The SSSS Scriptorium

[LooNEY_DAC]

Huh. I thought someone else would have posted before this.

The Oldest Law
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic
Part 6

Spoiler: show

Ain’t It Just Grand?

“Come to me, my dears,” a feminine voice cooed through the darkness.

*

Mikkel carried the unresponsive Tuuri and Lalli down the winding hallway, his concern growing as the minutes passed and they stayed unresponsive.

Tuuri and Lalli were conversing with the Swan of Tuonela. Mostly, it spoke of its home and how wonderful it was and how they should come with it “for a nice little visit”. The Swan waxed quite eloquent on the matter, especially the visiting part.

Lalli and Tuuri glanced at each other dubiously. The Swan sounded so reasonable, but something in the backs of their minds was telling them that something was off about this. About that time, Lalli noticed a dark figure in the shadows.

The Swan put forth its most persuasive spiel yet, and the two Finns could feel their hearts turning to Tuonela.

“NO!”

The dark figure interposed itself between them and the Swan, and they finally saw that it was Onni. “I am here to bring them back to the Living World.”

The Swan tried talking first, using the same patter that was almost working on Lalli and Tuuri, but Onni stubbornly stood there and repeated what he’d said earlier. Each time he did, Tuuri and Lalli drew closer to him.

“I am losing mypatience with you, human,” the Swan growled, twisting and swelling into a hideous form out of nightmare. “So run along now and let me lead these two into their new home.”

Fear and despair showed plainly on Onni’s face, and for a moment, his mouth worked without a sound. Then, he said, quaveringly, “No.”

”NO?!?!?!?”

The heavens trembled with the Swan’s roar, but Onni shook his head and repeated, more firmly now, “No. If you want them, you will have to get through me.”

The Swan wasted no further words, stabbing down with its horridly toothy beak furiously. His body ablaze with otherworldly energy, Onni ducked, dodged and blocked each blow, until the Swan kicked him with one wickedly clawed foot, knocking the human prone.

Onni remembered his parents, his grandparents, his village, his friends, and at the thought of Tuuri and Lalli joining their number while he watched helplessly, a Grief unlike any he’d ever known came over him, strengthening him instead of weakening, empowering him even as the Swan pinned him underfoot.

The Swan, perhaps sensing something was amiss, looked down at Onni, but his apprehension was too late. Without apparent effort, Onni pushed the Swan’s foot off of him, so hard that the Swan fell over. Even before the Swan was finished falling, Onni had stood and moved to where its head would land.

The Swan of Tuonela was a god, immortal, implacable, and inevitable, but now, it faced what it had never faced before. Gathered now in Onni was the whole and sum of all the Grief Humankind had ever felt, from the ancient pain of Lemmenkainen’s Mother to the raw agony of the newly bereft. So when the Swan flailed at the puny human form confronting it, the pain of Rash and pestilence across the ages knocked its vicious blows aside like so many feather-tickles. And when Onni struck back at it at last, the rage and loss of all those who had had to watch their loved ones die was in his blow, and even a god such as the Swan could not stand against that.

“All right, fine,” the Swan snarled, beating as hasty a retreat as it could manage, “take them. But I tell you, human, I shan’t be put off forever.”

“Shut up and leave, Swan,” a new voice said sharply. “Or do you need another beating to keep you quiet?” As the disgruntled Swan left, Puppy-Fox stepped into the light. “Hi, mortals! Oh, don’t look at me like that, Onni. I’m just here to give Lalli a memory, and a two-word message for Emil.”

*

Sigrun looked askance at her erstwhile rescuer. “You haven’t told me practically anything: who you are; why this is happening; why you snatched me from the others; where we are; where we’re going; or what your plans are!”

“All in good time, O Loquacious Sigrun,” the man said from deeper in the shadows. “All is not quite ready for us to reveal ourselves just yet.”

“But why split me from my team?”

“Again, the answers will become obvious in due course. As for my name, you can call me... Eric.”

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

This part is also known as The Part I Wrote Before I Wrote Part 5.

[kahli]

Huh. I thought someone else would have posted before this.

The Oldest Law
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic
Part 6

Spoiler: show

Ain’t It Just Grand?

“Come to me, my dears,” a feminine voice cooed through the darkness.

