Brontes and Ruffelsnuck in the Forest

Walking stiffly through a forest of pine and spruce, Brontes was lost in a land he had never known existed. Unlike his arid homeland, this strange place was a dark sea of mist and trees covering undulating mountains as far as his one eye could see. He sank into the earth with each step, grumbling at the moisture in the soil, and his shoulders were so large that entire trees snapped in half as he waded through the branches.

What is this place? It’s cold, damp, and dreary, I’m starving, and there’s little chance of finding anything to eat or any dry firewood to cook anything I do find! When I get back, I’m going to tear Steropes and Arges to pieces.

Muttering like this to himself and trying to find some prominent natural feature which might house a creature he could intimidate into being his guide, he didn’t hear Ruffelsnuck moving deep in the woods. Yotun aren’t known for being silent on their feet, especially not in enclosed spaces, but he had lived in these mountains long enough to learn how to blend in.

“Take one more step, you one-eyed, over-puffed, crazed beast and I’ll make sure you stay rooted to that spot for eternity,” growled Ruffelsnuck from the darkness.

Shocked that any creature would have the audacity to speak to him so - he who helped forge Zeus’ thunderbolt, whose very name meant ‘Thunder-Sound’ - froze in rage. Head thrashing wildly about, Brontes rumbled, “Who dares speak to me so? I am born of Gaia and mighty Ouranos, whom together make earth and sky! I have wielded the greatest power of the heavens and earth, am made of the very essence of Tartaros, and I demand that you make yourself known.” His voice had dropped several octaves, now hovering on a deep, dripping malice.

Still lurking in the shadows, Ruffelsnuck was darkly amused by this deformed stranger’s sense of entitlement and self-importance. Doesn’t he know that blundering into a conflict leaves your target with the upper hand? Only by tricking it can you wreak the greatest havoc and draw the sweetest pleasure. “Or what?” He coaxed. “You and your one eye will find me and tear me to pieces? How unfortunate that you turned out so at birth.”

Clawing at the branches around him, Brontes uprooted tree after tree in an effort to find Ruffelsnuck, but all he succeeded in doing was to build a great pile of timber behind him. Thinking that perhaps that vile creature was hiding behind a nearby group of boulders, he picked up each one and hurled them far into the sky, and as it landed the earth shook as if condemned. Now in frenzy, Brontes thrashed about, roving the tree line he had created around him for any sign of the wretched being that had insulted his very core, but could find no sign of him.

At last, in a display admitting defeat, Brontes sank to his knees and hung his head. He howled, “I am finished! I have walked for nine days and have not eaten in four. I have found no cave to defend myself against this dreary cold that seeps into my bones. You vile creature of this foreboding place, you have outsmarted me.”

Ruffelsnuck, taken aback by this stranger’s cry and feeling some semblance of understanding for his situation, decided to break yotun tradition. “I will not kill you for entering this land and leaving behind a ghastly trail of sparse timber, if you give me your word not to try to harm me in turn.”

“On the sanctity of Gaia, I swear!”

To Brontes’ right came an ear-splitting crack! and rumble as Ruffelsnuck raised himself from the ground and stood at his full height. For the first time in his life, Brontes understood what it meant to feel small. Ruffelsnuck towered over him, with moss-covered greenish-gray skin, piercing yellow eyes, fanged teeth, and trees protruding all down his left side. Brontes had never seen such a beast. He could not be related to the dryads if he wanted it! But never in the history of the world has such a forest creature lived. What is he? Ruffelsnuck, unaccustomed to being accommodating to creatures of another race, had the sense to realize that his height must be unsettling to this stranger. With a lack of grace that seemed unbearable to the earth, he sat down by the edge of the circular tree line, eyes boring into his rash challenger.

Brontes, unwilling to seem cowardly despite his blatant disadvantage, barked, “Who are you? What are you? Why do you just lie around on the ground – have you no duty to perform?” The thought that this creature may just be lounging about during his days violated a serious, innate Greek need to be dutiful in performing the tasks of his role in life.

“I am Ruffelsnuck and you are in my forest in Jötunheim. You will first tell me who you are, why you are here, how you came to be here, and what you want before I tell you anything more about myself.”

