In a Weary World

Chapter II: Solvej

We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream. - Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

Very few people, no matter how many hours of sleep they have had, are at all eager to wake up. Indeed, the more hours they have slept, the more tired they often are when they wake. This was the case with Hjalmar. He reluctantly drifted out of sleep and into the half-doze between waking and sleeping. Though a chill had crept into the wind and a tree-root was digging into his shoulder-blade, he felt so tired that instead of getting up and continuing his journey, he lay still and tried to fall asleep again.

A high-pitched whistle broke rudely through his doze. He muttered several uncomplimentary words about whatever bird was responsible. The whistling continued. And now that he was awake enough to notice, he realised it was the tune of an old song he had heard his grandmother sing.

He opened his eyes to see what on earth was making that noise. What he saw woke him up immediately. His mouth dropped open and he stared in unabashed astonishment.

"Who are you?"

"Ah, you're awake. Good," said the strange figure opposite with an air of relief. "I was afraid you were under some sort of sleeping spell."

Hjalmar spluttered. "Spell -- you thought -- who are you? And why were you watching me sleep?"

"My name is Solvej. As I said, I thought you were under a spell. Well, I believed it was a possibility. I've forgotten how much sleep mortals require, so I couldn't be sure."

Hjalmar gaped at her, then at her outlandish outfit. His first thought was that this was some bizarre prank. No one wore clothes like that any more. His second thought was that he was dealing with an escaped lunatic. Solvej, if that was indeed her name, seemed to guess the path his thoughts took.

"I assure you, I am not mad. Now, you know my name; might I ask yours?"

It took Hjalmar a moment to recover enough to realise she'd asked him a question. "What? Oh, my name. I am Hjalmar, and if you don't mind, I'll be on my way now."

Thoroughly rattled and wondering if he was asleep and dreaming, he shouldered his bag and set off. The sound of footsteps behind him warned him that Solvej was following.

"Where are we going?" Solvej asked curiously.

"We?" Hjalmar echoed, stopping to stare at her. "We are not going anywhere. I am going to the capital to make my fortune, and you are going right back home! ...Wherever that may be."

"I don't think I want to go back to that coffin," Solvej said meditatively. Hjalmar made a noise like a cat whose tail had been trodden on. His suspicions that Solvej was mad had just been confirmed. "Besides, you helped me, so I will help you."

"When did I help you?" Hjalmar asked, backing away slowly.

"Last night, when you frightened off those would-be robbers."

His lower jaw made a spirited effort to reach the ground. "How... how can you know about that? Were you there?" His voice took on a high-pitched, panicked edge as new and increasingly horrible possibilities presented themselves. "Have you been stalking me?"

Solvej sighed in a put-upon way. "Of course I was there, and of course not. Are you stupid? That was my coffin they tried to rob."

~~~~

The sun was much lower than it should be, Hjalmar noted dazedly. It was just touching the horizon, yet he could have sworn that he hadn't been asleep that long. He shook his head to clear it. That strange dream he'd had was making him confused. That had to be it.