Saga and Vigg kept chatting as Spike and Kvalhissir went out into the hall. The big lug sighed and looked forlorn as he cooled himself down with snow by rubbing himself with it. Spike had the idea of rolling in the snow outside as he had heard reindeer did after sauna, but Kvalhissir stopped him from walking out the door, growling and shaking his head - not angry, more scared - and topping it off with checking whether the door was locked and barred. Spike shrugged and cooled himself down with snow from the buckets.
"I wonder why you are scared of going out. Or someone coming in. Wolves? Robbers? Monsters? You are not small, you know," Spike mused loudly.
It then struck him that this was why the mace was there: he had stashed a weapon in his hall for safety while bathing. This was not something you'd do in Ponyville - the closest thing would be Zecora's staff, but that was not a weapon really, and Zecora lived in Everfree Forest! Maybe it was reindeer he was afraid of? If they did think all moose were evil trolls it would probably be dangerous meeting armed reindeer - and Vigg had said any reindeer on skis had a spear. But could they still be dangerous to someone Kvalhissir's size?
Kvalhissir dug out some bags as crude as his jewelry-chest and half-filled a huge dented pot with pure snow from another bucket. He poured out a mix of greens, roots and mushrooms on a big platter and started mincing them crudely with a huge piece of flint he held in his mouth.
“Hey, I can help with that!” Spike said, and more or less forcibly took the knife from the moose and started chopping instead of him.
Kvalhissir was about to protest, but then shrugged and instead started to fill a clay pan with pine-cones.
“I hardly know half of these...” Spike mumbled. “This must be bulrush bulbs... Waterlily stalks, I guess... You really eat willow bark? That's as bad as lichen... Sedge, that I know what it is... Gee, all watery plants. You like seafood?” he turned to Kvalhissir. “Or is this just stuff that goes well with reindeer?” he joked.
The moose didn't understand, but did seem a bit impatient.
“You think I am chopping this into too small pieces? I have paws and I intend to use them, 'Hissir,” Spike said, but then he poured the chopped greens in the pot of snow and handed it to the moose, who strode into the actual sauna and hurried in the little dragon so as to not loose the heat.
It was less hot now, the long period of steam-making had cooled down the hearth, but it was still hot enough for Spike when he came from the cool hall. He liked it. When they came back home he must insist Twilight take them to the spa more often.
The reindeer teens were still chatting, Spike noted with joy. Joy that was short-lived as Saga said:
“But she is still so dreamy!” with big eyes and Vigg said “Oh yes!” his eyes equally big.
You're not supposed to both want to marry her! he thought.
Their reverie was interrupted by Kvalhissir, who after putting the stew and the roast on the hearth slapped Vigg with an hoof and pointed to the door, bellowing.
“Oh, he is right... we should cool down!” Vigg said and stepped down from the benches.
When Saga followed him he gave Spike hope again by assisting her as they trotted out to the snow. Kvalhissir hovered over them nervously, and a roar told Spike – who had taken upon himself to watch the food – that they, like him, had planned to roll in the snow before he stopped them opening the door.
“Sorry, sorry!” shouted Saga hoarsely.
As the snow started to melt and the pine-cones started to fry up – or rather dry-roast, since Kvalhissir seemed to not have any butter or grease – Spike watched Kvalhissir, satisfied no one would open the door, stuff an enormous pipe and light it with splinter he lit on the coals. Spike sniffed the plume of smoke.
That sure isn't tobacco. Of course, it's not like he could walk into Sarvvik and buy some shag... Spike mused.
Few ponies at home smoked, but they had back in Canterlot, especially among the many older unicorn academics at Twilight's school. That had been thin cigarettes or polished briar-wood pipes, not the thing Kvalhissir puffed on, which seemed made of a root and the size of his mace.
Vigg and Saga came back in and Vigg was about to close the door when Saga saw the plume of smoke.
