Twentysix
Two days earlier, in the evening, at the temple of Hrimfaxi...
Kvalhissir was using stakes and rocks to stabilize the new moon lake behind the temple. He wasn't certain winter was the best time of the year to do this, and he had never created a lake in this kind of earth before, but he was doing the best of the situation. Really, he'd better do this before he cleared the ground around it for planting in the spring, and he'd better do something about the riverside, and... He sighed.
Normally, moose preferred to work during the times between night and day, dawn and dusk. However, in this case, he wished it would have been possible to work in day when he saw things better and it was warmer. As it was now, curious small ones – reindeer, he reminded himself – had disturbed him so much that he had exchanged night for day, and did much of his work during the night.
He had first rearranged some of the old, cracked and skewed pews in the temple into a bed and slept there, but it became too noisy. Instead, he built a hut outside of some tarpaulins and old planks, put a pew-bed in it and slept there. Eira simply blocked the way out back for curious temple-goers during the day, giving him some peace.
Kvalhissir was thankful to the old cow for helping him, though he suspected she was beating herself up for not being able to profit more from his presence. He knew many of the recent temple-goers mostly only turned up because of curiosity, and Eira wouldn't be able to coax donations and the like from them unless they were satisfied. He sighed again and rested on the stake he was using. He'd probably have to show himself some more tomorrow.
Kvalhissir was interrupted from his musings by a small bright voice calling his name. He turned around and saw the two calves he had saved earlier. He kept calling them Sootface and Silverlink to himself, although he knew their real names. Kvalhissir was surprised when one of them spoke to him in his own language – or rather, in the old-fashioned, high-pitched version of it both the small ones and the goddess Daggmule spoke to moose.
“Good evening, sir,” said Silverlink. “Can we speak to you for a moment?”
Kvalhissir rumbled his agreement. “Surely. But since when can you speak my tongue?”
Silverlink grinned and blushed. “Since today. It's magic – literally. It's a long story.”
“Strange,” Kvalhissir said and shrugged. “But convenient. What do you want, little one?”
Sootface asked something and Silverlink explained to her what Kvalhissir had said.
“We wonder what you and other moose might know about the Sampo,” he said.
Kvalhissir rubbed his nose along his stake to scratch himself and think.
“Not much,” he said. “It's a wonder-mill from an old story. We moose call it the Grotte. Heroes tried to get it from a reindeer king. They all died.”
Sootface poked Silverlink and he translated. She looked and sounded rather disappointed.
“Saga,” Silverlink said and pointed to Sootface, “had a vision – a prophetic vision – that the Sampo can save Poatsula. I believe her, and we are trying to find it.”
Sootface made puppy-eyes to Kvalhissir and said something with a begging tone in her voice.
“She says pretty please if you know anydeer else who can help us,” Silverlink said. “It is really really important.”
Kvalhissir looked at the little calf who in turn looked at him pleadingly.
“I don't know,” he said. “I know several moose who might know something. I do know a wise old cow who might know much. But I don't know if they will consent to speak to you.”
“Why not?” said Silverlink.
Kvalhissir rolled his eyes and snorted.
“Well, moose don't hide our large selves in the forest for fun,” he said. “Reindeer are in the habit of attacking us or running screaming on sight. Once, we didn't need to hide. Then the reindeer became stronger and more numerous. Now, we hide or get killed and made into trophies.”
Silverlink translated for Sootface, who waved her front hooves agitatedly and spoke extensively about something. Silverlink spoke back, but Sootface shook her head. He asked for a qualification, and she spoke a single sentence, with great seriousness.
“She says,” said Silverlink, “that it doesn't have to be that way. She says it soon won't be like that in the future – if we can find the Sampo.”
Kvalhissir looked at them. He rubbed his schnozzle against his stake again.
“It would be dangerous for you,” he said, after a long rub. “They will never come here.”
“We can handle it,” said Silverlink. “Will it be a long journey?”
Kvalhissir shook his big shaggy head.
“No,” he said. “I take it this is an urgent matter?”
Silverlink translated and both the calves nodded.
“Let me think,” he said.
