Hidden Palaces

Although it had only been a day since Gregory and Alexander had left Akureyri, Gregory felt like it had been a week, as they were hiking through the barren Icelandic wilderness. Stomping across the marshy chilled earth, squashing the cold mud underfoot, the two strove along an old trail.  Gregory stretched to the side and yawned, as Alexander wiped his brow and sighed as they stopped for a short respite.  They both gently plopped down on a sizable boulder with bright green moss crawling up the side of it and took off their backpacks and walking shoes.  Gregory began to massage his feet and Alexander did likewise.

Steam was rolling off the grass, while the sun was trying to break through the thick clouds covering the gray sky.  Alexander was feeling his tummy rumble as he remembered the last meal he had before leaving Akureyri; it was a Danish and some imported fruit.  Now, all they had to eat was hard tack and some dry trail mix.  Meanwhile, Gregory leaned back against the moist rock and stared up at the noonday sky, exhausted.

These two ‘adventurers’, so to speak, came to Iceland as one of a series of many exotic places they had determined to visit.  After their father died, being that they are brothers, Alexander and Gregory had been left with a significant amount of money, to which, they agreed that they would spend, not on some humdrum investment or anything practical, but on something they thought their father would have been pleased with.  Their father had been a rather eccentric man, always babbling about various places he had been and what he had done while visiting these far away locations.  He clearly had had that wanderlust for the peculiar and out of the ordinary, so Alexander and Gregory were more than willing to honor their father’s memory by meandering from one place to another; provided his ‘memories’ held out.

“ Where are we going, again?  I mean, what’s it called?” queried Alexander.

          “Godafoss, remember.”

“Oh yes, when we were in Reykjavik…the couple that ran the little gift shop, they suggested we visit it.  Waterfall of the gods, heh?”

         “That’s right.  They said it was a spectacular waterfall…probably the biggest in Iceland.”

Alexander eased his back away from the top of the rock and sat up, “I liked the story they told about it.”

         “You would.”  Gregory gave a smirk.  “A god wandering around in a hooded cloak.  Phooey!  I had heard just about everything, until I heard that.  Oh well, what do you expect…” Gregory just continued to mumble about the prosaic Icelandic people and their superstitions.  Alexander listened as he was concentrating on a series of distant mountains towering to the north east of their position.  They were bluish in tint and spread out like a silhouette over top the distant horizon.  Their tips were sharp and pointed while their ridges abruptly ran down to form bases.  The sides were scalloped with deep ruts and cavities set deep within the mountains.  Some of the mountains shot straight up, like rows of teeth, but all were jagged with serrated slopes stooping down, as if they were tired of standing erect for so many centuries.

After Gregory was finished insulting the whole country they were visiting, they decided to move on.  Alexander squeezed his canteen’s lid tightly and flicked his wrist, circularly, to tighten the lid and then flung it into his backpack with the rest of his supplies.  Gregory had already finished preparing his pack and had just started impatiently tying his shoes.  With a quick little jerk of the shoulders to straighten the straps of the backpack, Alexander stuck both of his thumbs into the space between his straps and his chest and marched along the trail with Gregory leading the way.

The trail, scarcely wide enough for one car to pass let alone two, stretched forward and then hooked to the east, a bit, disappearing beyond the crest of the knoll it ran up.  Gregory listened as several birds flittered overhead, whistling past the travelers.  A fragrance from the climbing hill’s weeds and small, stagnant pools were to Alexander sweet and yet sour at the same time.  Slowly, they climbed the low-grade knoll until it peaked, to where they could see the trail winding down the other end.  It swerved to the right and then to the left, northwest, and disappeared behind a shear rock cliff.  A steady mist was pouring out from behind the rock wall, sticking to its side and beading down the slippery surface.

“There it is!”  Exclaimed Gregory, referring to the waterfall they had come to see.  They rushed down the reticulated trail turning their feet to the side occasionally and hopping.  Reaching the bottom of the knoll, they faced the stream of mist that started to hit their faces to where they had to continually wipe off the condensation.  The mist was so thick and damp that it drenched the two with a light covering of fresh water.

Stepping back from the rising mist, they were able to see the waterfall.  A narrow river was rushing from behind them and crashing into an upright rock that sat in the middle of the stream.  The water then fell several stories down into a small canyon etched out by the river.  Millions of bubbles were frothing with foam at the bottom where it fell.  The roar was soothing and awesome. Alexander was thinking of how perfectly relaxing and yet invigorating it sounded.  Gregory wiggled out of his backpack and began to root through the contents until he produced a camera.  He stepped back and aimed the small device at the waterfall, clicking off a few pictures of the divine deluge.

Alexander searched the rock walls of the surrounding bank to see if there were any places to climb up the side.  Feeling his hands over the surfaces, he found some overhanging protrusions in the cliff.  He started to climb (since it was only about ten or fifteen feet high) by pulling his body upward, finding a footing on another crevice in the rock and slowly moving toward the top.  He repeated the process several times, straining and pulling vigorously until he reached the top ledge.  At the same time as he tugged at the ledge, he kicked his left foot away from the nook it was resting on and in one motion threw himself atop the bank of the waterfall.      

