A winter’s tale

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The legend of the Black Sun - a winter's tale (written by Nordby/Laura L.- with keyword prompts from  the Christmas Mixed Challenge by "Kim the Victorian Goth": #ChristmasMixedChallenge on twitter) Part 1- Trees in winter
Trees in winter, a triple affair: Seen from the outside they were 
bare- branched and barren, stiff and cold. Inside the life retreated
 but also concentrated, preserving and strengthening the core.
  Additionally there was the underworld, full of secret connections 
to other entities, some of them other trees, some of them fungi, 
forming a network of roots and information, of warning and nurturing
 and of sharing. How she longed to belong to this network, to
 experience time on the scale of a tree, slowly growing, multiplying
 through seed and  vegetative propagation, reaching immortality. 
Touching all three worlds - underworld, inner world and the world
 above - life giving not only to some small animals but being
 essential for a whole ecosystem. What a full and blessed life a 
tree must have ! 
Nótt gathered her black cloak upwards so it would not be spoilt by
the muddy earth of the woods. 
She was on a difficult mission but she felt protected by the loving
 embrace of the dark. There were many miles to go but the night lay 
ahead and so did the path she was told of. With a light spring in her 
step she headed North. 
Part 2 - Snowflakes
The way was winding and the night was beckoning and Nótt felt joy
in walking. She gave her raven-black hair a swish (did she feel a
soft caress or was that her imagination?) and pondered her mission
and why she was chosen to do it. 
At first glance one of the sons of Dagr might have been the wiser
choice, as a promise of light to come and male strength in battle.  
As a daughter of the Night she would not be afraid of the dark though
and she was able to tolerate the iciness of the North. 
In the same instant she thought of the cold, a tiny snowflake landed 
on her right eyelash. She focused on it and like in a dream the 
beautiful flake appeared to hover in front of her eyes. That had been 
the caress, her hair was sprinkled with white stars as well! 
The symmetrical beauty of the snowflake in front of her demanded 
her attention again. How would it feel to live the life of a snowflake, 
being one with all at first, but at the same time utterly unique, an 
expression of just a fleeting moment in time, armoured with spikes and 
lances, for a short time flying and always on the verge of a transitory 
process?
A drop trickled down her cheek, the snowflake had finally melted. 
The snow cover was steadily building up and the path was no longer 
visible, but the night was now distinctly brighter. She would not miss 
the frozen river now that would lead her on to the first stop on her 
way to the ancient shaman of the North.

Part 3 - Ice skating 
While Nótt tried a kind of sliding on the frozen river to reach the gnome's
hut as fast as possible, there was a huge argument in the halls of 
Jotunheim. The sons of Dagr hoped to send one of their ranks after
Nótt and belittled her absent-minded ways, always with her heads in the 
clouds, focusing on irrelevant details in every of her waking hours. The
daughters of Night praised her ability to be one with all and therefore 
revealing underlying truths. When the boldest of the sons drew his sword 
every one started to shout and push at once. 
A black-clad figure watched this tumult from a corner of the hall, hiding in the 
shadows. He knew that the sign of the black sun made them irritable and 
their trust in Nótt was barely sufficient, her supporters were skating on thin ice. 
Meanwhile Nótt really was in her comfort zone- meditating about the 
ways of nature, life and beyond. The rhythmical movements of the literal ice 
skating induced a kind of trance and she saw the water of the river she was on, 
born from its spring in the depth of the earth where the ways of the underworld 
ruled, gathering high up in the mountains, clear and fresh, meeting other brooks
 and winding through the land like a snake, swelling and growing 
and developing and nurturing  until reaching the vast ocean -dissolving and 
merging for a new cycle. In her mind she saw that cycle and she was in it, 
lending the water her voice, forming thoughts and words for them, praising 
their ways and revealing their beauty.
In the village the gnome was supposed to dwell in, the Yule preparations were
 in full swing and most of the inhabitants planned their Yule oaths, prepared food 
and drink. Some sewed, others did carpentry, the children rehearsed their songs
 and dances and poems. The darkest days of the year were a time of haste in the 
world above. 
Far away in the North, as far North as man and jotun were able to go, the shaman
 lay on the roof of his simple snow hut and watched the dancing northern lights. 
The signs were clear and he awaited Nótt, as Night personified, during the height 
of the polar night. He wondered if he ever was able to see the summer midnight sun 
again. The age of the black sun threatened to shake the foundations of all man had
 taken for granted so far.

