MAGNUS & JÖRMUNGANDR

MAGNUS had returned to the forest in the early hours of the morning, the dull ache of home sickness squeezing around his heart. It had been almost a year since he had last seen his parents and the family herd; even longer since he had last seen his sister despite only a small ocean separating them. Each had set foot in the other’s home and yet missed actually running into each other and something about that didn’t sit right with the spotted boy. Magnus had dreamt of a night when he was younger, a mere few months old. He dreamt of the stormy night where he had been terrified of the thunder and lightning. Olaf and Jörmungandr had tried to calm him with stories of the gods.

JÖRMUNGANDR was on the shore when the bald faced boy arrived. At first, she only saw the figure, a pale face bobbing in the water, and her ears flicked back in annoyance. Her head dropped low and she began to stalk forwards, ready to chase the possible intruder from her shore if that was required. Lyden had enough on his plate since the wolf attack he’d only just healed from and then the battle for Caesisus. He did not need any more to deal with. She was surprised then, when a familiar voice rang out in the silence of the twilight.

“GODS Yo’rah, you look just like the gamla tík when you do that” the boy observed, and scolded, as he pulled himself from the water. It was then, when his spotted hide broke from the waves and she heard the familiar sound of his voice that she recognised her brother; he had grown. He was no longer just the somewhat annoying colts with boundless energy.

SHE surged forwards with purpose, her ears thrown forwards and her stride rapidly consuming the distance between. She pressed her muzzle to his, an attempt to exchange breaths, but in her hurry to seek him out she merely drove him a few steps back in the sea. He chuckled as she ran her muzzle from his cheek, down his neck, burying the buckskin side of her face in his pale mane. She didn’t care that he was soaking. “I have missed you Magni” she breathed, her voice muffled against his wooly coat. She paused a moment, pulling her head back a little “The gamla tík?” she growled. She had only just registered what he had said to her. He began to try and worm his way out of it but was cut off by a sharp nip to his shoulder. There was pain, but he could feel the affection in it despite the squeal he gave in protest. The buckskin ignored him “Stór mistök Magni. Hefur þú gleymt hvað gerist þegar þú bera saman mig til þess brjálaður, gamla tík. Hálfviti!"

MAGNUS had almost forgotten what it was like to hear the words of their forefathers. He hadn’t realised how much he missed it; how much he missed Jörmungandr and Olaf. “Auðvitað ekki, elskan systur.” he responded with an amused grin. He plopped his head down on her back with a distinct huff. “Do you think they’ll ever return to the islands, Yo’rah?” She pushed forwards a little and mimicked his pose, nibbling at the dark spots on the white of his withers. “Olaf will” she admitted with confidence, “ “but only when the gamla tík is dead”.

MAGNUS huffed again, “Why is she so spiteful? The islands are plentiful; the herd would be safer here. She might have a reputation for being wise and as old as sin but she’s doing the herd no favours by keeping them away just to spite Olaf” Jörmungandr laughed, “She would have to admit she was wrong.” She smiled knowingly “and the gamla tík is never wrong” she mimicked her father’s mocking voice. “En hún er aldrei falleg”. Magnus finished with a chuckle and the same mimicking tone. “She really isn’t is she?” he remarked. They both laughed.

“MA?” A quiet voice startled the two from their reunion and Magnus’ gaze shifted to the figure of a pale colt. Jörmungandr swung her head away from her brother and followed the motion round, moving forwards and dipping her head down to bump noses with her son. Magnus appeared at her side “He has Olaf’s face”. Joukahainen had the same bald faced marking that Olaf and Magnus shared. “I suppose he does” she admitted. “This is Joukahainen, Magni.” she informed the spotted boy, “ “Jouka, meet your uncle. Magnus Olaffson” Joukahainen tilted his head, narrowing his eyes a little, “The incompetent one?” Jörmungandr burst out laughing and Magnus threw his sister a mock insulted look, “What have you been telling him about me?”

JÖRMUNGANDR let her laughter subside to a chuckle, “I did not say that, but he is a smart boy. He can read between the lines” Magnus shook his mane and nudged the colt’s shoulder playfully, speaking in a low voice. “Don’t listen to her Kah’zee, I’m the most competent stallion you’ll ever meet. Some might tell you I managed to end up on Tinuvel when I aimed for Luthien but they're just dirty, rotten liars.” Jörmungandr pulled a horrified face, “Please tell me that is not how you ended up in the bay, Magni” Mugnus huffed “That’s beside the point.”. Jörmungandr snorted. He truly was an idiot.

THE MADMAN OFTEN TELLS THE TRUTH