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Freya knew she was strong.
Her Papa was strong, so it made sense she’d inherit some of it herself. She couldn’t just be a mirror image of her late Mama, even if sometimes Freya got an impression the townsfolk would prefer that. Sometimes. More often than not, the strength came in handy. Kieferberg was a small place and everyone was always busy – having a maid-of-all-work on hand to chop the firewood or feed the animals freed their hands to focus on something else.
Unfortunately, it didn’t help Freya herself much. Her interests and hobbies lied elsewhere, in delicate movements and precise flourishes. Perhaps one day, when she had an entire stockpile’s worth of resources for crafting, embroidering, artistry all… if they came in a big enough box, maybe it’d be handy then!
...no, she was just being silly, searching for the deeper meaning when there was none. All that strength really did was to put her in a better light compared to the other maid-of-all-work, the one living in a house past the creek. At least, that’s what the villagers would say. These days, Freya disliked the notion. That she and Elise would be competing over something like this sat wrong with her, especially since for Elise it was much more urgent and necessary than it was for her. Ever since Granny Holle passed, that lassie’s been fending for herself off whatever tiffle she could scrounge up from the townsfolk.
...and to think Freya had once opted to sabotage Elise’s efforts out of simple jealousy…
Well, no more! They were friends now! And… and she was going to ask Elise out for a dance at the upcoming festival! She was! To think it was only a few weeks away… the preparations hadn’t yet started, but she could already feel the cheer was settling in the air. Everyone was a little bit friendlier, and their steps lighter.
It was late into the morning hours; Papa and his group left for the logging camp while the other group of lads was escorting Mr Eugen on his way to Primeldorf. There were words about brigands hiding in the hills and between the mountains, preying on lone travelers even in regions as remote as this. Not to mention, Kieferberg still had to make a few last purchases in preparation for the festival. It was better safe than sorry.
Freya already had her hands full with work, as it so happened; Mrs Elma had plans for a large apple pie, and sent the young lass to fetch the fruit for it. With her bucket overflowing with apples, Freya couldn’t help but wonder if she wasn’t overdoing it, even if subconsciously. Then again, no way Mrs Elma would use all of the apples; some could go to the inn, Lebkuchen would grab a few for her and Granny Gretel’s apple strudels… maybe she could sneak a few into Elise’s hands when no one was looking, just to give her something extra…
Grüne and Apfel waved at her as she came back from the orchard. The two siblings seemed to be busy, kicking a small ball around. Or no, not actually just kicking it to each other. The girl was standing between two sticks stuck into the ground, with enough space for the ball to pass by her. Judging by how she was moving around, the idea was to prevent that while the boy tried to slip it past her defenses.
The small ball sped past Grüne’s leg, hitting the old fir tree behind her. “Haha! Take that!” Apfel cheered, pumping his fist into the air. His sister grumbled, turning to go and retrieve the ball.
Something creaked. Freya’s brows furrowed, looking up. The old fir was here since she could remember, standing out from all the leafy trees making up the woods around Kieferberg. It’s seen better times, she was sure – the top of it was dry and greenless, and what was left of its needles made for a sorry sight. It was still the tallest tree in this immediate vicinity, though that only made its lacks all the more apparent.
...it was falling.
Freya blinked, watching the old tree creak and lean forward, its remaining rotting roots snapping like dry kindling. Then, reality caught up with her. Apfel stared at the falling tree with wide eyes and an open mouth, too far to be hurt by its fall… but Grüne…
But Grüne was directly in its path. The massive trunk shadowed her entire person. The girl stared down at the shadowed ground, then turned to look at the tree, transfixed.
The bucket tumbled out of Freya’s hands, spilling apples everywhere. She wasn’t entirely aware of it, her body moving before her wits did. There was no time! There was just enough time! She had to grab Grüne and dash out of the way… or…
...or…
Freya had just enough time to dig in her heels in front of the girl, square her shoulders and spread out her hands.
The fir slammed into her with all the detached fury of a dying ancient and, for a moment, Freya saw death.
(In the hollow of the tree, just a little past where she grabbed the trunk, Freya feels something looking at her. It’s not eyes, but it’s looking all the same. It’s a cold, cruel gaze and it’s daring her to give in. Freya doesn’t. The gaze recedes.)
The pain hit her second. “Miss Freya!” Apfel’s voice felt like it came from far away. The lass gritted her teeth, struggling not to buckle and doom Grüne and herself. Her hands were burning, her muscles screaming, her bones shuddering. Freya was strong, but there was only so much strength a human being could have. The fallen fir cared not one whit for her struggling, only determined to finally rest after so many years.
