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She dug into her temples. No wine stains, no vomit in her immediate vicinity. She hobbled across the dewy lawn. Daylight pricked her eyes, yet she managed to drag herself into the main hall.

”Quite a night, huh?” An older man said. A small group sat by the table, nursing drinks and sharing sweets between themselves. They spoke without harshness. Smiled, even. Big, toothy smiles. Their dimly lit silhouettes tangled together, coming to resemble a terrible monolith in which human faces occasionally flickered. Empty bottles on the floor, muskets on the wall.

Idun lurched towards them, placing herself on a stool with her spine straight. “Nobody died, no?” She asked. They chuckled. ”Not as far as we can tell. You certainly have a way with words after a drink or three,” Iduns eyes widened. ”What do you mean?” She stuttered. “Happens to the best of us,” Paal said, now a distinct entity from the mass, “have you thought more about the offer?” “Not now. Not here.” “Let me know in due time,”

Idun nodded. She ached with each breath, cold sweat beaded on her forehead. ”I better-” she mumbled, -“I should go back to sleep,“ She walked out onto the veranda. The morning breeze soothed. She clutched her belongings, strolling down the daunting walkway. And she kept strolling. Paal might have shouted something after her, or perhaps he was too jarred to react. Either way, Idun’s mind would have been too clouded to notice. She slipped past the gate, and once more she was the only person in the world. Just putting one foot ahead of the other. The stillness of morning heightened the ringing in her ear. As she entered town she tried retracing the evening. Hour by hour. She reclined into memory, not only of this regretful night, but of all the times she had stumbled down the boardwalk. Salty sea did wonders to revive a drunk. Twenty years on, the blackbird still called out, diligently separating late nights from early mornings. Kittiwakes flew overhead, claiming the town until workers scared them away. Idun sat facing the fjord. Eyes closed, sun on her face. She reached her palm out, feeling dead wood where her friends hand should have been. A tiny gap in the mountains revealed the Atlantic. She lingered on it.

A sickening realization jolted her back. She rushed home.

Breakfast was a pear and some water with pickle brine. She barely had time to change into boots and grab hold of her sleigh, and with that she flew out the door. She kept an eye on the sun, as if hoping to outrun it on its way past the mountain. Easier said than done when each step felt like walking on molasses. Unexpected delays happened, surely he could show some grace.

She continued her trek towards the Depths, a lethargic march through the late summer landscape. She switched between shivering through layers of wool and wiping sweat. The crisp mountain air provided somewhat of a remedy for her nausea. A barrage of worries brought it back. She sat down on a rock, heaving for air.

What should have been a hike stretched into an odyssey, by the time she was at his door what little daylight penetrated the forest had all but vanished. Just as she was about to knock she gleaned a massive shadow over her. Hadn’t she known what to look for it would have blended seamlessly in with the thick vegetation. A single eye shone. Idun froze in place as the silhouette came to life, crouching towards her.

”You tend to come earlier,” Dravad remarked. “Things happened,” she said. ”I see,” he lowered himself, grazing the edge of her dress with his claw. ”You seem frazzled, did the journey go well?”

Idun held her hands together. “Do I? how so?” ”Stained clothing, messy hair, did you get into a brawl?” ”Oh, I’m fine, just a little wear is all-“ she bowed. On the way up her knees buckled. With her palms firmly planted on the ground she threw up. ”That’s not… do you need help?” Dravad said. Idun groaned. ”It’s not contagious,” “What happened?” he insisted. Idun buried her head in her hands. ”Alcohol is but a blight,” “Can humans drink? Did you drink?” ”It’s a cherished pastime, I’m afraid. Don’t mind how filthy I look, lets just get on with the trade,” ”Sure…” Dravad turned around, “let me carry you somewhere more sheltered,” ”I’ll stay right here if you don’t mind,” ”We’ll be sitting ducks,” he said. “how will you get home anyways? Did you walk here all by yourself?” “Don’t concern yourself with that. It’s my fault for losing control last night, I’ll manage, ” Dravad picked up the sleigh, giving her a concerned look. He began to tie the bags of produce to it. “…You’re free to spend the evening here, I don’t feel good leaving you in this condition,” He placed the underside of his tail over her back, Idun stroked his velvety fur. ”Oh, I wouldn’t want to disturb your peace,” ”You’ve already done so, I won’t sleep knowing I might have sent my guest to their death,” Idun dug her nails into his skin. “You know your botanicals, don’t you?” ”Of course, why?” He huffed. ”Do you happen to have something to treat this… ailment?” ”I do. In fact I have a honed recipe,” he smiled. He dug into his sachet, bringing out a small vial. “Let me list the ingredients, and let me know if something in it is poison,” he said.

