by Matt Luedke

Far in the frigid Northlands, outside a small town, Åsa and her brother Ívarr lived with their elf mother and human father in a little cabin of wood and stone. When she was a child, Åsa’s mother had taught her the elven rune magic that I’m sure you have heard of, such as how to swim in a lake without getting cold or wet, how to heal cut wounds, and how to walk across snow without leaving tracks. Åsa’s mother also gave her a special runestone, and showed her how, when exactly the right words were spoken by anyone at any place in the world, the stone would glow.

The family kept a herd of velvet-antlered reindeer, and once a month would travel together to town to sell reindeer milk, antler crafts, and meat.

One day, when Åsa was a young woman, a missionary arrived in town, and a crowd formed as he and some soldiers of the Righteous King distributed gifts. He said that elves were unbaptized and not allowed into heaven because they were descendents of Lilith and not of Eve. His words echoed in Åsa’s head on the way home.

From that day on, Åsa’s father would only take Ívarr with him to town, and Åsa and her mother would stay back with the reindeer. She would hear her mother and father arguing every night at the other end of the cabin about the missionary. Her father placed a cross on the shelf by the hearth, moving aside her mother’s elven willow flute.

Åsa asked and asked, but her mother stopped teaching her magic. Her father would even keep Åsa from saying the magic runes she already knew.

One morning, Åsa woke up to find her mother and the willow flute gone. She ran outside barefoot, screaming into all the corners of the farm.

But the only tracks in the snow were the reindeer’s, and her own.

Soon after, her father and brother went with the missionary and the soldiers to fight in the Righteous King’s War. Åsa would take care of the reindeer during the day, and fall asleep tracing the veins in the elven stone her mother had given her, wondering if it would ever glow.

One day, Åsa went into town and met Hlíf, another young woman her age. They talked and talked, about the range of reindeer personalities, and the town’s best and worst ales (they disagreed on these). Hlíf had hair braided with beads of reindeer antler, piercing green eyes, and a smile that melted Åsa’s bones. Åsa was interested in anything Hlíf had to say about anything at all.

Åsa invited Hlíf to visit her farm, where Åsa introduced her to all the reindeer. They had a wonderful day full of sunlight and laughter, until Hlíf picked up the runestone in the cabin and asked about it. Åsa, worried that Hlíf might report her as an elf, said the stone meant nothing and

made up an excuse for Hlíf to need to leave. She saw Hlíf toss the stone to the roadside as she walked away.

The next night was the longest of the year, when many families celebrated the Yule together. Åsa was cold even under all the blankets in the cabin, wiping her eyes next to the fire.

Suddenly, she heard a monstrous growl outside. She grabbed the lumber axe and went outside to see a Cyclops Troll approaching the herd of bleating reindeer. Cyclops Trolls, as I’m sure you know, have one large veiny eye. When that eye focuses on you, it takes away your sight of anything else. And that’s exactly what it did to Åsa; it turned away from the reindeer to her, and all she could see was the troll’s bloodshot eye, staring at her from across the field.

She bravely tried to rush forward, but without her sight she tripped and got stuck in the snow. She realized that she would soon be eaten by the troll. As the troll stomped towards her, she wondered where she would go when she died. If she died and was truly a human, maybe she would go to heaven. But if she died and was truly an elf, she would not be allowed there. Would she?

Åsa thought of the way Hlíf took stray hairs loosed by the wind and tucked them behind her ears as she walked, and Åsa wished she had told Hlíf all about the stone. A tiny spark within Åsa grew from the thought, and reminded her of some half-remembered elven words her mother had taught her years before. Without fully knowing why, she said the words as the troll lumbered closer and closer.

The troll finally reached Åsa, so close she could smell its blood-matted hair. But suddenly, the eye recoiled from a blow, and Åsa regained her sight. Hlíf had returned, and thrown a stone into the troll’s eye!

The troll growled, blinded, and staggered away into the forest. Hlíf helped Åsa out of the snow and held out the glowing stone, which she had, in fact, kept.

That night, Åsa and Hlíf shared stories not only of the town’s best and worst ales (about which they still disagreed), but also of what they loved and feared and had lost and hoped for. Next to them, on the table, the stone glowed bright enough to light the cabin without any candles.