“Ooh, that reminds me!” she said and quickly dashed outside. She returned as quickly with a tobacco pouch and sat down opposite Vigg, where she started to roll a cigarette, mostly with her muzzle.
“You... didn't need to move, y'know,” said Vigg. “I wouldn't have minded.”
YES! thought Spike and started to dance a little at the edge of the hearth, causing Kvalhissir to look worried.
“That's like really nice, but it's bad enough I'm cremating my own lungs, I shouldn't do that to yours as well,” Saga said, bit down on her cigarette and started at it cross-eyed for a second, which caused it to catch fire.
“Wow, is that a spell?” said Spike, fascinated against his will. Vigg seemed interested as well.
“Yeah, isn't it cool?” Saga said and grinned happily. Then her heart seemed to sink. “Though Gramma said it was a waste of time to learn, when matches are that cheap.”
She inhaled the tobacco smoke deeply with eyes shut.
“I needed that!," she sighed happily. "Well, the spell can set anything afire, though not much at once. And I trained on cigs – or Gramma's pipe – so when I cast it nowadays I always end up cross-eyed when I do it.”
She giggled, which evoked an equal giggle from Vigg as he looked her deep in the eye. Spike made little gestures with the ladle – a smaller one – as if conducting an invisible orchestra.
We are the champions, Spike is the champion, no time for losers... he sang silently.
Kvalhissir's pointed hoof and a moo-like command redirected his attention to the cooking; he instantly saw that the pine-cones needed some shuffling. Spike momentarily wondered whether moose ate roasted pine-cones like he did – gnawed up and swallowed – or like most ponies – finicky tearing off the scales to eat the seeds under them. The pine-cones were much bigger than at home. His questions were answered when Kvalhissir asked for one with his gestures, popped it into his mouth, spit it our, blew on it to cool it, popped it in again and chewed it up whole while looking thoughtful. Then he shook his head and went back to his pipe.
“I could’ve told'ya,” Spike muttered.
Vigg and Saga were talking about how Saga had become a temple-fawn (in a temple with no worshipers dedicated to a goddess mostly absent) and Saga had went back to Vigg's bench. Hope did not just blossom in Spike's heart: it was producing a nice crop of apples, melons and rutabagas.
Saga liked to gesture, and as she did so she bumped into the cave wall. It was not as hot any longer, but Vigg still cried out sharply when she did, which only caused her to draw her flank across it.
“Hey, no – aw, too late!” he said.
“What? What did I do?” she wondered and looked back at her sooty flank. “Oh.”
“Yeah, you have to be careful with the walls in a smoke sauna, otherwise you end up all sooty,” he said and chuckled.
“So what?” she said and laughed. “We are bathing, aren't we?” And she rubbed soot from her flank and then from the wall over her belly and chest and shoulders. “I'm gonna get more soot!”
“What the...?” said Vigg and stared at her in disbelief as she rubbed her muzzle and face with soot as well – mostly in stripes in patches, because she was rather casual in dirtying herself.
“I am a troll now, OK!” she shouted, leaped down on the floor, reared up and shouted: “After bathing and dining with trolls, I am hereby a troll! The troll Saga!”
“We haven't dined yet,” said Spike and shook his head. Kvalhissir barked in a way that suggested merriment. Vigg was mostly confused.
Then Saga jumped up on the bench opposite him and rubbed her front hooves and legs on the sooty wall. She wheeled around and looked at Vigg with a fiendish grin.
“You should be a troll too!” she said to him and then jumped him and started trying to rub him with soot as well.
Vigg fought back using the fact that he was more well-trained and fit, but against him was the fact the body pressed against his – not an entirely unpleasant feeling, he would later recall – was already full of soot, as well as the wall behind him. They rolled down on the floor and Vigg got on top of his troll assailant. He was by then more grimy than sooty, but anyway. Saga lay under him and panted, but was clearly not hurt since she was close to laughing. Spike looked worried. Kvalhissir found the whole thing fairly amusing. Maybe troll calves roughhoused like that all the time.
