would go down to the sharks alone.
He was too drained and sick to be very scared, and the little fear he felt was all about the sea. It could rise up and swallow him; the gray waves could crash over him, and the long weeds would entangle him when he washed up dead against some rocks. The gentle valleys of Caronne and the roses in Croy's gardens felt like a distant memory. All that was left was the roar and crash of the northern sea, the hiss of sleet and spray, and the wild scream of the wind. He was as alone as a person could be, and he would go down to the sharks by himself.
The boat wallowed, but rode the waves better than the longship. He grew dully aware that the storm was pushing him toward the island. It was becoming visible, a deeper blackness harsh against the night.
The boat bobbed around, but handled the waves better than the longship. He slowly realized that the storm was pushing him towards the island. It was becoming visible, a darker shape stark against the night.
He could not row much in the restless water, he shipped the oars and waited for the gale to capsize him and fill his mouth with the sea. And when it gurgled in his throat, what would his last thought be? Should he dwell on the lovely image of Ydris in Seilles, she of the long bright hair and the singing voice? But then there had been the tomboy laughter of dark Falkny, he could not neglect her. And there were memories of Elvanna in her castle by the lake, and Sirann of the Hundred Rings, and beauteous Vardry, and hawk-proud Lona, and— No, he could not do justice to any of them in the little time that remained. What a pity it was!
He couldn’t row much in the choppy water, so he stowed the oars and waited for the storm to tip him over and drown him. And when it bubbled in his throat, what would his final thought be? Should he focus on the beautiful image of Ydris in Seilles, with her long, bright hair and sweet singing voice? But then there was the tomboy laughter of dark Falkny; he couldn’t forget her. And there were memories of Elvanna in her castle by the lake, and Sirann of the Hundred Rings, and the stunning Vardry, and proud Lona, and—No, he couldn’t do any of them justice in the little time left. What a shame it was!
No, wait, that unforgettable night in Nienne, the beauty which had whispered in his ear and drawn him close, the hair which had fallen like a silken tent about his cheeks ... ah, that had been the summit of his life, he would go down into darkness with her name on his lips ... But hell! What had her name been, now?
No, wait, that unforgettable night in Nienne, the beauty that had whispered in his ear and pulled him close, the hair that had fallen like a silky tent around his cheeks... ah, that had been the peak of his life, he would go into darkness with her name on his lips... But damn! What had her name been, now?
Cappen Varra, minstrel of Croy, clung to the bench and sighed.
Cappen Varra, the minstrel of Croy, held on to the bench and sighed.
The great hollow voice of surf lifted about him, waves sheeted across the gunwale and the boat danced in madness. Cappen groaned, huddling into the circle of his own arms and shaking with cold. Swiftly, now, the end of all sunlight and laughter, the dark and lonely road which all men must tread. O Ilwarra of Syr, Aedra in Tholis, could I but kiss you once more—
The loud, empty sound of the surf surrounded him, waves splashed over the edge of the boat, and it rocked wildly. Cappen groaned, curling into himself, shivering with cold. The end of all sunlight and joy was coming quickly now, the dark and lonely path that everyone must walk. O Ilwarra of Syr, Aedra in Tholis, if only I could kiss you one more time—
Stones grated under the keel. It was a shock like a sword going through him. Cappen looked unbelievingly up. The boat had drifted to land—he was alive!
Stones scraped under the keel. It felt like a shock, like a sword piercing through him. Cappen looked up in disbelief. The boat had drifted to shore—he was alive!
It was like the sun in his breast. Weariness fell from him, and he leaped overside, not feeling the chill of the shallows. With a grunt, he heaved the boat up on the narrow strand and knotted the painter to a fang-like jut of reef.
It was like the sun in his chest. He felt his fatigue lift, and he jumped over the side, not feeling the cold of the shallow water. With a grunt, he pulled the boat up onto the narrow beach and tied the rope to a sharp outcrop of reef.
Then he looked about him. The island was small, utterly bare, a savage loom of rock rising out of the sea that growled at its feet and streamed off its shoulders. He had come into a little cliff-walled bay, somewhat sheltered from the wind. He was here!