*

Mikkel carried the unresponsive Tuuri and Lalli down the winding hallway, his concern growing as the minutes passed and they stayed unresponsive.

Tuuri and Lalli were conversing with the Swan of Tuonela. Mostly, it spoke of its home and how wonderful it was and how they should come with it “for a nice little visit”. The Swan waxed quite eloquent on the matter, especially the visiting part.

Lalli and Tuuri glanced at each other dubiously. The Swan sounded so reasonable, but something in the backs of their minds was telling them that something was off about this. About that time, Lalli noticed a dark figure in the shadows.

The Swan put forth its most persuasive spiel yet, and the two Finns could feel their hearts turning to Tuonela.

“NO!”

The dark figure interposed itself between them and the Swan, and they finally saw that it was Onni. “I am here to bring them back to the Living World.”

The Swan tried talking first, using the same patter that was almost working on Lalli and Tuuri, but Onni stubbornly stood there and repeated what he’d said earlier. Each time he did, Tuuri and Lalli drew closer to him.

“I am losing mypatience with you, human,” the Swan growled, twisting and swelling into a hideous form out of nightmare. “So run along now and let me lead these two into their new home.”

Fear and despair showed plainly on Onni’s face, and for a moment, his mouth worked without a sound. Then, he said, quaveringly, “No.”

”NO?!?!?!?”

The heavens trembled with the Swan’s roar, but Onni shook his head and repeated, more firmly now, “No. If you want them, you will have to get through me.”

The Swan wasted no further words, stabbing down with its horridly toothy beak furiously. His body ablaze with otherworldly energy, Onni ducked, dodged and blocked each blow, until the Swan kicked him with one wickedly clawed foot, knocking the human prone.

Onni remembered his parents, his grandparents, his village, his friends, and at the thought of Tuuri and Lalli joining their number while he watched helplessly, a Grief unlike any he’d ever known came over him, strengthening him instead of weakening, empowering him even as the Swan pinned him underfoot.

The Swan, perhaps sensing something was amiss, looked down at Onni, but his apprehension was too late. Without apparent effort, Onni pushed the Swan’s foot off of him, so hard that the Swan fell over. Even before the Swan was finished falling, Onni had stood and moved to where its head would land.

The Swan of Tuonela was a god, immortal, implacable, and inevitable, but now, it faced what it had never faced before. Gathered now in Onni was the whole and sum of all the Grief Humankind had ever felt, from the ancient pain of Lemmenkainen’s Mother to the raw agony of the newly bereft. So when the Swan flailed at the puny human form confronting it, the pain of Rash and pestilence across the ages knocked its vicious blows aside like so many feather-tickles. And when Onni struck back at it at last, the rage and loss of all those who had had to watch their loved ones die was in his blow, and even a god such as the Swan could not stand against that.

“All right, fine,” the Swan snarled, beating as hasty a retreat as it could manage, “take them. But I tell you, human, I shan’t be put off forever.”

“Shut up and leave, Swan,” a new voice said sharply. “Or do you need another beating to keep you quiet?” As the disgruntled Swan left, Puppy-Fox stepped into the light. “Hi, mortals! Oh, don’t look at me like that, Onni. I’m just here to give Lalli a memory, and a two-word message for Emil.”

*

Sigrun looked askance at her erstwhile rescuer. “You haven’t told me practically anything: who you are; why this is happening; why you snatched me from the others; where we are; where we’re going; or what your plans are!”

“All in good time, O Loquacious Sigrun,” the man said from deeper in the shadows. “All is not quite ready for us to reveal ourselves just yet.”

“But why split me from my team?”

“Again, the answers will become obvious in due course. As for my name, you can call me... Eric.”

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

This part is also known as The Part I Wrote Before I Wrote Part 5.

I love it! This is my favorite part so far! 

[Buteo]

Huh. I thought someone else would have posted before this.

The Oldest Law
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic
Part 6

*gasp*
You had me holding my breath after the last two. Thanks for goading me into breathing again!
Your tales are lyrical, and seem to play on the aspects of the characters that most appeal - to me, at least.

[Bouncey]

The Oldest Law
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic
Part 6

Otherwise known as The Part Helenatroy Read Before She Read Part 5  XD

I'm really enjoying these

[misea]

LooNEY, your fics are wonderful :') Can't wait to read more!

