Leif Frond and the Viking Games Read Online Free

cheerfully. That got a laugh from the crowd – and he was absolutely right. While they had been arguing, the entire straw construction had caught fire. The target was now a mass of flame and, as we all watched, it toppled slowly over onto its side.
    â€œLooks dead to me,” said Queue.
    â€œI… you’re right, but… um…” stuttered myfather. His job as host of the Frondfell Midsummer Games was proving exceptionally difficult.
    But Blogfeld, the Scourge of the Seas, couldn’t stop laughing.
He
seemed to be having a wonderful time.
    â€œThat young fellow is the only one among you who got to the bottom of it all!” he hooted in his ocean-going voice. “Get it? The bottom? Get it?”
    â€œBut still… it was hardly the
best
shot,” murmured my father.
    â€œYou’re right. I can’t argue with that. I’d say the eye-shooter wins this one. But I insist we give the young fellow some credit anyway! And of course your Artificer – that was a spectacular display! I wonder how he did it?”
    Well, nobody was going to argue out loud with Harald Blogfeld. (That didn’t mean there weren’t grumblers, because there always are. And it didn’t mean the whole thing wouldn’t be relived and torn apart and put back together a dozen different ways before the next Midsummer Games, because that always happened too.)
    So the decision was announced that Karl’s had been the winning shot. And you know, I was relieved. I hadn’t won fair and square, and noamount of smoke and fire could make it otherwise. We could still hear Blogfeld, though,chortling and repeating, “He got to the bottomof it, didn’t he, that boy? The bottom!”
    â€œOoo, I do love a man with a sense of humour!” my granny cackled suddenly. (You never hear my granny coming – she’s just all of a sudden
there
, at your elbow.) She had another cup of mead in her hands, but she wouldn’t let me have any. “No, you can’t have this – it’s for that awful – I mean that
lovely
woman Brownhilde. Where
is
she?”
    My heart sank. “Granny, what’s in that cup?”
    â€œWhat, this cup? Why, it’s a mead cup, you silly boy. It’s got mead in it – you know, honey and water and, er, things.”
    â€œWhat kind of things?” I said sternly.
    â€œJust… a little medicine. It’s special. I’ve been giving it to as many of our guests as I can. Especially the ones from Hildefjord. It’s gone down really well.”
    â€œWhat
kind
of medicine?”
    â€œWell, let’s just say, there’ll be a lot of visitors to the latrines for the next few hours. I guess
they’ll
be getting to the bottom of things as well!” And she snuffled and snorted at her own joke for a ridiculously long time. I waited until she finally stopped.
    â€œGranny,” I said.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œGive me the cup.”
    I thought for a moment she was going to argue, but then she just shrugged and handed it over. I poured the contents out onto the grass. “And you’re not to make any more,” I added.
    â€œCan’t anyway,” she said. “No more of the special ingredient left.” There wasn’t a traceof remorse in her voice. But I couldn’t reallyscold her. Not when I was holding my own guiltysecret right there in my hand.
    Without another word, I left my granny. I walked over to Queue and held out the bow he’d given me.
    â€œHere,” I said. “Please take back your Magic Bow. I was wrong to have asked for it in the first place.”
    But the Artificer didn’t take it back. “That bow isn’t magic, you silly boy,” he said gruffly.
    I stared. “But you told me… You said…”
    Queue shrugged. He was looking a little embarrassed, which was unusual for him. “Look, it was your first Games. I told you what I thought would calm you