Idun groaned. ”Do.. you keep that on you at all times?” ”Would be stupid not to,” He listed each ingredient. Each one was one she had heard of, and something humans ingested on the regular. He poured a shot into the lid, which had a bunch of notches in it. “There we go,” he said. She took a sip. The concoction jolted her senses. Spiced, herbal, tangy. It singed her throat, licorice and peppermint lingered. “You must consume the whole thing,” he added. Idun shuddered, but proceeded to down the rest. Burning ginger woke her right up. The tincture moved like a wildfire through her. Sinuses cleared, her muscles warmed. She moved towards Dravad. ”Done,” ”Wonderful, your aches should dull after a short while,” ”You came up with this all on your own?” ”It’s part of a legacy. We’ve spent centuries refining our cures. My contribution was to go from sixty to ninety five.” ”….Ninety five.. what exactly?” ”Percent. Impurities lead to headaches. This makes sure only the cleanest ingredients remain,” “Oh my.” Idun whimpered. “Is it working?” “I change my mind. Lets go somewhere private. We can’t risk being seen,”

Dravad curled his fingers around her, ever so slowly. He kept his index and middle finger extended, making sure her head laid stable and level. Idun took a deep breath, Dravad placed careful steps, mindful not to sway too much. They arrived at an idyllic patch. A wall went all the way up to his navel, covered by thick rosebush and rhododendron. He pushed aside a rock, entering the hidden tea garden.

He was about to lay down when he froze. He moved his hand behind his back. Idun raised her head. All she could see were the huge spines jutting out of his spine. Dravad growled, leaning over. He spoke something in Norse, Idun could only guess at the words, but his tone told her more than enough. Her thoughts raced as he placed her on the mossy top of the wall. He crouched over, Idun managed to glean the threat.

Atop a large stump sat a small troll. About a meter in height. Most of his body was covered by woolen garb. His eyes were huge and catlike. He raved and raged, causing his thick, embroidered coat to dance around. Dravad kept his voice calm, a low rumble resonated through her as he spoke, she hid away. Their argument escalated, until he casually leaned in, picking the troll up in his jaws. Idun gasped. The troll remained calm, pushing at his gums in a lethargic fashion. ”Don’t!” Idun shouted. Both froze, looking down at her. The troll flinched, clinging to Dravads lip. “Stay away from our Jotun,” he sneered in Latin. ”I’ll take care of her, you leave now,” Dravad said, getting up. He sauntered over into the brushes. Several minutes passed. Idun paced, staring at the patch of shrub he had disappeared into. After some time they began to rustle. Dravad reemerged. “What..happened?” Idun asked as he walked up to her.

”claims I owe him a keg of beer.” Idun sat there dumbstruck. ”well… do you?” “I didn’t lose any bet, he played foul,’ he said, grabbing hold of her as he moved towards a tree root carved into a chair. ”Right…” Idun said, “did you..” she slurred her words, still reeling from the shot. ”Hm?” He glanced at her, lazily flicking his ear. ”…kill him?” Dravad took a step back, unable to conceal the perplexed look on his face. ”I ushered him away, I don’t want his prying eyes on us,” “So he's fine?” ”no, he's still convinced I lost,” Idun breathed out with relief. His gargantuan frame hung over her. She leaned in. ”Now, how are you going to deal with me?” Idun said, grabbing at his hand with a coy smile. “How’s the medicine working?” “I could probably use some more,” she said. “I’d suggest waiting a bit. It’s potent,” Idun grumbled to herself. She leaned back, feeling her head sway like a dinghy at sea. The world grew pleasantly distant as she traced her arm up his finger. “You’re scary when mad, what if I stole from you? Would you kill me?” She asked, rubbing up against his thumb. Dravad stared at her. ”I don’t wanna think about that,” ”But you would punish me, no?” ”I'd have to uphold the bargain, but why are you asking?” He said, cupping his hand around her. He lifted her up to his chest. Idun trembled. His fangs grazed her shoulders as he playfully nibbled at her, sending tingles through her whole body. “I hope that never happens, we’re friends,” he said.