“Do you yield?!” Vigg shouted. Saga squeaked, the laughed, then had a coughing fit.
“'Yield'” she laughed. “Who speaks like that anymore?”
Then she lay back melodramatically. “Oh yes, I yield, oh my strong Prince!” she exclaimed before she had another laughing, then a coughing fit.
Vigg eased off and was about to step off when Saga, half-freed, rose up, put her forelegs around his neck, pulled him down and rubbed her muzzle against his, finishing off with an actual if pretty chaste kiss, her hooves pressed to his face. The action paralyzed Vigg.
“Hey!” he said when he could speak again. “What did you – you had given up! Foul! And – what did you do?”
“Smear your face with soot!” she said and giggled. “What did you think I have on my hooves and muzzle?”
“You had given up!” he shouted.
“Servant of darkness! It's a sacrament to cheat!” she said and stuck her tongue out at him.
“You – you kissed me!” he stammered.
“I just used my feminine wiles on your weak male heart! Now you are a troll too!” She rose up besides the confuzzled Vigg, laid a leg on his neck and shouted: “Now we are ALL trolls! Let the festivities begin!”
It didn't have the intended effect, because the smooch had caused Spike to have some sort of fit, apparently, so he had fallen off the place he was standing on the side of the hearth. Since their host became worried and was picking him up and dusting him off, only Vigg heard her declaration. He was blushing deeply, but despite his white fur, his black, let's call it “ritual body paint” to be nice to Saga, was hiding it pretty well.
When Kvalhissir had got Spike on his feet and made sure the little scaly fellow was alright, he turned his attention to the dinner. The pine-cones were close to burning so he lifted the clay pan off the hearth; the soup was merrily boiling, so he just tasted it, frowned and added something looking like brown ash to it.
“Was that mud, or what?” Saga wondered.
Vigg, who was regaining his senses, found himself with something in his throat and had to clear it before he spoke.
“Dried seaweed. Used for salting,” he said.
“Where did he get seaweed, he lives in a forest?” Saga asked.
“I guess trolls trade too,” Vigg said and shrugged. “A more relevant question: why is Spike dancing a jig?”
“I am?” Spike said and stopped. “Sorry, it just comes over me sometimes!”
Saga suddenly looked worried.
“Oh, I'm so sorry I haven't paid you any attention! Are you OK?” she said and sniffed Spike.
“I'm fine! Just... happy there will be food soon! Yeah!” Spike said and grinned weakly.
“Should have had some music,” said Saga and nuzzled Spike quickly. “Should have brought a 'player. Or at least an instrument.”
“If we could actually talk to Kvalhissir, I'm sure he could scrounge one up,” said Spike and smiled crookedly. “He seems to have everything.”
“In his sauna?” said Vigg. “Spike, maybe you're don't understand, but this is like a pony whose house consist of his bathroom. He must be actually living somewhere else...”
They were interrupted by Kvalhissir turning up with two wooden bowls, of different size, shape and age, full of soup. He looked from guest to guest...
“Yeah, you only have two bowls. It's OK, me and Vigg can share the big one, and Spike takes the other one,” said Saga, who smiled and lifted the bowl over to the bench. “Come on and eat, fellow troll!”
Vigg just looked at Spike, smiled nervously, shrugged and sat down beside her. Without saying anything more, Kvalhissir sat down in his corner and started eating the rest of the soup out of the pot. Seeing the two reindeer eating soup muzzle to muzzle, Spike grinned so widely the corners of his mouth met on the back of his neck.
This can not fail! Soon he'll stop asking questions about Twilight in... in that way! he thought.
He sat down to eat, and didn't particularly mind the lack of a spoon, though the soup needed more quartz...
After soup there were roasted pine-cones, and as expected the two reindeer ate slower and more finicky than Spike and the moose.
