THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BRIDGE

Honorable Mention in the 2017 Writer's Digest Popular Fiction Competition

 

   The heavens were alive that night, cascading with waterfalls of green and violet light.  The guovsahasat streaked across the sky, painting the dark night with its vivid colors.  Shimmering stars swayed back and forth in time to the silent music.  The great performance of the night was one of its finest, and the girl whose eyes reflected the dancing lights could almost imagine herself being swept away onto the cosmic dance floor.  Sighing, she rubbed her hands together to warm them.  What she wouldn’t give to join the wild dance of lights, instead of sitting by herself on a cold wooden bridge in the middle of the night. 

   A voice spoke softly out of the darkness, and Ingrid smiled at the soft, familiar accent.  “The Gods must be pleased with you tonight, to send you such a beautiful sky.” 

    Ingrid didn’t take her eyes off of the shifting lights as she responded, “Or displeased, to lure me out into the cold night and distract me with beauty as I freeze.”    

   Truly, the night was a mild one for fall, and were it not for the cold northern wind Ingrid would have been content at her post.  At least, almost content.

   Fredrick sat down on the bridge next to Ingrid and gave her a woolen blanket.  It was scratchy and had little bits of hay and grass stuck to it, but she wrapped it around herself gratefully.  “So you came out here for pleasure,” Fredrick said quietly.  “I thought you may have been fleeing from your father.”  Ingrid kept her eyes pointed resolutely towards the heavens as she felt him turn towards her and begin to study her face.  Even in the shifting lights she was sure he could see the bruises her father had given her earlier that day.

   “Actually, I do have a reason to be out on the bridge tonight,” she said lightly, finally turning her eyes towards Fredrick.  His thick, light brown hair was sticking up in the back; he clearly had already gotten some sleep that night.  His smiling green eyes held tiny reflections of the swirling lights. 

   “And what might that reason be?” he asked.

   “Guard duty,” she answered.  “My father has sent me to guard the bridge to make sure none of those dangerous Gruffs slip through to steal our diamonds.” 

   Fredrick threw his head back and laughed at the sky.  His family, the Gruffs, owned the little farm across the stream from Ingrid’s, and there was a time when herr Gruff and herr Troule had been good friends.  It wasn’t until Ingrid’s father had discovered a diamond on his land, a beautiful little crystal, that the wooden bridge she was on had turned from a link between the farms into a barricade.  “Your father’s a fool,” Fredrick said at last.  “He treats his real diamond like a piece of kjøkkenavfall, a piece of garbage, hitting her and sending her out alone in the cold, and clings onto that lump of rock as though it were the most valuable thing in the world.”

   Ingrid smiled at his compliment, and he gave her one of his crooked grins.  “I’m glad you think I’m more valuable than diamonds,” she said, “but I think your father might put just as much stock as mine does in that lump of rock, as you called it.”

   Fredrick rolled his eyes.  “I know.  Your father might not be wrong that a guard is needed on the bridge.  Of course, he shouldn’t send you to do it.  What he thinks you’ll do if Erik or Abel tries to get by you, I don’t know.”

   “I would dump them into the stream,” Ingrid answered matter-of-factly, even though Erik Gruff was twice her size and Abel, the eldest Gruff boy, was even bigger.

   “They could have just walked right by and you wouldn’t have seen them, staring at the sky as you were,” he teased.

   Ingrid looked back up at the sky, and had to agree with him.  There was something entrancing about the Northern Lights that made it hard to look at anything else.  If her father had been on guard duty, he probably wouldn’t spare them more than a glance.  And, she thought with a smile, he would have been much more alarmed at the presence of the youngest Gruff boy on his bridge.  

   “Maybe you should keep duty with me,” she suggested to Fredrick, offering him part of her blanket.  He moved closer to her and pulled the blanket around his shoulder.  They stayed that way all night, sitting silently side by side, until long after the heaven’s performance had finished its final scene.     

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   The next morning, Ingrid was so tired she could barely think.  She had only found a few hours in the early morning to sleep before her father was calling her to make his breakfast for him.  The whole day she dragged at her chores, and after her midday meal she actually fell asleep while feeding the animals.  That evening she had a new bruise on her shoulder blade to match the one on her face.

   Somehow, day by day, she commanded her tired body to carry the water pail and scrub the floor. Frederick spent a good part of each night out on the bridge with her, and Ingrid felt the most awake when she was sitting next to him, sharing the splendor of the dancing lights.  

   He didn’t mention her exhaustion, but each time they met the concerned crease between his eyes grew deeper.  She looked awful, she knew, with dark shadows under her eyes, her straw-colored hair pulled messily into braids, and the bruise on her face turning an unpleasant yellow and gray.