Slowly, the pressure abated. Slightly. It didn’t feel like Freya’s head was full of cotton anymore, at least. “Miss Freya!” This time, Apfel’s voice was all too audible. The lass dared to look back, and slowly let out a shuddering breath of relief: the siblings were watching from the side, safe from the falling tree. She was fast enough. “Holy… y-you’re so strong!”
“A-are you okay?!” Grüne asked urgently, her face still pale from shock.
“...well… this tree could be lighter…” Freya grunted, trying to smile. The children flinched, and she couldn’t help but chastise herself in her head. It probably looked like some kind of angry grimace instead at the moment... “Um… I… can’t get… from under it.”
“...oh no…” The girl understood the situation faster than Apfel, eyes widening. “P-please hold on, Miss Freya! Apfel, quick, we need to get help!”
“W-wait, but Miss Freya could totally throw that tree off her—“
“Quick, quick!” Fortunately, the boy didn’t object to being hurried to the village by his sister. Freya let out a shuddering breath, feeling the pressure start to pick up. The trunk of the old fir was starting to shake in her hands, so she dug her heels in further and gritted her teeth. Now… all she could do was wait.
And hope.
----
“What in the Lord’s name is happening here?!”
Elise was a little later to arrive today; Freya recalled their conversation the day prior, about how the redhead complained of a particularly hard chore she was dealing with in the late hours. Something about the chickens being more ornery than the usual. “I’ll sleep like the dead, I’m sure,” she claimed.
The townsfolk gathered around Freya and the fallen fir tree all started to varying degrees of shock, as if they’d forgotten all about Elise’s existence. The tree certainly didn’t care, digging against Freya’s palms and shoulder with an increasing weight, heft and inevitability.
“Well, you’re rather late to work, aren’t you?” Mrs Wilma sneered by way of a greeting once she had finally recovered. Elise immediately set her attention on her, hackles rising like with an angry cat.
“Oh, come off it, Wilma!” Mrs Mechtilde chided with a frown, though she didn’t look at the budding confrontation. “We should focus on Freya first and foremost.”
“Yes, I can see you’re all focused on her – so why is no one helping her?!”
“We don’t know how.” Mrs Dorothea admitted, and the energy of the crowd lessened that much more because of it. “All the able-bodied lads are gone, either out to the logging camp or helping Eugen with his trip to Primeldorf.”
“Mr Wilhelm and Father Hans are trying to figure something out.” Mrs Lisbeth added uncertainly. Apfel and Grüne were with her, looking like a pair of kicked puppies. Freya tried for a reassuring smile again, though that came with a loss of focus – and the tree suddenly felt heavier in her hands. Alarmed gasps abounded as her knees buckled again.
“Well, obviously we need to lift this tree off her—“
“Oh, certainly! “Obviously”, she says!” Mrs Wilma rolled her eyes. “If you’re so smart, then do it yourself!”
“Why, you—“
“Enough!” Mrs Elma cut in with a stern tone. “Stop riling the lass up, Wilma. She worries for Freya, as we all should. And you, Elise, might be better off helping the Father and the others than standing here. Lebkuchen is also there.” She pointed out when Elise’s mouth opened in a protest. The redhead’s teeth clicked shut. She glared at the people present, then her eyes softened when they landed on Freya.
“...for goodness’s sake. I better not find you crushed under a tree once I’m back, Freya, or I swear you’ll be sorry!”
“I’ll try not to…” Elise nodded, lips tight and skin pale. Then, she ran off towards the town center, her worn boots clicking against the odd cobblestone.
----
How much time has it been? Ten minutes? An hour? Longer?
When did she end up on one knee, with someone feeding her a bit of bread to have more strength? She wasn’t entirely sure, focused just on the inevitable weight in her hands. The faces surrounding her were starting to blend together; indistinct smudges of colors. She could still tell by voices, Freya thought – maybe. The buzzing in her head was making it a difficult task, differentiating one person from another.
A strange situation this was. She had never found herself in a place where her strength was both good enough and insufficient. Either she could lift something, carry something, push and pull something – or she couldn’t and it was left alone. Her Papa never asked her to lend a hand; the men of Kieferberg usually managed more trying weights and projects with their strengths joined. Naturally, Freya was all too happy to help. Elise sometimes joked that she would be able to work as well as the entire logging camp did.
But now…
“We have something, we have something!” Elise’s voice came out from the direction of the town gate, shrill and urgent. Freya didn’t dare look, not trusting herself should her focus be split. She caught a glimpse of what seemed like thick cords of rope the redhead was carrying, almost tripping over herself when the ends of it dragged on the ground. “Freya, just please hold out a moment longer!”
“We cannot rush this, Elise.” Father Hans’s stern voice came from the same direction. It was a little strained, as if he was running or carrying something heavier.
