Historical Fiction Contest Entry

Dísir

"Bittida en morgon innan solen upprann"

She hummed a simple tune under her breathe as she walked the way beside the homes. Golden light poured into the blue and black night, and the shadows of a high-flying bird and the window light played across her face. The shadows swallowed her eyes and cheeks, and her face skull-like under the moonlight. Her pale lips were parted the slightest.

"Innan fåglarna började sjunga"

She had no name but for that of her people, and they were the Dísir,  and as she walked she dragged long fingers against the doors, feeling the spirits contained within. A woman slept uneasy here, and a man paced the swept-dirt floor, a fire flickering against his skin. She grinned, and passed them by.

"Bergatrollet friade till fager ungersven"

Inside the next was an unruly child. From the window she felt their voices. Overhead a black-shouldered kite let out a cry that chilled the souls of those who had them.

"Hon hade en falskeliger tunga"

His fists shook, his voice with loud and rough and broken. As she entered (the door not opening as she did), he sat, head burried in his hands.

"Herr Mannelig herr Mannelig trolofven i mig"

Poor child, she thought, and his father did not listen, back turned to the boy and hands clenched tight. The words the exchanged were whispers to her mind, for she did not hear, but felt only. 

"För det jag bjuder så gerna"

She smiled, raising a hand covered with black charcoal, long nails glistening. She found him, hand against the energy that pulsed off his body. 

He turned to yell, mouth opening, words forming.

She tilted her hand, just the slightest.  

No word left him. He stood there, silent, face contorted in confusion and rage. The boy did not look up.

"I kunnen väl svara endast ja eller nej"

She walked to him now, not more than twenty or so to rival her hundreds. A hand was placed upon his shoulder, and gently her fingertips traced their way to the back of his neck. Clearly against the blurred sounds she heard his shaken inhale, a soothing breathe. 

"Om i viljen eller ej"

The claws drew blood, and it stain his shirt. He was now tainted, she knew, and luck coursed in young veins. Someday he would learn this, and the valkyrie would be the next to find his reckless self. She skipped to latter in her song.

"Hade jag fått den fager ungersven"

She walked back through the walls of stone to the blanketing night, and there held out a hand again. She felt the moonlight in her fingers, an inhaled its sweet perfume.

"Så hade jag mistat min plåga."

As she gave these last words to the wind, it took her in its dark embrace, and the boy saw her no more.