Ljuflingur

Had he imagined the movement? The prone body was still as death, half hidden under the light dusting of recent snow. Eirik approached warily and prodded one shoulder with his boot. There was no response.

He crouched down beside the boy and reevaluated his age estimate upwards. The young man was slender, and unconsciousness lent his ethereal features a childlike innocence. His skin was almost of a color with the snow, whether by birth or by death, Eirik couldn't say. His head lolled as Eirik carefully brushed aside fine strands of long black hair to press two fingers under his chin, feeling for a pulse.

"Away, mansspawn!"

The voice was a hiss. Eirik whirled as he leapt to his feet, axes falling into his hands. His pent up anger from the night's misadventures made him crave a good fight, and the dead boy didn't seem like he'd make a satisfying opponent. Eirik transferred his rage to whomever had dared sneak up on him.

It was a little girl.

Eirik gaped, his axes sagging. No older than eight or nine, she stood brazenly before him with a hand on either hip, bringing to mind a black candle with her cloud of silver blonde curls above long, velvety black robes.

"I said away!" she repeated imperiously.

"I told you someone would see him." This came from behind Eirik, who spun and found himself staring at a little boy, of an age with the girl and in the same draping black velvet, though his dark hair was twisted up into a warrior's knot. Eirik planted his feet by the young man's head so that he could keep an eye on both children.

"Is this a hidden path?" he demanded.

The boy shook his head disgustedly. "See, even he knows you've no power over him here, in his world."

Eirik took that as a 'no', but the girl didn't seem to agree. She scowled and shoved curling wisps of silver from her eyes. "I have power everywhere," she said shrilly. She stuck out a skinny arm, palm open and facing up, and crowed as an ugly looking dagger materialized in her hand. She shot the boy a triumphant look. "It's like we were told. We kill him here, in their world, and his people will feel it too late to save him."

"Kill whom?" Eirik interjected.

"We've no quarrel with you, mansspawn," the boy said calmly. "Just move away from the pretty lad."

"You can watch us kill him, if you like," the girl offered generously.

It was the wrong thing to say. Eirik felt his lips curl into an unpleasant smile. "I don't think I will." Children might not have been his top choice for fighting opponents, but these two were making it very easy for him not to think of them as children, at all. They were fey, through and through, from their velvet to their magic to their careless cruelty. "Move, that is. I think I won't let you kill him." He said it like he would say, 'I think I'll have the cod instead of the capelin.'

Twin sets of ebony eyes fixed themselves on him. Eirik almost took a step back. Almost. Instead, he deftly unclasped and shook the weight of his cloak off his shoulders. He crouched low, axes held out and steady.

A feral smile crept across the girl's face. "You want to play!" she exclaimed merrily.

The boy frowned. "This is unwise," he warned. "The lad is more than half dead, already. Will you throw away your life for nothing?"

Eirik matched the girl's smile. "I said nothing about throwing away my life. The girl has the right of it. I want to play." A small part of his brain knew it was foolishness. He had no idea what the two child-beings were capable of, and he somehow doubted their confidence was mere baseless swagger. But in that instant, all he knew were the heat of his own anger and the fact that if he left them with the fallen young man, they would kill him where he lay, unconscious and helpless.

With that fear in mind, Eirik decided to establish himself as a serious threat sooner rather than later, so that he could maybe draw them away from the body. He locked eyes with the girl and took a step towards her. Before his boot hit the ground, he had sent one ax slicing through the air towards the boy.

He drew his sheath knife before registering whether the boy had managed to dodge. Even as he heard his ax clatter harmlessly against some rocks, the little girl flew at him, her long dagger raised high. Eirik blocked her thrust with his remaining ax and stabbed at the same time towards her face. She twisted away at the last second, though, and pranced back with a wild giggle. Eirik spun just in time to jump over the wide, swinging blow the boy aimed at his shins. The boy's dagger was longer and thinner than the girl's, but with the same jagged claws cut into the blade.

The little demons were fast. They fought with a frenzied wildness, hollering battle cries as they flitted around Eirik's guard, twin swooping swathes of black with deadly flashing blades.

Eirik let his rage unfurl to mirror theirs. He needed to be faster, as there was only one of him. If they were quick, though, the children did not seem unusually strong, and they did not fight as a team. Again and again, Eirik beat back their onslaughts unblooded.