Kvalhissir put down the stake. He trotted over to his hut, got out his pipe, and lit it on an ember from the fireplace in front of the hut. He sat down and puffed. The two calves sat down in front of him, and waited. They stirred, fidgeted and sometimes looked everywhere but at Kvalhissir, but they did not speak up.
“I can leave tomorrow morning,” he said. “I will search out some moose I know. I will let it be known you wish to meet them. I will tell you where to wait. I will meet you there no matter whether they agree to meet you or not. If I am not there, you wait until I arrive.”
“Can't we go with you right away?” Silverlink said.
Kvalhissir shook his head again. “No,” he said. “Where I go is a secret. That I show you the meeting place is bad enough. Start tomorrow evening. We will meet during the day after that. Exactly when I cannot say now.”
He rose up and started to draw in the frozen slush.
“You know this mountain ridge?” he said. “No? Here, the brook meets the road. Here, the willow grows. You know now?”
Silverlink nodded. “I think so.”
“At the end of the mountain ridge,” Kvalhissir said as he continued to draw, “is a small plateau. Here is a gathering place. In a small cave that looks natural. Yes, this close to the reindeer city. That doesn't mean we live there.”
“Long are the legs of the moose,” said Silverlink mockingly. “I think I know now. I think I will remember.”
“You'd better,” said Kvalhissir and bit into his pipe again. “I don't want to have to go looking for you. If you get lost.”
When he came into the temple the next afternoon, Vigg found Saga in the sanctum sanctorum, also known as “the kitchen”, “Eira's bedroom” or “the TV room”. She was cleaning the table and kitchen sink and waved to Vigg, her mouth full of things to be put away.
“Are you packed?” said Vigg, who was.
Saga nodded and pointed to her left. Her saddlebags and her jacket were lying on a chair. Her skis were leaning against the wall. Then she continued putting away things, after which she started to sweep the table and scrub the sink.
“Can you guess who was here?” said Saga, her mouth finally empty. She looked bouncy and full of energy, her eyes bright, and there was something with her face...
“The way you look, it was either Princess Hrimfaxi, Twilight Sparkle, or some idol of yours I don't know about,” Vigg said, a bit amused.
“The first and second!” Saga squeaked happily. “They had an errand here, and can you guess what they asked me to do?”
“Erh... no,” Vigg said. “Something with the temple? I dunno, hold a sermon, travel to Hestaland for further education, be the first sacrifice in the new Moonwell...”
Saga snorted.
“I've given Mistress Sparkle a makeover!” she said proudly.
“You did what with the who?” said Vigg, dumbfounded. “Why?”
“Our Lady of the Moon said that Mistress Sparkle needed it for some work at court,” Saga said. “A new look, I mean. Isn't it awesome they asked me?”
“It's a bit weird,” said Vigg. “My mothers' hoofmaidens... actually I don't know how they do that stuff.”
“I bet they help each other or go to some fancy salon, but now I got to help instead!” said Saga happily.
“I see you made yourself over as well,” said Vigg and indicated her new makeup and accessories.
“I got inspired,” Saga said, “and they came really early in the morning, before Kvalhissir left even, so I had lots of time today! What do you think?”
She turned her head this way and that and then shoved her flanks into Vigg's face, which made him blush a bit. The thick black bar over her eyes was thinner and lower and had a series of crimson dots along its lower edge, crossing another one down her nose ridge. The black moon sickles on her flanks had also been redone in a slimmer more refined version with a series of red stars.
“Are those meant to look like... Twilight Sparkle's cutie mark?” Vigg said with the sickle and stars half an inch from his nose and his blush being a bit too obvious. There could be no doubt of his thoughts of that flank. The shamefulness of his reaction made him blush even more
“Yes,” said Saga happily, “since I'm sort of connected to her right now with the lessons and all.” She replaced her flank with her head again.
Saga had also replaced the bird-skull decorations in her antlers with less gruesome feather bundles. Several small brown feathers were tied around the shaft of a huge downy white one with red threads. Vigg peered closely at the feathers.
“Don't tell me... those are... those are... the big white ones are from a snowy owl,” he said.
Saga nodded enthusiastically.
“We have some sacred birds living in the temple now, and one was nice enough to let me take a few,” she beamed.
“The snowy owl, whose call means death,” Vigg said and sighed. “Then the small brown ones have to be jay feathers.”