On top, Alexander spied an open field cloven by the river and running into a small mountain range.  The grass was bright green, unlike the grass along the trail below, and thicker.  Poking into the overcast sky, the mountaintops stood listlessly in the chilled breeze.  A cold spray hung in the air from the water’s fall down below.  Alexander panned from side to side to drink in the vast landscape settled on top.  He slowly advanced toward a single tree, or rather a bush, growing along the river’s bank to inspect some of its bright red berries.  As he was walking over to it, out of the corner of his left eye he thought he saw a figure race across the field and into a small cave in the base of a mountain.

Alexander rushed to the ledge leading back to the trail down below and quickly climbed down, hollering to Gregory the whole way.

“Gregory!  Gregory!  I saw something!”

             “What?”  He said impatiently while he was taking some of the most, he felt remarkable pictures.

“I saw something run into a cave, up there above the cliff.”

            “It was probably a reindeer or something.”

“No, it looked like…a man.  But he was moving at an alarming rate.  I’ve never seen anyone run that fast.  I only saw him out of the corner of my eye, but I could tell it was a man…and he looked like he was wearing…a hooded cloak!”

            “Oh, I see, you think you saw a god, right?  Just because he was able to run faster than any mortal.  Come on, either you saw a reindeer, or something like it (a bear perhaps), or you did see a man and was mistaken as to his running speed.  You know, when you aren’t focused on what you’re looking at, it’s hard to determine the distance between one object and another.”       

After convincing Gregory to come with him up to the field above the waterfall, Alexander led the way, crawling up the sheer slope.  With some effort, the two managed to scale the rock’s steep wall and claw their way to the top.  Staining his shirt with mud, Gregory brushed off the excess soil clumped on his shirt and took a look around.  He was impressed with the magnificent view the elevated field offered.  Immediately, Alexander pointed out the cave where he saw the strange figure disappear into.  The two crept over to the opening, casually strolled through the thick patch of knee-high grass until they reached the entrance.  Cautiously, Gregory peered into the dark hole in the rock and a flickering light was seen shimmering on his face.  He quietly flipped his hand to Alexander, motioning to him to come over where he was standing.  Alexander reluctantly approached Gregory and the two found themselves gazing at an abandoned campfire situated just inside a clearing in the cave.

Alexander looked around and found no sign of inhabitance, at that moment.  The furthest wall of the cave was enclosed and there were no more openings, save, the one they came through from the outside.  They both walked into the room and nervously looked around.  Right next to the fire was an iron pot with some sort of meat stew inside and a wooden spoon sticking out of the top.  Sitting back away from the fire was some sort of animal fur, contrived in such a manner as to be used for, perhaps, a coat or a blanket.  Next to it was a tin cup, like a goblet, that Gregory picked up and sniffed; he concluded that it contained something like ale or old-fashioned mead.  Other necessities were found, particularly some tools for what could be considered hunting and fishing; like several homemade spears and a fishing net. 

What interested Alexander the most was an odd looking leather pouch, spread out over top the animal skin and tightly sealed by a leather strap threading.  He picked up the small purse and untied the knotted up strings.  After tearing at the two sides of the lip, the purse gradually opened, revealing a lock of golden, soft hair bound by some thin thread.

“Gregory”, Alexander whispered, “take a look at this.”  Gregory walked over to Alexander and snatched the pouch from his hand.  He held it close to the light of the fire, tilted this and that way, to study the hair.  With a sigh of disappointment he said, “It’s nothing.  Just a lock of someone’s hair.”

“No, no it is something, look.”  With that he showed Gregory his finger, which had a huge gash running along it, still dripping with blood.  “I tried to pull the lock out of the pouch and it cut me.  The hair feels soft, but it’s as sharp as a kitchen knife.  I’m telling you there is something about that lock of hair that is not normal.”

Before he could protest, Alexander grabbed the pouch away from Gregory and threw it down on the ground.  Reaching into his pocket, Alexander pulled out a knife, unfolded it and slashed the lock of hair, numerous times, as hard as he could.  After trying to saw away at the lock of hair, Alexander picked up the pouch and showed it to Gregory.  To his amazement, the series of cuts hadn’t effected the hair at all!  In fact, Alexander allowed Gregory to feel the edge of his knife to demonstrate that in deed it was clearly sharp enough to have severed the lock in two.

“You see, there is something peculiar about this hair”, Alexander exclaimed.

                   “Eh, that doesn’t prove anything.  You may have just missed the lock while you were slashing and cut at the pouch or the ground.”

As soon as Gregory stopped talking he picked up the pouch to toss it aside when he accidentally dropped it into the fire.  It fell right in the hot coals of the blazing fire.  The leather pouch burst into flames, shooting out a green, then yellowish flame that brought forth a white, swirling column of smoke; rising to the roof of the cave.  Alexander spun around and grabbed a spear with an iron tip.  It was about seven feet long, to where, Alexander stepped back from the furnace and poked at the coals lifting little pieces of burnt wood and rocks.  Ultimately, he succeeded in lifting the singed pouch out of the fire and onto the floor of the room.  He looked down at the smoking pile of what was the pouch and to his surprise the lock of hair was still in it; unharmed!  This caught the attention of Gregory, who stared, at the immaculately preserved bundle of hair.

