Adventures in Jotunheim- Chapter Four

Finland woke in the midst of a desert. Kind of an odd place to the peon, but to Finland, it was sending a very dangerous vibe through his mind. He was well-versed in his own old culture as well as the classics, and he knew exactly what this meant.

Standing up and shaking off the sand, he started to walk. Fortunately, he knew that the desert wasn't too large. Unfortunately, he knew that the journey out of it was going to take a while. And it did. What seemed like months went by. He got his water through improvised solar stills and digging trenches in the sand with the butt of his rifle, making a shade with the rifle and his parka. After exhausting his emergency rations that he always had with him, he knew that it wasn't going to be much longer before hunger, thirst, and exhaustion set in. It had killed many mortals who dared make the journey before him, and he knew that he himself was not invincible.

What did catch him by surprise was a banshee shriek that emanated from seemingly nowhere. This was not part of the journey, he thought. It floated on the air for a good long time, and it deeply unsettled him. Only after a bit did he realize that it wasn't a scream, but an extremely high soprano voice. He barely made out words:

Danska ríki hefur farist! Eilífu er rautt og hvítt borði!

It was Icelandic, which thoroughly confused Finland. Then, it sounded again:

Danska ríki hefur farist! Eilífu er rautt og hvítt borði!

And it faded into silence. After standing there for a few minutes, expecting something, Finland sighed and resumed his grim march towards Death.

He arrived on the edge of a vast forest. The temperature dropped and the sun seemed to disappear in favor of fog. A twisting uncleared path began and wound its way through the solemn pines. Taking a deep sigh, he made his way.

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"Where were you guys?"

Sister Denmark's voice was heard before its source was seen. Suddenly, a blur of red and blonde burst into the kitchen and floored Norway. "Do be careful, Denmark, he's head's been through a lot," Åland said as she grabbed Norway's face to make sure he was real. "Yeah, well, we've been through a lot!"

Sweden crossed his arms. "Oh? How so?" He normally wasn't this touchy, but the latest events had taxed his patience considerably.

"Well, for starters, we've given up on you," she began. "Or, rather, we had. Norway and Sweden are still scouring Congo's basement, and I think Finland and Iceland are doing some sort of seance. I let them know you're here, but I don't know how quickly they can get here."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" said Norway, shaking the cobwebs out of his head. "Denmark, we've been gone for five days."

She looked at him with an insane look. "You were gone for four months."

Sweden paled. Åland nearly toppled over. Norway started hyperventilating.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," she said, noticing their extremely bemused state. "Now, on to the real questions. Where are-" She was brutally interrupted by Iceland and Finland crashing into the living room, completely out of breath.

"As I was asking, where are the others?" Sister Denmark asked, glaring out of the corner of her eye at the two Nordics.

"We know the answer," Sister Iceland said, catching her breath and looking slightly less red.

"Well?" Denmark asked impatiently.

"You might want to sit down," Sweden said, motioning to the living room.

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Finland was taking a rest break along a river. This would not have been out of the ordinary, except that the river was pure black and showed no signs of life, except for a single solitary swan that was gliding about the surface. He knew that he was close, and yet he wanted to pause and soak in the grandeur that surrounded him. Massive, snow-capped mountains rose and formed a formidable wall that cut him off from the north to the southeast; the river (and the land beyond) formed the western half, and the southeast-to-south portion was the trail he just came on, and it led back to the desert. He was forced to continue, and that's precisely he was resting. It had just rained, and the air was saturated with that refreshing smell of fresh things. He knew it would be the last time he could enjoy such things.

As he sat and reflected on his life, he mused. It was much in the same vein of Sweden's thoughts earlier. The fineries in life would not be available to him- saunas, vodka, laughter, snow, and, most importantly, friends. Finally, he decided that he was going to beat the odds, defeat the Hero's Curse, and return alive. No mortal had escaped since the Curse. Until now, he thought. Vocalising Finlandia, he marched onward through the rain, determined.

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The rain had settled in over Stockholm, and it was deadly quiet inside Sweden's house. Everyone save Sister Denmark was huddled around the central fire pit, huddled with one another. But for one, it had gotten to be too much.

Norway excused himself to the outside area. He didn't mind that it was raining. He sat on the bench overlooking the Baltic Sea that he and Denmark often sat on, getting soaked to the bone. But for Norway, this was cleansing. It made everything smell good. The air was becoming clean and cold, and soon he would be able to focus on his emotions. He was soon joined by another individual.