   A week into her guard duty, as she sat half-asleep with her head on his shoulder, Frederick finally said something.  “I’ve come up with a plan to get you off of this bridge every night and into a warm bed where you belong.”

   “How would you do that?” she asked.  The shadows of night were starting to lift, and she would be able to sneak into her bed for a few hours as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon.

   “My father thinks the diamond is rightfully his, since it was found on the parcel of land your father purchased from him a few months ago.  He feels that your father must have known about the diamond, and cheated him on the price.”

   Ingrid looked at Frederick in surprise.  “I didn’t know that.  I mean, I knew my father had recently bought the land off of you, but I didn’t realize your father felt that way.”  She cocked her head at him.  “How will your father’s claim help me end this bridge duty?  It wouldn’t surprise me if my father had tricked yours, but he’s never going to admit to it.”

   He smiled, just as the first golden hint of morning crawled over the horizon and lit his face.  “I’m going to go to your father with a compromise.”

   Ingrid wrinkled her nose at Frederick in doubt.  Her father would never compromise with a dreamer like Frederick.  He only had respect for men who could knock him over.  And he would never part with something as valuable as his diamond.  He had it stashed away under a floorboard in the corner of his room, and he had taken to polishing it every night before he went to sleep.  “He’ll never give up the diamond,” she contended.

   “He won’t have to.  He’ll get the diamond and our word never to cross the bridge to steal it, and he will give my father back the land he found it on.”

   “He’ll just laugh at you and keep both the diamond and the land.”

   Frederick shrugged self-assuredly.  “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Ingrid raised her eyebrows at his easy confidence.  “I don’t have to see, I know my father.  He would never give up his land.”

   “I think I can convince him,” he insisted.

   “You’re as stubborn as a billy goat,” she said, shaking her head.  “Well, at least you have courage.  I wouldn’t try to offer herr Troule a compromise even if it got me out of chores for a month.”

   He grinned at that. “You should get to bed, the sun is rising and I’m sure your father will have plenty of chores for you to do soon enough.”

   Ingrid said good night, watching him as he got up and walked nimbly to the end of the bridge.  She lifted a hand as he turned back to wave.  Frederick was brave to approach her father with his idea of compromise, but she doubted it would do any good.  She got up wearily and trudged back to her room to sleep.  She wanted to be awake when Frederick spoke to her father tomorrow.

 

   It was almost midday when Frederick appeared at the far side of the bridge.  Ingrid’s father was stationed right in the middle, and even from the cottage’s front steps where she had been sweeping she could see his meaty fists clench angrily and the redness of his face.  She dropped her broom quickly and darted to the Troule side of the bridge to watch and listen.

   Frederick strode confidently across the bridge until he reached Ingrid’s father, and then stuck out his hand.   “Always pleasant to see our closest neighbor, herr Troule,” he said.  Only Ingrid, who knew him well, could have detected the nervous edge to his voice.

   Herr Troule just stared at Frederick for a few moments before answering.  When he did, his rough voice betrayed his anger.  “I don’t find it pleasant at all when a Gruff invades my land.  Get off of my bridge before I eat you for my midday meal.”  Frederick raised his eyebrows, and Ingrid’s stomach tightened with fear for her friend.  Her father could snap him in half if he wanted to.

   Frederick’s voice wavered as he answered herr Troule.  “I’m not here to invade your land.  I wanted to suggest a compromise between our families, to end this silly feud.  You will be able to−” He cut off as Ingrid’s father started laughing, a course and ugly chortle.

   “I don’t compromise with little boys like you.  Come back when you’re older,” Troule spit at him.

   Frederick looked as though he was about to argue, but Ingrid caught his eye from her side of the bridge and shook her head frantically.  The corner of his mouth pulled into a frown, but he nodded politely to her father and bid him good day.

       

   The next day Ingrid saw Erik Gruff strutting across the bridge as she was carrying the milk in from the barn.  He looked so different than Frederick, all muscle and brawn, ruddy face shining in the sunlight.  Ingrid wondered whether he was there to offer a compromise, too.  Somehow she doubted it.

   Erik slowed as he reached Herr Troule, who was waiting for him in the middle of the bridge, eyes narrowed.  The young Gruff spoke first.  “I have a message for you, Herr Troule, and I won’t be as easily scared off as my brother, I promise you.”

   “Get off my bridge before I eat you for my midday meal,” Ingrid’s father responded, just as he had to Frederick.

   Erik’s rosy face grew even redder.  “You cheated us.  You knew there was a diamond on that land before you bought it.  The price was too low, and we want our land back.  And the diamond.”