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Part 4- Pinecones
In Jotunheim the black-clad man retreated. He revelled in the general upheaval and
congratulated himself for his influence on the Sons of Dagr. They should complement 
the Daughters of Night like sun and moon do and lend their strength for the common
 cause, but he had successfully sowed the seed of discord, especially Surt listened 
closely to his nightly whisperings and indeed did draw his sword today. Brother 
against sister. Armed warrior against spiritual maiden. Soon the time was ripe for more. 
Only Nótt bothered him. She would not succeed alone, wouldn't she? The lunatic little 
girl? Against the cataclysm of the black sun even more mighty jotun would be 
powerless, but he did not underestimate the unimposing ones. He himself was often
overlooked. That would change. Soon. To be sure he decided to spy on Nótt from
time to time. He concentrated on the northbound path and closed his eyes. 
He heard a faint scraping on ice and opened his eyes. Soft light shone through ice and 
above him a dark figure sped. He swam with the same speed, in one of his  most 
inconspicuous  forms- the salmon. People did not associate harm by it and so he loved 
to disguise himself in this manner. 
Nótt had enjoyed an auspicious journey so far.  To battle the doom of the black sun was 
no easy task but she hoped to gather words and poems on the way, containing one of the 
most ancient forms of magick. The shaman of the North would read the signs and she 
longed to meet him. What kind of old songs and words he must have memorised! 
She imagined one word of him was more powerful than millions of words from a common
 jotun, as he was the oldest of all and lived the life of a hermit or ascetic. He was said to
 mostly watch the unfolding universe. How beautiful must his interpretation of the Song of the Stars might be! Her own version was feeble, Surt even had laughed out loud and told
her that whatever that was what she sang, it did not resemble  star magick at all. 
A loud crack immediately got her attention, her whole body felt the rush of adrenalin, she had 
to leave the ice at once. A second crack made it impossible to move further, the ice split and she remembered she had to crawl now. Slowly she lay down. What now? And there! There was a 
dark shadow beneath the ice! A fish? A serpent? 
Think Nótt, think! She chided herself and went back to her last thought before the breaking ice. 
The song of the stars! It did no good- but... but.. what she really was good in was the Song 
of the Trees! She remembered her musings from earlier on her mission. The trees reaching into
the underworld and through the world above, having a sheltered inner life. What she needed 
was protection, a circle. She closed her eyes and sang. Sang for her life while she heard more cracking ice all around her. Sang for help, for a connection, like trees did connect, through roots and signals, helping each other out. Something hid her head with a hard thump and she stopped singing, thinking that her end was nigh. When the stars fell down to hit her, she would surely drawn and freeze. What was it though that had hid her? In front of her a pine cone lay- an 
offering of ...help? More pine cones rained on her and she held her breath? Would the falling cones instabilize the ice even more? 
What should she do with the cones? She needed ... a circle!  Grabbing the pine cones she built a spiral out of them and resumed her singing. He words intensified and the pine cones started to emit their sharp, sweet and refreshing scent. She already felt safer and the ice seemed to be more 
stable. She sang on, sang on for dear life and filled herself with protective pine magick. Now she only needed a helping hand to slowly leave the ice. 
A hand was not likely to reach her any time soon, but her song was not unnoticed in the surrounding woods and soon the sound of hooves crunching through the snow would be audible for her. For the time being she lay singing on the ice- sheltered by her protective circle and the shadow under the ice vanished.

