Plotting the Course

John watched as Talia unfurled the map, the old yellow parchment creating beautiful crinkling sounds as it opened up. He peered over her shoulder, taking a look. The language was one that he did not recognize -- at least, when he wasn’t wearing his glasses. However, upon adjusting the Lunettes de Lecture Magiques, the words seemed to unscramble themselves, transforming from strange Elvish script to clear, modern day English. Even though he could read it, he still had no idea where any of the locations were, with none of the markers being anything he recognized (which, to be fair, in his short time in Alfheim, he’d only been to three buildings -- only two of which he knew the names of). He turned to Talia, asking, “Recognize anything?”

She gave a slow nod. “Some of these locations are familiar, although not by name. Like this one.” She pointed to a cove on the map. “I’ve never heard anyone call it The Mouth of Jörmungandr. However, it does look an awful lot like Broken Ship Coast.”

“Broken… Shitpost?”

“Ship Coast, rune-for-brains. Apparently a long time ago there was some sort of naval battle there. You can find parts of the ships that’ll wash up on the beach from time to time, and if you go swimming, you can find some of the wrecks as well.”

Huh. Do you recognize any of these other locations?”

“Well… if that’s Broken Ship Coast, then this must be Meadow Hills.” She pointed to the small set of hills which were labeled as Ymir’s Spine.

John raised an eyebrow, giving Talia a questioning glance. “No offense to your people and culture, but the names you’ve given these places are like a thousand times lamer than the ones on this map.”

“Like Broken Shitpost is any better.”

“Oh fuck off,” John said with a light chuckle. “So I assume you’ve been to these locations since you recognize them.”

“Yeah, of course. Hell, when I was younger, my parents, my brother and I would all go down to Broken Ship Coast to go swimming and find relics. My problem with this is that if this is the coast, and these are the hills, I should’ve passed the barrow like a hundred times at least.”

"And I am guessing with that tone that you didn't"

She shook her head. "Trust me, there is no barrow anywhere near there."

John grumbled, peering over the map. “Maybe... maybe it was hidden somehow. Do you remember anything about the location where the barrow supposedly is?”

Talia leaned back in her chair, running fingers through her long blonde hair. “Not… really. I mean, there’s some old Standing Stones, but you can find those every-”

“Standing Stones? What are those?”

Talia waved her hand dismissively. “Eh, don’t really bother with them. Back when travel was more open between the Vikings and Ljósálfr, the Vikings would occasionally leave these Stones in random places, usually to mark some important event or grave.”

“...Aren’t we looking for the grave of Beowulf?”

“No, we’re looking for the barrow of Beowulf. A barrow is like a tomb built into the side of a hill. A grave is a hole in the ground that you throw somebody in, cover it with dirt, and call it a day.”

“How poetic.”

“Aw, thanks, Broken Shitpost.”

“Shut up.” He shoved her arm playfully, a small laugh escaping the both of them. “So is there any possible way that it could be marking the barrow?”

“Maybe…? I mean, it could be pointing to the barrow. Or it could have some sort of enchantment helping to hide it. I really doubt it though. After all, Ljósálfr pass through those Stones every day. You’d think one of them would notice that there’s some strong, magical presence attached to the Stones.”

John stood up and started to pace, rubbing his chin in thought. Talia raised a good point. The elves had been working with magic for eons probably, and John was somehow assuming that there was some mystical magic hidden on the Stones that only he could find? Then, an idea struck John. Quickly bringing up his inventory, he pulled out the Rune Stone bag, extracted a single Rune Stone, before putting the bag back in its place. “Talia. Are you any good at sensing magic?”

She gave a small shrug. “I mean, I’m not the best at it, but yeah, I was born into magic. I can usually tell when it’s around.”

He held up the Rune Stone to her face. “Then tell me. Can you sense any magic coming from this symbol?”

She squinted at it before shaking her head. “No, it just looks like any other piece of normal writing.”

