Ava Fairhall

"What was it the melding said? Something about swallows. And don’t look down."

Dagrun hugged the wall of the cliff and shuffled along in front like an old man, sensibly keeping his eyes averted from the sheer drop into nothingness two hundred meters to his right. Even Cai had to privately admit he found standing on a narrow stretch of path with nothing but air beneath that a little disconcerting. More than once his mind had lingered on the sturdiness of the struts and inch thick, foot long bolts that were said to be keeping the path bolted to the cliffs.

"The finest dverg craftsmen built this place. I hardly think it’s about to fall down." Cai reassured him, sounding a lot calmer than he felt. "I’ll jump up and down to test it out if it will calm your fears."

"It won’t calm me," comes the reply through gritted teeth, "and if you jump up and down I vow you’ll be landing on my sverd before your boots come down again."

"There is a railing, you know." Cai had gone near it once to peer cautiously over the edge and thereafter had deliberately maintained a path squarely in the centre. Pride ensured he wasn’t as trepid as Dagrun who inched along the cliff one step at a time, but there was such a thing as foolishness and tempting fate once too often. If Dagrun had required him to jump up and down, it would have tested his courage and likely exposed him to the ridicule he been blustering about owning.

"Feel free to hang onto it. Perhaps you can hop along the posts and show off how fearless you are." Dagrun’s voice is partially muffled by a straggly looking shrub growing out the side of a crack where it had miraculously managed to find a root bed.

Miles of pathway still lie before them, snaking its way up the cliffs until it was but a thin thread in the distance. It’s a daunting prospect even if the vertical distances didn’t bother you. Cai adjusts the fur cap over his shoulders and wonders if the dverg who constructed the path had felt similarly when they saw how far they had to go.

Probably not. They probably laughed in the face of such danger.

"It’s going to take days at this rate."

"Be my guest and go on ahead, then." Stubbornly, Dagrun doesn’t change his pace. "You can admire the views and collect hauk eggs while you have nothing better to do. It’s been a while since we had a good breakfast."

Wheeling high overhead, hauks soar on the wind as they search for prey to take back to their nests, located even further up the cliff face in niches inaccessible to even the most skilful of climbers. Eggs would be a welcome addition to breakfast, but not at the expense of his broken neck when he slipped and plummeted to the bottom of the ravine.

"You’re right, let’s not rush things. Take all the time you need."

"You’re agreeing with me?" Two amber eyes peer back at Cai narrowing suspiciously from underneath bushy black eyebrows and a knitted wool hat.

"I can’t agree with you now? I come with you on this expedition to place your grandmother’s ashes under the rocks on top of the Jötunheimr, accompany you through the traipse through Breheimen Forest instead of up the river like everyone else because you didn’t like the look of the ferryman, and now you’re suspicious because I agree with you?"

"Fine, fine. No need to lose your temper," Dagrun grumbles and resumes the slow crawl along the mountain path, scuffing his boots along the rocks as he takes each careful step. "I’m sure you’d rather reach the top and get back safe and sound in one piece than be robbed blind by a greedy ferryman and your body dumped over the side of the falls."

"Well, of course," Cai sniffs in annoyance. "My purse isn’t full of coin, but it was only you that thought he was shifty-eyed. Plenty of other people saw fit to step on his boat without hesitation."

"More fool them."

For a time they travel along in silence, the pace unbearably slow for Cai, trundling along behind the stout-but-terrified-of-heights Dagrun, and yet he can't bring himself to question the elder man's judgement and is certainly not keen to try and physically force him to hurry when they're so high up on a perch in the middle of nowhere. Anyone trying to push Dagrun would get pushed right back, and knowing his luck Cai would end up over the side wishing he had wings.

"Dagrun…"

"What is it?"

"Do you think they have places to camp up here?"

"What? What do you mean?" Stubborn he might be, but there's a note of worry in his voice.

"Well the melding said it'd take us a day to reach the top after we crossed that bridge. We crossed it this morning, but I'm thinking it's going to take us two, maybe three days to get there. So I wondered if anyone thought to make spots to camp along the way, given it normally only takes a day to reach the top."

"Don't be silly, Cai. I'm sure they thought of such things. What if there's a snøstorm? Where are you going to shelter?" Although for once a note of uncertainty has crept in.

"It's not very wide, is it? The path."

Dagrun is silent, and Cai knows he's got the man thinking hard. Fortunately his face is turned away so he can't see him trying not to grin. He adjusts his pack and fiddles with the buckles, just in case.

"Maybe I could pick up the pace a bit more, I suppose." Dagrun takes a steadying breath and gathers himself to surrender his death hug of the wall. Two shaking steps later and he assumes a more normal walking stance, although it is as close to the left as he can be and still walk straight, not to mention a far cry from a normal pace. "I wouldn't want you to fall to your death in the middle of the night."

"Only if you're sure," Cai can't hide the glee in his voice at finally getting the better of him. "I could always rope us together so that if one of us slipped we'd both fall.

"Don't get smart. Your mora didn't raise you to be smart to your elders."

"Yes sir." If they're lucky they might only be spending two nights up here instead of four or five. The trek resumes at a slightly faster pace.