Swift, Silent, Deep
From Fimbulwinter: A Ski Saga, by Nathan Alexander Ross
We’re pleased to publish an excerpt of Nathan Alexander Ross’s fantastic debut novel, Fimbulwinter: A Ski Saga.
About Fimbulwinter:
Ian Winters only ever wants one thing in life: snow. Well, he could also use a raise, would rather not get evicted, and he also wouldn’t mind having a girlfriend. But then he meets Linnea Starling, and a really tall Scandinavian dude with wooden skis. Next thing he knows, he’s the bearer of a powerful artifact carved from the living wood of Yggdrasil. Now, he and Linnea are the only ones who can help the Norse gods stop an even bigger apocalypse than Ragnarök: the eternal end of snow and of the earth itself.
Nathan Alexander Ross’s debut is a relentlessly engaging fantasy about ecological crisis, the power of love, and the thrill of pure, fresh powder.
Fimbulwinter is currently available for pre-order, and releases to the world 21 June, 2025. See this link for more information (and for a special discount).
Swift, Silent, Deep
The snow just kept falling, and the coverage was incredible; a rare thing for this time of year. Some ski resorts have terrain parks, but this whole mountain was a terrain park. As Lan slid off a rock he was in awe of how much powder blanketed every surface. Even with the crowds, there was almost too much snow to get tracked out.
Linnea had rescheduled for another night, which was okay: she at least still wanted to meet up. She seemed genuine, so Lan tried to avoid overthinking it by skiing, his solution to most problems.
Lan wished he was working because he’d have more access to the slopes. The benefit of working for a ski resort was in the absence of rules that applied to you, at least in certain departments. People in black jackets could cut in front of every line, poach the soft closures (meaning no ropes), and hard closures (with intelligence), skiing all the untouched snow the tourists skied right past.
Lan had seen a few friends while skiing earlier that morning, but he had now lost them in the powder day frenzy. Nuking fat flakes created blind vertigo, every turn sending up a wave to impede vision. He wanted to find them again and get high, but he was near one of his favorite smoke shacks. So, instead, he dipped past a closed sign and headed for it.
Lan slid in and noticed some glass bottles in the corner next to a huge fur blanket. He hadn’t seen those the other day — maybe someone else had come by recently. He started rolling but had to work fast because his fingers were already cold.
Suddenly, a strange feeling rushed through him. He strained his ears and thought he heard someone skiing up to the shack. “Fuck” he muttered to himself. Ski patrol wouldn’t be so cool to him if he wasn’t in uniform — this area was still closed.
Lan glanced through the window of the shack and saw what he thought was a kaleidoscope of colors in the snow. Then, he saw a big grey beard just before a huge man burst through the entrance. Furs and leathers and snow blasted into the doorway and Lan jumped back, cursing to himself. A booming laugh filled the small shack, and Lan shuddered.
Seconds felt like minutes as the two stared at each other. Every piece of the man’s clothing was lined with fur and looked almost hand-made. Long fluffy ear flaps couldn’t conceal his even longer hair — gold but streaked with grey — or his beard hanging down to his broad chest. The man had eyes like glacier ice, and Lan couldn’t shake the impression that he was looking at a Viking on skis.
Lan stepped towards his board instinctively, preparing to leave, mildly afraid. But then the man said in a booming voice, “Happy solstice, young man.”
Lan looked at him and said nothing except a barely-audible “Huh?”
“You know … winter solstice? The beginning of Yule? The longest night of the year?”
Lan barely understood the man’s accent but picked up the meaning. “Oh — yeah, man, that’s cool. I love the solstice, better thing to celebrate than Christmas.”
“Drink?” The man pulled a glass bottle out of his coat pocket, matching the ones in the corner.
Lan held up the joint he’d been trying to roll. “Sure. Uh, spliff?”
The man nodded, then passed the bottle to Lan. Lan looked at the intricate tree etching on the bottle and then took a swig. It tasted like cold fire and burned as it went down.
“What is this stuff?” Lan asked, wincing.
“Aquavit … the water of life. It’s my own blend, I guess. Have more.” The man took a long drag, and then another, then smoked most of it.
“Ah, okay.” Lan didn’t know what he had called the liquor; he looked with deep confusion at both the bottle and the tiny stub of the joint the man handed back. Then, he pulled out his phone to check the time. He flipped it open and then blinked hard against a blinding white light. It was broken.
“What is that?” the strange man said with amazement.
“Yeah, I dunno, I guess it’s my phone. Seems a little fucked up right now. But that’s okay. I don’t want to have a phone. I feel like I’m in a techno dystopia where everyone is just staring at their phones all the fucking time. You know?” And then, noticing he was ranting, Lan asked, “You got a phone?”
The man smiled gruffly. “I do not have a phone.”
Lan interjected excitedly, “Really? That’s awesome!”
“… But I like yours,” the man continued. “A techno dystopia — you are correct on that one, but you forgot the Gnostic part.” Then, suddenly, he added: “I need to go do one more lap before dark, because the solstice events must be prepared for.”
“Oh!” Lan was feeling giddy, the accent was getting easier to understand. “Wanna shred with me?”
The man seemed confused, then suddenly replied, “Indeed, shred. We shall shred together.”
Lan laughed and then looked at the man’s massive wooden skis. “Those skis are huge! And wood? Bro, that is so sick! You’re so — retro.”
The older man replied, “Retro — yes, retro is good. The ski is an ancient technology full of myth and legend, a Stone Age tool. I like to appreciate it as such. I hope you can, too.”
“A Stone Age tool — yeah, I never thought of it like that. I like it. Where did you even come from?” Lan said, feeling like the drink was kicking in strongly.
The man seemed briefly lost in thought before speaking. Lan thought he looked almost sad. Then, in his strange accent, the man finally said, “I … I have been displaced from my homeland for now, like so many in this world.”
“Displaced from home?” Lan said. “Oh shit! I am being evicted myself!”
“I feel we will all be back in our rightful place here soon,” the peculiar man said eerily. “But for now, it is time to ride.” He glanced at Lan one last time, winked with those deep blue eyes which made Lan feel somehow colder, and said: “Swift, Silent, Deep.”
Did he just reference the ski legends of Teton Hole? Lan was amazed — he’d just said their mantra. Stoke pulsed through Lan’s veins in disbelief. He strapped in and followed his new friend into the forest.
Thinking he would have no trouble keeping up with this old man with wooden skis, he was baffled to find that was not the case. He rode as fast as he could and pushed himself to his limits.
A few thousand feet of powder riding later, the two looked like sliding snowmen. The man’s beard was so plastered he could have been eating cake with no hands. Lan took his board off and laughed as he watched the snow fall from the man’s long locks in heaves. The strange man then pulled skins from his fur coat and started putting them on his old skis.
“You’re going back up? On skins?” Lan asked with surprise.
“I am indeed. It’s the solstice, I must go light the Yule fires. Nice riding with you. We shall meet again soon. Keep up the trickery, I appreciate your lack of a smart phone, we will meet again soon. Strange times coming. Oh, and good luck tonight!”
“Tonight?” Lan wondered what he meant.
The massive man then began skinning back towards the hill. Lan gawked at him in disbelief. He suddenly decided he needed a photo of this guy, but it was getting dark.
He put down his backpack and pulled out his camera, then shouted “Yo, bro!” to get the man’s attention.
The bearded man looked back briefly. Lan zoomed in and took his photo. The large, strange man then disappeared into the woods, leaving Lan standing there feeling like he was tripping. What was in that damn drink?
Lan suddenly suspected it wasn’t just booze.
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