“W-what do you mean—“
“Elise.” Lebkuchen’s voice was kind, if a little strained too – less with physical exertion and more with the nerves, if there was even a difference right now. Freya wasn’t entirely sure she cared with the current situation literally on her hands. “If we do it wrong, the tree will hurt Freya even worse.”
“...oh, for goodness’ sake! Fine! Just t-tell me what I can do!”
Freya tuned out the rest of the conversation; it was taking too much of her attention and dwindling strength. Someone gave her another piece of bread. Little snippets of conversations and words reached her, though even those felt distorted. Something about Mr Wilhelm having to improvise a solution based on an old display he once saw in his youth; a kind of device that could lift the tree off her.
A flash of red perched next to Freya; Elise again. “Don’t you close your eyes, Freya. Just take deep breaths, okay?” She said, voice meant to sound reassuring – emphasis on “meant”. Freya didn’t suspect the other girl of having ill intentions, but the nerves were eating at her quite notably. “We’ll get this stupid tree off you in a jiffy.”
The townsfolk busied themselves around her, wrapping the rope around the fir. (the more calloused hands had to be Mrs Wilma’s, from all the work at the inn) Dimly, Freya realized the rest of the rope went towards the roof of Mrs Lisbeth’s house. No, was it one rope? Or three? Were her eyes playing tricks on her at this point? They were wrapped around sturdy-looking pieces of wood; not like branches, but closer to smaller pieces of firewood to get started with.
Father Hans had one pair of pieces, crossing them together with the rope trapped between. Lebkuchen and Mrs Elma held onto another, and the third one seemed to be out of her field of vision. Freya took a slow breath, feeling the tree grow heavier still in her hands; she didn’t think it was even possible at this point.
But then again, thoughts were hard right now and—
The fir pressed into her shoulder even more, forcing her onto another knee. Freya’s hands shook and her vision blurred into tiny indistinct dots in the dark. “Quick! Get on with it!” Elise’s voice came muffled and quiet, like the lass was in another room or behind a thick stone wall. For a moment, nothing happened; Freya was just there, surrounded by friends and acquaintances, her last embers of strength slipping. Then… it eased. Just a little, but it did. She didn’t dare move or let go of the fir yet, not when she was feeling so weak.
The crossed pieces of wood seemed to act as cranes, turned slowly to tug on the ropes. Freya’s eyes still couldn’t focus from exhaustion, but she could feel it: the tree was starting to slip from her hands, slip upwards. The combined effort of the Kieferberg townsfolk was working! Elise didn’t seem to agree, fretting and making little worried noises. She was perched rather close by, Freya thought. What was the reason for—
Suddenly, the moment she could no longer feel the bark of the tree against her palms, Elise – and another person… Mrs Lisbeth? – grabbed at her shoulder and started tugging. What little of Freya’s balance remained was shattered by the sudden movement. With no need to exert her strength, she felt herself crumpling from pain and exhaustion both – now nothing more than a sack of potatoes for the others to drag across the ground.
It wasn’t elegant and it was definitely not pleasant… but it worked. Elise huffed, face red and sweaty, as she tugged on Freya’s arm. Mrs Lisbeth looked only a little better, breathing heavily and visibly straining. Still, they didn’t need to move her much; just enough for the tree to not pin her down.
The fir hit the ground where she was moments ago with a dull thump a few seconds later, the townsfolk not caring to let it down gently. It almost felt spiteful, like they were angry at the tree for causing harm to their maid-of-all-work… but it was just a tree, in the end. Something about the notion made Freya feel queasy.
That was the last thought she had before exhaustion overtook her. Before she drifted off, she got one more look at Elise’s cute fretting face. Then, she slipped into a dreamless sleep.
----
Freya awoke at home, in the confines of her bed.
She felt sore all over, so the whole tree incident wasn’t just a dream as she first hoped. No such luck. On the other hand, she didn’t feel quite as pained as she expected herself to be. How long has it been since she passed out surrounded by the townsfolk? With Elise worrying for her?
The sun outside was leaning towards the horizon’s edge, casting her room in a gentle orange hue. Slowly, Freya shuffled out of her bed, gathering her bearings and clothes before she descended downstairs. Elise sat by the kitchen table, her face resting on her hand. It seemed she dozed off while waiting for Freya to come to… the girl didn’t wake her friend up, opting to sit in the opposite chair and watch her in quietude.
Papa and the rest of the men still weren’t back, it seemed – but Kieferberg wasn’t entirely helpless without them. Freya had to make sure she thanked everyone for their aid – if not today, then definitely tomorrow.
...but for now, she would settle for watching Elise being cute, reaching out to briefly poke at her cheek. “Thank you very much for your help, my heroine…”