[LooNEY_DAC]

Took me long enough.

The Oldest Law
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic
Part 7

Spoiler: show

Descent to Tension’s Rise

The grosslings had shown her the truth, all those years ago. She had been born to kill, the greatest death-dealing machine ever envisioned, but her nature had lain dormant for her first five years of life. Then, at last, she had been unleashed, finally free to share her greatest gift with the world.

The fate of all life was death, and those that held sway over life were the dealers of death. Before the grosslings had slaughtered her village, and she, in turn, had almost casually slaughtered them in return, this truth had not been clear to her.

To deal out death was the ultimate power to which one could aspire, and she had embraced her death-dealing wholeheartedly. More recently, though, she had found it amusing to deal out that death more indirectly, as pushing those around her into killing each other was preposterously simple. Of course, sometimes, the more hands-on approach proved necessary.

It appeared that such would be the case fairly soon, as her current guests drew ever nearer to the center of her web. Not that she was worried: the two boys and the man would present her as little difficulty in that regard as the two unconscious Finns. No, the only semi-problematic one had been the first one taken out. The only real question was whether she’d even break a sweat in sending them to their destiny.

She thought not.

*

“I see you earned some good scars,” Sigrun said casually as they worked their way down a long and winding stairway. “I’ll bet there’s a really good story behind ‘em.”

“Not really.” The response was very very faintly amused. “Accident and incident brought them about, and no such great and heroic deeds as you imagine have ever been mine to do.”

“Even so,” she persisted, “you might find them for the taking, were you to go to the right place.” No romantic inclinations led her to speak thus, but the need for fighting men (and women) in Dalsnes. Last year’s Hunting season had been the worst in living memory, and the signs all pointed to worse to come.

“There is no right place for me, for I must eschew the company of others. Too long with them, and either I wish them dead or they wish me dead, or both, and so I abide on my own.”

Sigrun added this to the meager store of things ‘Eric’ had let slip and lapsed into silent contemplation.

*

Reynir had been studying hard since he got back to Iceland, and now seemed as good a time as any to see if that study had borne fruit at all. Mikkel had called a halt in a widening of the corridor, then gently placing the Finns in a position where he could examine them again. Reynir thought he could do something to help here, and told Mikkel so.

The doubtful tone of Mikkel’s assent would have discouraged anyone except Reynir, whose bubbly nature was reasserting itself despite his anger. Humming to himself, he rummaged in his little haversack until he found the special body pens. After carefully selecting just the right shade for each of them, he just as carefully drew a very specific galdrastafur on Tuuri’s forehead and a similar but just slightly different one on Lalli’s forehead.

Once the rite was complete, Reynir sat back and waited...

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

We’re not far from the end now, folks, so I'm going to wrap it up before going on with the others.

[Sunflower]

Took me long enough.

The Oldest Law
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic
Part 6

Descent to Tension’s Rise

LooNEY.... don't you already have a part 6? 

Huh. I thought someone else would have posted before this.

The Oldest Law
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic
Part 6

Spoiler: show

Ain’t It Just Grand?

“Come to me, my dears,” a feminine voice cooed through the darkness.

*

Mikkel carried the unresponsive Tuuri and Lalli down the winding hallway, his concern growing as the minutes passed and they stayed unresponsive.

Tuuri and Lalli were conversing with the Swan of Tuonela. Mostly, it spoke of its home and how wonderful it was and how they should come with it “for a nice little visit”. The Swan waxed quite eloquent on the matter, especially the visiting part.

Lalli and Tuuri glanced at each other dubiously. The Swan sounded so reasonable, but something in the backs of their minds was telling them that something was off about this. About that time, Lalli noticed a dark figure in the shadows.

The Swan put forth its most persuasive spiel yet, and the two Finns could feel their hearts turning to Tuonela.

“NO!”

The dark figure interposed itself between them and the Swan, and they finally saw that it was Onni. “I am here to bring them back to the Living World.”

The Swan tried talking first, using the same patter that was almost working on Lalli and Tuuri, but Onni stubbornly stood there and repeated what he’d said earlier. Each time he did, Tuuri and Lalli drew closer to him.

“I am losing mypatience with you, human,” the Swan growled, twisting and swelling into a hideous form out of nightmare. “So run along now and let me lead these two into their new home.”