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Part 5 - Sleigh
Springing back into human form from salmon was always unexpected and his skin 
still shimmered scale-like. It could have been over there and then. Nótt could have 
broken into the ice, caressed gently for a last time by salmon, the water of stream 
and sea for evermore occulted by Nótts final release of ink-like darkness, like a 
struggling and dying squid. Now she had drawn a protective circle and pushed 
him away, her Tree Song being surprisingly potent. As a known  trickster this was
not his last attempt. He mingled with the Sons of Dagr, ready to whisper into lonely
ears, ready to intensify what was festering, ready to ignite what was already 
smouldering. 
Nótt perked up her ears- the sound of  hooves in the snow was a sound of hope- 
a friendly clattering and -there- a faint but joyous jingling of bells also arose. 
First she saw the sleigh, a smooth dark wooden sleigh, cluttered with black 
sheepskin rugs. Then  the draught animal followed. It was an enormous boar, 
shining silvery in the moonlight, an auspicious and protective animal, wild when
 it had to be, strong for its family and nocturnal like herself. 
With a thump the end of a thin but firm silver rope landed in her circle, in midst the 
pinecones. She pulled it gently and used it as a lifeline,  crawling along the ice, the
 boar pulling her above cracks and speeding her up. Finally she landed in the 
snow and the boar nudged her gently. "I thank you, friend. I wonder who sent you?"
The boar just silently bowed its head and she patted the majestic animal. Before
 she sat down on the sleigh, comfortable on the warm sheepskins, she picked up
 one of the pinecones. It would make a beautiful tip of a wand and still radiated 
a sense of protection. The sleigh started to speed through the night, far faster than
an ordinary boar should have managed it. The light of the moon sparkled in the 
snow, it was like a drive on a distant  star road, glittering, hovering. Oh- would she
 just have been better in singing the Song of the Stars. She could have travelled 
to the farthest stars and galaxies in this manner, farther than the light of the moon
 could reach, all the way to the well of time itself. After awhile she fell asleep, 
exhausted from her Song and gathering of her energy. Nobody watched the boar, 
but if you could have seen it,  it indeed was  flying a bit above the ground, treading 
an invisible road, the sleigh behind it gliding through the night, the tiny silver bells 
chiming and singing of far away worlds and sleepy moons. 
Nótt would awake in the village. still on the furs of the sleigh, in the anteroom of a  
tiny hut, but right now we leave her, sleeping deep and protected, the
boar running, the silvery moonlight cleansing their path and embracing Nótt 
carefully. A peaceful moment in time.

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Part 6- Snow globe
Slowly waking up  Nótt needed a moment to realise where she was and what 
had happened. The blessed  boar (who she called Sølvisvini in her mind) still lay 
snoring next to the sleigh. The faithful animal had saved her and so she
 supposed she now was in the home of its benevolent master. Looking around 
in the anteroom there was not much to see, just one shelf with strange tiny and
 twisted green shoes. On top of it was a beautiful snow globe. She tiptoed to the
 globe, trying to not wake up the boar. A cozy scene was displayed in the globe- 
the mountains reminded her of Jotunheim. She let the snow swirl and slowly
the scene in front of her came to life, as if the snow globe was a window to the real 
Jotunheim. Tiny ghostlike people wandered along the mountain side. There was the 
hall of the Daughters and the cave of the Sons. A tiny black clad figure stood at the 
threshold of it. Wasn't that Loki, the trouble-maker and trickster? She blinked and 
in the same instance everything was back to normal. Had she imagined it? She knew 
what Surt would call her. Loony, just as mad as a March Hare. But what did Surt knew
of the Songs of the Wild and their magick? She decided to explore her surroundings 
while her saviour still slept the sleep of the just. Perhaps she could collect more 
precious words and could ask about the gnome she was supposed to see about the 
further way to the Shaman of the North. Nótt stepped outside.
In Jotunheim Loki had a strange feeling of being observed and identified. 
Was that another magickal Song of Nótt? He entered the cave and planned his next 
attack. He just knew the perfect occasion. The traditional Krampus run of the village
 Nótt was surely headed to, to meet the gnome who was said to have visited the
 damned shaman once. In the general ruckus of the wild night he could disguise 
himself perfectly.