Then he looked around. The island was small, completely bare, a rough mass of rock rising out of the sea that growled at its base and streamed off its sides. He had arrived in a small bay surrounded by cliffs, somewhat protected from the wind. He was here!
For a moment he stood, running through all he had learned about the trolls which infested these northlands. Hideous and soulless dwellers underground, they knew not old age; a sword could hew them asunder, but before it reached their deep-seated life, their unhuman strength had plucked a man apart. Then they ate him—
For a moment he stood, running through everything he had learned about the trolls that lived in these northern lands. Ugly and soulless creatures from underground, they didn't know what old age was; a sword could slice them apart, but before it could reach their deeply rooted life, their inhuman strength had torn a person apart. Then they ate him—
Small wonder the northmen feared them. Cappen threw back his head and laughed. He had once done a service for a mighty wizard in the south, and his reward hung about his neck, a small silver amulet. The wizard had told him that no supernatural being could harm anyone who carried a piece of silver.
Small wonder the northmen feared them. Cappen threw his head back and laughed. He had once done a favor for a powerful wizard in the south, and his reward hung from his neck, a small silver amulet. The wizard had told him that no supernatural being could harm anyone who carried a piece of silver.
The northmen said that a troll was powerless against a man who was not afraid; but, of course, only to see one was to feel the heart turn to ice. They did not know the value of silver, it seemed—odd that they shouldn't, but they did not. Because Cappen Varra did, he had no reason to be afraid; therefore he was doubly safe, and it was but a matter of talking the troll into giving him some fire. If indeed there was a troll here, and not some harmless fisherman.
The northmen said that a troll was helpless against someone who wasn't afraid; but, of course, just seeing one made your heart freeze. They didn’t seem to realize the value of silver—strange that they wouldn’t, but they didn’t. Since Cappen Varra did know its value, he had no reason to be scared; so he was doubly safe, and it was just a matter of convincing the troll to give him some fire. If there really was a troll here, and not just some harmless fisherman.
He whistled gaily, wrung some of the water from his cloak and ruddy hair, and started along the beach. In the sleety gloom, he could just see a hewn-out path winding up one of the cliffs and he set his feet on it.
He whistled happily, squeezed some of the water from his cloak and wet hair, and began walking along the beach. In the dreary sleet, he could barely see a carved-out path winding up one of the cliffs, and he stepped onto it.
At the top of the path, the wind ripped his whistling from his lips. He hunched his back against it and walked faster, swearing as he stumbled on hidden rocks. The ice-sheathed ground was slippery underfoot, and the cold bit like a knife.
At the top of the path, the wind snatched his whistling away. He hunched his back against it and hurried along, cursing as he tripped over hidden rocks. The icy ground was slick beneath his feet, and the cold felt sharp like a knife.
Rounding a crag, he saw redness glow in the face of a steep bluff. A cave mouth, a fire within—he hastened his steps, hungering for warmth, until he stood in the entrance.
Rounding a rocky outcrop, he saw a reddish glow on the face of a steep cliff. The mouth of a cave, with a fire inside—he quickened his pace, craving warmth, until he arrived at the entrance.
"Who comes?"
"Who's there?"
It was a hoarse bass cry that rang and boomed between walls of rock; there was ice and horror in it, for a moment Cappen's heart stumbled. Then he remembered the amulet and strode boldly inside.
It was a raspy, deep shout that echoed between the rock walls; there was a chill and fear in it, and for a moment, Cappen's heart skipped a beat. Then he remembered the amulet and walked in confidently.
"Good evening, mother," he said cheerily.
"Good evening, Mom," he said cheerfully.
The cave widened out into a stony hugeness that gaped with tunnels leading further underground. The rough, soot-blackened walls were hung with plundered silks and cloth-of-gold, gone ragged with age and damp; the floor was strewn with stinking rushes, and gnawed bones were heaped in disorder. Cappen saw the skulls of men among them. In the center of the room, a great fire leaped and blazed, throwing billows of heat against him; some of its smoke went up a hole in the roof, the rest stung his eyes to watering and he sneezed.