Saga nodded again.
“You're such a good outdoorsbuck, Vigg,” she said.
“That was the only other bird of ill omen I could think of that was brown,” he said dryly.
“So, how do you like it?” said Saga.
Vigg sighed.
“You know, I'm not used to makeup at all,” he said, “but your style is certainly unique. It is very Saga.”
“Flatterer!” she said and stuck out her tongue. “But you just don't go to the right clubs. Lot's of cool vajas go in for face-paint rather than 'makeup'! Mistress Sparkles said something about buffalo earlier, so I decided to go in for a more buffalo look!”
Vigg shook his head.
“Did you give Twilight Sparkle a 'buffalo look' as well?” he said.
“No, she got something for those clubs I mentioned, because Princess Hrimfaxi said she should have a 'dark enchantress' look,” Saga said. “Oh, and Mistress Sparkle taught me some new magics!”
“Oh,” said Vigg with more interest. “May I ask... what kind of magic?”
“Some rituals,” said Saga and tried to look mysterious. “You'll see later!”
“Okay,” said Vigg. “You're ready?”
“Yup, now that I've cleaned the holy of holies!” Saga said. “I'll just tell Gramma I'm leaving.”
She went out into the temple and hugged the old vaja who was serving some cold boiled lichen and sedge bread to the volunteers who had worked in the temple all day. Vigg looked around and could see that they had gone pretty far in cleaning the walls so they could be repainted. There was also a new altar cloth.
“Our Lady of the Moon herself gave it to us!” said Saga. “It was cut off when they remade some of her old dresses for Mistress Sparkle.”
“Lady Sparkle is wearing cast-offs?” Vigg said with disbelief.
“Divine cast-offs!” Saga admonished him. “I would kill to wear a dress Our Lady of the Moon had worn! Hay, I would kill to wear any dress Mistress Sparkle had worn!” She sighed dreamily.
“What does your Grandmother think of this?” Vigg said when they were outside the temple. They would have to carry their skis to the bridge before they had good snow to ski on. Within the city was just slush, frozen and unfrozen.
“Of what?” said Saga.
“Visions and quests,” he said. “And running off to meetings with trolls.”
“She just said that if I get eaten, I don't get any dessert when I come home,” Saga said and winked. Vigg groaned.
“Seriously,” he said.
“Well, she takes visions seriously,” Saga said. “It comes with her job. And... you know where we are right now, right?”
Vigg looked around himself, the dilapidated buildings, the narrow streets, the boarded-up windows, the scarily skinny fawns in little groups watching them.
“I've lived here for many years now,” Saga said. “It can be dangerous to walk down the wrong alleyway. Oh, I'm lucky. I've always had something to eat and somewhere warm to sleep. And people know who I'm and if they're not pious they're superstitious, so I'm not as likely to be attacked or worse. But frankly, going out into the woods with you is no more dangerous than running errands for Gramma.”
Vigg looked at her a bit enviously.
“I take it your mother is a bit less willing to let you run free,” she said.
“She's only letting me go because my uncle insists,” he scowled. “I'm supposed to be at school and... and stuff.”
“You couldn't lie?” Saga said casually. Vigg snorted.
“Even if I were such a cad that I'd lie to my own mom, it still wouldn't work,” he said and indicated his eyes.
“She can See when deer lie?” Saga said, a bit scared. “Then... you can detect lies as well, since you've the same Sight, right?”
“Mom learned to do it,” Vigg said. “It's a side effect of the whole see-your-heart thing. I haven't... mastered it yet.”
“Well, then I know what we will do when we ski to the meeting place!” said Saga. “We will train you!”
“What?” said Vigg.
“Easy!” Saga beamed. “As your personal spiritual counselor I will guide you in the use of your Sight: I will say things, you will guess if I lie!”
“Saga...” Vigg groaned.
“That,” Saga said and pointed to a building, “is Castle Muorra!”
“You are lying,” said Vigg.
“You didn't even look at me!” said Saga.
“That's... that's because it's an obvious lie!” Vigg sputtered.
“Prince Silly, that's because we need to set up a baseline for what lying looks like!” Saga said. “Let's try again: I'm a herring!”
Vigg sighed. It would be a very long ski trip.