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Part 7- Holly
After some minutes of walking up and down the alleys, Nótt found a busy 
market and filled herself with the different smells and sounds that were 
 crowding in on her.  She smelled freshly cut pine branches and revelled 
in the protective smell, thinking of her pine cone that still rested on the 
sleigh. People around her bought herbal ingredients for teas and potions 
and a lot of rustling paper bags changed hands. 
She took in the aroma of many wintery spices, she loved cinnamon, aniseed 
and vanilla. Oh, what a rich tapestry of impressions!
The Yule preparations of the village were filling the cold snowy space with
 life. She heard laughing and friendly enough shouting, bargaining and 
singing children.
In the centre of the  market the preparations for the Krampus run on the
morrow were in full swing. Some men dressed as the fearsome half-goat
and  half-demon character. Others prepared heavy wooden tables for the
 traditional  test of strength and courage of young men against the 
free-running Krampuses.
Leaving the area of the Krampus run preparations, Nótt noticed that  most 
market stalls were decorated with little figurines of the Holly King or holly 
wreaths, but most impressive was a stall that seemed to be attended 
by a small Holly King himself. A wise looking man of the little people, 
adorned with holly and ivy and pine cones. Right now he spoke to 
the people around him. She perked up when she heard the words
 "black sun" and spoke up: "My lord, what do you know about my quest?
Did you get word of the Black Sun in this remote area... and could you
tell me, where do I find the village gnome? The one that knows the Shaman 
of the North? ... if you please?" The tiny Holly King laughed good-naturedly:
"That are a lot of questions, aren't they? Hohoho! Your quest I do not know-
but I saw a figure in my snow globe, black-clad and full of trouble. He 
whispered of a quest he wanted to sabotage." "Loki? Your snow globe? 
So Sølvisvini guided me to your house?" "My house, hohoho! That is 
getting better and better. Sølvisvini? I did send my lunar boar out 
indeed. The pine in my yard sent a call of distress and I promised
 it to send help. So I wonder - is it you he went out to help?" "Yes and I 
need the help of that gnome! The black sun is threatening us all! So is 
Loki! The sisters of Night are sending me!"  
"I see... you have found your gnome, I think. As Holly King I rule the 
North from Mabon to Ostara. So I was one of the few the Shaman 
invited to his world of eternal snow and ice.
Come, my darling, tell me all about Loki and your quest and most 
important, what Songs and Boons did you collect on your journey?"
Nótt was enthralled! Somebody who knew about the way of the 
Songs, not ridiculing her somnambulant ways. She talked for hours 
and the Holly King just listened, from time to time depositing some 
nourishment for her, hot cocoa and Yule cakes, cinnamon buns and 
roasted apples. She almost forgot her troubles for a time. At last she 
was finished and the Holly King insisted to bestow another Boon on 
her for her quest, before he would tell her the way to the Shaman. 
Tomorrow after some rest, just after the Krampus run he had to 
inaugurate tomorrow. 
Side by side they walked to the hut, both smiling about the still 
snoring boar.

