Fic: Words

[rusakko]

Set during the last pages of chapter 7.

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Lalli has always felt that words are a double-edged sword. He remembers sitting at his grandmother’s feet on long, dark winter nights, watching the red-black embers glowing in the fireplace and listening as she told him how to string words together in a way that would make the gods listen to him, bend spirits to his will, direct the undercurrents of power coursing through both living and lifeless things. He remembers reciting prayers and spells after her, imprinting them on his mind to have them ready when he needs them. She knew so many: the origins of stone and iron, cold and wind, the sun and the moon, humans and animals. To know the origin of something is to have power over it.

He knows, too, the struggle of forging words together himself, the frustration of ill-formed thoughts and a stumbling tongue. But he also knows the thrill of a spell crafted exactly right, a rhythm that works itself into the fabric of the world around him, changing it. With a spell like that, you can sing spirits into submission, beat a gentle breeze into a storm, glean gifts from the gods.

Words have power, and therefore, Lalli uses them sparingly. Besides, while they are his friends when he speaks to spirits and gods, they all too often turn against him when he speaks to other people. Suddenly, the words seem to slip away from him, or come out wrong, or mean something different than he intended. There are words that are left unsaid, words that perhaps never existed, words that fail when they are needed.

Other people’s words are his enemies, too. They carry double meanings he doesn’t grasp, jokes that he doesn’t understand. Better, then, to be quiet. To only speak when he must and what he must, and hope that others do the same.

Still, standing in the rain at the edge of the sphere of light around the tank, Lalli wishes that he shared a language with Emil. The Swede is speaking softly to the dead dog on the rain-soaked ground in front of him. Lalli has heard that Emil’s people have no gods, otherwise he would have assumed that his friend was reciting a prayer. Perhaps, judging by the cadence of his voice, it is an apology.

Emil has surprised Lalli twice today. First, Lalli was taken aback by the unrestrained emotion that poured out of his friend at the death of the mother-cat and her kittens. Emil tried to hide it, of course, but Lalli could taste it in the air around him, and so, it seems, could Sigrun and Mikkel. Emil is not yet hardened against death and loss, though he should be, in his profession. There is a certain innocence in such heartfelt grief at the death of feral animals that Lalli finds touching, but at the same time, he knows that it makes Emil vulnerable. Emil needs to learn, as Lalli has learned at a young age, that not everything can be fixed. That sometimes, it is best to let go.

But Emil has also displayed unexpected calmness and courage. When the pitiful, twisted dog-creature crept up to them, Lalli half expected Emil to panic and do something stupid. Instead, he acted with both compassion and determination to put the creature out of its misery. That is something Lalli can respect. Especially as he can see that Emil did not find it an easy task. Sometimes compassion gives you strength.

Emil seems to have finished whatever he was saying to the dead dog. His shoulders are stooped as he turns and walks back towards Lalli.

Lalli wishes that he could say something to make Emil feel better, to free him of some of his guilt. He would like to tell Emil that he felt the mother-cat’s spirit leave its broken body peacefully. Lalli can picture her now, in the leafy halls of Tapio and Mielikki, washing her kittens and gently scolding them for running off into the spirit world before her. Lalli also wants to tell Emil that even though the spirit of the dog is still trapped by the corruption of the Illness, there is a way to free it. Lalli knows the origin spell of the wolf and the dog, and the ritual that will allow him to separate the dog’s spirit from the diseased darkness clinging to it. He will perform the ritual tomorrow, with the aid of Päivätär’s cleansing light. It will not bring the dog back to life, but it will allow its spirit to be reborn, one day, into a healthy body.

As Emil joins him, Lalli opens his mouth to at least try to put some of these comforting thoughts into words – and closes it again, remembering the impenetrable barrier between them. Instead, he silently falls into step beside Emil. They walk back to the tank slowly, feet splashing on the muddy ground. The patter of the rain around them is soothing.

Perhaps words couldn’t have helped, anyway.