Idun had ice in her stomach. She felt the side of her back. Dravad’s eyes were bright and kind. Such nauseating earnest. Idun winched. The smile that creased his eyes. The faint freckles in his tan skin. He glowed. She reached out to run her hand over his brow, letting eye contact linger. “Alcohol is of the Devil, it lifts veils that aren’t to be seen through,” she muttered. ”It’s hard to understand what you mean a lot of the time,” Idun rested her head on his palm, a supple pillow. ”My father’s words. Don’t pay it any attention,” she said, “you’re such a gentleman, if only the hounds back home knew how to keep their cool like you,”

Dravad pressed her against his chest, letting out a deep breath. “When was the last time you drank?” he asked. “Last night,” “Of course, but-“ “Twenty years ago,” Dravad chuckled. “Oh, poor thing,” “I can handle my liquor,” “Sure,” Idun grappled his wrist, a vice grip around his bracelet. “Do you want to bet?” she said, staring him down. Dravad grinned sheepishly. “What do you mean?” “I can outdrink you,” Dravad squinted. “Well…” “You don’t think so? Do you want to try?” “Do you want to?” “Fill up a bucket.”

Dravad hesitated, but didn’t refuse. He brought fourth a gilded chalice, roughly the size of a bathtub. He handed her a pint of wine in what one could easily mistake for his thimble. Idun began to chug as she stared him down. In less than a minute she had downed most of it. His eyes widened. He suspended his hand, as if ready to snatch the cup away from her. “Stop! You don’t need to do this,” “Your turn,” “Be careful,” “You be careful,” Dravad glanced at his glass for a small second before tossing his head back. With a smug grin he showed off the empty bottom. “Fine, beat this,” “Ah, crap. You’re good. Top off my glass just once more though, in case,” she said, stretching her hand out. He filled it to the brim. “Next time you’ll just have to ask. I’ve got plenty of mead, ales and spirits too,” He winked. Idun blushed. Dravad placed his hand over her back, she leaned in, basking in his warmth. “Do I come across as drunk?” she asked, weak in her voice as she hugged his pinkie tightly.

“You’re different than usual,” He moved his head in her direction. Idun glanced back, his face distorted, his outline blurred, two nostrils became four, features faded into one another. “But I’m polite no, I maintain decorum, don’t I?” Dravad purred softly, pinning her with his finger. She tried wrestling it, impotent as she was inebriated. “Sure,” “If I don’t, you must set me straight,” “Do you care to explain why your kind is so.. strange?” “Wouldn’t be able to,” Dravad blew air through his nose, he crouched over, studying her, proceeding to pinch her between two talons, lifting her up to his face. Her stomach filled with butterflies as she dangled across from him. She bent her legs, lost in his golden eyes. To think that he held her whole being in the palm of his hand. An action too mundane for him to even question. He dissected her, she needed more time to take all of him in.

Alcohol continued to wreck havoc on her mind. Still. it was a gentle surrender, less like a torrent upon her, more so a dulling of all her senses, let alone worries. It was as if all pretense dissipated. She could only focus on the way soft light illuminated his cheekbones, his intense yet calm eyes. The grey speckle in his hair became delicate silver threads, and what was once a monster resembled art before her. “You’re funny creatures,” he remarked, placing her back. “Would it be weird for a human to consider you handsome?” Dravad pulled back. ”I doubt that's whats on their mind as they load their guns,” he sized her up. “Besides, I’m not sure if the practicalities would be in their favor,” He shuddered. ”What do you mean by that?” He glanced downwards, then back at her. He did a quick measurement up his wrist. “Implausible,” he muttered to himself. ”Well, I was just asking. I heard rumors that a creep in the village has a thing for your kind. That’s so strange, no?” ”I’ve seen weirder, so long as he stays away from me,” Idun went quiet. “So… you drink, you joke, you feel attraction,” He unwrapped a sheet of waxed paper, rubbing dried leaves between his fingers, -“you’re almost making humans seem cute,”