John laughed. “That’s it! Don’t you see? It’s the key!”

She gave him an incredulous stare. “A random Rune Stone you have is the key to solving this?”

“No no no, not - not this Rune Stone, you’re taking it too literally. The Stones - I assume the Standing Stones would have runes on them. The Vikings did leave them there, right?”

“I mean, yeah. The things are covered in runes. That was the Viking language after all.”

“Right! So maybe, what the Vikings would’ve done to hide the treasure of their greatest hero - the hero of legend, Beowulf - they would’ve hidden his tomb with, with runes! Things only they knew how to use!”

“But… they weren’t the only ones. Elves got to know runic magic as well. Same with the Dwarves, the Valkyries - hell, I’ve heard some Draugr are intelligent enough to use them.”

“Fair enough. But, I would assume - now, this is me making assumptions - but I would assume that the gods would have certain preferences for certain races, would they not? That the different races would have a sort of... patron deity?”

“Um… yeah. The elves had Freyr and Freya. The humans could worship them as well, but they didn’t focus on them as much.”

“Okay then, what would’ve been the patron deities of the humans?”

“John, where are you going with this?”

“Where I’m going is that I hypothesize that the humans left magically-inscribed runes on the Standing Stones. You’ve just shown me that you cannot detect the magical aura of runes when they’re set inactive like this.” He gestured to the rune in his hand. “I can tell they have a bit of a magical aura, but that’s probably due to my Gamer powers. I’m also guessing that the runes we’d be looking for would be ones that the elves would not know. Therefore, even if they did recognize that they’re magical runes, they wouldn’t know how to properly activate them.”

John watched as Talia slowly put the pieces together, a smile starting to break out on her face as she did so. “You know John, you might be onto something there. Yeah, yeah… that’d make a lot of sense. I mean, there’s Standing Stones riddled all over Alfheim. It’d be like throwing a needle onto a haystack.”

John interjected. “A needle that, even if you found it, you wouldn’t know what to do with.”

Talia grinned, crossing her arms. “...Yeah. I think you might be onto something.” She quickly stood up. “Come on, come on - let’s go take a look! I know how to get there, it isn’t too far of a walk from here!”

John held his hands up. “Whoa, whoa - hold on a second there, Talia. I think you might be rushing into this. I mean, shouldn’t we prepare first?”

“Prepare… what, exactly? You grab your sword, I’ll grab mine, and we go down to the barrow. Simple as that.”

“Well, how long are we gonna be at the barrow? Wouldn’t we have to pack some food, maybe? And what about your parents? Shouldn’t we ask them to come along?”

“What, you think this is going to be dangerous or something? It’s just some dead guy’s grave.”

“Yeah, and I’ve played enough Skyrim to know that, the second you enter a barrow, you get swarmed by Draugr, Skeletons, Dragon Priests - and sometimes even Dragons!”

“John, this is real life, not a video game.”

John gave a disappointed sigh. “Talia, I’m The Gamer.”

“Right, right, stupid point. My bad.” Talia drummed her fingers against her thigh. “Well, to be on the safe side, I guess we could pack up some food, maybe a couple bed rolls and a tent… as for my parents, we probably shouldn’t invite them.”

“Why not? Your mom’s pretty powerful. She’d be of great help if we run into any trouble.”

“Yeah, but… my parents... don’t know I’m training to be a swordsman. And I’d kinda like to keep it that way. They’ve been under enough stress having to deal with the community backlash of my brother coming out as gay, I… don’t want the community thinking I’m some butch lesbian acting out and giving my parents shit for it.”

“Are you afraid your parents are going to tell the community?”

Talia gave a slow nod. “My parents… I mean, they’re super supportive and everything, but… almost too supportive. They’re so eager to accept the differences in their children that they forget other people won’t.”

John sighed softly and took her hand. “Alright, we won’t take your parents along. But we should at least tell them where we’re going.”

