Elisabeth Rynell - To Mervas

Kosti grew silent and Marta removed the cloth from her forehead. She lifted her head and looked at him.

“So was there a tunnel?” she asked quietly.

At first, Kosti didn’t respond. He looked at her with an expression that was guarded but also begged understanding.

“Yes,” he said at last. “There was a tunnel. There is a tunnel.”

She lay down again with the cloth in her closed fist and looked at the bottom of the bed above her.

“It took me nearly a year to find the entrance to it,” Kosti said in a low voice. “It’s a tunnel through the mountain. It’s been carved out by running water, of course. But it’s enormous. It’s beautiful. I walked in it for days and it just went on and on. It was like in a dream. And you know what, I found something down there. Something small. I’d like to show it to you, if you want to see it.”

“That was one of the first things I thought when I first arrived here, in Mervas,” Marta said, as if she hadn’t heard him. “I didn’t want to descend those stairs, didn’t want to go down into the darkness where the water gleamed at the bottom. But as soon as I got here, I knew I had to do it. I had to.”

“I understand,” Kosti said.

“It’s a fairy tale. Say it. Tell me it’s a fairy tale. Tell me now.”

“It is a fairy tale, Mart. Of course it’s a fairy tale. It’s our fairy tale. Yours and mine.”

She inhaled.

“Then you can show me,” she said. “Show me what you found down there.”

Kosti rooted around in his pack for a while. Marta sat up. She followed his movements, the excitement he couldn’t contain.

“Listen,” he said to her, “why don’t we go out on the steps for a little bit? Just for a while. We’ll have more light out there.”

They sat down next to each other at the top of the steps. He kept the object hidden in his hands.

“Here,” he whispered, and let her see. “You see what it is?”

She did see. It was a Sámi silver brooch with small hanging charms around the edges. It was tarnished black, but completely intact.

“You see what it is?” he repeated.

Marta took the brooch carefully in her hand and examined it. She let her finger move over the protrusion in the middle and over the etched patterns.

“It’s old,” she said, without looking up.

“Yes, it’s old,” he agreed. “Of course it’s old. And it’s remained dry, it hasn’t been in the water, it’s remained dry down there in the tunnel ever since someone, whoever it could’ve been, dropped it. When I found it, I thought it was a greeting of sorts, that it was a message.”

“From them?”

“Yes, sure, from them. But also a message about you. From you. That’s what was so strange about it. That’s what was so important. It was when I’d found this piece of jewelry that I turned around and started walking back. I knew I had to show it to you. I knew I couldn’t keep going alone. I had to find the end of this story together with you. And I’ll tell you something, although it was probably my imagination. I thought I smelled something in the air down there. Just as I’d bent down and was looking at the brooch, there was a breeze, a faint gust of air — it smelled of sun, yes, it smelled of sun and daylight, as if the end of the tunnel was close, as if it was possible to get out, to get out of it — ”

Marta put the brooch on her lap. She took Kosti’s hand and raised it to her mouth to kiss it. She kissed the dry skin of his palm, kissed all the lines and grooves. She hid her face in his hand, filled it with the moisture of her breath. She wanted to keep her face there, enveloped by his hand, inside him, protected. And she felt his body leaning over hers, felt him crouch over her.

“I’ve prepared everything,” he said gently. “All you have to do is trust me.”

“You know what I’m thinking,” she said, and looked up. “I’m thinking we’re already there, standing at the opening to the island, blinded by all the light streaming over us.”

“So you’ll come with me?”

She took his hand in hers again, studied and touched it. “Haven’t you realized? I’ll never let go of this hand again.”

He grasped her face and stared at her, elated and eager again.

“You must promise me to be careful with your face, as careful with it as I would be. No more shards, promise me.”

“No more shards.”

He traced his finger lightly over the cuts on her cheek. “Good.”

“Just tell me you’ve waited for me too.”

“I’ve waited for you. You know that. I asked you to come.”

“And I did,” she said. “I came.”