There, where she was, it was dark.
Not soggy or even clammy as one would perhaps expect of a place beneath the earth that was not hewn by versed miners or the masterful pickaxes of the Dwarves. It was also not as dark as the room in which a child may lay down to sleep, where the moon and the stars could still shine through the curtains and illuminate the outlines of the proximity.
There, where she was, it was not only dark, it was black. A vat full of ink must have been emptied about her, for she was even unable to see her hand when she raised before her eyes. The wall against which she leaned was adorned with rough edges. Dry, but warm rock.
The only thing that she perceived was her own breath and the pumping of her heart.
Slowly, as if her limbs would be so fragile that they could break on the slightest strain, she got up. Her hands rose to touch for the ceiling, but they reached into void.
And then, like she had been awaiting it and had been standing up in the right moment, a shine of distant flame appeared at the far end of the tunnel. Her feet were lifted and sunk again. Each step brought her closer to the torch; to the beacon she had to reach. Every fiber in her body, in her mind demanded her to. Even if her legs were tired and hurt, the soles of her boots torn open from the consistent impact with the sharp, rocky ground. She watched merely what she was doing and yet saw only the torch.
Which flickered and died abruptly.
Her movements came instantly to a halt.
»I do not understand the meaning of this lesson, Thorfax!«, her youthful voice echoed seemingly thousandfold beneath the earth and created a canon that sang her words in a far, far distance. But no one else but her own echo answered her.
So did Frøydis slump back against the wall, sliding along it until she sat. Alas! What would grandfather Jötunvinur do in my predicament? The young woman rubbed her temples, her hands covered with dirt and dried earth.
»Not mingle in such foolishness in the first place, girl!«, she heard the words of her grandfather in her head and imagined how his withered face gazed down upon her, both kind and disapproving. He had risen one of his thick, poking fingers to accusatively point at her.
Frøydis laughed in the darkness about her. »Very funny«, came her sourly answer.
»What is so amusing?«
The voice that was not her own let her inevitably startle. Although it was nothing more but a whisper, it filled the room about her, traveled into her mind and echoed between her memory with twice the strength that the whisper was being thrown back from the earthen walls. Deep and rumbling, maybe alike to the sound of an old man who was nigh the end of his life and yet held himself upright in sublimity.
Frøydis was not even able to determine from where it had come. »Nothing. I am tired and I cannot go on, Thorfax. If you do not lead me out, I will die in this maze.«
Her answer was a long disappointed sigh that let the ground around her tremble. Then silence followed again. He would not forsake her, would he? Fraught, Frøydis hearkened into the void.
»I held you for being smarter.« For a moment long, she believed her heart would stop, but then Thorfax continued, »Follow the path ahead of you. Count twenty steps and turn to your right. You will see the end.«
Frøydis followed his words, got up and orientated herself on the walls with the mere touch of her fingers. She could not believe it. Twenty steps? Is that how far I have gotten in two days? I do not wish to know how far this maze stretches and where he wanted me to go.
Light blinded her as she turned to her right. Bright glaring dots of light flew before her sight and made it impossible for her to see. Frøydis raised her hands before her face until her eyes had accustomed to the new conditions. She could feel the pain in her stomach from having not being filled in days, her throat was dry and her lips were torn open. But she was alive!
»There you are, Dragon-Daughter«, she heard Thorfax' whispering voice, but this time, a lot closer.
Finally Frøydis could look up and gaze at Thorfax. He was magnificent.
His elongated body was as wide as two heavy carts, long like twenty ships and everywhere covered in scales that shimmered in various colors of the rainbow. He seemed to be coated in nacre. The enormous wings were tattered and torn, no longer to be used to glide through the air; and while the tipped tail lay around his hind-legs, rested his head upon his arms, claws deeply dug into the pile of treasure he lay on.
Thorfax' empty eye-sockets were set on her, and his nostrils inflated. The fire red crest on his skull glimmered, decorated by amethysts and emeralds and long scaly flaps hung from his lower jaw like a beard. Frøydis always was reminded of a rooster, which made the creature before her seem less dangerous and more sympathetic. She smiled.
»Will you tell me the secret?«, she asked and drew closer, without fear or dread before the ancient dragon.
Thorfax raised the mighty head and seemed amused. »If you can solve my riddle about the maze. Hearken close for I speak it only once ...-«
And as Frøydis listened attentively, Thorfax' voice became distant and faded away between the tunnels beneath the earth. His mighty image blurred, rocks, treasure and dragon became one single puddle. Then she felt a strong impact on her chest and gasped.
In a moment's notice she was awake, blinked with still dreamy eyes and caught the shape of an elongated body before her. Unlike the dragon's, this one was furry.
»O, Unvesn!«, she exclaimed the name of the weasel. »Thorfax was just about to give me his last riddle and you must wake me up?«
The weasel was unrelenting, hopped over the blanket of her bed, in circles, forth and back. His movements brought Frøydis to gaze towards the window and she saw the outlines of Bree's buildings, illuminated by the rise of the dawn, the moment, where neither it was truly night nor day. The Mariner's Hour, her father Alfknutr had called it.
She slid out of her bed and set her naked feet unto the floor, caught Unvesn on her arm. »Let us see if Barliman can supply us with a very early breakfast, hm?«