“Well,” said Vigg, “he isn't here, but he has been here.” His hoof swept over the small, pine-clad plateau.
“Because the snow has been tread on to make a flat surface in front of the cave,” Saga said. “And there is a fireplace in it and it looks newly repaired.”
She dumped her saddlebags in the cave and leaned her skis and spear-staff in the snow drifts to the side of it. She was dripping with sweat.
“That could have been reindeer,” said Vigg, “but if you look close to the tracks it was much bigger hooves that did this.”
“My little pathfinder!” Saga said mockingly. “Can't you tell where Kvalhissir went, in that case?”
“Well, that's the strange part: I can't,” Vigg said. “He hasn't hidden his tracks, because if he did any reindeer could find them. Even somedeer like you who hasn't spent much time in the forest. And the tracks certainly aren't here anymore. If they were, even a pony could see them. He must literally have removed them with some... trick, so that they aren't there anymore.”
“That's just words!” Saga protested. “Hid or removed, what's the difference?”
“Well,” said Vigg, “there's a big difference between me hiding in the cave and not being here at all. I'm sure a reindeer skilled at tracking, or with special Sight, like Grampa's pal Mustikka, could follow him anyway. It is just logical that troll... moose know some tricks like that, or there wouldn't be any of them left.”
“So what do we do now?” said Saga.
“We do as Kvalhissir told us to do – we wait,” Vigg said. “We can sleep in the cave and make a fire for the night.”
“Guess we'll have to find some firewood, then,” said Saga and rubbed herself.
They took a short stroll through the surrounding pine groves. Both of them casually found their eyes sliding until they rested on a dry branch or a fallen tree, despite it having been dark for hours. Their Sight combined with a survival instinct that must have been carved into the first of Karhu-Akka's action figures at the dawn of time to find something to burn for heat. While she found only a few branches, Saga still found firewood where a pony would only have found snow. Meanwhile, Vigg dragged half a tree to the cave. Saga looked cross-eyed at some twigs, and soon they had a crackling fire.
They settled down in front of the fire with one blanket draped over them and one under them. The flames cast long dancing shadows on the walls and revealed that the cave was strangely regular. They both pulled out bread and dry lichen from their saddlebags. Vigg also produced a coffee pan, some coffee and a jar of jam.
“Nice raid on the palace kitchen,” said Saga. “Is there any milk as well?”
“Not unless we milk you,” said Vigg and quickly bit his tongue. No sarv other than little fawns was ever close to a vaja being milked.
Saga gave him a look, but then she started to giggle.
“Oh wow!” she said. “Gramma was right: I should watch out for you so you don't get frisky, if that is how you think of commoner vajas!”
“I'm sorry, I'm really sorry,” said Vigg and buried his blushing muzzle in his hooves.
“Well, we all know you will just ravish me and leave me in the snow... after milking me because you posh nobledeer can't stand black coffee...” she said.
“Please, stop, I beg you...” he moaned.
“Okay, I'm just kidding!” Saga said and rubbed his head. “But it was a bit of a rude thing to say, you have to admit that.”
“I'm sorry,” he said. “I have sisters. Sometimes the jokes get gross.”
Saga chuckled and poked around in the fire so the snow in the coffee pot would heat up faster.
“So you think Mistress Sparkle is hot,” she said after a while.
“Who told you?” he gasped.
“It was rather obvious, but Spike helped,” she said.
Vigg groaned.
“And now you're gonna mock me for it...” he said and reburied his muzzle in his hooves.
“It is tempting, but I'm mostly curious,” she said.
“About what?” said Vigg.
“About what punishment I’ll get if I turn these juicy news over to the newspapers,” she said.
“Hey!” Vigg shouted in despair and tensed up.
“I'm just kidding!” Saga said. “That's for talking about milking me! Gross!”
Vigg relaxed.
“No, what I'm curious over is your epileptic fit when Mistress Sparkle was close to you, the whole collapsing with what must either be the horny or the lovey,” she continued.
“Yes,” said Vigg. “It is so embarrassing...”
“See, I can see two explanations,” Saga said. “Either you're truly, madly, deeply, psychotically attracted to Mistress Sparkle, which is soooo romantic but rather creepy... especially given that she could be, if not your mom, at least your teacher...”