“Frigga’s lock.  It is a lock of hair from the goddess Frigga.”  Alexander whispered.  The two slowly walked away from the fire until they heard a loud crash coming from the field outside; it sounded like thunder.  Assuming it was going to rain, Gregory became more interested in returning to his supplies that lied down below on the trail and prevent them from getting soaked, provided it was preparing to rain.  He advanced toward the entrance and Alexander followed.  As they left the cave, the sound of footsteps marching through the field caused Gregory to spin around and see a man standing a few hundred feet away in a hooded cloak.  Alexander spotted him as well. 

Gregory tried to get his attention by yelling at him and it worked.  The mysterious man swung his head around to face the two and gazed at them without answering.  A black raven swooped down from the sky and landed square atop the man’s broad shoulders, perching there; standing provokingly erect. Alexander noticed the man was missing an eye.  With that, Alexander screamed aloud to the man, “Odin!”  This only made the strange character run in the opposite direction.  Alexander sped off after him, yelling for him to wait.  Gregory took off after Alexander, imploring him to stop running.

While the three were speeding through the field in the direction of the mountains, a mist that had settled on top the hills quickly fell to the level of the valley, making it remarkably hard to see.  Alexander had almost lost sight of the man, when, in his state of enthusiasm, the mist began to clear, revealing a completely different landscape.  He saw the man, who looked more invigorated, along with a host of other unusual sights.  There was a forest, with tall alpine, thicker than any he’d ever seen.  The mountains now were far taller than before, and connected to one of the peaks was, what looked like, a bridge made of a mixture of gray stone and crystal.  It sparkled in the now streaming sunlight that bathed the landscape.  The bridge led to a higher level of ground that looked like clouds, but much richer; much more tangible.  On the cloud-like surface stood a city, of sorts, with silvery, iridescent walls and many buildings shooting up into the blue sky.  The buildings, or palaces, were of the same curious material that the city wall was made of.  Whatever it was, it certainly was not made of anything natural, or physical.

Turning back from where he had ran, Alexander looked to see if Gregory was following behind.  He yelled, “Gregory!  Gregory!”

A faint voice answered, “Yes, I hear you.  Where are you?  The mist is too thick to see where you’re at.”

                “What mist, I don’t see any mist now, it’s lifted.”  He replied to his friend.

“What?  Wait Alexander, I think I see you.  Hold on.”  Gregory ran through the smoky fog to what he thought was Alexander.  When he reached Alexander, he stretched his hand out to grab his arm, but his hand swept right through the image of Alexander.  Likewise, Alexander could see Gregory standing right next to him, but Gregory’s body appeared transparent; he could see right through him! 

“What’s happening?”  Gregory cried helplessly.

               “I don’t know!  A lot of things aren’t as they should be at the moment”, replied Alexander.

“What are you talking about?”

              “The mist.  It has mysteriously vanished and…everything has…changed.  The trees…The city up in the …clouds?  Or something that looks like clouds.  What would you say it is?”

“I don’t see anything!  The mist is thicker than ever!  If we move a few more feet ahead, we’ll run right into mountains!  There aren’t any trees or cities!  We are out in the middle of nowhere!  You must be hallucinating.  I know I must be.  It almost appears like you are some sort of ghost!”

               “It’s all Odin’s doing, I know it.  We tampered with Frigga’s lock of hair.  Now, it seems, he’s taking us with him to Asgard; Midgard.”

Just as he was talking, Alexander’s voice slowly became quieter and quieter.  Gregory rubbed his eyes and focused on Alexander whom presently was disappearing.  Alexander also noticed Gregory’s visage dissipating into nothingness.

“Where are you going?”  What’s happening?”  Gregory screamed.

                  “You didn’t believe…but I did.  He’s only taking me.  I ran after him, but you didn’t.  You can’t see the palaces in the sky; they’re hidden behind the mist!  They are hidden behind the mist!  But you didn’t believe it!  They are there Gregory, really there!  Gregory!

And that was the last words Gregory heard from his brother. He had completely disappeared. Gregory screamed, “Alexander, wait!  Where are you?”

The rest of that day, Gregory searched the field for Alexander.  The fog had lifted so Gregory could see clearly for miles, but there was no trace of his brother. A chilled breeze swept through the valley, pushing the grass prostrate toward the ground.  With his head bowed and his feet dragging, Gregory glided back to the cliff that led to the trail down below.  He turned once more and faced the field, looking awestruck at the space between the mountains; the gray sky that hung low.  Perhaps he thought he could see the palaces hidden in the clouds, where his brother now resided, or best he could tell.  But it was too grave a sight for trees and sky-filled cities.  He could never see what Alexander had seen; in the barren fields of muddy grass where gods ran free.  And now, he was alone.  And no one else would believe him.  Even he didn’t believe what happened.

The end