Fable - Ask Westward - A Tundra Tale P. 2

[Maude]

One Day's Travel East of Indeholm
Eastern Shore of Boar's Head Lake
Early Evening

Solveig Odasson Hugi Arnor Skuldsson Ivar Brenna Ruvsá Valthar Gylfi Runarsson Magrin Kor

Standing at the edge of the forest, alone for only a short while, Maude surveyed a familiar scene that lay before her. It had been many years since she'd made the crossing to Indeholm and yet it almost felt as if nothing at all had changed. For a moment she was but a Ranger, seeking out the Jorn of Indeholm to enact the latest word of the King. Such a time of peace and growing prosperity, Maude could not even have imagined the events that would take place in three years time and bring her to stand on these shores again as what she was today.

"Do you see it?" she asked the first of her group to join her, giving them a somber glance before nodding toward the west, "The glow of Indeholm is only a day away now."

They had traveled a great distance and a moon had passed since she left the Capital with her people in tow. Though the group size was smaller now, it held no less significance than before. A fleeting smirk curled her lips as Maude turned her back to the frozen lake and made her way into the trees once more, "We will make the crossing with the sunrise. Tonight we rest. Make camp, I will hunt."

 

[Ivar]

Ivar trudged through the frozen plains of the Tundra. His steps crunched, his weight causing some of the more freshly pact snow to press down.

It had been a long time since he had traveled this far west. In fact the last time he had come here his father had still been alive. A deal had been struck then, some minor bargain that he had all but forgotten about now. As a child he had been far more interested in the people of Indeholm than he had whatever merchant business his father had been conducting.

The bears, the Nordenfiir as they were called, had seemed like something out of the story books then. They still were in an odd sort of way. Men and women who could transform themselves into the great beasts of the Tundra were...unique to say the least.

He supposed that was why he ventured here now.

The Tundra was fast, and it's residence were many, though often they preferred not to talk with one another.

Kjos, he knew, was more open than most, even allowing the Nordwiir within it's harbor as long as they caused no troubles. Ivar doubted he would be welcome with open arms, but he hoped that perhaps somebody remembered his father, and the way they had treated the Exile and his son.

 

[Solveig Odasson]

Hugi | Arnor Skuldsson | Ivar | Brenna | Ruvsá | Valthar | Gylfi Runarsson | Magrin Kor | Maude

Indeholm. Even without the events of the journey South, it had been a long while since he had been home. Since his apprenticeship, at the least. It was as intended. A few times he would catch news of his family and such from traders or rangers, but that was it.

Now he stood before it, boar hide armor covered in a black fur cloak. His axe and hammer rode his hips as always, and he idly traced the rune on the back. The rune that had started it all, really. He had come to know the symbol as being the one for Volund, one of the Old Gods. And though the experience hadn't quite settled him entirely, and never really would, he certainly had more moments of calm since the battle. Though not enough to prevent the exasperations of Brenna, or the fury of Glyfi.

He was who he was, after all.

Reaching into his pack, he nodded as Maude spoke, and watched the surface of the frozen lake before turning to help make camp with a smile. His glyphs and everything had changed, albeit subtly. And it felt very strange to be returning to where he had been raised after so much.

 

[Tyrfingr]

Most saw the different callings in life to be fundamentally different from each other. A hunter sought prey. A woodsman foraged the treasure of the forest. A sailor dared the seas. A craftsman created tools and trinkets from the raw elements. But they were not so different from each other. All required devotion. All brought one closer to the hidden parts of the world. All brought about a sense of loneliness.

Tyrfingr was aware of this, but it was all the worse as he gazed upon these new lands. A hunter, a woodsman, a sailor could all return home. A craftsman could take a break to speak with loved ones. An exile could do none of these. No home left to him for now, all he had was his devotion to his works. A devotion that had drawn him to this foreign place because of rumors of fabled boars that roamed the woods.

The norseman just sat as his campfire crackled. His gaze was directed out towards the frozen water. The thought of fishing had crossed his mind before, but a small hole chopped into the ice had put a stop to it. Instead he just sat on a warmed rock at the beauty of this place as salted and smoked fish was warmed over flames. The same meal he had been having for days.

Tyr just stared. No movement. No sound. Just a statue pretending to be a man.

