Beginning Anew

Bergen

Barbara made the last part of the trip to Bergen alone. She was hesitant at first, but soon realized plenty of other people were around. When the sun began to rise, Walter retreated into the shadow of the forest. He followed her as far as he could, but eventually, the places for him to hide dwindled and he had to remain behind.

She remembered clearly what he told her earlier. "I already rented and paid for the car in the name of Elisabeth Williams. All you have to do is pick it up."

That seemed easy enough. Walt really had thought of everything. With the help of the GPS in Barbara's hand it was relatively easy to find the rental agency.

Soon, she walked into a slightly worn-down, but clean building with multiple cars standing out front. All the signs were in a language Barbara couldn't read. She cleared her throat and approached the front desk. A burly man with a fussy, blonde beard and matching hair stared back at her with clear, blue eyes. Barbara smiled at him.

"God morgen. Kan jeg hjelpe deg?" the man asked.

Barbara blinked at the sound of the foreign language. "Uhh..." She hesitated. "I'm here for a car," she said. "Caaaar," she raised her voice and drew out the word, hands held up in the air to mimic steering a vehicle.

The employee lifted an eyebrow. "You could just say you don't speak Norwegian, Ms."

"Oh." Barbara blinked. "You speak English," she muttered sheepishly.

"Ma'am, this is a car rental agency. I deal with tourists all the time," the man pointed out in perfect English, plus a Norwegian accent.

"I'm so sorry!" Barbara apologized. "I didn't mean to offend you! I... Oh dear. I'm really, really sorry."

The man gave a hearty laugh. "Hahahahaha! It's all right, ma'am. It takes much more than that to offend me," he said in genuine amusement, "So, you need a car. Have you already made a reservation?" he asked.

"Ah yes, Elisabeth Williams," Barbara said. "Oh, and here's my identification." She held out her fake passport.

The man took it and flipped it open. He glanced at the passport, then at Barbara. She hid her fraying nerves as she wondered if he would figure out her ruse.

"Yes. I see you have a minivan reserved. And... Great. You already paid," he commented. "Looks good. Come this way, please."

Barbara followed him out behind the building. Vehicles were lined up in neat rows. When they came to a line of minivans, they stopped, and the rental agent took Barbara to a shiny white Volkswagen.

Barbara noted the tinted windows and how their mirrored surface made it impossible for anyone to get a look inside. They blocked out the sunlight decently as well. Walt really had thought of everything.

"She's in very good condition," the agent said as he opened the door for Barbara to look inside. "Air-conditioning, GPS, and it gets good gas-mileage."

Barbara checked the back seats, then she noticed the gear shift jutting up beside the driver's seat and her face fell. "It... isn't an automatic?"

"No, not this one," the man replied. "We don't have a lot of cars with automatic transmissions, but if you want, I'm sure we can find one."

"No, that's fine," Barbara thanked the man. She knew Walter took great care in choosing this vehicle. "It's just been a while since I've driven stick," she admitted.

"Are you sure?" the man asked.

"Yes." Barbara nodded. "I'm sure, this will do fine."

"Well, she is a nice car – good for city traffic and highway driving. It has good space too." He held out the keys to Barbara. "Well, here you go then."

Barbara eagerly took the keys. "Thank you. I should be going." She crawled into the driver's seat and fastened her seatbelt. She revved up the van and started to hit the gas. "Right..." she reminded herself, "Stick-shift."

Barbara managed to get out without bumping into anything – a good sign. Before she pulled out onto the road she looked around. There were a lot of things to get used to here, all the people biking everywhere for instance. Jim used to bike to school, but here it looked like adults biked to work, or the store, or wherever they needed to go. There were people with their toddlers strapped to their bikes. She couldn't imagine hauling around a child that age on a bicycle.

She pulled out onto the road, headed back toward Walter. When she reached his hiding place, she opened the backseat door and he clambered in, covered in his giant cloak. He held the cradle stone protectively, along with the few items they'd brought with them.

"So far, so good," Barbara said.

"I trust there wasn't any trouble," Walter said from the back, cloak still draped around his head.

"No, not at all," Barbara assured. "This is actually a lot of fun." She grinned. "Look at us – out on a secret mission."

Walter sighed. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing one of us is having fun," he commented dryly. "Our first drop-off is in Bergen, the city you just came from, so finding it shouldn't prove difficult."

"I haven't even had breakfast yet. I need to taste some of the Norwegian cuisine!" Barbara exclaimed.

"Be careful with what you pick. Pickled herring is considered a delicacy in this country." Walter leaned back in the seat.

"Seriously?" Barbara wrinkled her nose.

"Yes, and to eat it correctly you need to have a raw egg yolk on top," said Walter. "It's one of the few human foods trolls also enjoy eating."

"Uh, no offense, but I think I'll skip that one," Barbara said. "At the very least, I should try some meatballs. They're like the national food here, right?"

"No." Walter rolled his eyes. "That's Sweden. But I'd imagine you can find them here just as easily. Sweden will be our next destination."

Barbara grinned. Walter shook his head at her giddiness. Like he'd said, at least one of them was happy.