The Finwife

The day after Jan disappeared, my mother pressed an old silver coin in my hand before I left the house. It was an old currency, one that had not been used in a century or more. I couldn’t guess where she’d found it.

“Keep this, hold onto it. It is not for spending.”

“What’s it for?”

“Your freedom.”

She said no more. As this new ritual followed so soon after Jan’s disappearance, my imagination did not work hard to discover a possible connection. I grew up with the stories; we called them the “old tales.” Legends told in raspy whispers. Finfolkaheem.

My old coat invited the cold in; fabric worn thin, the buttons always threatening to fall off. No matter how many times Malin sewed them back on for me, the thread refused to hold. It was the silent cold before the first fall of snow. Soon, the ground would harden into a blanket of white, and the rivers would freeze- rivers no more . I met Malin at her house so we could walk to school together. I told her what my mother said and showed her the old coin.

“I didn’t know you were superstitious, Anders.” Malin nudged me with her shoulder, then stayed close, using me as a willing shield against the wind.

“I’m not. My mother is. She believes the old tales.” I thought for a moment. “There may be some wisdom to the old tales, though… These legends had to come from somewhere.”

Malin laughed again and linked her arm in mine. “Well, well; you are superstitious after all!”

Though I had yet to propose, it was understood that Malin and I would marry when we were both done with university- her timetable, not mine. I would be graduating in one year, Malin in two. She knew I was impatient; she seemed to relish my agony of love for her- which was far less cruel than it sounds. What Malin didn’t know was that I’d already saved up enough to buy a ring.

As we passed the fjord near where Jan was last seen, I crossed the street away from the water. Malin looked over her shoulder.

“What do you think happened to him?”

“I don’t know.” I thumbed the silver coin in my pocket. The talisman was cold, even through my gloves.

Malin shivered from cold-- or something else? “I don’t want to know.”

After a few paces of silence I asked, “Did you know him?”

“No, not really. We had literature together, but we never spoke. Did you know him?”

“No.” I’d recognized his face in the papers, though. He was only a year younger than I. Gone. Without a trace.

Malin had to study in the school library later that night for an assignment. I told her I’d pick her up at eight when the library closed. The walk to school felt longer- colder- without her. I pulled my coat tighter around me, more an attempt to comfort the chill in my spirit than the chill of the air. Surely it was only my imagination that the temperature dropped a few degrees as I passed the fjord. I fixed my gaze on the rooftops that kept the school belfry just out of sight. I jumped back when my foot kicked something soft and alive. The coal-black cat meowed and scowled at me, offended but unhurt. It sat a meter or two in front of me, grooming it’s shoulder as though he was trying to make me feel more guilty than I already did.

“Don’t be frightened,” the silvery voice said.

I turned around and saw that the voice matched the speaker. Her pale face was illuminated by the moonlight, though the moon stood behind her, as though she herself were starlight. So stunned was I at her striking appearance, I forgot to speak.

“Who are you?”

I found my voice. “Anders.” I held my breath as she walked closer. My thoughts clouded as she filled my vision.

“Anders…” Her eyes didn’t blink as she spoke.

My arms ached from clenching my coat so fiercely. As she neared, my arms relaxed and I felt a tug in her direction.

Standing in front of me, I could see a savage sort of hunger flicker in her eyes. “Will you come with me?”

I should have said “no.” But I said nothing. I stood there, still-- save for my shivering. I felt her pull at me. She didn’t have to touch me. She wanted me to go with her… to be hers. I should have been afraid, but I was tempted.

“Anders?” Malin called out.

I looked up from the starry woman’s face and the lure was cut. Malin walked towards us. She was smiling, but her eyes were wary. I turned back to the woman to make introductions, but she was gone. I saw a dark shadow running down the docks on the fjord, but I couldn’t see clearly. The cat had vanished, too.

Malin arrived at my side. “Who was that?”

“I don’t know. I think she was lost.” No; she was something else entirely. Seeing Malin’s bookbag weighing on her shoulder, I was pricked by a needle of guilt. “I’m so sorry I kept you waiting!”

She waved me off. “It’s alright! I left early. I knew I’d meet you on the road.” Malin looked out on the fjord. “I hope she doesn’t stay out in the cold all night. It’s not safe here.”

No, it isn’t, I thought.

I was buttoning up my vest when mother called me from downstairs. Malin stood next to my mother in the entryway. I was surprised and relieved to see Malin’s smile. My dreams had been haunted by visions of silver faces and endless, starless night. Malin’s light outshone the dark.

Mother smiled at us and retreated to the kitchen.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I decided I’d pick you up this morning.” Her hands were behind her back, hiding something.