The cave opened up into a massive space filled with tunnels leading deeper underground. The rough, soot-black walls were draped with stolen silks and gold cloth, now tattered with age and moisture; the floor was covered with smelly rushes, and chewed bones were scattered everywhere. Cappen noticed the skulls of men among them. In the center, a large fire roared and blazed, sending waves of heat toward him; some smoke escaped through a hole in the ceiling, while the rest stung his eyes, making them water, and he sneezed.
The troll-wife crouched on the floor, snarling at him. She was quite the most hideous thing Cappen had ever seen: nearly as tall as he, she was twice as broad and thick, and the knotted arms hung down past bowed knees till their clawed fingers brushed the ground. Her head was beast-like, almost split in half by the tusked mouth, the eyes wells of darkness, the nose an ell long; her hairless skin was green and cold, moving on her bones. A tattered shift covered some of her monstrousness, but she was still a nightmare.
The troll-wife crouched on the floor, snarling at him. She was by far the most hideous thing Cappen had ever seen: nearly as tall as he was, she was twice as broad and thick, with knotted arms that hung down past her bent knees until their clawed fingers brushed the ground. Her head was beast-like, almost split in half by a mouth full of tusks, her eyes were dark pits, and her nose was an ell long; her hairless skin was green and cold, moving over her bones. A tattered shift covered some of her monstrous features, but she was still a nightmare.
"Ho-ho, ho-ho!" Her laughter roared out, hungry and hollow as the surf around the island. Slowly, she shuffled closer. "So my dinner comes walking in to greet me, ho, ho, ho! Welcome, sweet flesh, welcome, good marrow-filled bones, come in and be warmed."
"Ha-ha, ha-ha!" Her laughter echoed, greedy and empty like the waves around the island. Slowly, she moved closer. "So my dinner arrives to greet me, ha, ha, ha! Welcome, tender meat, welcome, nourishing bones, come in and get cozy."
"Why, thank you, good mother." Cappen shucked his cloak and grinning at her through the smoke. He felt his clothes steaming already. "I love you too."
"Thanks a lot, Mom." Cappen took off his cloak and grinned at her through the smoke. He could already feel his clothes getting steamy. "I love you too."
Over her shoulder, he suddenly saw the girl. She was huddled in a corner, wrapped in fear, but the eyes that watched him were as blue as the skies over Caronne. The ragged dress did not hide the gentle curves of her body, nor did the tear-streaked grime spoil the lilt of her face. "Why, 'tis springtime in here," cried Cappen, "and Primavera herself is strewing flowers of love."
Over her shoulder, he suddenly noticed the girl. She was huddled in a corner, wrapped in fear, but the eyes that looked at him were as blue as the skies over Caronne. The ragged dress didn’t hide the gentle curves of her body, nor did the tear-streaked grime take away from the beauty of her face. "Why, it’s springtime in here," exclaimed Cappen, "and Primavera herself is scattering flowers of love."
"What are you talking about, crazy man?" rumbled the troll-wife. She turned to the girl. "Heap the fire, Hildigund, and set up the roasting spit. Tonight I feast!"
"What are you talking about, you crazy man?" the troll-wife grumbled. She turned to the girl. "Stoke the fire, Hildigund, and set up the roasting spit. Tonight I'm having a feast!"
"Truly I see heaven in female form before me," said Cappen.
"Honestly, I see heaven in female form right in front of me," said Cappen.
The troll scratched her misshapen head.
The troll scratched her weirdly shaped head.
"You must surely be from far away, moonstruck man," she said.
"You must definitely be from far away, dreamy guy," she said.
"Aye, from golden Croy am I wandered, drawn over dolorous seas and empty wild lands by the fame of loveliness waiting here; and now that I have seen you, my life is full." Cappen was looking at the girl as he spoke, but he hoped the troll might take it as aimed her way.