 

[Ruvsá]

Jorn Aggar's Hall
Indeholm
Near Sunset

Ruvsá was the youngest and newest of Aggar's harem, and as such she was not always included in certain matters of the settlement, despite the fact that she was a Shield Maiden. The only Shield Maiden in his harem, at present.

She was, however, the most cunning of his jarnas, though she'd gone to great lengths to hide that from Aggar and the others, especially when she'd begun to see his true colors mere months after her arrival in Indeholm. After Bornvenir slaughtered the rightful King. But she'd sensed no outrage from the other jarnas, and had realized fairly early on that she alone among them was loyal to Iordhan's line.

She should have realized sooner, in some ways. She was the only jarna who had not given Aggar at least one child, and since none of them were free to pursue other allegiances of affection, they would naturally gravitate toward the one who had fathered their children.

One hitch she'd not quite anticipated was the outright scorn from the other jarnas when she'd failed to conceive during her first heat there, but so long as none of them ever learned that had been intentional on her part, she wasn't too concerned. She could deal with their belittlement and exclusion. In this case, it granted her a measure of freedom.

What she could not deal with was treason. Dishonor. And Aggar's allegiance to Bornevir despite the usurper's cold-blooded murder of the rightful king was just that.

Following King Iordhan's untimely death, Ruvsá had not missed the way activity in Indeholm had shifted. In the early days of the usurper's reign, she'd hadn't missed the way scouts--spies--would be waiting to report to Aggar in the silent watches of the night when she was dismissed from his bed. It had been sporadic, at first, only two or three times a month. Then, the activity increased upon hearing rumors of a surviving heir. And again, most recently, upon receiving the news that a Queen had taken the throne from Bornvenir in honorable Havraekae.

And now, Ruvsá watched, silently, as the spies returned and reported directly to Jorn Aggar.

Aggar was not even bothering to hide most of his machinations anymore, if his informants were meeting with him without bothering with subterfuge.

Ruvsá, though, had spent the last year watching and gathering the necessary information to bring Aggar's treason to light. She was still biding her time, though something was about to happen. She could feel it deep in her bones, the instincts of a battle-honed warrior. She just wasn't sure what, or when, other than soon.

So she continued watching, silently, as the spies reported to Aggar, making note of who Aggar spoke with immediately afterward, of the orders that were given, lurking nearby to catch what whispered words she could hear over the hustle and bustle of the hall.

---

Some Hours Later...

Ruvsá was not the first woman to sleep with a powerful man she despised in order to gain something, and she doubted she would be the last, but that knowledge couldn't stop the sourness of the fact from twisting her mouth in distaste as she quietly slipped out of Jorn Aggar's bed. She hadn't been able to shake the impending sense of... something that began earlier in the hall, and knowing that Aggar would likely want her in his bed till morning since he'd already met with his informants before dinner, she'd risked slipping a sleeping powder into his mead. A slow-acting one that would only make his sleep a little deeper. He could be roused with great effort by someone, but she would be able to slip away unnoticed.

She retrieved her clothes, silently redressing in the darkness before exiting the room like a shadow. As she slipped her cloak on, she checked the hidden pocket on the inside, holding in a sigh of relief as her fingers met the parchment she'd tucked inside it hours ago.

Now, she needed to visit the Ruuk Master...

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

A familiar lock of red hair had once again asked for his services.

It'd been some time that he had been home, reacquainting himself with his people- his customs, and in a way, himself. But Arnor had yet been pressed to venture home, to the desolate memories and sins of his own making. It was still there, waiting for him. In his dreams, he saw it as a distant camp in a dense wood, something that he would eventually have to return to if he were to survive the night.

But he kept himself occupied, busy and otherwise absent-minded from that task by agreeing to all manner of tasks and adventures and quests, and such had brought him here- not quite home, but closer to it.

Arnor ran a sharpening stone over his axe, not particularly interested in going hunting. He packed enough salted meats and cheese to last him quite a while. Perhaps they were interested in the task, but Arnor was content to go to sleep and enjoy the view for the time being.

 

[Baise]

Valthar stood at - stood on - the water's edge. The ice was thin where it met the land. It cracked underfoot in a particularly satisfying way. Here at the very edge it was thin enough to shatter.