“What’s the occasion?”

Malin thrust a large package into my hands and commanded that I open it. The parcel paper tore in large pieces, revealing a deep green coat of winter wool. It was heavy in my hands; a worthy opponent against winter’s cold.

“Malin…”

“You’re welcome! I was going to wait until your birthday, but I feared you’d become an icicle before then.” She grinned at me.

I reached out and hugged her close. “Thank you, my darling!”

“Now you won’t freeze to death when I keep you waiting in the cold.” She kissed my cheek.

I ran upstairs to grab my books and a few other things before I leapt out the door, eager to test the strength of my new coat against the frigid winds.

Malin kept her arm linked in mine as she leaned away from me, admiring her choice (of man and coat, I presumed.)

“Thank you, again.” I pulled her closer, confident that my coat could be warm enough for the two of us.

“It looks good on you, darling.” She leaned her head against my shoulder and I kissed the top of her head through her knit cap.

Malin had to stay late one more night in the library; her project near finished. I promised I would wait outside the library for her; a chilling memory skirting around my thoughts. I kissed her as we parted. Malin wasn’t comfortable with too much physical affection in public, but she didn’t pull away. We both warmed as she leaned into me. She was smiling when we parted.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“At the library. I’ll be waiting.” I promised her and myself.

I didn’t go to class after we parted. I couldn’t have sat still if my life depended on it. Malin surprised me with a new coat, and I was now blissfully burdened with the need to surprise her in return. I wanted to show her how much I loved her; too much to wait any longer. After the jeweler’s, I went to a café and sat for hours. Over and over, in my mind I practiced what I would say. Malin was strong; there was a chance that she’d refuse me and insist we stick to the original plan. But if I could say it perfectly-- find the perfect moment… she might say “yes.”

I was waiting at the library just as the blue twilight was consumed by the black of night. At 8:02 Malin came outside. At 8: 04 she kissed me in greeting. At 8:16, with the frozen street biting into my knee, Malin agreed to be my wife. She didn’t even hesitate. I almost believed that she’d been waiting for me to summon the courage to push back against her timetable. The sun-like citrine dawned on her finger, where it would shine forever. She embraced me, wrapped under a strong, green wing. Her eyes went from mine back to the ring and back again. We were drunk on each other and our joy.

The little shadow darted in front of us, heralding her arrival. Malin gasped; the cat flicked it’s tail and hissed in warning. My eyes were already on the woman. She stood a few meters in front of us; her face a ghostly light from under her dark hood.

“Come with me.” She held out her hand to me.

As soon as she spoke, my mind began to cloud with strange visions. It was more powerful than before. Malin’s fingers dug into my arm, but I was bewitched by dark waves and a face of moonlight.

“Come,” she said. Her lips didn’t move. I heard her in my thoughts.

Distantly, I heard Malin screaming as the pale woman grew closer. I didn’t know if she was coming nearer to me or if I was the one walking towards her. She pulled us towards the fjord, closer and closer to the water. Malin pulled on my arm, but for all her cries, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know whether I wanted to or not.

“Quickly.” Silvery tones commanded.

A ship against the rocks, I knew I was going to crash into her. Crash. And die. A blade of fear, hotter than fire, parted the spell for just a moment. I broke free. For your freedom. My hand went to my coat pocket, but it wasn’t there. It was in my old coat.

“No,” I whispered.

Malin saw the fear in my face. “Anders! What’s happening?”

“The silver—”

“COME TO ME NOW.” Beautiful Death beckoned.

The waves rose, my tomb coming to greet me. The silver woman reached out and cold, glistening fingers wrapped around my hand. Screaming and struggling with all her strength, Malin could not pull me back. One foot and then the other, the woman stepped off the dock and onto the water, where she stood for a moment before slowly sinking into the water, pulling me towards the ebony waters. I fell, almost submerging before the burn tore through me once more. My free hand caught the edge of the splintery dock.

My last breath would be hers. “Malin. Forgive me.”

Malin knelt and pulled at my arm. “Anders!” She shrieked and sobbed, but my body continued to sink. Malin looked down, defeated. But then- a revelation. She wrenched the ring off. Citrine, like the sun. Citrine laid in silver. She hurled the ring into the water. And I felt it.

With a punch like a thunderclap, the ring broke the surface; and so, too, the spell.

Once the waters calmed from the impact I felt the slimy grip release my hand. Beneath the water, a hideous wail erupted. Malin’s ring was sacrificed that I might live. To the silver woman, it was a fair trade.

Malin pulled me back onto the dock and we held each other close as we lay on the fjord, breathing heavily.

“Silver,” she said.

“Silver,” I replied. “Silver for the Finwife.”