   Ingrid’s father shoved Erik suddenly, and the young man stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, caught off guard.  Herr Troule took a few steps forward until he was just in front of him, so that the boy had to look up to meet his eyes.  “I’ll let you go this time, little pjokk, but if you come back you’ll be floating down that river, face down.”

   Erik hesitated a moment, and then turned around without a word and left the bridge.

   Ingrid’s father laughed loudly at the retreating figure.  Erik walked with his head high, pretending not to hear.

       

   “Abel’s going to try tomorrow,” Frederick told Ingrid that night during guard duty.  “He’s bigger than your father, and he won’t take no for an answer.”

   “Why doesn’t your father come himself?” Ingrid asked him.  She could hear that her words were dragging with fatigue as she spoke.  She leaned tiredly against his shoulder.

   “He was going to, but Abel wanted to try.”

   “Will he ask for a compromise or demand the diamond?” Ingrid asked him.

   “Knowing Abel, he’ll demand the diamond.  He isn’t the sort who would−”

   Frederick’s speech broke off abruptly as Ingrid found herself wrenched from his side.  Herr Troule had grabbed her by the wrist to pull her up, and he was twisting her arm sharply.  His face was distorted with anger, and even in the dark she could make out its crimson hue.  The side of his lip curled up in a snarl as she met his gaze.  She let out a cry of pain as he twisted her arm even further still.

   “I should have known that a little nothing like you couldn’t be trusted.”  He turned and spat on Frederick.  “Consorting with a Gruff.  And not even the strong one.  What a shame to the Troule family you are.”  He hit Ingrid suddenly and fiercely across the face with the back of his free hand.  Her cold skin stung sharply as his hand flew across it, and a small whimper escaped her throat.  

   Frederick stood up, looking panicked.  “Let her go,” he said.  “She wasn’t doing anything.”

   Herr Troule shoved Ingrid to her knees forcefully and turned to face Frederick.  His burly figure towered over the slim boy in front of him.  “She wasn’t supposed to be doing nothing, Gruff.  She was supposed to be guarding the bridge, so that shifty little boys like you wouldn’t be able to sneak onto our land and steal my diamond.”  He slammed his fist into Frederick’s face, and Ingrid let out a low sob as her friend, taken by surprise, crashed down onto the bridge.   

   Herr Troule dragged her back into the cottage then, her legs trailing in the snow as she frantically tried to get them underneath her.  She tried to twist back to see if Frederick was all right, but her father threw her onto the ground and kicked her before claiming her wrist once more and dragging her across the doorstep into their little cottage.

  The beating was terrible that night.  Blow after blow, kick after kick, until she lay curled up in a ball against the wall.  “Please stop,” she begged.  “Please.”  Her father spit on her before leaving, muttering beneath his breath.

  After he left her tiny room, she threw herself onto her sleeping mat and sobbed into her bruised arms.   Eventually, she ran out of tears.

   The sun was almost coming up when Ingrid heard her father slam the door on his way out to guard the bridge.  She crept to the window, her blue-bruised body crying out in protest, and rested her chin on the sill.   Though it was dark, she could find her father’s massive silhouette in place on the bridge, a darker shade of night than all the rest.  She couldn’t see him clearly through the darkness, but she knew his head would be fixed on the Gruff’s side of the bridge, not taking in any of the splendor of the stars above.  Bile rose in her throat, tasting of hatred and anger and years of fear.

   Ingrid pushed herself away from the window and stumbled to her father’s room.  She knelt down onto the ground in the corner of the room, ignoring the sharp pain that surged through her knees.  The loose floorboard came up easily under her grasping fingers, and she threw it aside.  Her hand clasped around the diamond and she lifted it up out of the hole.

   Such a little thing it was, a dead piece of rock, and yet it had so much power.  It was beautiful, of course, polished and shimmering in the faint light now dancing through the window, but its clear beauty held no lure for Ingrid.  She placed the stone in the pocket of her dress, which she had been too tired and sore to change out of.

Slipping out of the house without her father seeing her was easy enough.  He was focused on the other side of the river, and wouldn’t notice the small shadow slipping through the doorway of his own home and heading south.  Ingrid didn’t go far, just out of sight and earshot of the bridge.  With a trembling hand, she pulled the diamond out of her pocket and held it over the rushing stream.  For a few moments, she just knelt there in front of the dark water, arm held out, fist clenched.

   She knew she was tired, hurting and angry, and that with the rising of the sun her reason would also return.  If she did this, if she dropped the diamond into the stream, it would just make things worse.  Her father would blame the Gruffs, and the war between them could only intensify.  But somehow she found her fingers loosening around the diamond, letting the stone fall into the river with a small splash.  It sank quickly, disappearing onto the riverbed.  She sat on the riverbed for only a few more moments before sneaking back into the cottage and crawling back to bed.

