Chapter 1 - The man in the brook

A/N: This is the first part of a serial I'm writing for Shino's Serial Contest. Hopefully I'll have the second part ready for next week.

The fresh morning air was a bit too cold for my liking. Whenever I was winded after climbing a steep hill it felt as if I was breathing pipe cleaners; scraping against my sore airways for every breath I took. At the top of another one of those hills I stopped and cupped my hands over my mouth in an attempt to warm them. The mittens that Annika forgot in my backpack had turned out to be a blessing, saving my fingers from getting stiff from the cold, though they weren't quite thick enough to keep me warm. If this year's hike had been like the previous ones I would've remembered to bring an extra layer of clothes, since I would've had to pack and carry my daughters' clothes as well, but this year I had only packed for myself and it had never occurred to me that I wasn't as resilient as my daughters made me out to be. In Gothenburg the thought of snow in September had been foreign, but here in the mountains it wouldn't have surprised me if big white flakes suddenly started falling onto the forest trail. The white against the flaming colours of the leaves of the mountain birches might have even been considered pretty.

The sweat-drenched back of my shirt was sticking to my skin, sending unpleasant shivers up my spine, so I started trudging up the mountain again. Since I was on my own this time I had chosen a much longer trail than usual, which would cross the border to Norway before it turned back again, and I was starting to doubt my decision. Work had kept me too busy to spend time with my family, much less go out for a run. Do they miss me? Annika and I had drifted apart during the summer. I had my work and my brother to take care of, while she had her own work and the children. It wasn't that we argued, rather the opposite. Our house was eerily silent, and the discussions and laughs that we normally had by the dinner table had suddenly disappeared. Even the children understood that there was a rift between their parents, and like us they seemed to think that they might break whatever was still there if they talked about it. I didn't want to end up like my brother, alone in a big house and only allowed to see my children every other week. Not that I thought that Annika would actually get a court order, but I still wouldn't get to see my daughters as often. You're not getting divorced, stop worrying.

I let out a deep sigh which turned into a painful cough as I finally reached the top of another hill, and I wasn't able to stop before I had gone through the arduous task of digging up the extra water bottle at the bottom of my backpack and taken a few gulps. From the hill I got the first view of the low round mountains that I was going to climb to get to Norway, and beyond them I saw the much higher, spiky and snow covered Norwegian mountains. It was stunning, and I couldn't help but take out my camera and take a few pictures. If I showed them to my brother I might be able to convince him to come with me, god knows he could need a change of air. Somewhere among the birches I could hear the rippling sound of water, and after consulting my map I knew I'd have to walk several kilometres before I encountered another brook, so I pulled the straps of the heavy backpack over my shoulders once again before stepping off the path and heading for the sound.

As I got closer, mist started to seep between the thin and crooked trunks of the birches, slowly creeping towards me. It was strange. I had crossed another brook earlier, and there hadn't been any mist there, nor anywhere else. The mist wasn't the only thing that struck me as weird. The sound of water was too loud, what had sounded like a little brook from the trail now sounded more like a rapid stream. If the mist gets any thicker I won't find my way back. I knew I should turn around, but the mystery of the stream seemed strangely alluring, making me quicken my pace until I was jogging. I needed to know what lay beyond the trees and the mist. It's just water.

I didn't realize I had come out of the forest until the sole of my boot landed on rock instead of soft heather. In front of me, below the cliff I was standing on, was a pool of water, supplied by a short waterfall on the cliff across from me. The water of the pool was dark and I couldn't even hint the bottom of it, while its outlet had quite a few jagged stones sticking out of it, making the water froth as it hit them. I strained my eyes in an attempt to see further, but it was impossible. I wanted to go closer, for a reason I couldn't quite put my finger on, but I'd need to fill my bottle anyway and that was reason enough. Carefully I started climbing down the slippery and moss covered rocks. I walked straight for as long as I could, but eventually I had to turn around and use my hands to climb. How am I supposed to get up here again? Of the trees behind me I saw nothing but the autumn leaves, and even their colour seemed to fade in the mist.

When my feet finally landed on the stony bank of the pool I was winded again, and my sore throat was begging me to cough, but I didn't have time. There was something I needed to find. I didn't know what exactly it was, but it was there, somewhere in the water. The water bottle! I twitched. That was what I was supposed to do, why had I forgotten? I shrugged my backpack off, taking out both my water bottles and slowly bending down. For a second I hesitated, then I plunged the bottle along with my hand down in the ice cold water. I filled the first bottle, then the other, and didn't realize that I had been holding my breath until I had put them back in my backpack. See, it was nothing. I chuckled. What had gotten into me? It must be the stress from work. I cupped my hands and drank a few gulps from the pool before standing up again, intending to find a way up again.

Beautiful music. My head snapped up towards the sound, so hauntingly beautiful and perfect that it made my eyes tear up. What I saw and heard made me unable to move, afraid that it might go away if I did. A naked man sat perched on a rock in the middle of the waterfall, his eyes closed as he played the violin. There was a garland made out of what looked like white waterlilies on his head, and he had black hair that flowed with the water into the pool and seemed to disappear into its depth. The force and temperature of the water didn't seem to bother him the slightest, and even stranger was the fact that I could clearly hear the melody he was playing, even though it should be impossible. I'm seeing things. Slowly I stood up, not sure what I should do. Could something so wonderful really be an illusion? I didn't recognize the melody he was playing, and something told me that it was not my lack of interest in classical music that was to blame. He had to be real, but at the same time he couldn't be. Should I try to talk to him? I opened my mouth, but found myself unable to speak. I didn't want to interrupt that music, music which was calling out to me with every note, pleading for me to come closer. There was no way I could refuse that music, so I took a step out into the water, which suddenly seemed so much warmer than before, even as it poured into my boot. A few more steps and I had water up to my waist. When it reached my chest the man suddenly opened his eyes, freezing me in place with his piercing gaze. Their pale grey colour seemed to glow in comparison to his pitch black hair, and they didn't leave mine for a second. He slid down from the rock soundlessly, and even after he disappeared under the surface I could still hear the violin playing its beguiling melody. Two arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me down into the warm darkness and closer to the sound of the perfect music. I was afraid at first and struggled against those arms, but the music got louder and I realized that I didn't want to go up to the surface again. I didn't want to stand shuddering in the cold above, wondering whether my wife still loved me and feeling the stress from the work which held a constant grip of my heart, not when the darkness was so appealing. With those thoughts I let myself be pulled down.