Vigg groaned again.
“Or it's just that you lose your normal cool – you're really cool for being such a dork, Vigg – when you're close to hotness. It is indisputable that Mistress Sparkle is totally super-gorgeous, so that's why you have these problems,” Saga said. “Have you never had a doefriend? Or a stagfriend, for that matter?”
“Well... not really... when you're a Prince... wait!” Vigg said. “What do you mean 'dork'?”
“You are a very prim, orderly, boring, White Prince, Vigg, or should I call you Sir Checklist,” Saga said and giggled. “Having fits when a female touches you makes you sooo much cuter!”
“I'm not a... I just want things to be in good order, your life can depend on it one day!” he protested.
“So anyway, deep mad love or a serious weakness to the hotness,” Saga said. “That's actually an important question.”
Vigg looked at her. She was older and a female, after all. He didn't have any female friends, and this wasn't something you talked about with your sisters.
“Explain, please,” he said.
“Well, in the first case your life will probably be romantic but tragic unless you're really lucky or devote everything you have to winning her love,” Saga said. “And the second case isn't as bad, but you really will have to work on getting rid of that weakness. I mean, aren't you supposed to get kids when you become king or something? Heirs? And how are going to do that when your Queen Whoever sends you into rigor mortis if she looks at you breedingly?”
Vigg returned to groaning.
“How am I supposed to tell that?” he said. “It's not like it's a simple thing...”
“Well, we can perform a scientific experiment,” Saga said and rose and stretched herself. “Relax and I'll do a short ritual investigation. Breathe in, breathe out... and tell me if you feel uncomfortable.”
Somewhat wary, Vigg laid down and tried to relax. Breathe in, breathe out. Then Saga planted a loving kiss on his cheek, and another one, and another one on the lips – less chaste than the one when they were wrestling in Kvalhissir's sauna, but much more friendly.
When he woke up, the coffee was ready and a his mug in front of him, steaming.
“Well, I'm still not sure,” said Saga, standing over him. “You had a less serious attack and were out for a shorter time, but I'm nowhere near as hot as Mistress Sparkle.”
Vigg rose a bit and sipped his coffee. He felt light-headed and jubilant, like when you did the best kind of ski jump. At the same time his face was burning red with shame and he had to clear his throat before speaking. His heartbeat must be audible back in Sarvvik.
“I'm prepared to do more tests, Oh my Spiritual Advisor,” he said as steadily as he could.
“Maybe later, Oh my Dorky Prince,” said Saga with a smirk.
Thanks again to LadyMoondancer and Wheelwright for help with editing!
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'Mistress Sparkle is totally super-gorgeous'
Great chapter !!!
That ending
Poor Vigg. Now he's the adorkable.
That ending would please Spike if he knew.
SPIKE IS PLEASED.
Loved the ending.
I like how the story has split in two now, Vigg's and Saga's story actually starting in the middle of the "Evil miss Sparkle" Timeline. Can't explain why, just do. Following this fic is always a joy, and I've grown fond of the characters. Damn you for making me like them! Now I'll be sad when the story's at an end!
Keep up the good work sir.
Kind regards
Gez Of Irk. - Starry Guise.
om
totally hot. hotness. omc
urrgggh now I can't think straight!
208734
Perky Goth Chick kisses Straightlaced Snowboarder = success, appearently.
208781
they are indeed a cute couple
but enough chit-chat, time is candy! back to reading
This is what spike would be thinking...
"He adokably makes lewd jokes at Saga"
"Saga gets him back, building camarde but killing the tension effectively by following the joking threat with some light humor and mockery"
"Conversation turns to Twilight and Vigg's epplileptic seizures in her presence"
"Saga figures out that he's distilled OCD spiced heavily with adorkabe-ness"
"She takes it upon herself to work it out of him for the government's sake and because he's a friend, and thus blesses the readers with unmistakably kawaii shipping."
This plan... it is
i479.photobucket.com/albums/rr157/antpogo/pony/11724020-20artist3Arlyoff20brilliant20letter20spike.jpg
(In hindsight, I get a lot of use out of that picture these days... which is awesome.)
Hah! I do believe that's the best variation of the 'I think I need more practice' line I've ever seen!