Post by account_disabled on Dec 13, 2023 21:08:13 GMT -8
Among the icy waters of Mývatn 1and the black offshoots of Hverfjall 2the road zigzagged to Dark Fortress 3, a chaotic mass of lava rocks on which the moon, pale brightness on that winter night, dropped a fluid and transparent veil. Leppalúði advanced muttering to himself and cursing the day, his journey, that inhospitable land and the whole world. From time to time he blew hot air on his hands, thinking about the fire lit in the living room and the soup boiling inside a tar-colored pot, the aroma that spread in the rooms and what was about to happen in his family. He would become a father for the eighth time. Grýla had reached the last day of the last month.
With her the man had left the cat that had no name 4, as some of the nearby farms called it. He had been reluctant to do so, but he knew that the woman would manage on her own. He shivered as he remembered Grýla's past. His wife was on her third marriage and her previous husbands had not met a happy end. Gustur had ended up roasting on the embers and strengthening Grýla's body. Nothing had ever been known about Boli, the second husband. Leppalúði was confident in the future. They had already had seven children, now gone off to live their lives who knows where, and they got along well. And now… the eighth child was waiting to emerge on that solstitial full moon night. The jagged peaks of the Fortress appeared on the horizon, black as the universe, sharp as obsidian blades, cold as the north.
There was silence, as if the Phone Number Data urrounding nature had fallen silent for the impending event. Leppalúði quickened his pace. He didn't want to miss the arrival of the unborn child. He abruptly veered off the road and climbed between two rocks to urinate, whistling a song whose title he never remembered. Then he took a bottle of brennívin 5 out of his pocketand drank a drop to warm himself. She burped a couple of times and finally headed home. GrýlaHe broke off a slice of hákarl 6and placed it on the table. He took a knife and cut off a nice piece of fish, which he bit into immediately. As he chewed he rubbed his enormous belly, his fingers trying to divine hidden, moving shapes within. It was going to be a long night, he thought. He smiled, imagining Leppalúði helping her by swearing continuously.
With her the man had left the cat that had no name 4, as some of the nearby farms called it. He had been reluctant to do so, but he knew that the woman would manage on her own. He shivered as he remembered Grýla's past. His wife was on her third marriage and her previous husbands had not met a happy end. Gustur had ended up roasting on the embers and strengthening Grýla's body. Nothing had ever been known about Boli, the second husband. Leppalúði was confident in the future. They had already had seven children, now gone off to live their lives who knows where, and they got along well. And now… the eighth child was waiting to emerge on that solstitial full moon night. The jagged peaks of the Fortress appeared on the horizon, black as the universe, sharp as obsidian blades, cold as the north.
There was silence, as if the Phone Number Data urrounding nature had fallen silent for the impending event. Leppalúði quickened his pace. He didn't want to miss the arrival of the unborn child. He abruptly veered off the road and climbed between two rocks to urinate, whistling a song whose title he never remembered. Then he took a bottle of brennívin 5 out of his pocketand drank a drop to warm himself. She burped a couple of times and finally headed home. GrýlaHe broke off a slice of hákarl 6and placed it on the table. He took a knife and cut off a nice piece of fish, which he bit into immediately. As he chewed he rubbed his enormous belly, his fingers trying to divine hidden, moving shapes within. It was going to be a long night, he thought. He smiled, imagining Leppalúði helping her by swearing continuously.