"You too, huh?" said Sister Denmark. She was even wetter than he was; her red-and-white shirt had darkened to a maroon. It was obvious she had been crying. Her eyes were red. "Yeah," Norway replied. She sat down next to him. "It's just hard to believe. Gone, like that. It could've been me. It could've been…" he faltered as he searched for words that did not dare show themselves. He felt Sister Denmark's arm reach around him as he buried his face in his hands. "I know, I feel the same way," she said. "I've never suffered loss like this. It feels like my world is collapsing."

She looked into his eyes, and he could tell that she was in the midst of a big emotional collapse, like the landslide before the volcanic eruption. "Norway, I don't know what I'm going to do with all of these new responsibilities. I'm now in charge of Christiania and his welfare. I'm now the leader of the Nordic Council. All of the jobs usually taken by my brother are now shunted onto me. It's too much. It's just too much. Norway, help me."

"Look, Denmark, if you weren't competent I think that someone would've said something by now," Norway said. "But nobody has, which I would take as an affirmation of support. You can do this. Make your brother proud." She smiled a little, then leaned in and kissed him. As she went inside, Norway stuck around, looking off into the distance, hoping that the universe had a rewind button.

"Alright, everybody," Sister Denmark said, clearing her throat. A very downtrodden group of nations gazed up at her. "I'm taking effective control of the Nordic Council and calling an emergency session in Copenhagen."

"When?" asked Sweden. "Two hours," said Sister Denmark. "Iceland, can you grab Greenland and Faroes?" Sister Iceland nodded.

"Great. Let's go into this strong," Sister Denmark declared.

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"Order!" yelled Sister Denmark. Everyone stopped talking.

"Great. First order of business: roll call. We have Norway, Sweden, Greenland, Faroes, Åland, and myself present. Iceland and Finland are represented by their sisters. Next order of business: report from Sister Iceland."

"Mm. Yes. So, I communed with the gods the other day, as you may know by now," said Sister Iceland with a breathtakingly matter-of-fact tone. "The current situation is not looking terribly good. Hel currently possesses Denmark's remains, and she says there's a possibility of reanimation if we complete her task."

"And what would that be?" Greenland muttered.

"We have to collect fire from Muspelheim and water from Hvergelmir, in Niflheim," Sweden said. "Although how to get to those locations is beyond me and my sight."

"She said that to find the entrances to both realms, we need to think about what the realms would correspond to here on Earth," Sister Iceland explained. "So where on Earth could Muspelheim be?"

"If we follow the Greeks and Romans, it could be Mt. Etna," Norway suggested. "That's where Hephaestus's forge was said to be."

"First off, what is Muspelheim?" Faroes asked, thoroughly confused.

"The Norse realm of fire," answered Åland, to Sweden's bemused face. "Yes, sweetie, I did my homework. Likewise, Niflheim is the realm of ice. Hvergelmir is the primal spring, located in an isolated corner right above Helheim."

"I see," said Faroes, even though he looked more confused. "So this realm of fire… is it like Hell?"

"No," said Sister Iceland. "That's Helheim, which is very cold, dank, and grey. Muspelheim is still a very unpleasant place, and one does not simply-"

"-walk into Muspelheim," completed Faroes. "Honest to God, Iceland, show you Lord of the Rings once and you start spouting lines like some sort of-"

"Okay, girls, not here, not now," Sister Denmark yelled. They quieted down. "Now, any other ideas where the realms might be on Earth?"

"Hekla," Sister Finland stated plainly. Everyone stared.

"By god, Finland, you're right," Norway exclaimed. "Why didn't I see it before?"

"Okay, then. I'll need a task force to devise a plan to obtain fire from Muspelheim by… how about lunchtime tomorrow? Who can I get on that?" Sister Denmark asked. Sister Iceland and Faroes raised their hands, with promises to ask others upon getting home. "Good, good," she said. "Next order of business: where are Iceland and Finland?"

"I was able to pinpoint my brother's location," Sister Iceland reported again. "It doesn't look good. He's on an island in the middle of a black, oily sea. It's attached to the World Tree, but tenuously and it's home to a horror. His name is Fenrir."

Norway and Sister Denmark paled. Sweden started fidgeting.