"Aye, from golden Croy am I wandered, drawn over dolorous seas and empty wild lands by the fame of loveliness waiting here; and now that I have seen you, my life is full." Cappen was looking at the girl as he spoke, but he hoped the troll might take it as aimed her way.
"It will be fuller," grinned the monster. "Stuffed with hot coals while yet you live." She glanced back at the girl. "What, are you not working yet, you lazy tub of lard? Set up the spit, I said!"
"It'll be fuller," the monster grinned. "Stuffed with hot coals while you’re still alive." She looked back at the girl. "What, are you not working yet, you lazy lump? Set up the spit, I said!"
The girl shuddered back against a heap of wood. "No," she whispered. "I cannot—not ... not for a man."
The girl recoiled against a pile of wood. "No," she murmured. "I can’t—not ... not for a man."
"Can and will, my girl," said the troll, picking up a bone to throw at her. The girl shrieked a little.
"Can and will, my girl," said the troll, picking up a bone to throw at her. The girl screamed a little.
"No, no, sweet mother. I would not be so ungallant as to have beauty toil for me." Cappen plucked at the troll's filthy dress. "It is not meet—in two senses. I only came to beg a little fire; yet will I bear away a greater fire within my heart."
"No, no, dear mother. I wouldn’t be so unchivalrous as to have beauty work for me." Cappen tugged at the troll's dirty dress. "It's not right—in two ways. I only came to ask for a little fire; yet I will carry a greater fire in my heart."
"Fire in your guts, you mean! No man ever left me save as picked bones."
"Fire in your guts, you mean! No man has ever left me except as picked bones."
Cappen thought he heard a worried note in the animal growl. "Shall we have music for the feast?" he asked mildly. He unslung the case of his harp and took it out.
Cappen thought he heard a hint of worry in the animal's growl. "Should we have music for the feast?" he asked gently. He took the case of his harp off his back and pulled it out.
The troll-wife waved her fists in the air and danced with rage. "Are you mad? I tell you, you are going to be eaten!"
The troll-wife waved her fists in the air and danced with rage. "Are you crazy? I'm telling you, you're going to be eaten!"
The minstrel plucked a string on his harp. "This wet air has played the devil with her tone," he murmured sadly.
The minstrel strummed a string on his harp. "This damp air has really messed with her sound," he said sadly.
The troll-wife roared wordlessly and lunged at him. Hildigund covered her eyes. Cappen tuned his harp. A foot from his throat, the claws stopped.
The troll-wife let out a silent roar and charged at him. Hildigund covered her eyes. Cappen strummed his harp. Just a foot from his throat, the claws halted.
"Pray do not excite yourself, mother," said the bard. "I carry silver, you know."
"Please don’t get worked up, Mom," said the bard. "I have silver, you know."
"What is that to me? If you think you have a charm which will turn me, know that there is none. I've no fear of your metal!"
"What does that mean to me? If you believe you have some charm that can sway me, know that you don't. I'm not afraid of your tricks!"
Cappen threw back his head and sang:
Cappen tilted his head back and sang:
"Aaaarrrgh!" It was like thunder drowning him out. The troll-wife turned and went on all fours and poked up the fire with her nose.
"Aaaarrrgh!" It was like thunder drowning him out. The troll wife turned and got down on all fours, using her nose to poke the fire.
Cappen stepped softly around her and touched the girl. She looked up with a little whimper.
Cappen quietly moved around her and touched the girl. She glanced up with a small whimper.
"You are Svearek's only daughter, are you not?" he whispered.
"You’re Svearek’s only daughter, aren’t you?" he whispered.
"Aye—" She bowed her head, a strengthless despair weighting it down. "The troll stole me away three winters agone. It has tickled her to have a princess for slave—but soon I will roast on her spit, even as ye, brave man—"
"Aye—" She bowed her head, a helpless despair weighing it down. "The troll took me away three winters ago. It has amused her to have a princess as a slave—but soon I will roast on her spit, just like you, brave man—"
"Ridiculous. So fair a lady is meant for another kind of, um, never mind! Has she treated you very ill?"
"Absurd. Such a beautiful woman is meant for a different type of, um, forget it! Has she treated you badly?"