The stranger said proudly, “I am Brontes, brother of Steropes and Arges. Together we make the three Cyclops of Gaia and Ouranos. Our task was to forge the divine weapons of the gods, like the thunderbolt of aegis-bearing Zeus. You mock me for having one eye, but where I am from men fear me. I tower over them and am stronger than one hundred men put together. Where I am from, I am the powerful beast.”

Ruffelsnuck gruffed, “The trouble is you’re not very quick-witted. Don’t even think of moving.” he barked, as he saw how Brontes had prepared to retaliate. “You know I am right - you tore up this entire section of forest looking for me instead of using your mind.” Almost in afterthought he accused, “You still haven’t answered all my questions.”

Brontes, though somewhat thick-witted, knew now that he must play by Ruffelsnuck’s rules if he ever wanted to get back home. He sighed in defeat, “I don’t know how I got here, Ruffelsnuck. My brothers and I were challenging each other when they said that I was too cowardly to wade through a lake to the other side. I thought maybe they thought that I was afraid of water, but that wasn’t it. There was some kind of godly spell on its waters; no sooner had I reached the middle when, looking back, all I could see was what is now around me. I turned back, but reaching the shore again did not bring me back to my home. I had heard my brothers yelling to me just before reaching the middle, but I hadn’t paid attention – I thought they were trying to keep me from reaching the other side. I guess they were, but for a different reason. Now I am here without food or warmth, and I don’t know how to find my way back.”

All his life, Brontes had been thought of as strong and dangerous – his resolve impenetrable. Now it seemed that everything he had known of himself was slipping away. Ruffelsnuck understood what Brontes was going through. His own brothers had left him in the forest to fend for himself when he was just an eight-year-old little yotun. Though young for his race, he had been large and dangerous enough to fend for himself. Brontes was, however, in a different land altogether and the creatures inhabiting this forest were larger and potentially more vicious than himself. Ruffelsnuck grumbled to himself, What am I doing? I am nothing like this stupid creature, so why do I feel the need to help him?

“Wait here. If you move out of this circle and into the wood, one of my kind may find you. You do not want that to happen.” With this, Ruffelsnuck disappeared into the depths of lemon-scented darkness. Brontes sat waiting where Ruffelsnuck had left him, angry at himself for letting himself become so dependent on another. He’s probably gone to alert the rest of his kind. I should leave – now! But they will hear me, as he did. All I can do is wait… It must have been dusk when Ruffelsnuck returned, because Brontes thought he could hear deer and other animals moving about the forest in preparation for night. If only deer were not too fast for me. Don’t these creatures herd any sheep or cattle? I am so hungry!

In the periphery of his vision entered a vast being, its piercing yellow eyes made all the more dreadful after nightfall. Ruffelsnuck was carrying all kinds of things over his shoulders, but it was too dark for Brontes to make them out.

Dropping his left shoulder, four full-sized elk thumped to the ground. “Two for you, two for me,” said Ruffelsnuck. “And take this – it should keep you warm.” Dropping his right shoulder, a down-filled moss blanket landed in Brontes’ lap.

Brontes, unaccustomed to kindness from others, had never been prepared for a situation in which he would say thank you. He was, of course, thankful to the gods but the kind of gratitude he showed them usually took form in bowing, nodding, and, at times, groveling. The only kind that seemed appropriate now – the only kind that would be least degrading – was nodding. He therefore gruffed and nodded, inertly overwhelmed with both gratitude and confusion. Ruffelsnuck, unaccustomed to showing kindness to members of his own race, thought it just as well that Brontes was inarticulate in his thanks.

As the two sat a distance apart – not too close to suggest friendship existed between them, but not too far to insinuate that the predator-prey relationship was still intact – and began to eat the raw elk, Ruffelsnuck felt something violated within him as well. All his life he had known all the creatures of all the worlds – the gods (curse them!), other yotun, pixies, valkyries, humans, and so on. Never before had he encountered a Cyclops and for the first time in his life, he didn’t know where he stood in relation to this being. His sense of power distribution had been compromised. Though intelligent and usually in the mood for wreaking havoc, Ruffelsnuck felt the primitive need to assert his dominance over Brontes.

Between bites of elk he muttered, “Elda.” Suddenly a bonfire erupted between them, without kindle or wood to sustain it.

