The Tale of Old Man MacMurray
When I was a kid in Dalsnes, there was This One House that had been empty for like twenty years. Everybody in town knew about it, but nobody talked about it, just like nobody went there or even looked at it if they were nearby.
Now, back in the 20s and 30s, the few die-hard Scots settlements that had been grimly hanging on in their old homes finally wised up and came over to Norway in dribbles and drabs, and a couple of them made it to Dalsnes. One of them was Old Man MacMurray.
See, I never met the man, personally; he was long dead before the world created my magnificence. The stories he left behind, though--I saw the most fearless Hunters go pale when his name was mentioned, and I really think most of those who knew him would rather take on a giant in single combat than spend an hour in his company.
So. Old Man MacMurray took over this one house; I’m not sure whether he bought it, it was given to him, or he just demanded it, but he got it somehow, and he held onto it as his fathers had held to their little Highland hamlets.
As he got older, he got more and more reclusive, and more and more terrifying. People began to whisper about Dark Scots magic, up to and including child sacrifices at the waxing of the moon, but no one could prove anything, and when the local seiðkarl came by, he said there was nothing wrong with the place--but everyone knew he was as scared of Old Man MacMurray as everyone else.
Well, finally he died--from what I heard, he had a stroke while arguing over some petty thing or another in the mead-hall--and the fear of him lingered on. It took more than ten years for someone to dare to even look into That House, and when they did... Let’s say they were lucky to have friends standing outside, OK?
Now, kids are kinda silly sometimes; even I was, if you can believe it. There were a pack of us that palled around back when I was in my single digits; most lost interest once we started Hunting training, but this was just before that, so I was maybe... ten? Eleven? Anyway, naturally I was the ringleader, and the most best one the Dalsnes youth had ever seen, but back then, I didn’t know how to spot mutiny in the works.
The challenge came out of the blue: I was to prove my mettle by spending 48 hours straight in That Old House. Again, kids can be kinda silly; he actually thought I’d refuse! Weird. Although, I’ll admit I had a bit of a crazy moment just as I was going into That House where I wanted to turn around and run, but I’m Sigrun Eide, and Eides only run if it’ll save someone else; no Eide runs from their own death.
It was actually pretty boring in there, so I fell asleep pretty quickly. My dreams were of Old Man MacMurray trying to chase me off, but I tied him up in the chains he rattled at me, caught the torches he threw at me and threw them back, and out-yelled him when he finally faced me down. I told him who I am and dared him to come after me, and he backed down. Yeah, those dreams were fun.
I had rather expected some of the gang to come in and try to pull pranks on me, but none did, or they all said they hadn’t tried to; anyway, not a thing happened to me the whole two days, though I searched That House from top to bottom.
One odd thing that wasn’t a prank did happen, though. I was looking through Old Man MacMurray’s desk when an old letter popped out from a secret drawer--and it had my name on it! Of course, I’d forgotten my grandmother had the same name as I, so when I took it to my Dad, he laughed at my claims of Old Man MacMurray somehow scrying out my incursion into That House.
The letter turned out to be, of all things, a love letter, though Mormor Sigrun was quite Old Man MacMurray’s elder. It just goes to show how you never know about some people.
The kid who challenged me didn’t dare show his face around Dalsnes for a good long while; in fact, since Hunter training started so soon thereafter, I don’t think I’ve seen him since. You can probably tell that I count it as no great loss, though it is a bit weird in a small town like Dalsnes.
But that reminds me of another story...