"She beats me now and again—and I have been so lonely, naught here at all save the troll-wife and I—" The small work-roughened hands clutched desperately at his waist, and she buried her face against his breast.
"She hits me now and then—and I have been so lonely, nothing here at all except the troll-wife and me—" The small, calloused hands clutched desperately at his waist, and she buried her face against his chest.
"Can ye save us?" she gasped. "I fear 'tis for naught ye ventured yer life, bravest of men. I fear we'll soon both sputter on the coals."
"Can you save us?" she gasped. "I’m afraid it was for nothing that you risked your life, bravest of men. I worry we’ll soon both sizzle on the coals."
Cappen said nothing. If she wanted to think he had come especially to rescue her, he would not be so ungallant to tell her otherwise.
Cappen said nothing. If she wanted to believe he had come just to save her, he wouldn’t be rude enough to say otherwise.
The troll-wife's mouth gashed in a grin as she walked through the fire to him. "There is a price," she said. "If you cannot tell me three things about myself which are true beyond disproving, not courage nor amulet nor the gods themselves may avail to keep that red head on your shoulders."
The troll-wife's mouth split into a grin as she walked through the fire toward him. "There's a price," she said. "If you can't tell me three things about myself that are undeniably true, then neither courage, an amulet, nor even the gods can save that red head of yours."
Cappen clapped a hand to his sword. "Why, gladly," he said; this was a rule of magic he had learned long ago, that three truths were the needful armor to make any guardian charm work. "Imprimis, yours is the ugliest nose I ever saw poking up a fire. Secundus, I was never in a house I cared less to guest at. Tertius, ever among trolls you are little liked, being one of the worst."
Cappen slapped his hand on his sword. "Sure thing," he said; this was a magical principle he had learned long ago, that three truths were essential protection to make any guardian spell effective. "First, yours is the ugliest nose I've ever seen sticking up by a fire. Second, I've never been in a house I cared less to visit. Third, among trolls, you're not well-liked, being one of the worst."
Hildigund moaned with terror as the monster swelled in rage. But there was no movement. Only the leaping flames and the eddying smoke stirred.
Hildigund moaned in fear as the monster grew furious. But there was no movement. Only the flickering flames and the swirling smoke stirred.
Cappen's voice rang out, coldly: "Now the king lies on the sea, frozen and wet, and I am come to fetch a brand for his fire. And I had best also see his daughter home."
Cappen's voice echoed, coldly: "Now the king lies on the sea, frozen and wet, and I've come to get a brand for his fire. I should also see his daughter home."
The troll shook her head, suddenly chuckling. "No. The brand you may have, just to get you out of this cave, foulness; but the woman is in my thrall until a man sleeps with her—here—for a night. And if he does, I may have him to break my fast in the morning!"
The troll shook her head, suddenly laughing. "No. The mark you might have, just to get you out of this cave, disgusting; but the woman is under my control until a man sleeps with her—here—for a night. And if he does, I might have him to eat breakfast with me in the morning!"
Cappen yawned mightily. "Thank you, mother. Your offer of a bed is most welcome to these tired bones, and I accept gratefully."
Cappen yawned widely. "Thank you, Mom. Your offer of a bed is very much appreciated by these tired bones, and I gratefully accept."
"You will die tomorrow!" she raved. The ground shook under the huge weight of her as she stamped. "Because of the three truths, I must let you go tonight; but tomorrow I may do what I will!"
"You will die tomorrow!" she shouted. The ground trembled beneath her massive weight as she stomped. "Because of the three truths, I have to let you go tonight; but tomorrow, I can do whatever I want!"
"Forget not my little friend, mother," said Cappen, and touched the cord of the amulet.
"Don't forget my little friend, Mom," said Cappen, and he touched the cord of the amulet.
"I tell you, silver has no use against me—"
"I'll tell you, silver doesn't do anything to me—"
Cappen sprawled on the floor and rippled fingers across his harp. "A lovely lady full oft lies—"
Cappen sprawled on the floor and ran his fingers across his harp. "A lovely lady often lies—"
The troll-wife turned from him in a rage. Hildigund ladled up some broth, saying nothing, and Cappen ate it with pleasure, though it could have used more seasoning.