 

   It seemed only a few seconds had passed before she was awoken by the sound of the front door closing.  The sun was already climbing in the sky.  She sat up quickly but then gasped, remembering too late her injuries from the night before.  Her stomach felt like it had been torn apart, and sure enough, when she raised her dress to inspect the area she saw that it was dark purple, sticky with half-dried blood.  

   “Ingrid, are you all right?” Frederick raced through the door, rushing over and hugging her.  She managed to keep from crying out, but the embrace hurt.  “I’ve been so worried!  I couldn’t sleep at all last night, wondering what your father was doing.”  

   His usually bright face darkened as he saw her new bruises.  “I’ll never let him touch you again.  You can stay with us, and never cross that awful bridge ever again.”

   Ingrid smiled at him.  “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.  My father is going to be furious when he finds the diamond missing.”  

   Frederick looked at her in surprise.  “Missing?” he asked her.  “What do you mean, missing?”

   Not wanting to see his dismayed reaction, she buried her head in her knees and spoke in a muffled tone.  “I threw it in the stream last night, after he fell asleep.  It’s gone, so now no one can fight over it anymore.”

   “I’ll protect you from him.  He’ll think we stole it.  I’ll protect you,” he urged.  

   Of course he wouldn’t be upset.  He was Frederick.

   Ingrid pulled her head up just in time to see her father about to bash the back of Frederick’s head with the floorboard that had covered the diamond’s hiding place.  She gasped and cried out, “Watch out!”

   Frederick just barely managed to dodge, jumping away from the swing and stumbling to his feet.  

   Her father sneered at Frederick, dropping the board, and turned to her.  His face was alight with a fierce, fiery rage, his skin flushed with anger.  She shrank back as he glared at her, his gaze focused with a burning intensity onto her face.

   Frederick stepped in between her and her father, folding his arms and setting his jaw.  Next to her father, blazing with anger, he looked very small and very vulnerable.  However, when he spoke there was no waver in his voice.  “You will not touch her.”

   Herr Troule narrowed his eyes.  “Don’t stand in my way, boy.  I heard what she said.  This piece of trash has thrown away my diamond, and I’m going to kill her, and anyone else who is willing to protect the brat.”

   He roughly shoved Frederick to the side, but surprisingly, Frederick stood his ground.  With incredible speed, Herr Troule picked up the floorboard and smashed it into Frederick’s shin, bringing him to his knees.  He then lifted the board high into the air and brought it down swiftly, but Frederick managed to roll away.   Herr Troule jabbed the board into Frederick’s stomach, which made him double over in pain, but still he managed to avoid the next blow.

   Ingrid tried to get up to help her friend, but the beating the night before had left her weak and stiff.  Frederick, seeing her attempt to get up, shoved her back into the wall, a little harder than he had probably intended to, with an irritated shout.  “Stay back, Ingrid, you can barely even stand!”

   Frustrated tears formed in her eyes as she watched her friend dance away from her father’s blows.  Frederick was hopelessly outmatched.  He wasn’t really even trying to hit her father; his focus was on avoiding the heavy board.  He wasn’t entirely succeeding, either; the room shook as Frederick was thrown into the walls, the bed, the small wardrobe… Ingrid caught her breath once again as the board skimmed past her friend’s head, whistling through the air.

   As Frederick dodged to the side this time, however, he tripped and was sent sprawling to the ground.  Ingrid screamed as her father let out a triumphant shout and leapt upon the boy.  Frederick turned around on his back, but there was no time for him to rise to defend himself.  Ingrid could see the panicked look on his face.  As her father jumped on him, Frederick threw his legs straight up in the air.  Herr Troule ran right into them, and with a solid kick Frederick managed to direct the tyrant clear out the window behind him.

   It was quiet for a few moments.  Frederick just lay on the floor, chest moving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.  Ingrid carefully pulled herself up to look out of the window, keeping her head low in case her father was waiting out there.  She felt her stomach roil as she laid eyes on her father, lying a few feet away, his neck looking strange and crooked.  The expression of rage was still on his face, except for in his eyes.  They were open, but cold and unseeing.  Ingrid quickly turned back into the room and emptied her stomach, eyes still imprinted with the sight of the twisted body.

   Frederick looked towards her with worried eyes.  “Are you all right?  Is he out there?”

   Ingrid shook her head.  

   Frederick’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.  He got up slowly and moved over to her, his eyes anguished.  “I’m so sorry about your father, I didn’t mean to−” he couldn’t finish the sentence, he was shaking so badly.  

   Ingrid put her arms around him, ignoring the pain.  “You saved me,” she said.  “The youngest Gruff ended up being the finest warrior of them all.”

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