For as long as there were two communities, people wished to move messengers and materials alike.
In this, the Norsefolk were uniquely privileged. Individually powerful, self-sufficient, blessed with all manner of mobility- their lives were rather privileged, in Alyssa's opinion, compared to so many other peoples she had wandered. What hope did an Englishman have, to run like the wind or soar like a bird, to be almost free to roam as they desired, to have trivial access to cultivation in every walk of life?
Although she supposed that most literate Englishmen would be cultivators themselves- the point stood that for the most, their worlds were so much smaller. Yet, even for the adventuring Norse, some things were fundamentally impractical, and to carru every message, every gift and package and missive and delivery across the fjords and forests was fundamentally a waste of time. All but the wretches or the walking dead had their talents, gravitated towards those tasks they excelled at- and, in the world that was, Alyssa was a courier like few others.
Neither wings nor faerie path nor seven league steps were her domain; certainly, for a courier, she was rather slow of foot, if doubtless steady! Regardless, come rain or hail or shine, even in the blizzards and floods- as sure as the tide, she would be there, alongside her pride and joy and companion beloved.
Kari, a southern mare of mysterious, marvellous nature- it was their partnership that enabled such consistent determination, ingenuity matched with tireless stride. No hard pressed draft horse, her rider shamelessly treated her not as a beast, but as family- and, to those who knew them best, some would swear that in Kari's eyes glimmered a strange intelligence….
To bond so close with a wild creature, not fylgja but flesh and blood, to abscond fieldwork for long routes through shifting wilderness, interspersed with visits amongst many peoples- even as her labours made her liked enough, her eerie nature forever held them apart, a stranger, a riddle, a target.
Until, one day, it would all come to a head…
————-
'Who are you?'
For such a high raised village, Hojtoft was ill named; not that she would have said as such, when the settlement struggled already. Thrown up precariously high, it overlooked far lands below; in ages past, it was a bulwark of importance, imposing and fierce to all who would assault its wards.
Those days were decades past. The lands below no longer held one ruler, but myriad, and no petty King would maintain this windswept outpost. The tower of once slowly decayed, stripped down for precious stone; bereft of purpose, the village survived- but not much more, far above fair farmland.
It was very much a place ambitious youths strained against, and Alyssa did not need to turn to place the voice in question.
She turned regardless, to stare down at Arnfinn Featherstep; powers astoundingly suited to his own namesake. Barely sixteen, she had often seen the youth dive through the air above, springing from his native perch to stretch wings real enough. In truth, she was surprised he had not left for greater things- although, it seemed he had a final venture in mind.
'Two Winters ago, you suddenly appear, three years since any other bothered to make this climb. You are not born here, nobody knows you- yet ever since, you ride here, and all around and below; across the borders and rivers and routes of the couriers before. Every season, you ride the same route, yet you don;t even live here. You act like few others, and I must know; why?'
…….
Quieting Kari to the fumings of braves, she made to ride away, glimpsing only a glimmer of a scowl as she turned her back.
Without kin, without hearth; how do we know you're not a spy!?'
Just like that, curdling nid crept up her spine, as sure a chain as any iron. Behind the youth, the village's adults blinked in dawning fear; that their own's swift tongue would drive off one of the few willing to range so far for so little. Whether he cared, Arnfinn did not show- merely facing upwards, down at her, knowing that she had no strong repute to shrug off the growing wound his words had caused.
Too clever, she briefly thought, for her own good.
'If we kill each other', she noted flatly, 'you will learn nothing.'
Not that that ever stopped her peers.
Now with traction, his grin only widened, the light of inspiration in his eyes.
'True enough; what if we made this a competition? My flight, against your steed, and the second… must confess their secrets!'
….perhaps not that clever, then.
'I don't care where you're from.'
She spent another few moments watching Arnfinn frown, taken aback, when Kari shifted in impatience- already wondering what kept them from the open road. It was not as if she would leave, she decided. May well prompt his thoughts.
'Your spear.'
'..you cannot find your own spears?'
'Yours is better.'
Arnfinn gave her a final, odd glare, off footed- but his pride decided for him, as swift as himself.
————-
The terms were not complex.
From Hojtoft, to the coast just beyond the horizon, then all the way back- five days to cross the broken ground and unstable wyld. In between here and then were many settlements; each famed for something. To test not only speed, but skill as a courier, each would compete to collect as many of these trinkets and trade goods as possible- while still returning just in time!
The dawn of the first day, man and woman and mare alike readied at the beginning of the winding trail. Arnfinn preened handsomely, in the rising rays, athletic stretches strange contrast to his rivals' thoughtful stillness. Some onlookers gathered, and for most, despite her work, it was no secret who they favoured between the stranger and their son.
'A last salute', he glibly poked, 'from the swiftest!'
She did not respond.
The sun rose. A horn sounded. Featherstepflew, swifter than swift, and even as Kari strode downhill she could tell she was glancing to her for some assurance, expression learned across species with companionship.
'He is swifter.', she admitted. 'Swifter. But not smarter.'
——————
Racing through the forest paths, deftly evading the monsters between, Alyssa occasionally caught a glimpse of her rival soaring high above. He could not fly forever, he recalled- technically, it was only marvellous mimicry by dint of clever kunna, not true mastery of the air. Nonetheless, he had spent years perfecting it, and even though he had to pause and land, it was not often. Not enough to win.
In a few years, she could admit to herself, he would be better- older, wiser, not that she thought he would ever take this role as a career. Too proud, too eager to spill blood for hallowed fame….
It seemed both cruel and pointless, to compel Kari to exhaustion. Instead, she paced themselves, staying just behind- out of sight and mind.
At the first large town, her first visit was the apiary, pocketing their vaunted honey into the hollows in her heart.
The second was the marketplace.
———
It was late evening when they returned, Kari heaving with exertion- she would admit, even with the patient route she charted, it was still nearly too long for them to traverse. Barely in time, they met Hojtoft's elders, and Arnfinn himself- who at least had the good bearing to wait for her return, even if he doubtless came first. At his feet was piled no small tribute, little wonders that made the world gleam; proof of his exertion still apparent in the empty water skins by his side. Weary, but proud- he awaited victory.
Alyssa made sure to memorise his expression, when she produced from saddlebags a third more- won not through prowess, but sage planning and experience and favours she had called upon, the fruits of many labours- the blessings of a partnership.
'A final salute', she echoed, gesturing to his gleaming spear, 'from the best.'
————
That was long ago.
War had scoured the entire household; even unrelated by blood, she was no exception.
Few knew her, or mourned her loss with her. Ever strange, ever silent, ever given to listen more than speak.
At least, when she carried a tassel on her clothes everywhere she went, no one questioned one final eccentricity.
