Don’t let the novelists fool you. When the land goes to sea, it is a whale.
It’s just the way of things in a poetic landscape.
Note the little elf in its spume!
Cold Rainy Day!
Here’s the elfin view of the, um, colonial improvements. A tractor and mower, too, as you can see, just south of the Arctic Circle. Brr.
It’s always this way. It’s not that there were elves here before humans. They came along in human heads, but they needed a place, and so houses (and churches) were allotted for them too, which means that the humans had to choose well. Here’s the view out over the human camp to the sea.
And look at the tumble of elves crowding up agains the road, unable to cross! Tut tut.
Humans are sweet. When you build a new house down by the water, in the wind, you put a graveyard in the old one, where your ancestors lived while alive. They can live on there, with their elf neighbours.
So, all in all, a good social relationship!
You can read all the magical traditions about this rock here: The Alfaborg Story.
Every stone takes on great significance as the sky vanishes.
And that’s the point. The fjords south of here have been abandoned. The weather is just too terrible. You are alone with rock. There is no sky, only earth that has become it, and maybe a homestead you can scratch together out of mud.
They are shelter. Whether they are rising from the earth or sinking into it, is not the point, because both are true at once.
On Álfaborg, one sees in at the same time one sees out. It is you who becomes the person of the stone, as you gain its vision, and see with more-than-human eyes.
Don’t even try to come home.
So, you’ve made it through the fog …
… and the other bridge …
… but what do you leave for the dwarves? You want to be a good guest, right? Well, a needle and some wool, maybe?
Might as well admire the view, eh.
And the human church next door. Not so well-built, of course. Not so experienced with stone work. Poor things. Great with plastic, though!
And to town.
And, yes, the dwarves have come along. The Icelanders will call it “nature,” because they’re polite and they know that the rest of us like that stuff. They know better. They even call it a “town”…
… when it is really, two. Such good manners! Such sneakiness!