Talia nodded, her cheeky grin returning to her face. “Alright. But let me do the talking. I can convince my parents of anything - trust me.”

“No no no no, absolutely not, and also, no.”

“But Daaaaaad…”

“No buts, Missy. I said no and that means no. End of story.”

“Dad, you’re not being fair.”

“I’m not being fair? Who’s the one who just asked if she could go mystical treasure hunting with her boyfriend, who, might I remind you, just got out of jail and avoided execution about an hour ago. The same boyfriend who she just started dating about _two _hours ago?”

Talia groaned, falling backwards onto the couch and pressing the palms of her hands against her eyes. “Dad, he’s not gonna be arrested again, nor is he gonna be executed-”

Hálfdan interrupted her. “You cannot possibly know that, young lady. Sure, the council agreed to not execute him this time, but knowing how they work, they’ll find some secondary crime he could be executed for and execute him for that one instead.”

John hopped in at this point, his curiosity taking over. “They’d really do that?”

Hálfdan gave him a solid nod. “It wouldn’t actually be the first time they’ve done that. Years ago, there was a sort of little... rebellion, let’s say, against the council. If they didn’t have enough evidence to execute someone, they would often find some other minor crime they’d committed and imprison them for life based on that. And for us Ljósálfr, a life sentence could mean a few millennia in a jail cell.”

Talia chimed in. “Exactly! They could do that! So wouldn’t it be better that we find some indisputable proof that John is as good of a guy as we know he is?”

Hálfdan gave a very tired sigh, rubbing his hands together in a nervous fashion. He spoke softly. “Sure. That would be great. The problem is, I don’t think such a proof really exists. Not that John isn’t innocent, mind you - he clearly is - but I don’t think there’s anything that will convince the council of that. I don’t think you saw their stares in there, honey. At least, not in the same way that I’m used to seeing them. They clearly had John pegged to be guilty the second he walked in, and I doubt any proof that you bring will be able to change that.”

John once again spoke up, “You seem to not have very high opinions of the council. And you seem to have a history with them, the way you speak about them. Would it be correct to assume that-”

Hálfdan held up a hand. “I’m going to stop you right there, John. Yes, I have a history with the council, no, I’m not going to talk about it, and no, you may not ask.”

John quickly shut his mouth, just in time for Talia to chime in again. “Well, John was telling me about the plan, and how even the council leader said it should work. Why don’t you think it’ll work?”

“Well, for one, you haven’t told me what the plan is, and two, I’m a skeptic. So why don’t you start by telling me this plan? Or is that too secretive to tell your dear old dad about?”

Talia rubbed the back of her neck and refused to meet her father’s gaze. “Well… um… I mean, you can know about the plan, I just don’t think you’re gonna be on board with it…”

Hálfdan stayed silent, waiting for his daughter to give him a summary of the plan. At this point, Frida walked back into the room. She’d been in the kitchen preparing some small snacks, but based on her facial expression, she’d spent most of that time listening in on the conversation. She walked over and placed a tender hand on her husband’s shoulder before softly saying to her daughter, “Go ahead, Talia, tell your father the plan.”

Talia drew in a shaky breath before quickly saying, “So the council leader gave John a map that leads to a hidden barrow, where he said John can find several divine runes that will show that he has the favor of the gods, and get him in the good graces of the council.”

Hálfdan gave a small nod. “That’s… not a bad plan, actually. It would show that John has divine favor and that he is more favored by the gods than he is by the Jotun. My only question is whose barrow would you be looking for? After all, runes haven’t been used in millenia, and divine runes even longer than that. You’d have to be going to some pretty old barrow for that kind of magic. Whose are you going to?”

“Oh, you know… um… a hero, a-a legendary hero, one whose barrow has been… difficult to find…”

“Talia.”