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Part 8 - Nutcracker 
In the hut of the Holly King gnome an otherworldly coziness 
ruled. They went past the still resting boar and the snow globe with its
magickal connection to Jotunheim. In the main room the fireplace 
glowed golden with a yule log and  many carvings decorated the hut. 
"Hohoho, so what kind of wand would you prefer for your pinecone tip? 
Remember the Songs and words you gather may be as important as 
the magickal items you acquire on your journey. Is it pine or... hoho... 
holly?" "I mean no disrespect Lord of the Holly, but when I think about 
the doom of the Black Sun, threatening life itself and the world we live 
in, I think mending magick is needed, life giving and regenerative." 
"Then I have the perfect boon for you!" The Holly King reached behind 
and gave Nótt a beautifully carved boar nutcracker. "It is made of a 
branch of  an ancient yew tree. The immortal  tree itself will never die 
and will strengthen any attempt to restore, resurrect or refresh." 
"It is very beautiful and shows Sølvisvini, but how is it supposed to help
as a wand?" "A nice name you gave that lunar boar. I wonder why I never 
bothered to name the good fellow. Maybe, just maybe...he belongs to
you more than me." Nótt blushed- she felt a strong connection to the boar 
but had dreaded to steal away the familiar of the gnome. 
"And the issue of the wand?" The Holly King smiled:  "You will see when 
it is time. Now connect with this nutcracker and put it to good use!" He 
put a plate with hazelnuts and English walnuts in front of them and they 
merrily cracked nuts and ate them, talking about the Krampus run on the 
next day. The Holly king said that the way to the Shaman was kind of a long 
Song and he would bestow it to her after the run. The gnome offered Nótt
a sleeping place beside the fire, but she insisted to sleep on the black 
 sheepskins next to Sølvisvini and soon fell into a disturbed sleep, dreaming
 about salmons and the frozen river, seeing herself under the ice, frantically 
gulping frosty water, until a hoof cracked  open the ice. She woke up with a
 start and lay awake for a long time, listening to the boar's breath. 
The Holly King needed no sleep tonight. He started to feel  uneasy as well 
despite his linking of Nótt and his overall pleasant day. 
For a long time he looked into his snow globe, he had carried to the fireplace,
 trying to glimpse signs of Loki's mischief. On one point the gnome thought he 
saw the shape of the griffin in the globe and read that sign according to
ancient Celtic lore. When the boar woke up in the small hours of the morning,
Nótt finally asleep again, the Holly King whispered into the boar's ear for a long 
time. The boar sat down, listened closely and nudged the gnome as a sign of 
his compassion and understanding.

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Part 9 - Gnome
Rested and curious Nótt followed the rather quiet Holly King gnome to 
the opening of the Krampus run.
In the centre of the  market heavy wooden tables were prepared and 
most young men stood in line to show their strength in the Tischziachn 
ritual. A group of fur-clad Krampus actors would try to turn around the
tables and the young men would try to protect the tables. A lot of ale 
and shouting would be involved, Nótt had heard.  
It was almost time for the Run and the table throwing. Children were 
running back and force, the enticing smells of the Yule market were 
overshadowed by the smoke of many small fires that would
accompany the parade. Some of the Krampus actors even showed
the art of fire- eating and made the children gasp. 
The gnome went to a speaker's desk decorated with holly wreaths
and cleared his throat:
"People of the North. Every year, during my reign, I start the Krampus
 Run and we light fires to hold evil demons and  forces at bay. 
In the darkest Night of the year hope returns, hope of a new
harvest, hope of light and warmth and a spring to come. Hope 
of a new generation to be born. 
This year though not only our next harvest is in peril. Life itself is 
threatened by a cataclysm known as the Black Sun. You might 
have heard of it. 
Our wise ones predict a total eclipse of the sun and this time
so they say,  Sun might go down permanently. Throwing us into 
eternal darkness and  winter without end, until the last plant dies 
and until the last carnivore has to turn on itself. 
To appease the Back Sun is difficult as people are forgetting the old 
ways.  I am known for not fearing  the dark part of the year, 
because I see it as a time of contemplation and gathering of Songs. 
Today I want to introduce Nótt to you, a young jotun of the Daughters 
of Night. As I revere winter she does revere the Night,  enjoying its 
dark and healing magick. Acknowledging its connection to the 
underworld. The darkness of the underworld does not lure you 
into evil sin, Northerners! The dark Daughters protect this ancient 
knowledge. It is a refuge to heal and transform and take a 
well- deserved rest, leading to a new dawn. 
Only people who are not afraid of the dark rebirth of day and year 
might stand against the Black Sun. So it is predicted and she is 
chosen. So I dedicate this year's run to her. Run and test your 
strength. Hold the darkness at bay. I open the run! Go!"
An eerie silence followed. Nótt was surprised, she had not expected 
the Holly King to mention her at all. The village people also were 
stunned by the confirmation of all their fears and the hope that may
 lie on the shoulders of this foreign jotun girl. In every other year
 the actors wold be already running and hollering, young men would 
hold down  tables, others trying to throw the tables. Nobody moved 
until a young boy started to take a torch, crying: "Begone, demons of
 the dark!" As this had been a secret keyword the people with costumes 
started to run and shout- the first bouts of table throwing started 
and everybody spoke at once. A cacophony of questions and fears 
and rumours. Nótt was overwhelmed by this setting and wished for 
the quiet of the wilderness. 
Unnoticed a tiny fly flew  to the next table in line and sat 
down on it.