He saw Maude - his queen - heading back towards the camp out of the corner of his eye. Rather than follow, he simply turned his head to listen.

They were setting up for the night. He had assumed as much. Valthar had hoped that just journey would have come to an end when he reached his home shores. That was not the case. After making it half way across the world, what was a little further?

After a moment more of watching the sunlight fading into the ice, he turned back. Valthar walked past where Arnor was sitting, turning to face him.

"I am Valthar," he said plainly, not one for introductions. "We could set down a fire here," he added, sweeping a hand at the fairly bare earth ahead of where he sat.

 

[Maude]

The evening hours arrived with a reprieve from the usual inclement weather of the tundra. Though the night's chill was bitter, the stillness of the frozen air was welcome in place of the snowstorms they'd pushed through from Kiringsaal. Maude stepped lightly and quietly through the trees, moving toward a small and sheltered valley between the shallow mountains. Keeping downwind was essential - she meant to bring in a stag, maybe two, in order to have something to offer upon her arrival in Indeholm.

Though the area was better known for its wild boar, the residential herd of caribou was large and healthy and should be taking up shelter in the valley for the evening. Unfortunately she didn't get that far; as Maude came to the edge of the treeline she was met with the scent of a man on the wind. Human, possibly Nord, but certainly not a Nordenfiir. Not entirely uncommon across the vast expanse of Eretejva, but less common this close to Indeholm where she knew outsiders to be met with less than warmth.

Before long she'd tracked the wanderer to a game trail following the outskirts of the woods. She readied her bow and nocked an arrow, stepping out into the open where they could see one another.

"Hail stranger," Maude spoke up, "what brings you so far west?"

Ivar

 

[Ivar]

Ivar froze.

He was no stranger to having arrows pointed at him, no stranger to being threatened by women either. His feet came to a stop in the crunching snow, eyes focusing on the woman just ahead of him as he raised his hands away from his sword and the ax on his belt.

There would be no arrows stuck in him today. "Hail!"

Ivar called back, looking the woman up and down. He could not tell whether she was human or not, she looked it, but from what he understood that did not really mean much when it came to the Nordenfiir. His palms facing towards her he continued.

"I come to seek friends of my father." He explained. "Those who traded with him in years passed."

The Northman did not move, though his eyes flicked towards the forest on either side of him to see if there were any others with her. "I mean no one any harm."

He offered in all truth.

Maude

 

[Brenna]

There was a certain freedom that came with being viewed as young and inexperienced that Brenna was enjoying within the little group. People didn't seem to batter too much of an eye when she lingered over some interesting plant or scent so long as she kept within eyeline of the group. Without the pressure of being one of the protectors and having now fulfilled her task of delivering her works to the priests, Bre was pretty sure she was one of the few who could actually claim to be enjoying the long trek. Even more so because their next stop was a place that the young Nordenfiir had wanted to visit since she had sat upon her fathers knee and heard stories of the shield maidens who rode on the back of horses so large their hooves could break a mans skull with ease.

What had caught her eye this time though was something far more exciting.

On quick, light feet that left barely a mark behind her, the wheat-haired girl jogged over to where Sol was and grabbed his arm in an excited manner. The bright smile was the only greeting she gave him before proceeding to tug on his furs. Despite her time with the others their lessons in Signs were going slow and often it was easier to simply take somewhere to what she wanted to show them rather than explain in a hodgepodge mix of signing, charades and heavy eye-rolling (the latter generally reserved solely for Solvig and Gylfi).

* * *
Solveig Odasson​

 

[Solveig Odasson]

Shaken from his revere, he grinned rather softy and arched an eyebrow at Brenna and her urgency, but let her lead him. His pack flapped closed, whatever he was reaching for forgotten. He was learning her signs, albeit slowly. There was so much else on his plate these days. But she seemed pleased by the efforts he made, knowing it was what he could do. And she was still one of his best targets and co-conspirators. But understood the blacker moments when he would relive the battle with the lich and wights, and his... Part... In it.

That was a friend, if there ever was one.

So he followed her via his arm being yanked by a surprisingly strong tug for such a slight framed lass. Well, comparatively, anyway. She seemed quite eager, and he supposed it was something either very funny or important. Or both.

Maybe she had put a weasel in Gylfi Runarsson 's boot again. Or better yet, two weasels?