The boy, he determined, was the better fighter. The girl had unnatural speed and a maniacal energy, but there was an erratic overconfidence to the way she hacked at Eirik with her evil weapon. The next time Eirik drove the boy back, he cut his follow through abruptly short and lunged at the girl before she was expecting his attack. She skipped backwards, raising her dagger.

Eirik used his ax to catch the dagger mid swing and force its momentum to continue until the girl was forced to abandon her weapon or overbalance. She shrieked and gripped the blade with both hands, letting her entire weight drag. Eirik lifted her easily, swinging her forward and onto his knife. The blade impaled her through the heart. Eirik drove it in to the hilt, then wrenched both knife and ax free. The small body tumbled down, vanishing before it hit the ground.

With a grunt, Eirik turned to finish the boy—and found him racing back towards the snow covered body of the young man. The child lifted his long blade as he ran.

"No!" Eirik cried out.

The boy was too fast. There was no way Eirik could reach him before he made it to the unconscious man. A desperate growl started deep in Eirik's belly, swelling up through his chest and ripping from his throat as a thunderous if rather puerile, "Mine!" He centered himself and took aim.

The darting boy fell just before he reached his target, a knife embedded in his back and an ax in his skull. By the time Eirik dashed to the spot, his body had disappeared. The jagged dagger remained, glinting ominously in the dawn. Eirik kicked it to the side and knelt by the motionless young man.

"Are you dead?" he muttered. In the space of a heartbeat, the clean fury of battle gave way to a much less pleasant frustration. He jabbed two fingers against the young man's neck, harder than necessary, and was only mildly relieved to detect a fluttering pulse. He was too cold.

More gently, Eirik brushed the snow from the man's head and shoulders. He started to gather him into his arms, then paused and stood to go back for his cloak, axes, and the weapons abandoned by the dead children, or whatever they had been. Eirik shoved both daggers into his belt with his axes, and then used the cloak to wrap around the young man. He lifted him easily, cradling him like a baby.

Then he hesitated, unsure of where to go. The closest village was an hour away, even if he ran as much of the way as possible, which wouldn't be significant with the dead weight he carried. The man needed warmth, and sooner than that.

He made his decision. Hefting the body, he turned and walked southeast, away from the villages and towards the glimmering gold horizon. There was a small thermal pool very close by. It was no more than a hole filled with water, but the rocks were hot, there, and they heated the water to pleasantly scalding no matter what the weather. Blankets and a fire could do no better.

Eirik knew these lands well, and strode purposefully through the desolate winter dawn. He took the most direct route, even when this meant trudging along lanes of mud or up and down knolls and hummocks. He avoided snow, which would slow him if it proved deeper than it looked. The stepping stones across the low stream gave him pause, but he slipped only once, and did not drop his burden. Light spread slowly, but the clouds had rolled in again, and he could no longer make out the sun.

The man stirred in his arms as they approached the pool. "N—no," he whimpered.

Eirik jostled him lightly. "Stay still," he warned. "You're safe." He did not stop, and they made it to the stacked rocks that fenced off one rounding corner of the hot pool. The waters steamed, giving off the faint scent of sulfur and other minerals. He circled the rocks and propped the man in his cloak up against them. Exertion had covered Eirik in a sheen of sweat, and he shivered as the cold air blew across his cheeks, neck, and too thin shirt.

The young man slit his eyes open. They were a crystalline silver, so pale as to look almost white, but bright with the life that the rest of him seemed to have forsaken. Eirik's heart thudded uncomfortably. Those dazzling eyes were not natural.

A fit of coughing shut both eyes tight again, and Eirik recalled that unnatural or not, the boy was on the brink of freezing to death. He turned on his most persuasive calm, and spoke quickly. "I found you in the snow. You're more frozen than not, and we need to get you into the hot water. Okay?"

It was a gamble, asking for cooperation, but Eirik figured he could always overpower the fool if he thought to resist his rescue. But the man managed to jerk his head in assent, and he moved stiffly to allow Eirik to unwrap his own cloak. His hands moved towards the ties of his shirt, but Eirik pushed them gently out of the way and undid the knots himself. The material was a dark blue, roughly splotched like granite; it opened to reveal a soft white undergarment which Eirik lifted carefully over the man's head. His boots, soft deerskin, slipped off easily. Eirik helped him to stand, concerned that he didn't shiver; bare-chested, with ice still clinging to the hair that fell to his waist, the young man stood motionless. Last came trousers of the same blue cloth as the shirt, and a final, looser white under-layer.