Fear and despair showed plainly on Onni’s face, and for a moment, his mouth worked without a sound. Then, he said, quaveringly, “No.”

”NO?!?!?!?”

The heavens trembled with the Swan’s roar, but Onni shook his head and repeated, more firmly now, “No. If you want them, you will have to get through me.”

The Swan wasted no further words, stabbing down with its horridly toothy beak furiously. His body ablaze with otherworldly energy, Onni ducked, dodged and blocked each blow, until the Swan kicked him with one wickedly clawed foot, knocking the human prone.

Onni remembered his parents, his grandparents, his village, his friends, and at the thought of Tuuri and Lalli joining their number while he watched helplessly, a Grief unlike any he’d ever known came over him, strengthening him instead of weakening, empowering him even as the Swan pinned him underfoot.

The Swan, perhaps sensing something was amiss, looked down at Onni, but his apprehension was too late. Without apparent effort, Onni pushed the Swan’s foot off of him, so hard that the Swan fell over. Even before the Swan was finished falling, Onni had stood and moved to where its head would land.

The Swan of Tuonela was a god, immortal, implacable, and inevitable, but now, it faced what it had never faced before. Gathered now in Onni was the whole and sum of all the Grief Humankind had ever felt, from the ancient pain of Lemmenkainen’s Mother to the raw agony of the newly bereft. So when the Swan flailed at the puny human form confronting it, the pain of Rash and pestilence across the ages knocked its vicious blows aside like so many feather-tickles. And when Onni struck back at it at last, the rage and loss of all those who had had to watch their loved ones die was in his blow, and even a god such as the Swan could not stand against that.

“All right, fine,” the Swan snarled, beating as hasty a retreat as it could manage, “take them. But I tell you, human, I shan’t be put off forever.”

“Shut up and leave, Swan,” a new voice said sharply. “Or do you need another beating to keep you quiet?” As the disgruntled Swan left, Puppy-Fox stepped into the light. “Hi, mortals! Oh, don’t look at me like that, Onni. I’m just here to give Lalli a memory, and a two-word message for Emil.”

*

Sigrun looked askance at her erstwhile rescuer. “You haven’t told me practically anything: who you are; why this is happening; why you snatched me from the others; where we are; where we’re going; or what your plans are!”

“All in good time, O Loquacious Sigrun,” the man said from deeper in the shadows. “All is not quite ready for us to reveal ourselves just yet.”

“But why split me from my team?”

“Again, the answers will become obvious in due course. As for my name, you can call me... Eric.”

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

This part is also known as The Part I Wrote Before I Wrote Part 5.

[LooNEY_DAC]

LooNEY.... don't you already have a part 6? 

Egads. Fixed.

At least it was the right text.

[misea]

Took me long enough.

The Oldest Law
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic
Part 7

Spoiler: show

Descent to Tension’s Rise

The grosslings had shown her the truth, all those years ago. She had been born to kill, the greatest death-dealing machine ever envisioned, but her nature had lain dormant for her first five years of life. Then, at last, she had been unleashed, finally free to share her greatest gift with the world.

The fate of all life was death, and those that held sway over life were the dealers of death. Before the grosslings had slaughtered her village, and she, in turn, had almost casually slaughtered them in return, this truth had not been clear to her.

To deal out death was the ultimate power to which one could aspire, and she had embraced her death-dealing wholeheartedly. More recently, though, she had found it amusing to deal out that death more indirectly, as pushing those around her into killing each other was preposterously simple. Of course, sometimes, the more hands-on approach proved necessary.

It appeared that such would be the case fairly soon, as her current guests drew ever nearer to the center of her web. Not that she was worried: the two boys and the man would present her as little difficulty in that regard as the two unconscious Finns. No, the only semi-problematic one had been the first one taken out. The only real question was whether she’d even break a sweat in sending them to their destiny.

She thought not.

*

“I see you earned some good scars,” Sigrun said casually as they worked their way down a long and winding stairway. “I’ll bet there’s a really good story behind ‘em.”

“Not really.” The response was very very faintly amused. “Accident and incident brought them about, and no such great and heroic deeds as you imagine have ever been mine to do.”