 

[Gylfi Runarsson]

Tyrfingr​

Go on, Gylfi comfortably signed to Brenna. Having spent the most time with Brenna compared to the others, he had almost energetically dedicated himself to practicing the signs with her. "Talking" to her, after all, was fun. With a step lighter than any other in the group could hope to manage, Gylfi watched his ward skip off, dragging Solveig along to share in her peaked curiosity. His hand dropped to rest on his hip, and he circled in place, quickly taking in his surroundings. Satisfied, Gylfi let out a quiet snort and stepped towards the lake. As he passed Valthar and Arnor, he offered a painfully awkward nod towards them.

Boar's Head Lake was where Gylfi's father had taught him to fish and where Gylfi subsequently learned the frustrations of not catching a single thing. Fishing required patience. Gylfi had little to spare. Thoughts of home came next. Sent to the capital in place of his father to trade, Gylfi found his return delayed as he was swept up in the Queen's journey.

Interrupting his thoughts was the flickering of light some way down the bank. He quickly glanced over his shoulder before making his way towards the fire. Given the previous occurrences of their journey, Gylfi became quick to suspect danger (though his suspicions were often unnecessary).

As he approached, he caught the mixed scents of fish and man.

"Well-met," Gylfi called out.

 

[Brenna]

The young Nordenfiir had smelt them first.

Boars had a very distinctive scent and she had only come across it a few times when the large festival to celebrate the Pale King took place in Faarin. They were illusive nearer the wastes that Brenna called home, preferring the thicket of forests where they could hide and feast on low shrubs. It hadn't taken long to track the scent to signs that a small clump of them had passed through these parts fairly recently. There was a clump of fur, signs of bracken broken under little trotters, low branches that had been snapped by their hunched backs.

It wasn't that Bre wanted to eat a rare dish either that had made her quite so excited when she had first caught a whiff of them. Oh no, what made these piggies so much more interesting was how the folk near here used them. For she would never dream of getting on one of their backs yet the people of Indeholm had made it an artform. She has also seen Solgrin boast of how he would be able to easily tame a wild boar and make it his steed to Gylfi, and Bre thought it would be good for his ego if they put that to the test.

Triumphantly, she stopped and pointed at the clear footprints that led further off into the forest.

Oh her grumpy bear was going to just love it when she brought Sol back covered in pig shit.

* * *
Solveig Odasson​

 

[Solveig Odasson]

He followed her, remaining silent and watching the forest. For his part, he tried to watch over Brenna as much as he could without treating her like glass. She was still of a fierce people, same as he. But something in her nature made him a little less prone to the more annoying or risky side of things.

Then she pointed out the hoof prints and other sign. He stiffened.

The taming of a beast such as this required specialty tools. Typically a pair or trio of people or more. Spears in case the worst happened and the noble creature had to be put down. And active preparation. Solveig had an axe and a smith's hammer. And his hands, though functional, were still often wracked by pain and spasms from the ordeals he had suffered.

Still... Something almost stubborn woke up in him and seeing her expression. He knew it because he often wore it. The look of the trickster ready to see an unwitting dupe fall into the track. With an odd look to her, almost a cross between determination and reproach, he reached up. Running his thumb along the bared blade of his axe, he scrawed something in blood over his forehead, the slight slice already clotting on his finger.

Immediately, scents and colors and sounds became sharper, his body felt lighter. It wouldn't last, this quickening. But it might see him turn the tables on his friend. The hunt began as he motioned her forward. His father, uncle, and two cousins had all been or all were boar riders. He had grown up enamored of the legends. He would do his best to join the today. The beast was close, and not long separate from their location.

 

[Maude]

"Of course you don't," Maude returned to the stranger shortly, though her narrowed eyes conveyed a lingering sense of suspicion. The green shifted over his figure, her heels shifted through the snow, the bow was lowered into a neutral position. She was curious if nothing more, "Who is your father and where did he trade?"

Ivar

 

[Brenna]

Brenna's sly smile turned into a mischievous grin when he seized her offered challenge with both hands. There was a touch of respect, despite the humour, in her eyes though. She had heard enough stories to know that what he was about to try an accomplish was a dangerous sport even when well prepared. Perhaps she shouldn't be encouraging him to proceed along such a dangerous path - usually she was the voice of reason when it came to Solveig and Gylfi - but there was some sort of thrill in a hunt such as this. Even her father hadn't attempted this. So she threw her usual cautiousness to the wind and then set off after the tracks.