Brontes shook in horror. “How did you do that? What are you? It is time you answered my questions, Ruffelsnuck!” He made sure to call the creature by name to show that he did not mean to be too demanding.

Ruffelsnuck swallowed and put his food down. “As I have said, I am a yotun of Jötunheim. We yotun are giants of our realm, sworn enemies of the gods, and destroyers of all things human and godly. We live in the forests and mountains and have learned to blend into our surroundings. Only then can we be more effective in our efforts, and ultimately in our goal to overthrow the gods who sit in their golden palace” he said spitefully. “It is foretold that during Rägnarok we will overcome many of the gods. My father was one of the Muspellheim, or fire, yotun and the ability to harness fire has passed down to me. I am only half fire yotun, however, so my abilities are limited to conjuring house fires, bonfires, and wildfires.”

“You are a demigod, then?” Brontes asked in subdued awe.

Ruffelsnuck’s piercing eyes snapped to his. “No,” he sneered, “I am nothing like a god.”

Brontes took offence to this creature’s hatred for his gods. “Why do you hate your gods so? Do they not provide for you – give you these mountains to ravage?”

“They are not my gods. Where you come from, you may love your precious gods, but here we yotun despise them. We came before them in the birth of the races and somehow they are the ones living in a golden palace amongst the clouds, surrounded by an impenetrably high wall while we are left to live in our own realm, forbidden to cross to any other. Humans are their pets – there is even a rainbow that connects the human domain Midgard to that of the gods, Asgard. There are those yotun who have debased themselves by marrying into the godly race – even Odin himself is half-yotun, half-man. The intermarriage is an abomination,” he spat.

Brontes still felt the need to defend these gods, for after all they were gods. “You may have come first, but they must be the gods for a reason.”

Ruffelsnuck wondered with what authority Brontes could possibly be speaking about gods, despite him being the son of two. “And what of your gods? Are they benevolent? Do they protect their little humans and treat them as pets?”

Brontes knew there was some truth to these questions, but he would not deign to insult one of the gods lest he were to be heard even in this forsaken place. “They are majestic and immortal. Each one rules a different part of the realm, and Zeus is god of all gods. There are temples and shrines built all the land over for various gods; thunder-wielding Zeus, Pallas Athena, beauteous Aphrodite, gifted Apollo and so on. Humans must sacrifice to the gods to be kept in their favor, each sacrifice fueling the gods’ immortality. Gods play a very intimate role in the daily lives of many.”

As the flames of the un-fueled fire flickered between them, Ruffelsnuck looked down at Brontes in doubt and wonder. He is serious about his gods, that much is true. But can a world exist where creatures such as us are at peace with the gods? But what am I thinking? I am nothing like this obscure beast. Or was he? Ruffelsnuck sat and brewed over this the remained of the night as the two continued to teach the other about their worlds.

As dawn was breaking, Ruffelsnuck was already awake. “Wake up, we have a ways to go.” Brontes rubbed his eye, and groaned to a sitting position. “When you found yourself in this realm, were you still standing in the lake you crossed in your world?”

“Of course I was. It’s not like I was suddenly Pegasus.”

“Like who? Never mind. Let me guess; around the lake were stone crags with black layers cutting across diagonally and mangled birch lined its top ridge?”

Brontes did not like that Ruffelsnuck seemed to know exactly where he had found himself ten days ago. “How did you know that…?”

Ruffelsnuck’s face was grim. The possibility had occurred to him the night before, as Brontes lay sleeping, but he had hoped he’d been wrong. “Because my cousin lives in the part of the forest that faces the lake. You couldn’t have been far from his home. With any luck, he and his family are still asleep in mine and we can get you back to your brothers before he realizes that a path has been plowed straight through his backyard. You must have been walking in circles for you to take a week to end up here – we should be able to reach it by nightfall.”

Ruffelsnuck cursed. Why am I risking my neck for this creature? Never in my life have I done something so unordinary. If others get wind of what I’m doing, I’ll lose my hold on this forest and I’ll be shunned from raiding the human realm. No yotun helps another race, except for those deranged enough to join the gods. But I wouldn’t be joining the gods. I’d be leaving my family and myself in isolation. What would I do if I could no longer subjugate the pets of the gods to my destruction?