Through it all, the boy remained mute. From the fineness of his clothes and his apparent lack of discomfort at being undressed by someone else, Eirik guessed he might be wealthy, and accustomed to servants.

Eirik knelt by the pool and helped the young man into the steaming water. The first steps always burned slightly, and sudden warmth could deeply pain flesh numb with cold, but the boy still made no sound. He slipped into the pool as if in a daze, settling against the hot rocks. His eyes drooped shut. The water came up to his armpits, and his long hair floated in a fan around him.

Eirik stood shivering in the frigid air for only half a moment before he stripped down and joined the naked stranger. The water was hot and wonderful.

"Wet your head," he instructed, splashing water onto his own head. "It will keep your body's heat from escaping."

The boy sank obediently underwater. When he rose, sparkling beads of water gathered above his lips and clung to his dark lashes. Eirik watched him through the mist of his own breath. Standing, the water came only to his slender waist. His long black hair stuck to the length of his back. His eyes, as he opened them, were silver, soft and brilliant.

"You're beautiful," Eirik breathed. He'd had his suspicions, but they hardened, now. "Ljuflingur," he accused throatily. Beloved, in the hidden tongue. Among his people, it was a curse hurled at lovers with false motives. It meant mischief, seduction, betrayal.

The boy did not deny it. He sank back, letting the water cover his shoulders. He stared back at Eirik with lidded eyes.

"You stay away from my sisters," Eirik demanded huskily, drawing himself up to his full height, into the frozen air. "Evja's happily married with a daughter of her own, and Alfdis is just a child, you hear?"

The light in the young man's eyes dimmed, but he did not shy away from Eirik's sudden hostility. He gazed at him expressionlessly, and then finally said, "I do not know your sisters, and have no intention of touching them."

Eirik flushed. He made himself sit back, but was suddenly too warm. Shame crept over him. What had he been thinking, yelling at the boy?

He'd been thinking of Alfdis, of course. Of Alfdis, and of Halkell.

"I'm sorry," he offered awkwardly. "My mother—"

"It's fine," the young man interrupted, equally stiffly. "Thank you for saving my life."

Eirik grinned at him. "So now the hardest things to say are said. I'm Eirik."

The boy hesitated, then gave him a tentative smile. "You can call me Kaer."

"I can call you?" Eirik repeated wryly. "I'd rather have your real name."

The boy's smile turned bitter. "I have many, most of which would have killed me today, if it hadn't been for you." He cocked one elegant ebony brow. "You could just call me Ljuflingur. I think I'd like to hear you say 'beloved' again."

Arrogant little shit. "Okay, Kaer," Eirik gave in with a shrug. "If you won't tell me your real name, will you at least tell me why you were doing your best to freeze to death before a couple of child demons hacked you to pieces?"

Kaer jerked to his feet. "Child demons?" he asked in alarm.

"Relax." Eirik chuckled. "They disappeared when I killed them."

Kaer sat back down, astonishment blanking his features and revealing the same unguarded beauty that oblivion had. "You killed them? By yourself?"

Eirik wasn't sure if he should be flattered or insulted. "My axes helped. Why did they want to kill you?"

Kaer traced idle circles on the surface of the water. "They're not really children."

"I figured that out."

"They imitate the forms of beings from your world. Subjects seldom survive the imitation, and some resist. A child's resistance is dealt with most easily."

Eirik blanched. "So they were once children?" He thought of his ax wedged deeply into the boy's skull, and felt sick.

Kaer shook his head. "They are monsters. What you killed were imitations, not corpses." He sighed. "They are flighty and ruthless, but they have a mile-wide cruel streak that makes them natural killers. They would have been hired to risk the trip to your world and make sure the job was finished."

"By..." Eirik prompted.

Kaer shrugged. "One of the families. A war is coming, and my death would be a blow to my own. It could have been any one of them."

Eirik scowled. "A war is coming! You elves take no responsibility. In my world, we say 'this clan is stealing our livestock, and we will go to war to stop them', or 'the Law Speaker ruled against me, so I must go to war to defend my honor'." Men go to war, Kaer. I don't understand this talk of war coming on its own, like an uninvited guest."

