A wise man once said that surely, life is but a vision, a dream
Best interpreted through tales, stories and parables
As it was within the eloquent Poetic Edda
Once upon a time, there lived a man named Ymir. Ymir was a down-to-earth and hardy man, with deeply rooted morals. He was a lumberjack, making his residence in the cold and harsh Pale. He lived alone, with only trees, snow and his trusty axe for company. Every day, he would seek out profitable trees and fashions firewood or lumber from them. Then, every Tirdas, he would walk the long track to the nearest city, Morthal and sell what lumber he had gathered during the week. Some days, the chill of the pale would pierce harder than usual, but Ymir’s life is a hard one. This fact he accepts, this fact he carries with him every waking moment.
One day, he was going out for a routine lumber gathering run. That day, a snowstorm blew into the Pale. The chill pierced his skin, sundering his bones and the winds slowed his steps to a crawl, but still he pressed on. When he finally reached his usual chopping grounds, he found that the barks of most trees had been frozen. Despite this, he went on chopping and with great effort, procured a sizeable amount of wood. It didn’t matter to him if they were ice cold and hard as rocks. “He’d thaw them at home” the rugged and determined man thought.
On his way back, the storm seemed to intensify. With stronger winds and the weight of the lumber at his back, Ymir moved at a snail’s pace, but a steady pace nonetheless. Then, along the way, he encountered a woman lying in the snow. She was clad in simple white robes, elegant, but definitely not protective against the elements. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it looked like she was crying out for help. Without further hesitation, Ymir approached the woman and asked what was wrong. “My husband left me here in this storm.” the woman said, ”He abandoned me and I’ve lost my way back home. Will you help me?” A good-natured man at heart, he set down his load and hoisted the woman up. Together, they made their way to his residence, the poor woman safely at his back.
From that moment on, the storm seemed to rage on even harder than before. From behind Ymir’s back, the woman began to smirk devilishly. Unbeknownst to him, she was actually a malevolent frost spirit, luring unwary travelers and feeding on their souls. As she prepared her devious magicks, ready to freeze him and feed on his helpless soul, Ymir said something barely audible in the storm.
“Miss?” he asked. “Yes?” replied the spirit, her voice still like the distressed maiden.
“Are you cold? I can give you my cloak if you want.” The offer surprised her. In the time she had spent drifting as a spirit, no one has made such a generous offer and willingly sacrificed their own well-being in favor of another. Such concern was alien for a specter like her. She managed to decline his offer. The two kept walking their way and Ymir still voiced his concerns for the spirit, asking if she was hungry, or thirsty, or if her body was tired and wanted to lie down and rest. The compassion in him was pure warmth, like a freshly stoked hearth on a winter day. So warm that it thawed the spirit’s malicious heart and melted her. After a long silence, Ymir grew worried. He looked back and saw that on his back, where the spirit had once been, was a roughly human-shaped hunk of snow. The spirit had gone away, and the good man Ymir is will live again to chop wood another day.
‘The warmth of compassion shall melt the frozen heart.”
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This story was inspired by a certain version of the Yuki-Onna legend.
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