"I'm sorry, that name didn't come up in my research," Åland said. "Who might that be?"

"Fenrir is a monstrous wolf," Sister Iceland explained. "He started out as a cute and cuddly puppy, but certainly didn't end that way. The war god Tyr can thank Fenrir for the stub that is his arm."

"And Finland?" Sister Denmark said, sounding a little sick.

"No idea. He's not on the World Tree, nor any plane," Sister Iceland replied.

"Did my brother just… blip out existence?" Sister Finland asked, furious.

"No, he's definitely alive," Sister Iceland said. "Just where is the question at hand."

Suddenly, with a large crack, Finland materialised on the table. "Olen vain saa olla täällä jonkin aikaa! Sisar, se on Tuonela! Kävelin aavikon halki ja saapuivat joen!" he told his sister. He was covered in something awful and black. She was about to ask him what the hell he was talking about when he disappeared again.

"So, that happened," Norway deadpanned. "I'm getting coffee."

Sister Finland was still agape at the place where her brother had been. The look on his face had been one she had never seen on him. It was a look of sheer terror and pleading.

"What the hell was that 'bout?" Sister Denmark asked Sister Finland.

"He's in Tuonela," she replied, sounding dead inside.

"He's where?" Faroes again piped up.

"Tuonela. The Finnish Land of the Dead."

"Oh," he said, sounding very small.

"And how are we supposed to get him out of there, dare I ask?" Sister Iceland asked, folding her arms.

"There's only one other who can venture there with me," said Sister Finland, looking at the table.

"Who?" wailed Sweden.

Sister Finland sighed. "I was really hoping not to drag her into this…"

Norway went pale. "No. You can't mean… her!"

Sister Finland grimly nodded. "She's the only other one."

"Do what you must," Sister Denmark said, sounded defeated. "I call the meeting adjourned. I expect a full roll call tomorrow at lunchtime."

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The next day brought a certain air of disaster.

"First order of business: roll call," Sister Denmark droned. "We have Norway, Sweden, Åland, Sister Iceland, Sister Finland, myself (Sister Denmark) presiding, Greenland, Faroe Islands, and-"

"-and Estonia!" came an ebullient voice, followed by a girly shriek.

"So it begins," groaned Sister Iceland.

"Alrighty. Did everyone get some food from the kitchen already? Good. Faroes and Sister Iceland, do you have a strategy for Muspelheim?" Sister Denmark said, marking down roll.

"If by 'strategy', you meant 'half-baked ideas', than yes, we do," Faroes grumbled.

"Can you present it to the Council?"

"So the plan involves two individuals to mount Hekla and capture some lava flow. Than, a quick prayer should send it to Hel straightaway," Sister Iceland said.

"And who would these two individuals be?" Sister Denmark asked, even though she knew full well what the answer was.

"Why, Faroes and myself," Sister Iceland said happily. All eyes turned to Faroes, who was visibly miserable.

"Hey, I'm only doing it as a special favor for her since I didn't host her prime minister that one time," he said.

Sister Denmark raised an eyebrow. "Okay, then. Thank you. Next up we have plans to get to Niflheim?"

"We didn't even discuss where Niflheim might be," Sweden said, raising an eyebrow.

Sister Denmark shrugged. "Any ideas?"

"Could be anywhere," Åland said. "Samiland, Siberia, Greenland."

"Hey!" exclaimed Greenland.

"Sorry, pal, but it's true."

"What about Quebec?" Sister Iceland proposed.

"Why do you say that?" asked Sweden.

"Didn't the Vikings discover Canada? Who knows? Maybe Hudson's Bay or near there is the key to discovering the realm of ice."

"She could be correct," Sister Denmark said, "but we should make sure before we do any more actions. Could someone contact Canada?"

"I'll get on that," said Sweden.

"Thanks, Sweden," Sister Denmark said. "We got some people to save."

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So here's the deal.

1. Tuonela is the Finnish Land of the Dead. It's said to be surrounded by a vast desert, then a forest. It's guarded by a maiden and a swan (this "Swan of Tuonela" is the same swan immortalized in Jean Sibelius's tone poem of the same name).

2. Muspelheim and Niflheim are the two primal realms, the first in the creation of the universe.

3. I'm going to be toying with a couple of different ships throughout this story. Be warned.

4. Estonia's role will become apparent next chapter.

Keep reading!