“Be careful, Spike!” admonished Saga. “You're totally eating too quickly.”
“Babysitter comes out?” said Vigg. “Maybe he doesn't need to pull off the scales of the cone, thought of that?”
Saga was just about to argue when Kvalhissir hissed in a way that clearly said: silence!
He stood up and tried to listen, and the others followed suit.
“What can he hear through the walls!” whispered Spike. “We're within a hill!”
Kvalhissir growled angrily and Spike shut up. The moose laid his head to the wall and looked, as far as the two reindeer fawns and the dragonling could interpret his moosial expressions, first worried, then terrified.
Suddenly Saga stood up and shrieked.
“Oh no.... oh goddess nooo....!” she wailed and wavered on unsteady feet.
“Saga!” said Spike frightened. Vigg had more presence of mind and got up to her.
“Saga, listen, are you Seeing or fainting? You're slipping out, do you hear me?!” he shouted in her ear.
“It's all coming down it's all coming down it's all coming down... HELP HIM SUPPORT THE ROOF!” she shouted, pushed Vigg away and started to, in vain, trying to lift one of the benches, which were made of massive timbers.
Vigg hurried over and started to help her. Spike looked skeptical.
“She was wrong last time!” he shouted. “We're underground!”
Vigg strained with the bench and was going to say something about better safe than sorry when Spike saw their host starting to do exactly the same with another bench, so he jumped down to the floor and starting helping the reindeer.
Two of three possible benches had been turned into support beams when it struck. A gale force wind so strong it was heard through sod and rocks howled over the hill, and then something slammed into it. Then something else, and something else, as if an avalanche of rocks or logs were rolling of it. Then there was a hissing howl, again so loud it was heard through the thick walls. Then the roof above them, illuminated by the glowing hearth, started to frost over. It spread like rings on the water from the smokehole, as the moisture gathered on the roof, inside the hot sauna, started to turn into hoarfrost. It stopped before the whole roof was frosted over, but then there was more howling, more slams into the roof, and some rocks fell from it. A second time, frost started to grow on the inside of the formerly hot roof, and icicles formed where the ice has started last time.
“What is happening!?” shouted Spike.
Saga has stopped frantically raising the beams but their host was still furiously trying to get one more up.
“Nidhogg!” Vigg shouted back as he slid around the earthen floor struggling to help the moose, who seemed as terrified as them. “An ice serpent!”
Saga had thrown herself close to the hearth, so close her fur was being singed, and was whimpering. When Spike stepped back momentarily as Kvalhissir slammed the bench in place and Vigg mostly was in the way, she grabbed him with her mouth and pulled him in between her and the hearth.
“Saga, it's too hot!” he gasped.
“It'll be colder soon!” she whimpered.
Having finished getting the beam up, Kvalhissir dove down as the doe had done and dragged Vigg with him, and slammed both him and Saga in between himself and the hearth, as if making sure they were closer than him. Vigg felt his fur singe at the same time as the air started to grow very cold. Spike whined something from within the heap of deer, but it was lost in the repeated thumps, the howls and the hisses from outside, and that wind blowing constantly.
It took minutes before it receded but it could still be heard in the distance. It felt like hours for the deer and the dragonling. After a while Saga moved and Spike actually could breathe – the air was cool, and he could feel the hearth actually cooling, though still hot. They all shuffled around, but Kvalhissir seemed determined to have the outermost place.
I've heard of somebody shielding somebody else with their body. He is isolating somebody else with his body, Spike thought. And Saga is trying to do the same. If... if we survive this, she gets top marks as a bodyguard from me to Twilight, even if she might not be much of a babysitter.
He lay still, and what warmth there was made him a bit sleepy – it had been a tough day, and sauna tires you out even if you are a fire-breathing dragon. Besides, there was not much that could be done when awake. Spike soon fell asleep. He wasn't the only one.