“Even so,” she persisted, “you might find them for the taking, were you to go to the right place.” No romantic inclinations led her to speak thus, but the need for fighting men (and women) in Dalsnes. Last year’s Hunting season had been the worst in living memory, and the signs all pointed to worse to come.

“There is no right place for me, for I must eschew the company of others. Too long with them, and either I wish them dead or they wish me dead, or both, and so I abide on my own.”

Sigrun added this to the meager store of things ‘Eric’ had let slip and lapsed into silent contemplation.

*

Reynir had been studying hard since he got back to Iceland, and now seemed as good a time as any to see if that study had borne fruit at all. Mikkel had called a halt in a widening of the corridor, then gently placing the Finns in a position where he could examine them again. Reynir thought he could do something to help here, and told Mikkel so.

The doubtful tone of Mikkel’s assent would have discouraged anyone except Reynir, whose bubbly nature was reasserting itself despite his anger. Humming to himself, he rummaged in his little haversack until he found the special body pens. After carefully selecting just the right shade for each of them, he just as carefully drew a very specific galdrastafur on Tuuri’s forehead and a similar but just slightly different one on Lalli’s forehead.

Once the rite was complete, Reynir sat back and waited...

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

We’re not far from the end now, folks, so I'm going to wrap it up before going on with the others.

SO PUMPED FOR THE ENDING I'M DYING OF CURIOSITY

[LooNEY_DAC]

Not quite the end yet…
but close.

The Oldest Law
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic
Part 8

Spoiler: show

Or 5c, or maybe 9-1/2

“I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”

The voice came from the far end of the corridor, from a small, dignified-looking silver-haired woman. She was obviously in what Reynir’s mother would call “her golden years”, but certainly lean and fit, and Reynir could sense something off about her, like a set of notes jarringly off-key in a musical piece.

Mikkel had barely begun to turn towards her when she somersaulted down the corridor, crashing into him with enough force to knock him down and out. The suddenness of it caught Reynir by surprise, but Emil was already moving with the instant reactions needed of one who fights grosslings. She’d barely gained her feet when she had to duck the improvised club he’d made for himself, and then dodge his knife.

She looked at Emil a bit--just a tiny bit--more respectfully. “Well, Cleanser, you have some spunk in you,” she congratulated him as she dodged his next set of blows without apparent effort.

Then someone behind her bashed her over the head with another improvised club, and she fell to the floor.

*

Tuuri was being pecked at by vultures who spoke with human voices, but when she tried to bat their beaks away, her hands were grabbed by human hands. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, and the first face she saw was Sigrun’s, looking at her with some concern.

Tuuri’s eyes widened and her face paled dramatically, but, good Finn survivor that she was, she held in the screams building in her, lest she bring the grosslings down upon them. Then Sigrun spoke, in calm and soothing tones, letting the frightened Tuuri know that yes, it was really Sigrun this time, and that everything was going to be fine, and the fear began to subside.

*

Eventually, after Mikkel had been roused and Tuuri calmed, Sigrun got around to the more social niceties, like introducing the man accompanying her, who had mostly remained quietly in the background. Emil thought there was something vaguely familiar about him, but this ‘Eric’ had a generic enough ‘Norse’-ness about him that Emil dismissed the sense of familiarity thus.

“Eric.” The single word was filled with venom.

Everyone turned to look at the previously barely conscious Lalli, who was now full on glaring at the figure Sigrun had called ‘Eric’. Lalli shifted his gaze to Emil for a moment and said, grinding each syllable out slowly, “Eric... Smed... Ivor... Vit.”

Emil frowned. “Wait. Why do those names sound so familiar?”

Lalli said something else, in Swedish no less, and the words he spoke were ones Emil had never expected to hear from him in any tongue. “Troll-bait.”

A sudden surge of memories washed over Emil: a horrible murder; the intense investigation; the secret tribunal; and finally the public summation and corporate flogging. He recoiled, as one does from an unexpected pile of filth. “Murderer! Traitor! What dark force saved you from your just fate?”

Sigrun looked confused. “What are you babbling about, Emil?”

Emil determinedly tamped the growing rage down so that he could speak coherently. “That lower-than-troll-gunk over there used to be a Cleanser, until he raped, tortured, mutilated and killed one of our own, a girl no older than I! For that, he was to be staked out as troll-bait, but he survived somehow, and I mean to rectify that!”