Hunting in Faarin was a natural part of life and the people there prided themselves on their skill. Bre might have begun her lessons later on in life when she had proven herself worthy to join the Cadets, but she had shown herself to be as stubborn as her father with her mothers talent. That, combined with the pairs energy for what was to come, they made good time.

Before long they same to an entrance to a cave, overgrown with the knotted roots of trees. The pair positioned themselves downwind of the entrance so as not to alert the inhabitants to their appearance. Bre motioned to the footprints; some had gone in but no fresh ones showed they had yet come back out.

A bottle of meade says you don't stay on longer than a minute.

 

[Solveig Odasson]

"A kiss says I ride it all the way to camp"

There was naught else said as Solveig walked into the cave with a crack of his neck. But not before he drew axe and hammer, handing them to her, and stripped off the hide armor and cloak to the side motioning Bre to stay to that area, shivering in the cold but not reaching for the cloak. No use having things get tangled. His steps showed a caution more than his boastful return wager did. Bre and he had flirted, much to the rage of "Ragey McRageface" Gylfi Runarsson . Thought that could be selfish, or that he thought Solveig a poor choice. Or just the man's general disposition to life.

Within the cave came small grunts and noises, and Sol smiled as he spied the source. Piglets! Well, they passed for piglets. Truthfully they were the size of fully grown boars elsewhere. All things considered, it might be easier to take one and rear it up. Less fierce in battle, easier to train thus. He began to approach the sleeping rut more, eyeing them to try and think his tactics over. Mother wouldn't be gone long, after all.

No maker of the other prints could be found.

Brenna

 

[Brenna]

Brenna's humour faltered and shock painted itself across her face for the briefest of seconds. Mutely she took the offered goods of hide and weapon and then shook her head, more to clear her own thoughts than anything else. The repercussions of Solveig even attempting to claim his reward meant it was probably a good thing he was going to lose this wager. Though, perhaps a kiss with a fist was better than none. She winced at the mental image. Once more she shook her head and turned her attention instead to watching the surroundings of the cave. The two bears were probably not the only things who would happily take the risk to hunt the boars. If there were piglets in there it would make good eating for many predators that stalked the snowy plains of the Tundra.

Her stomach rumbled at the thought.

He couldn't have been gone for longer than ten minutes when Brenna caught the scent of another boar. Her body tensed and slowly she peered out over the top of the bush she was crouched behind. She needn't have bothered. The monster was almost as large as Hugi in his bear form which went someway to explaining why its trotters shook the earth when it walked. Large, monstrous tusks protruded upwards ending in dangerous spikes that seemed to gleam.

This was a terrible idea.

Should she shout a warning? The thing was still snuffling around outside so she had a chance but noise would alert the boar. Instead, Brenna slowly slunk forward to get a better view into the darkness of the caves mouth. Once she was closer she bent and scooped up a bit of the frozen pig shit that littered the clearing and hurled it blindly into the cave towards the shadowy figure she could only presume was Solveig.

 

[Tyrfingr]

Boars. Lake. Fish. Trees. Stone. Boars....

Tyr's mind had become preoccupied with what was around here to use for crafting. Normally the range of his thoughts would be wider and tighter knit like a bait fish net, but it was currently blighted by his anxious feelings about his current situation. If he could separate the two he would, but they were ultimately linked right now due to his salvation being a new masterwork.... One that involved boars?

A bit of a sigh escaped him. He earned his place as an adult and a crafter in his clan in part due to boars. But a masterwork hardly seemed likely even if the boars around here were as special as he had heard. They were still far too common to be the key for him yet again earning his place back in the clan.

The sound of feet followed by a greeting brought Tyr back into the moment. His gaze turned towards his visitor. A quick up and down to take them in was made as a wide smile crossed his face. Likely this was a nordenfiir. They were the locals here. Didn't mean he was likely to be aggressive but also didn't mean this man wouldn't be. No one no matter how friendly should be assumed to be a friend. His clan's history taught that well enough.