“...he suggested we find… the lost… barrow… of Beowulf…”

An awkward silence filled the room. John could see that Talia was shaking from nervousness, and he placed a hand on her shoulder to try and calm her down. Hálfdan looked stunned, his mouth wide open and his hands - which were once clasped around one another - simply hanging loosely between his legs. Frida’s mouth was also agape, her eyes as wide as dinner plates and her hand on her husband’s shoulder visibly firm in their grip, her knuckles turning white.

Hálfdan looked up to Frida, words appearing to pass back and forth between their eyes. Occasionally, they would quietly whisper actual words to each other, although most of the conversation seemed to happen silently, in a wordless language only parents could understand. Eventually, Hálfdan stood up and walked out. Frida turned to John and Talia and simply said, “Your father and I must talk,” before following him into the next room.

John glanced over at Talia, seeing a confused expression on her face. “I was… really not expecting that reaction from my parents.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Disbelief? Laughter? Maybe some questions concerning my mental state? But they looked more… panicked.”

John looked over to the doorway that Frida and Hálfdan had gone through. He couldn’t see them, as they were too deep into the next room over, and he could barely hear their voices. “Have you ever seen them react like that before?”

Talia shook her head. “Not to that magnitude. I mean, sometimes my mom or dad might give that sort of reaction when I ask them about their youth. They’ve told me that there are some things they’d prefer to leave in the past, and they always get nervous when I ask too many questions about it.”

“Do you think that might have something to do with this?”

“I… don’t really know.” Talia looked off into the distance. Her mind seemed to be a million miles away. “Mom and Dad never really tell me anything about their past. Just that they met when Dad was working as a blacksmith and Mom was starting to get really good at elemental magic. They told me that they used to live closer to the Branch of Yggdrasil when they were younger, but moved away shortly after having my brother. They’ll tell me stories all the time about my grandma and grandpa, but never really any stories about themselves.”

John was about to say something pertaining to that when Frida and Hálfdan walked back in. Both looked slightly frazzled and nervous, Hálfdan more so. He was turning his hands over each other anxiously. They both sat down on the couch across from Talia and John, staying silent for a few moments before Frida spoke up. “So. We’ve decided to let you two go on this quest-”

Hálfdan interrupted. “But-”

“But, there are going to be some conditions.”

“Three conditions.”

Frida gave a sigh. “Hálfdan, dear, I thought we agreed I was going to do the talking.”

“Sorry honey, please go on.”

She gave her husband a sigh and a small peck on the cheek. “Thank you.” She then turned back to John and Talia. “Alright. First off, if you are really going to be finding Beowulf’s barrow, it is going to be very dangerous. The place is rumored to be riddled with magical traps and monsters that take refuge within it. So, our first condition is that I accompany you.”

Talia was about to interject, but John held her back. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “This might be our only way of possibly finding Beowulf’s barrow and treasure and surviving to tell the tale. I swear, we’ll practice your swordsmanship any chance we get when your mom isn’t looking.” Talia gave him a small dejected look before nodding for her mother to continue.

“Second, even with my help, the barrow will still be very dangerous. So your father has some equipment he’d like you to bring along for your own safety.”

John gave a small smile at this. Having some of Hálfdan’s professionally-crafted armor would certainly be better than his school uniform and the Papercut blade he called a sword. “You said there was a third thing?”

Frida nodded. “Finally - and this one you must trust us on - you don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Why?” Talia and John asked in tandem before giving each other a soft smile accompanied by a blush.

“Please, just trust your father and me. If we do find Beowulf’s barrow, there are certain artifacts in there that… some people shouldn’t know about.”

John and Talia looked at each other. Neither was very sure about this. John figured Talia was more perturbed by her mother joining them and not getting the swordsmanship practice she wanted, while John was nervous about the secrecy of this. It was clear that Frida and Hálfdan were not telling them the whole story, and John was anxious as to what details they were leaving out. However, both of them clearly knew that if they stood any chance of clearing John’s reputation in Alfheim - and completing the quest - they would need Frida’s and Hálfdan’s help.

Talia turned towards her mother and father, extending her hand and saying in a soft, shy voice: