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“You know,” Emil begins, “There was one time I died and they buried me with one of my horses.”
Michelle almost stops petting the small chestnut horse in front of her.
“Really?”
Emil pauses to give her an affirmative hum before going back to picking the dirt out of the horse’s hoof. “Yeah. Back sometime in the 11th Century. There was a battle, I fought in it, died, and came back.”
Michelle watches Emil’s hunched-over form scrape out the last few crumbs of dirt before releasing the horse’s hoof. “Yeah, it was strange.” He turns around to face Michelle. His hand resting on his horse’s thick, fluffy coat. “They knew I’d come back to life right after. I wonder to myself why they buried me.”
Michelle doesn’t recall the last time she died. She would prefer not to think about it. She enjoys living. “Maybe as a way of honouring you? Humans are weird like that.”
Emil shrugs. “Maybe…”
He grabs the lead and he and Michelle walk the horse to pasture. It’s cold and Michelle hates the cold. She shivers and as soon as she catches a faint breeze, her teeth chatter.
“Are you cold?”
“Yes,” she tells him. She is miserable and it’s currently summer in Iceland. Emil has on a long-sleeved shirt and pants, compared to Michelle in thick layers and still shivering.
“If you’re too cold you can head back to the house. I can bring her out to the pasture by myself. It won't take long.”
Michelle looks at the cozy home. She can almost feel the crushing weight of being buried under 50 blankets. She shakes her head. “No,” she stutters, “You were going to show me that stone you were talking about.”
Emil looks her up and down. “Yes, the Huldufólk, but we can visit them on a warmer day.”
A violent tremble rocks through Michelle. “No, no! I’ll be- I’ll be fine!”
“You are trembling like one of those thin-skinned dogs.”
“Chihuahua?”
“I don’t think it matters which one.”
Unable to convince Michelle to go back to the warm and cozy home, Emil leads her and his horse to the pasture. The walk isn’t far and Michelle tries to keep her mind off the cold by staring at the looming mountains with patches of snow still lingering in the crevases. It doesn’t work.
He unhalters the chestnut horse and they both watch as she trots over to her herd. Michelle shifts from foot to foot, trying to generate more heat. “They’re cute.”
Emil smiles. “They are.” He looks over to Michelle to see her trembling. “Ok, we’re going back to my house.”
“What? No! I want to see the stone!” Emil takes her hand in his and they start walking back. “The Huldufólk will be there tomorrow.”
Michelle whines. “But then we won't be able to spend the whole day wrapped up in a warm cozy blanket next to the fire.”
“Oh, so that was your plan.” Emil looks at Michelle with a playful glint in his eyes.
Michelle sneezes.
“You’re getting sick.”
“Dang,” Michelle groans.
Emil lights the fire as Michelle entombs herself in every blanket he has in the house. Which was a total of two and ten animal furs used as a replacement.
“I made plokkfiskur. Would you-”
“Yes please!”
Emil tosses the match used to light the fire in with the kindle and enters the kitchen as Michelle snuggles under her blankets, feeling the warmth return to her body.
“Here.” Emil hands Michelle a bowl of hot fish stew.
“Thank you!” She sits up and starts bringing spoonfuls of plokkfiskur to her mouth. “Oh, this is tasty… Almost reminds me of home.”
Emil pulls up a wooden stool and sits near the fire, enjoying his bowl of the stew. “I’m glad you like it. I added more fish and salt this time.”
“You’re the best,” Michelle praises.
“Ah. Yes. Thank you.” He turns away to face the fire, but Michelle can still see the blush creeping onto the tips of his ears. She finds his bashfulness cute.
They have a mostly one-sided chat as they eat. Michelle goes on and on about what she thinks they should do when it’s Emil’s turn to visit her house.
“I can make bouyon blan when you come over! It’ll be fun to compare our fish recipes.”
“Mhm.”
Michelle looks over to Emil. His bowl is long discarded as he stares into the fire.
“What’s on your mind?”
Emil blinks. “Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about horse meat.”
“Horse meat?”
“Yeah. I used to eat it a lot back in the day during celebrations.”
There’s a lull in their conversation.
“Was it tasty?”
“Very tasty.” Emil leans back. “I ate one of my favourite horses.”
“Oh? Were you sad?”
“Not really. It was an honor to eat him and I think because I loved him in life it made him even tastier.”
Michelle looks up at the ceiling and nods. “I’ve eaten a rooster that attacked me once.”
“Yeah. Angry roosters taste the best don’t they.”
“They’re delicious.”