[The Alfar 02] Elves and the Otterskin by Boyer Elizabeth

Author:Boyer, Elizabeth [Boyer, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780345320544
Google: YtogegUArkkC
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 1981-08-02T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

After a long and careful scrutiny, the fire jotuns abandoned their hiding places and rode forward to confront the intruders. Ivarr counted twelve riders approaching, armed with bows and lances and clad in dark muffling cloaks. They halted to study Gizur and his small band. Ivarr couldn’t help admiring their horses‍—trim, slender creatures with small heads and fiery dispositions evinced by much hoof-pawing and head-tossing.

Gizur nudged Ivarr to follow him, and they cautiously advanced toward the fire jotuns.

“Just be calm and friendly,” Gizur muttered. “Act a wee bit stupid. Keep your mouth closed and let me do all the lying.”

One of the foremost jotuns kneed his horse forward with a plunge and a jingling of outlandish hardware. In a thunderous voice the jotun bellowed, “Stay where you are, trespassers! This is jotun land and we want none of your hunting and snooping. You’re from the Guild, I can see, and if it’s outlaws you’re after, I’m here to tell you Jotunsgard protects its own!”

The other jotuns muttered a fierce accompaniment, looking very warlike.

Gizur raised his hands placatingly. “We’re not hunting outlaws, or anyone else for that matter. I’m Gizur of Ravensend, and these fellows with me are merely hunting for treasure mounds, nothing more.”

The jotun chieftain nudged his snorting horse a few paces nearer. He tilted back the visor of his burnished helmet for a better look. Bright hawkish eyes bored into Ivarr and stabbed at the Alfar behind him. Thoughtfully the jotun smoothed his beard, which was braided into three dark plaits. “Treasure mounds, you say? We’ve seen plenty of your kind‍—or rather, their bones, after the trolls or mischievous wizards are done with them. If you want to live to see your precious Snowfell again, you’d better turn around now and not look back. We jotuns are sworn to protect the barrows of the honorable dead. We shall escort you back to the mountains, and hope you have the good sense not to be seen here again.”

“Thor, listen to me a moment.” Another jotun, a wizardous-looking fellow with very little flesh on his bones, joined his chieftain. He whispered a moment to the chieftain, who favored the intruders with an increasingly skeptical glare.

“If I might explain‍—” began Gizur, but Thor cut him off.

“Oho! Treasure seekers indeed!” he boomed. “My brother Bjarn has told me who you really are. You’re the outlaws who murdered Svartarr’s son, are you not? Gossip travels even as far as Jotunsgard.”

Skapti edged anxiously closer. “It’s not like you think,” he began. “We didn’t actually intend‍—”

The jotun’s face split with a tremendous grin of welcome. “There’s no one we’d be gladder to welcome into our hall. Svartarr is no friend of the fire jotuns. We’d gladly do anything to bollix up his plans. Jotunsgard is the haven for outlaws; there’s room for all and no one dares to come after you.” He beamed at the startled Alfar.

“Well, we’re frightfully glad and grateful for your hospitality,” Gizur said. “As a matter of fact, we are almost out of provisions‍—”

Thor waved his hand.

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