"I stopped as soon as I realized that it was stop or spend the next thousand years in pursuit of true literacy."
"And then you and your spare brain picked up feint-heavy combat skills instead."
"Ah, here I was thinking you chose unconventional after ruling out convention."
"Oh, I was always going to end up a disgrace to society; the only question was precisely what manner of disgrace."
"Many were the sort of thing one hears in a bawdy tavern song. And I don't remember the rhymes."
They've been moving into more sparsely vegetated areas throughout their hike, and have now come to a small rise, gently sloped, soft underfoot. It will be a good place from which to view any aurochs that might be beyond it.
Then he pauses, and takes two steps back.
"I don't mean to alarm you," he says, "but I suggest that we head back the way we came. Immediately."
Loki pauses, steps backwards, and says, "And what is it that you don't wish to alarm me with?"
"Landwurm."
Oh, yes, that wrinkle in the hill does look a little nongeological.
"Ah."
"Let's hope it isn't hungry," says Sigyn, moving slowly away from the hill but keeping both it and Loki in sight. "The last time I was this close to a landwurm, I nearly died, and it's not an experience I yearn to repeat."
"I've never been this near one before." Sloooow stepping. "I wouldn't guarantee I'd die, but I don't want to try it either."
Now if only they can achieve a safe distance from the landwurm without anything drawing its attention to them and without it deciding they would make a nice afternoon snack.
It's enough to shake Loki's footing; she has a choice between tumbling down the "hill" or jumping. She chooses jumping.
This kicks aside enough of the moving bit of wurm to reveal that its face was right under her.
Its face is now displaying its many teeth, and advancing quickly after her while she reaches the peak of her leap.
But here is Loki, who doesn't want to be eaten by a landwurm either, and in fact probably holds this preference more strongly than Sigyn does, and who is currently in midair above its lunging jaws.
This logic comes to his mind all at once, not in an orderly chain but as a unified vision, and he draws his sword and hurls himself at the monster's head. He manages to get between it and Loki. Well done, Sigyn. Now the next step in the plan is to survive its redirected attention and, if he is very very lucky, stab it in the eye before it eats him.
Lævateinn shoots out to colossal length in her hands, bladed on both ends, and she kicks off the ground as soon as she hits it to leap back wurmward. She can't match the wurm's reach if it decides it wants to strike her, but she can be really hard to swallow, if she keeps her grip on her weapon.
The wurm gets stabbed in a coil. Its skin is thick stuff easily mistaken for mossy ground, easily scratched but not easily parted, and trying to cut it too deeply will make it easy to wrench her spear away - but all she wants is to re-distract it, away from Sigyn. Its jaws snap shut on air and it looks between its possible targets. Its coils shift beyond its swaying head.
"Run!" she hisses, except then a tree behind them creaks, and it turns out there is more of the wurm there.
There is more of the wurm everywhere.
"Fuck!"
Of course, the last one was much smaller. And he had a longer sword. But he can still manage it, if he is both perfect and lucky.
No good. The wurm is paying attention to Sigyn now.
Success. Bounding from coil to coil, he leads its head in a circle until the neck can twist no farther and he is close enough to scramble up the dorsal ridge - crouch atop its head while it rears in surprise, brace himself between scaly crests, take a two-handed grip on his sword, and stab the wurm's eye as precisely and forcefully as he can manage.
He is perfect. He is not lucky. Though he drives the full length of his sword into its eye, it is not enough; the monster is not slain. And a moment later, its violent thrashings dislodge him from his perch.