Hospitality was also his people's custom. Best he lead off with that.

"Well met stranger. Need warmth and some food in your belly? Got both to share." Tyr said cheerfully as he motioned towards his fire.

He didn't really have the extra food to share and he didn't have another stone pulled up to sit on, but that wasn't going to stop him.

So the man got up and pulled up another stone about the right size to sit down on by the fire. He left the warmed up one for this stranger and took the cold one for himself. Hopefully this little visit was going to be pleasant.

Gylfi Runarsson

 

[Ivar]

Ivar let his hands down, his muscles relaxing slightly.

An arrow wouldn't kill you, but what came after it most certainly would. Especially in lands like these. One wrong step and he could find himself in the maw of one of the bears quite easily. Best to tread lightly and honestly. "My father was Sivrik of Kjos."

Though that had not been his title by the end of his life. Kjos had exiled him for a crime he did not commit, though most would still not admit as such.

"In all truth I do not know what he traded in Indeholm, it is why I am here." He frowned a moment. "He is dead near a decade now, and I hope to retrace some of his path."

Before he left the Tundra.

Maude

 

[Maude]

"Either you are lying," Maude returned, "or your father was a very lucky man. Indeholm did not trade with outsiders ten years ago," a sigh passed through her lips, manifesting before her face as a plume of fog that quickly filtered away into a cross breeze, "in fact I do not think they do so today, still. But," she pulled the arrow from the string of her bow, giving the west a short glance, "I mean to change that."

"Come with me, stranger. You will hunt with me and in return I will help you track down your father's steps in Indeholm."

 

[Ivar]

He frowned for a moment, not quite understanding.

Ivar had memory of being in this place, his father meeting someone here. If it was not for trade then what? What business could an exile of Kjos possibly have with the Nordenfiir? Lips thinned for a brief moment and he hesitated, then nodded.

"That, I can do." Whether on one end of the Tundra or the other, the hunt was something honored by all.

Having been forced to live outside of the city for most of his life, Ivar was well accustomed to hunting. Near the Free City it was most often Snow Deer, though more than once he had hunted bigger game. Pelts and meat fetched a good price back in the markets.

Slowly falling into step behind her Ivar, shifted the pack on his shoulder. "You are Nordenfiir then?"

She spoke of changing Indeholm, and he could only assume that change would come from within.

 

[Maude]

Maude did not allow him to maintain his path behind her. Suspicions and heightened needs of security were still foremost on her mind. Heading out into the valley alone with a stranger was probably a terrible idea, but Maude knew the trails of the Scouts here, and they would not be far away. If Ivar turned out to be a Blod'valhar then she had a better chance to capturing him alive on her own.

She paused, looked back to him and motioned with her head for him to take the lead, "Yes," a fleeting and faint smirk curved her lips, "last I checked. Are you familiar with my people?"

 

[Ivar]

"As much as an outsider can be." Well, that was probably not true. He was no scholar, nor had he really spent much time around the Witches tent listening to her stories. Braum probably knew more than he did.

Ivar slowly stepped in front of Maude, deciding that if the woman was going to pierce him with an arrow she already would have done so.

The moment he was ahead she would notice the way he walked change. His footfalls became a bit more quiet, his eyes flickered low in search of tracks. It was clear that he was an experienced hunter, even without carrying a bow. "My father used to tell me stories."

His voice was quieter as he spoke.

"Men who could turn into bears, women who could tear you limb from limb." He could remember Sivrik telling him those tales. They had seemed almost as fascinating as the Frost Wyrms back then.

Maude

 

[Baise]

There was a phrase he had heard in the summerlands. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. He looked out across the frozen lake and felt it was appropriate. When his boat had set out from the southern lands he had thought his journey at an end. Then the murders had started and he had been caught up in political machinations the moment he set foot on his own soil.

Now, after being attacked by strange tundra beasts on the journey, the end was in sight. Even this end, Indelholm itself, was likely to be another test.

Valthar let his gaze slide across the view one last time before setting to getting another fire going. In the dying light it was quite remarkable. Brenna and Solveig had set out somewhere. Maude had gone hunting and Gylfi had meandered further down the bank.

He assumed Maude would be back before long and the others might have scattered, but he intended to get on with cooking whatever she brought back as soon as possible.