‘Eric’ calmly said, “No, you won’t.”

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

Oh, look. It’s Eric.

And in other news, it seems I’m not very numerate after midnight.

[misea]

Not quite the end yet…
but close.

The Oldest Law
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic
Part 8

Spoiler: show

Or 5c, or maybe 9-1/2

“I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”

The voice came from the far end of the corridor, from a small, dignified-looking silver-haired woman. She was obviously in what Reynir’s mother would call “her golden years”, but certainly lean and fit, and Reynir could sense something off about her, like a set of notes jarringly off-key in a musical piece.

Mikkel had barely begun to turn towards her when she somersaulted down the corridor, crashing into him with enough force to knock him down and out. The suddenness of it caught Reynir by surprise, but Emil was already moving with the instant reactions needed of one who fights grosslings. She’d barely gained her feet when she had to duck the improvised club he’d made for himself, and then dodge his knife.

She looked at Emil a bit--just a tiny bit--more respectfully. “Well, Cleanser, you have some spunk in you,” she congratulated him as she dodged his next set of blows without apparent effort.

Then someone behind her bashed her over the head with another improvised club, and she fell to the floor.

*

Tuuri was being pecked at by vultures who spoke with human voices, but when she tried to bat their beaks away, her hands were grabbed by human hands. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, and the first face she saw was Sigrun’s, looking at her with some concern.

Tuuri’s eyes widened and her face paled dramatically, but, good Finn survivor that she was, she held in the screams building in her, lest she bring the grosslings down upon them. Then Sigrun spoke, in calm and soothing tones, letting the frightened Tuuri know that yes, it was really Sigrun this time, and that everything was going to be fine, and the fear began to subside.

*

Eventually, after Mikkel had been roused and Tuuri calmed, Sigrun got around to the more social niceties, like introducing the man accompanying her, who had mostly remained quietly in the background. Emil thought there was something vaguely familiar about him, but this ‘Eric’ had a generic enough ‘Norse’-ness about him that Emil dismissed the sense of familiarity thus.

“Eric.” The single word was filled with venom.

Everyone turned to look at the previously barely conscious Lalli, who was now full on glaring at the figure Sigrun had called ‘Eric’. Lalli shifted his gaze to Emil for a moment and said, grinding each syllable out slowly, “Eric... Smed... Ivor... Vit.”

Emil frowned. “Wait. Why do those names sound so familiar?”

Lalli said something else, in Swedish no less, and the words he spoke were ones Emil had never expected to hear from him in any tongue. “Troll-bait.”

A sudden surge of memories washed over Emil: a horrible murder; the intense investigation; the secret tribunal; and finally the public summation and corporate flogging. He recoiled, as one does from an unexpected pile of filth. “Murderer! Traitor! What dark force saved you from your just fate?”

Sigrun looked confused. “What are you babbling about, Emil?”

Emil determinedly tamped the growing rage down so that he could speak coherently. “That lower-than-troll-gunk over there used to be a Cleanser, until he raped, tortured, mutilated and killed one of our own, a girl no older than I! For that, he was to be staked out as troll-bait, but he survived somehow, and I mean to rectify that!”

‘Eric’ calmly said, “No, you won’t.”

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

Oh, look. It’s Eric.

And in other news, it seems I’m not very numerate after midnight.

I have another fic to read now, hehehe wAIT NO I NEED TO DO HOMEWORK T_T

[Russet]

Oh my god LooNEY this is so intense eeeeeh! I don't know what to do with all this adrenaline

[Róisín]

This is getting really interesting! Did you have this planned out right back from your earlier story, or did it 'just grow'?

[Sunflower]

Not quite the end yet…
but close.

The Oldest Law
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic
Part 8

Spoiler: show

Or 5c, or maybe 9-1/2

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

Oh, look. It’s Eric.

And in other news, it seems I’m not very numerate after midnight.

I absolutely did not see that coming.    Good job! 

[LooNEY_DAC]

The Oldest Law
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic
Part 9

Spoiler: show

Red ‘Eric’ and His Fate

“No, you won’t.”