The troll-wife turned away from him in anger. Hildigund poured some broth, not saying a word, and Cappen ate it happily, even though it could have used a bit more seasoning.
After that he indited a sonnet to the princess, who regarded him wide-eyed. The troll came back from a tunnel after he finished, and said curtly: "This way." Cappen took the girl's hand and followed her into a pitchy, reeking dark.
After that, he wrote a sonnet to the princess, who looked at him wide-eyed. The troll came back from a tunnel after he finished and said tersely, "This way." Cappen took the girl's hand and followed her into a pitch-black, smelly darkness.
She plucked an arras aside to show a room which surprised him by being hung with tapestries, lit with candles, and furnished with a fine broad featherbed. "Sleep here tonight, if you dare," she growled. "And tomorrow I shall eat you—and you, worthless lazy she-trash, will have the hide flayed off your back!" She barked a laugh and left them.
She pulled aside a tapestry to reveal a room that surprised him, decorated with tapestries, lit by candles, and furnished with a comfortable, wide featherbed. "Sleep here tonight, if you’re brave enough," she snarled. "And tomorrow, I’ll eat you—and you, worthless lazy woman, will have your skin peeled off your back!" She let out a harsh laugh and left them.
Hildigund fell weeping on the mattress. Cappen let her cry herself out while he undressed and got between the blankets. Drawing his sword, he laid it carefully in the middle of the bed.
Hildigund fell crying on the mattress. Cappen let her cry until she was done while he got undressed and settled between the blankets. Drawing his sword, he placed it carefully in the middle of the bed.
The girl looked at him through jumbled fair locks. "How can ye dare?" she whispered. "One breath of fear, one moment's doubt, and the troll is free to rend ye."
The girl looked at him through tangled blonde hair. "How can you dare?" she whispered. "One breath of fear, one moment of doubt, and the troll is free to tear you apart."
"Exactly." Cappen yawned. "Doubtless she hopes that fear will come to me lying wakeful in the night. Wherefore 'tis but a question of going gently to sleep. O Svearek, Torbek, and Beorna, could you but see how I am resting now!"
"Exactly." Cappen yawned. "I'm sure she hopes that fear will keep me awake in the night. So, it's just a matter of falling asleep gently. Oh Svearek, Torbek, and Beorna, if only you could see how I'm relaxing now!"
"But ... the three truths ye gave her ... how knew ye...?"
"But ... the three truths you gave her ... how did you know ...?"
"Oh, those. Well, see you, sweet lady, Primus and Secundus were my own thoughts, and who is to disprove them? Tertius was also clear, since you said there had been no company here in three years—yet are there many trolls in these lands, ergo even they cannot stomach our gentle hostess." Cappen watched her through heavy-lidded eyes.
"Oh, those. Well, see you, sweet lady. Primus and Secundus were my own thoughts, and who's to argue with them? Tertius was also clear, since you mentioned there hasn't been any company here in three years—yet there are plenty of trolls in these lands, so even they can't handle our lovely hostess." Cappen watched her with half-closed eyes.
She flushed deeply, blew out the candles, and he heard her slip off her garment and get in with him. There was a long silence.
She blushed deeply, blew out the candles, and he heard her take off her clothes and get in with him. There was a long silence.
Then: "Are ye not—"
"Are you not—"
"Yes, fair one?" he muttered through his drowsiness.
"Yes, beautiful?" he mumbled, still half-asleep.
"Are ye not ... well, I am here and ye are here and—"
"Are you not ... well, I am here and you are here and—"
"Fear not," he said. "I laid my sword between us. Sleep in peace."
"Don't worry," he said. "I put my sword between us. Sleep peacefully."
"I ... would be glad—ye have come to deliver—"
"I ... would be glad—you have come to deliver—"
"No, fair lady. No man of gentle breeding could so abuse his power. Goodnight." He leaned over, brushing his lips gently across hers, and lay down again.
