Leaving the village

Meeting dwarves could be fun? What was I thinking? I'm cold, wet, tired and cold. And I smell of Rime Giant. How did I get into this position? Let me think back.

We gathered supplies from our village and said our farewells to family and friends. I spoke to Eanfrid and told him of my situation. He was sad that I was leaving him, but happy that I should have the opportunity fulfil my dreams. Of course, I'm not actually sure what my dreams are, but I know they don't involve being a fishmonger. I am worried about Eanfrid's failing eyesight and how he might cope without me. But I asked the Reeve to look out for him and Aldhelm was more than happy to agree.

I also said farewell to my mother and father. It seems I am drifting further and further away from them. I have lived with Eanfrid since the age of seven and I am much closer to him than my own parents. And of course, my father has been so distant ever since the drowning of my poor cousin. I think he still holds himselve responsible for that tragic event and even after all these years he has still yet to forgive himself. Perhaps... there is something I could do?

On the mountain

The mountains are harsh lands. The weather is unseasonably cold and the land itself is rough. On one evening, Godmund discovered the body of a small child that had been attacked by some kind of wolf or wild dog. The boy was presumably a child of one of the wild men. They inhabit the mountains and we shall need to be wary of them. I can almost feel their presence nearby, spying on us. Probably my imagination, I'm sure. As for the child, his throat had been completely torn out, as if attacked by a desperate animal. As it would turn out, wolves would be the least of our worries.

On a particularly cold and wet night, we made our shelter in a small cave. As Godmund stood on watch, a huge beast appeared from the shadows and attacked one of the mules. Godmund called out for help and Gwynaeth and myself dashed into the conflict. Middaeg joined us too, but the narrow confines made manoeuvring difficult and he dropped his sword. I stepped into his place and struck out at the beast - two flashes of my little seax both struck him deeply. Gwynaeth took advantage of a brief opening in the monster's defence and as it stumbled slightly she swung at its head. Blood sprayed everywhere as the creature feel to the ground dead.

"It is a Rime Giant" said Middaeg, when things had settled. "They hunt in these lands. Although I believe this one is only young."

"Do they hunt in packs?" I asked.

"Pairs" responded Middaeg. "This one is female."

With the weather becoming increasingly cold, someone suggested that the skin of the beast would help keep us warm. Godmund drew out a knife and started on the gruesome task of skinning the beast. Without the time or the tools to properly tan the hide, the fur smelt foul but it kept us warm. By the time the task was finished, the sun had risen and it was time to continue our journey.

Once again, as we travelled we all had an uneasy sense that we were being watched. At one stage, Godmund thought he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. I was certain that we were being followed by one of the wild men, but I would turn out to be very wrong.

That night, we took shelter again in a small cave. Our shelter was little more than a nook in the side of the mountains and we were forced to leave the mules exposed to the elements. Once again, we took turns on watch during the night. Gwynaeth and myself were on watch when another attack came out of the darkness. Another Rime Giant! I tried to alert the others and then quickly joined Gwynaeth in the fight. She struck out at the beast with her broadsword, knocking it to the ground. As it lay prone I swung at its injured leg. Two quick blows and the leg was severed completely and the beast was left to convulse in pain as it slowly died in a pool of its own blood.

The fight had been so quick, I barely remember what happened. But when I looked down at my left arm I saw nothing but splinters where my shield had previously been. Did the beast do that? What strength it must take to completely shatter several inches of wood! My throbbing hand reminded me of just how lucky I had been. Yes, it hurt, but it could have been much worse.

Middaeg looked at the felled beast and snorted "Ah, the male. It probably followed the smell of the pelts."

As Aelwyn attended to my injured hand, I wondered why Godmund had not realised the danger of carrying the Rime Giant pelts. He is an apprentice huntsmaster and should know these things. I suppose I can forgive him, he has had a harrowing few weeks. I'm glad my life is not as complicated as his. Or Alewyn's for that matter. I may complain about my life as a fishmonger, but it could be so much worse. Eanfrid was very good to me as a child and I must admit that I miss him somewhat. The village seems so very far away. Were it not for the magic of the oath, I think I might have turned back then.