Kaer considered it gravely. "I don't know what you consider wars," he said finally. "But in my world, they make men act like something other than men. Perhaps it is because of the monsters whose aid we clamor after during such times. War brings atrocities, massacres, and evil. These are not things of men in times of peace."

Eirik looked away from the boy's shining pale gaze. "If it's so awful, why do you talk like it's unavoidable?"

"Because it is." Kaer's words were cool. "You should warn your family."

Eirik reached across the small pool and grabbed the hulduman, digging his fingers into the smooth flesh of his arm. "My family," he grated, his voice deadly quiet, "is not to be involved."

Kaer met his eyes and Eirik felt a sharp jolt as the tension between them sprang suddenly higher. "That was not a threat," Kaer said softly. "I only meant for you to be prepared, if the fighting spills over beyond the hidden paths. It usually does."

Eirik was breathing heavily. "It won't," he insisted, angry at the disbelief shining in Kaer's eyes. He felt foolish towering over the boy and twisting his arm, but the thought of imitation children running through the villages with their ugly daggers made his stomach turn and his blood boil.

"I will try to keep you out of it," Kaer went on. "The little monsters will have run back to their master with tales of the great human warrior who stole their prize. Their descriptions are unlikely to have any truth in them, though, to save their own pride." His lip twitched. "You will be nine feet tall, in their retelling, with four arms and as many axes. You'll have come on them unawares, attacking from behind and using your dirty human magic to shield my body from their weapons."

Eirik grunted. "Don't make me regret saving you, Ljuflingur." He released the boy's arm, and felt a grudging guilt when Kaer drew it quickly back and massaged it, wincing. "Will they try again?" A protective determination hovered unspoken around the question.

Kaer shrugged. "I could try changing my name," he said ruefully. A wicked smile touched his lips. "I could disappear from the hidden paths, into your world."

Eirik snorted. "And leave behind a trail of weeping mothers and their half-huldu babies? I won't let you."

Kaer looked genuinely stung, and Eirik instantly regretted the words. "I didn't mean it," he said quickly. "You can stay with me and my family for as long as you need."

The hurt on Kaer's face changed to surprise. "Thank you, Eirik," he said slowly, in a tone that implied he understood how much that should mean to him. "But I'm afraid that would endanger your family." He shook his dark head. "I could never do that, even if it means going without my monster slayer."

Eirik splashed a face full of water at him. "Don't tease," he said sternly. "I won't let them hurt you."

Kaer wiped the water from his eyes and smiled. "Monster slayer, you are serious enough for the both of us." He splashed Eirik right back, with enough force to send a good amount of water up and over the edge of the pool. It sizzled where it touched snow. Eirik squeezed his eyes shut, held up his arms, and shouted his surrender until the onslaught stopped. Coughing, he wiped his face and warily cracked his eyes.

Kaer's face was directly before his, close enough so that the clouds of their breath mingled.

Eirik blinked, and then Kaer's lips were pressed gently against his own. The young man was standing in the middle of the pool and leaning forward, so that their bodies were not in contact except for their lips. Their kiss.

Eirik parted his lips, whether in protest or welcome, he could never say, and suddenly Kaer's tongue was darting into his mouth, exploring eagerly.

Still stunned, Eirik used his own tongue to trap Kaer's and force it back into his own mouth. But then he followed it in, and was suddenly kissing Kaer back with some force. He reached up and grasped Kaer's jaw with both hands, holding it in place while he licked and felt and sucked at his mouth. His cock jumped.

Kaer moaned and leaned in closer, seeking to entangle their limbs, and Eirik broke the kiss off abruptly. "What?" he gasped.

Kaer drew back to stand before him. He was, Eirik thought again, so beautiful. He had noted it earlier, but without desire. Desire rose in him now, hotter than the heat of the spring. He fought to clear his head.

"What are you doing?"

Kaer wet his lips. "I want you." The words were bald, honest, and threaded with visible lust. Eirik swallowed, hard. Kaer had a youth's body, sinewy and flat-stomached. His nipples stood out on his chest, small and hard. Glossy black hair was slicked against his cheeks, shoulders, back. The sculpted, harmonic angles of his face were dominated by glittering pale eyes that peered down at Eirik with all the intensity of a building storm. "I want you to take me."