"No, beautiful lady. No man of good upbringing could misuse his power like that. Goodnight." He leaned over, softly brushing his lips against hers, and lay down again.
"Ye are ... I never thought man could be so noble," she whispered.
"You're ... I never thought a man could be so noble," she whispered.
Cappen mumbled something. As his soul spun into sleep, he chuckled. Those unresting days and nights on the sea had not left him fit for that kind of exercise. But, of course, if she wanted to think he was being magnanimous, it could be useful later—
Cappen mumbled something. As his soul drifted into sleep, he chuckled. Those endless days and nights at sea hadn’t left him ready for that kind of exercise. But, of course, if she wanted to believe he was being generous, it could be useful later—
He woke with a start and looked into the sputtering glare of a torch. Its light wove across the crags and gullies of the troll-wife's face and shimmered wetly off the great tusks in her mouth.
He woke up abruptly and looked into the flickering light of a flashlight. Its beam danced across the rough contours and shadows of the troll-wife's face and glistened damply on the huge tusks in her mouth.
"Good morning, mother," said Cappen politely.
"Good morning, Mom," Cappen said politely.
Hildigund thrust back a scream.
Hildigund suppressed a scream.
"Come and be eaten," said the troll-wife.
"Come and get eaten," said the troll-wife.
"No, thank you," said Cappen, regretfully but firmly. "'Twould be ill for my health. No, I will but trouble you for a firebrand and then the princess and I will be off."
"No, thank you," said Cappen, regretfully but firmly. "It wouldn’t be good for my health. No, I will just trouble you for a firebrand and then the princess and I will be on our way."
"If you think that stupid bit of silver will protect you, think again," she snapped. "Your three sentences were all that saved you last night. Now I hunger."
"If you think that dumb piece of silver will keep you safe, think again," she shot back. "Your three sentences were all that saved you last night. Now I'm hungry."
"Silver," said Cappen didactically, "is a certain shield against all black magics. So the wizard told me, and he was such a nice white-bearded old man I am sure even his attendant devils never lied. Now please depart, mother, for modesty forbids me to dress before your eyes."
"Silver," Cappen said in a teaching tone, "is a reliable protection against all kinds of dark magic. That's what the wizard told me, and he was such a kind old man with a white beard that I’m sure even his little demons never lied. Now please leave, mother, because I can’t get dressed with you watching."
The hideous face thrust close to his. He smiled dreamily and tweaked her nose—hard.
The ugly face pushed close to his. He smiled dreamily and pinched her nose—hard.
She howled and flung the torch at him. Cappen caught it and stuffed it into her mouth. She choked and ran from the room.
She screamed and threw the torch at him. Cappen caught it and shoved it into her mouth. She choked and ran out of the room.
"A new sport—trollbaiting," said the bard gaily into the sudden darkness. "Come, shall we not venture out?"
"A new sport—trollbaiting," said the bard cheerfully into the sudden darkness. "Come on, shall we not go out?"
The girl trembled too much to move. He comforted her, absentmindedly, and dressed in the dark, swearing at the clumsy leggings. When he left, Hildigund put on her clothes and hurried after him.
The girl was shaking too much to move. He comforted her absentmindedly and got dressed in the dark, cursing at the clumsy leggings. When he left, Hildigund put on her clothes and rushed after him.
The troll-wife squatted by the fire and glared at them as they went by. Cappen hefted his sword and looked at her. "I do not love you," he said mildly, and hewed out.
The troll-wife squatted by the fire and glared at them as they passed. Cappen lifted his sword and looked at her. "I don't love you," he said calmly, and struck.
She backed away, shrieking as he slashed at her. In the end, she crouched at the mouth of a tunnel, raging futilely. Cappen pricked her with his blade.
She stepped back, screaming as he swung at her. In the end, she squatted at the entrance of a tunnel, angrily trying to fight back. Cappen poked her with his knife.
"It is not worth my time to follow you down underground," he said, "but if ever you trouble men again, I will hear of it and come and feed you to my dogs. A piece at a time—a very small piece—do you understand?"
