Coast of Denmark 985 A.D.
Asger awoke in a mild panic. His dreams were of a tumultuous sea that was swallowing boats whole, people screaming in vain as they were sucked down into the cold deep. He had heard something outside. But perhaps it was a noise from his dreams or Ebba moving nearby. Hard to say in the ensuing silence.
He peered over at Ebba. She was awake.
"Did you hear that?" he whispered. The embers glowed softly in the corner and the small room was frigid.
Ebba shook her head yes without speaking. Asger quietly moved the pelts from atop them and crawled to his feet. The room was now almost completely dark from the lack of firelight. He knew the room well and could navigate it blind if need be, but now the shadows seemed to be hiding things. Perhaps Odin was displeased for some reason. Perhaps he had come to the small village in the form of this small girl to sweep them all into the sea. He had let nothing into their home, but he stared at the corners and under the stacked chests. He looked for movement in the darkness. A sign of the end.
Sword in hand, he walked toward the door. A small crackled escaped the fireplace as the last piece of whole wood crumbled into the dying embers. Ebba watched from her place beside their bed, cleaver in hand. Asger reached the door and surveyed his handiwork with the spikes. They were still in place and holding. He was surprised to see that one was driven to the hilt, deep in the timber. He had been in a heightened state the night before, his fearful but purposeful hands working hectically to shield Ebba and his child-to-be from this night terror, whatever it was.
They both listened in silence. Time passed slowly. The anticipation was agonizing for Ebba. She broke into tears again, silently.
Asger stood a few feet from the door, waiting; for what he did not know. It seemed that this thing could not come in unless they wanted it to. But while it could not come in, they could not leave. Asger thought of how much wood they had inside. Not much. And it was cold, very cold. He thought of how much food they had. Dried meat in the chest. Enough for a week if taken lightly. But the rest was in a small underground spot outside the cottage. It was salt packed and not just theirs, but belonged to several other villagers also.
And there were other necessities. How long would this carry on? Was this thing toying with them? Perhaps it could come in any time it liked. Perhaps it was just having a little fun with them. A game.
This angered Asger. He was frightened for Ebba. He had seen women with child become excitable and lose the baby. One woman bled to death in front of half the village. There was nothing they could do. Best to keep her calm.
A sound. A soft rapping. Coming from the door.
Asger and Ebba froze. Silence again. The noise had been so soft. Maybe their minds were playing tricks on them. Had they really heard anything? Was it the water?
They waited in silence again. Then the rapping again. Soft as snow falling against the door. Three or four times in succession. This time they knew it was real. Someone or something was knocking at the door. Asger tried to figure out where the tapping was coming from. Was it lower on the door? The height of the small girl? Was it higher?
The knock again. Louder this time. Then again. A little louder. Asger remained silent, but began thinking about the noise. It was starting to ring louder and louder in the night air. If it wasn't the girl, if it was some unlucky villager, it could very well bring the girl to them.
Rapping louder still. A full-fledged pounding.
"Who is there!" yelled Asger.
There was a muffled sound from the other side of the door.
"Who is there, I say?" he screamed again, this time with no regard for who was hearing either one of them. He needed to end this now. Maybe he would just sling the door open and start swinging like a wild man, hacking everything in front of him. To hell with it all. Asger was a man of action and movement. He sat still only when he was eating. All this waiting was making him crazy. Trapped in his own home by a small girl. Maybe they had misunderstood the whole thing. Let a small child of a madman freeze to death in the night air.
"Svend!"
He recognized the voice this time. It was Svend. A fisherman from his village. He was a respected member of the village and a fine fisherman. But why was he outside this night?
"What is it?" asked Asger.
"Let me in."
Asger looked at Ebba. He was not going to let the man in, this he already knew. Ebba shook her head side to side. No.
"What is wrong?"
There was a pause.
"There is something loose in the village. Please let me in, Asger. Please."
Svend's voice was louder now. And Asger could make out a quiver in his words. He was afraid. What if he was telling the truth? Asger was already in shame over killing the man yesterday. He had killed men before, during a raid on his village when he was much younger, but that was forced. Necessary. The man still lying dead on his floor had not seemed a threat. But he was dead just the same. Now there was a man from his village asking for shelter outside his very door. Could he turn away Svend?
He looked over at Ebba. No. He had no choice once again. He could not take chances with Ebba's life. Or the child's.
"Go home and don't let it in. Do not let it in."
There was more noise outside the door. Shuffling of some sort and the door jolted ever so slightly. If Svend was trying to break the door down, there would be another fight. To the death if need be. Asger prepared himself.
"You're not coming in! Go home and don't let it in!"
It was then, looking back at Ebba, that Asger thought of Svend's woman. He couldn't remember her name. "Ebba, what is his woman's name?"
She whispered back, "Halla."
Asger hollered through the door, "Where is Halla?"
The door stopped moving and there was silence again. Then shuffling. Movement of some sort. Asger stared at the door and waited. Listening. He motioned for Ebba to put some wood in the fire. If the fight came inside, he wanted more light. She slowly crawled over to the fire and gently placed a couple more pieces of split wood atop it. She stood and readied herself, keeping distance from the door and standing behind the table.
"Good luck my friends!"
The scream from the other side of the door was a battle cry. There was more movement, quicker this time. A fight. Then a sickening crunch heard all the way through the door. Then silence again.
There was no movement or sound for a long period of time. The flames hugged the sacrificial wood and released its life force to the surroundings, bathing the cottage in a flickering glow.
There was a loud thump and the door shook. One of the spikes loosened slightly and the door slid imperceptibly. Asger backed away, sword raised. The door shook again with a tremendous force as something slammed into it. Then it hit the other side of the cottage, testing the timber and construction. Pieces of loose debris and dirt shook loose from the force and covered their bed. Again. Again. The whole cottage trembling from the onslaught.
Asger was sure that in a moment the whole of the cottage would disintegrate and leave them standing exposed and alone on the side of the hill that led down to the ocean's edge. If that was the case, then it must be Odin. And what would the point be in holding a sword to Odin? But as he thought about it, he decided he would. For Ebba, he would take his sword to his god.
Each side of the cottage shook over and over again. It was as if a hundred men were crashing into it, over and over. But there was no sound of armor. Only a hollow thumping sound each time. Finally, it stopped.
Ebba was now crouched down next to the bed, huddled with face hidden from whatever had come to destroy them. Asger stood his ground, turning to face each wall as the thing moved around the cottage. A large crack sounded overhead. The roof bent and loose dirt and some roots fell to the floor. They looked up. Towards the middle of the roof, in the weakest spot, there was an indentation.
Asger pointed his sword at the spot and circled back around to Ebba, placing himself between whatever it is was and her. The timbered roof sat silent. As Asger stared at the spot, he noticed a couple of smaller pieces of timber had splintered. There was something hanging down from near the bent place. It was a stringy blackness, like a cobweb soaked with water.
Asger cautiously moved toward the center of the room, tip of sword aimed at the cobweb. He could hear water pitter-patter on the table in front of him as he approached, melted snow from the roof. As the flames revealed the spider-like webbing hanging limp through the wood, Ebba began to sob again. It was hair. It was not some beast on their roof. It was Svend.
And it was not melted snow pouring onto the place where they had eaten in comfort the night before. It was Svend's blood dripping from above.