‘Eric’ smiled nastily at Emil, his eyes bright with an insanity eerily reminiscent of the dead woman’s. “It takes more than you all have combined to kill me: the Cleansers staked me out, half-dead from the beating already, so that a giant could feast on me, and I survived it! They knew I was alive after it was long dead, but still they left me there, and so they all deserved to die! That’s why I’ve been killing them off, one by one, here on this island. Why else do you think I egged our dear girl into bringing you here, Emil, if not to get my revenge on you?”

Emil was so tremendously angry that he had trouble speaking for a moment. “All those good Cleansers you slew are dead only because you hunted them down as a Vätte would; are you man enough to face this Cleanser as he stands ready to fight you, or have you lived like a troll for so long that you’ve become one, a coward crouching in the dark until its prey has turned away from it?”

*

‘Eric’ lay dead on the floor, his face twisted into an expression of disbelief. From the center of his chest sprouted Emil’s knife, surrounded by a slowly spreading stain of scarlet.

Emil was sweaty and shivering, and had obviously lost his breakfast over in one corner, but he bore not a cut nor a scrape nor even a bruise from the fight. The look on his face spoke of scars within, though, so Lalli simply went over to his messy Swede friend and gave him a shoulder bump.

*

There was much to be said in favor of razing the path behind you: it forced you to forge ahead; it denied your enemies their former playgrounds, the chance to strike at you from behind, or the ability to backtrack you to your home; it heartened your friends and demoralized your enemies; and many other things. All told, Sigrun was confident that letting Emil burn this place to the ground would fall in the positive column, rather than the negative.

“I was going to let you go as thanks for ridding me of ‘Eric’, but I can’t countenance the burning of my home, so you have to die.”

Razing the path behind you was also a good way to draw your enemies out of cover, whether you intended to or not. The crazy woman had seemed to go down a bit too easily for Sigrun to be comfortable about it, but she hadn’t wanted to risk checking to see if the nut was playing possum until now.

Emil had heard tales handed down from his forebears about things from the Old Times called “action movies” starring demigods like Jackie Chan, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Jet Li, Wesley Snipes, and many others that featured fights that moved so fiercely and swiftly as to be beyond human capabilities. The fight he now witnessed would have put any of them to shame, he was quite certain. He and Lalli were standing well back and watching carefully, just in case, though Emil doubted his own ability to succeed if Sigrun failed.

Sigrun’s shall we say capability at fighting had obviously surprised the crazy old woman; whether that surprise and Sigrun’s advantages of youth and stamina  would be decisive remained to be seen, as the two seemed quite evenly matched otherwise. Each woman was obviously fully versed in how their bodies could best be used to strike or to evade a blow, and each woman was as quick as the other to take advantage of any perceived slip of their opponent’s. Consequently, the fight swiftly transformed into a fast paced and energetic dance of sorts.

Flesh and blood can only keep going for so long, and eventually, the crazy old oman’s endurance gave out enough for her to be fatally slow to dodge one of Sigrun’s blows, and from there, the vicious cycle of more pain/less speed/more hits taken/more pain etc brought the fight to an inevitable end. Trembling with near-exhaustion herself, Sigrun stood proudly over the corpse of her vanquished foe.

*

After they dealt with the crazy old woman, everything just seemed to fall into place. They found their way back to the surface fairly easily; a boat was waiting for them at the quay; and no other surprises jumped out at them on their way to Björköfjärden.

Once at Björköfjärden, they each went their separate ways again: with goodbyes effusive and taciturn, long and short; with promises of correspondence and visits; with laughter, tears and sad smiles; and with a few particularly poignant echoes of their first encounters, now distant enough to seem a lifetime ago.

Emil, Tuuri and Lalli were the last to depart. Trying to keep a manful composure, Emil stuck out his hand to Lalli, only to be surprised when his Finn friend nearly knocked him over in a Tuuri-esque hug, Tuuri joining them after a moment.

Then the boarding call for the ship to Finland sounded, and the Hotakainens hurried away. Emil sighed sadly and began the long walk to his train. Duty called.

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

And there’s an end.

WHAT I KNEW AND WHEN I KNEW IT

At the beginning, I knew it would echo "And Then There Were None" in part, but that there would be 2 opposed villains.

I knew the minor villain would be 'Eric' before I wrote Part 3, when he grabbed Sigrun.

I knew the waiting for the reveal was getting to me when I was writing Part 6 and had to skip to Part 8 to write the reveal.