"It’s not worth my time to follow you underground," he said, "but if you ever bother anyone again, I will find out and come feed you to my dogs. A little at a time—a very small piece—do you understand?"
She snarled at him.
She glared at him.
"An extremely small piece," said Cappen amiably. "Have you heard me?"
"An really tiny piece," said Cappen pleasantly. "Did you hear me?"
Something broke in her. "Yes," she whimpered. He let her go, and she scuttled from him like a rat.
Something shattered inside her. "Yeah," she whispered. He released her, and she darted away from him like a rat.
He remembered the firewood and took an armful; on the way, he thoughtfully picked up a few jeweled rings which he didn't think she would be needing and stuck them in his pouch. Then he led the girl outside.
He remembered the firewood and grabbed an armful; on the way, he casually picked up a few jeweled rings that he figured she wouldn't need and tossed them in his pouch. Then he took the girl outside.
The wind had laid itself, a clear frosty morning glittered on the sea and the longship was a distant sliver against white-capped blueness. The minstrel groaned. "What a distance to row! Oh, well—"
The wind had calmed down, a bright, frosty morning sparkled on the sea, and the longship was a faraway sliver against the white-capped blue. The minstrel sighed. "What a long way to row! Oh, well—"
They were at sea before Hildigund spoke. Awe was in the eyes that watched him. "No man could be so brave," she murmured. "Are ye a god?"
They were at sea before Hildigund spoke. There was awe in the eyes watching him. "No man could be that brave," she murmured. "Are you a god?"
"Not quite," said Cappen. "No, most beautiful one, modesty grips my tongue. 'Twas but that I had the silver and was therefore proof against her sorcery."
"Not really," said Cappen. "No, most beautiful one, I'm too modest to speak. It was just that I had the silver and was therefore immune to her magic."
"But the silver was no help!" she cried.
"But the money didn't help at all!" she exclaimed.
Cappen's oar caught a crab. "What?" he yelled.
Cappen’s oar got stuck. “What?” he shouted.
"No—no—why, she told ye so her own self—"
"No—no—she said that herself—"
"I thought she lied. I know the silver guards against—"
"I thought she was lying. I know the silver protects against—"
"But she used no magic! Trolls have but their own strength!"
"But she didn’t use any magic! Trolls only have their own strength!"
Cappen sagged in his seat. For a moment he thought he was going to faint. Then only his lack of fear had armored him; and if he had known the truth, that would not have lasted a minute.
Cappen slumped in his seat. For a moment, he thought he was going to pass out. But it was just his lack of fear that protected him; if he had known the truth, that wouldn’t have lasted a second.
He laughed shakily. Another score for his doubts about the overall value of truth!
He laughed nervously. Another win for his doubts about the true value of truth!
The longship's oars bit water and approached him. Indignant voices asking why he had been so long on his errand faded when his passenger was seen. And Svearek the king wept as he took his daughter back into his arms.
The longship's oars cut through the water as it came closer to him. Angry voices questioning why he had taken so long faded away when they saw his passenger. And Svearek, the king, cried as he held his daughter back in his arms.
The hard brown face was still blurred with tears when he looked at the minstrel, but the return of his old self was there too. "What ye have done, Cappen Varra of Croy, is what no other man in the world could have done."
The hard brown face was still blurry with tears when he looked at the minstrel, but his old self was coming back too. "What you've done, Cappen Varra of Croy, is something no other man in the world could have done."
"Aye—aye—" The rough northern voices held adoration as the warriors crowded around the slim red-haired figure.
"Aye—aye—" The rough northern voices showed admiration as the warriors gathered around the slim, red-haired figure.
"Ye shall have her whom ye saved to wife," said Svearek, "and when I die ye shall rule all Norren."
"You're going to have her, the one you saved, as your wife," said Svearek, "and when I die, you'll rule all of Norren."
Cappen swayed and clutched the rail.
Cappen swayed and gripped the railing.
Three nights later he slipped away from their shore camp and turned his face southward.
Three nights later, he quietly left their shore camp and headed south.
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