They made their way east as the sun rose, Ruffelsnuck leading the way with his sweeping steps and Brontes following, still wrapped in the blanket he had been given last night. The forest was dense and the chill invaded his body on all sides.

Ruffelsnuck glanced behind him and complained, frustrated, “Brontes you can be heard for hundreds of leagues by every yotun alive, and you’re plowing a very obvious path. Can’t you be a little less…?” He left the question hanging, wanting to say thick-headed.

Brontes gruffed, “I’m a Cyclops. We don’t sneak, we use our force. I can’t help it.”

Ruffelsnuck sighed. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “You’ll have to sit on my back and hold on to my braches,” he mumbled unenthusiastically.

Brontes stared at him suspiciously. This was going too far. I’m not some cow girl to be pampered with a ride! “Just how helpless do you think I am?” he fumed.

Ruffelsnuck thought he might react this way. “If you’d like, I could leave you here to find your own way and let my cousin find you, which he inevitably would. I don’t like it either, but you’re being far too loud and I’m already risking a great deal for you. Get on.”

The two traveled this way for hours. Brontes noticed that Ruffelsnuck, despite the added weight, was not sinking into the ground as he had and the trees almost seemed to bend away from him as he made his way through the forest. He is part of his surroundings; he knows to respect what is around him because he depends upon it to survive like I depend on the caves and sheep of my island.

When the sun was far behind them, they broke away from the trees and stood at the edge of a wide, fog-covered lake of black water. Brontes jumped down from Ruffelsnuck’s back, trying not to shake the earth as he had the day before. Ruffelsnuck turned to him and said through his fanged teeth, “When you get back to your home, don’t hesitate to send your brothers my way. I would be more than happy to show them some real yotun hospitality.”

Brontes rumbled a short laugh, “That isn’t a bad idea, but unfortunately they are not as easy to trick as I am.”

Ruffelsnuck shrugged, making the trees down his side sway and whisper. He said, “Just say that you learned about gods you didn’t know existed. If they are as pious as you, they will want to learn about them as well.”

Brontes smiled, displaying an exaggerated under bite. “That should do it,” he said. As a means of saying thank you to this acquaintance, who bordered on the edge friendship, he held up the blanket Ruffelsnuck had given him the night before.

Ruffelsnuck shook his head, saying, “Keep it. You’ll need it to convince your brothers that you met a creature of the mists. You could even say he gave you the power of foresight.”

“I don’t have anything to give you in return,” said Brontes.

Ruffelsnuck’s eyes seemed to glimmer. “You have made me question whether it is possible for yotun and gods to live in relative peace, and that is more than enough of a gift.” Or a curse. “The trouble is that my nature is dangerous; my brethren and I are made to destroy. But we are also wise. Perhaps it is time we live up to our wisdom.”

The two stood in awkward silence, neither one knowing how to break it. Ruffelsnuck straightened and said, “Go on then, go worship your benign gods.” Brontes waded into the lake, and when he was almost in the middle, Ruffelsnuck warned, “The lake is magical. It will only send you back if shaken by magic. I can do this, but timing is vital. As soon as you are surrounded by my flames, step into the center of the lake and say your name.”

Brontes nodded not quite understanding but trusting his helper. Ruffelsnuck closed his eyes and chanted, “Kom du eld av Middelheim, kom far till mig. Bränn denna sjö med din makt och skicka denna Cyclop till hans land.” Immediately red flame snaked its way around Brontes, encircling him in heat. The lake shook and bubbled, and an audible hiss emanated from the depths. Brontes took one step forward into an area that glowed discreetly greenish blue, and said, “I am the Cyclops Brontes.” In a split second, he disappeared from the world of misty darkness and opened his eye to the blinding, arid sun. He was home.

Ruffelsnuck watched Brontes vanish and the flames wane. With a self-satisfied smile, knowing that he had successfully invoked his father’s spirit, he turned to go home. I wonder if I’ll get to meet his brothers one day, he mused. But after only a couple steps, he stopped dead and peered into the forest. There was someone – something – there… but where? And then, without understanding how it was possible, he was staring into a piercing set of red eyes. Ruffelsnuck felt his muscles freeze.

“Cousin…”