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Part 10 - KrampusThe next bout of Tischziachn - men against Krampus 
was going to start, everybody had assembled around 
the heavy oak table.The men tried with all their might to 
succeed and shouts of encouragement echoed around them. 
Nótt watched from a safe distance, she felt faintly sick, perhaps 
by all the noise and shouting. The holly king gnome  was the 
referee of this  bout and stood next to the sweating men. The fly- Loki 
in disguise-   had entered the premises and landed unnoticed on the
 fur costume of one of the men and slowly crawled into the mask of the 
Krampus actor. This time everything would go according  to plan... 
If a fly is able to look snug, it did. Reaching the left ear Loki 
tentatively crawled into it. If the man was ticklish he could hit him 
and all would be lost. Deeper, deeper until the fly was no longer a fly.
but a tiny black spectre, occupying the man, gaining control about 
his actions. The obsessed Krampus roared and with supernatural 
strength he threw the table, the men ducked and the edge hit the Holly 
King fully on his head. Nótt screamed, the Krampus started to run and 
soon mingled with the other runners, impossible to distinguish. 
Men with torches came to see what was wrong and the gnome of
winter, the Holly King lay very still. A dark reddish puddle enfolded 
around him. The young men tried to run after the villain and the 
general ruckus was so overwhelming that Nótt just stared. Children wailed 
and attempts were made to revive the gnome. When a large griffin appeared
in the fire, that was next to the group trying to help, a black- clad woman, a 
healer or midwife judging by her bag of healing aids she had hastily
fetched, started to wail and shouted: "See, he is gone. The griffin! It 
will chaperon him on his journey after death. He will go to the underworld! 
The daughters of Night may bless him!" 
Finally this roused Nótt, she walked over to the gnome, that now was 
also a friend and  mentor and lay her hand on his cold forehead. He indeed
 was gone and his spirit leaving. She was not good in the Star Song yet but she 
raised her voice and sang the ancient Song the the Night, enfolding his leaving 
soul with reassuring magick, hoping to make his journey peaceful and swift. 
The people of the village were very quiet, all the hustle and shouting had quit and 
some of them joined in the singing, the female healer among them. 
Now Nótt started to release her tension and cried silently and strongly. Her friend
was gone and their cause lost. She did not know the way to the Shaman of the North
and the Black Sun would devour them all. 
From afar the shouting started again, the fleeing  Krampus had started to set 
houses  on fire and men and women were called to fetch water, children to seek the 
open market place to be in safety. Nótt tried to reach the next bucket chain, when 
something nudged her leg. 
Looking up she saw Sølvisvini with the sledge. The sledge was full of packed bags and
 parcels of provision and on top of the black sheepskins was the nutcracker, 
the snow globe and her pinecone. In the scales sticked a red heart-shaped note. 
"Sølvisvini knows the way. Your familiar will protect you even in times of need. 
I have seen the sign of the griffin. My fate awaits me. The boar will know when to bring
 you this message. 
Do not cry for me. I will rest. Tell the Shaman to sing the Song of winter for me.
Blessed be."
Nótt sat down, her crying intensifying. Her friend had known and had passed his 
knowledge on. He did not flee, but embraced his fate. The sledge sped on through the 
Night, the movement like a lullaby for Nótt, the boar leading the way, to the North. 
Meanwhile the spectre was again a fly and crawled out of the ear of the man in the

A winter’s tale

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