Two weeks later, the land was covered by a layer of snow.
Eight days the thick, white flakes had fallen from the clouds; after that the temperatures had sunken rapidly that the breath froze in the air to fine gossamers of ice.
Men and beast sought the cosy warmth in house and stable, several wild inhabitants of the forest were drawn into direction town. More than once, the guard had to close the gates, because bears, lured by the smells, were lurking around the hedge wall of Bree.
Under these circumstances it was hardly possible for Frøydis to take trips to the chiming stones. But she did not want to wait until spring anymore, she burned too much with the desire to show Alfknutr her discovery as soon as he returned.
One evening, she returned in a light jog towards the closed town gate and stepped into the shine of the prepared torches.
»Who be there?«, called a guard from above. »Ah, the young outlander woman it is.« The enormous right wing of the gate swung back.
A man appeared in the broad bow and waved Frøydis in. She recognized him as Ransil Ferny, the captain of the town's militia. His face did not seem very friendly, the brown eyes rested inquiringly on her. »It is late, Frøydis. I wonder what might be in the forest so interesting that one must stay there until the falling of the night.«
»Only a few trees and hungry squirrels«, the young woman said quickly and wanted to dart immediately past the militiaman.
But his hand laid itself on Frøydis' shoulder. »Come with me in the guardhouse.«
»But Arnleif is waiting«, she protested. »You are not making yourself very fancied by her if I must tell her that I came home far too late, because of you.«
»I do not care a copper.« Ransil pushed her into the warmth of the small barrack room in which lay the equipment of the guards ready who would later at night began their service. The man motioned Frøydis a bit ungentle unto a chair, pulled the thick pelt-jacket from his shoulders and regarded her. »And now tell me, what you are really doing out there.«
»I feed squirrels and train them.« Frøydis remained persistent by her lie and crossed the arms before the chest; her eyes evaded the searching look of Ransil. She did not want to give price the secret of the chiming stones. Not before she had shown them to Alfknutr.
The man rubbed thoughtfully his black chin beard. »You are very often with the squirrels. The guards say that they observe several times a week how you leave Bree.« Ransil tilted the head a little to the side and inhaled. »We both know each other, Frøydis, and I would never dare to come to think that you would be responsible for something that would bring our town into danger. But the guards are becoming mistrusting. Some think you would meet with the outlawed hunters of Andrath to show them our best hunting spots. The old Goatleaf lady has seen them quite in the near when she was gathering firewood.« Keenly did he await the reaction of the young woman, whom he was undertaking more or less an interrogation with.
That is becoming even better, Frøydis thought desperately. Soini is planning crimes with the brigands and I am getting the scolding for it. »Nonsense«, she replied shortly. Her mind was working hectically. If she would accuse the pelt-hunter now, she would have no proof for her words. Maybe some of the kind people of Bree would believe her, but not so the entire town, no matter that Soini was not liked by most of them.
»Could you elaborate more?«, the militiaman tried to find out more.
»Complete nonsense«, Frøydis raised her words and looked to the side.
»It can become even worse«, Ransil warned in a fatherly tone. »Others name Sharkey's men with you in one breath. Some found it strange that you returned to Bree only after the tower was taken already and its guard killed.«
»So now I am even in cahoots with them? And I am meeting with them and the men of Andrath in the forest? Is that the newest?«. Frøydis flared up.
»I am only saying what is being told to me«, Ransil said, trying to cool down the anger of the young woman whose frosty blue eyes pierced now his own.
»Probably what badmouths are telling you, no?«, Frøydis countered, a little surprised about her bravery to talk like that to the captain of the militia. She stood up. »I am going home now. And tomorrow I am going again into the forest and train squirrels. And the day after tomorrow, too. As long as I like. And the squirrels I incite then against the town.« Outraged she went towards the door. »But maybe I am making plans together with Sharkey's men in secrecy how we can put Bree to ruins. And the hunters from Andrath will skin the people, so everyone got something of it.«
»Frøydis ... Under these circumstances it will not be possible for you to begin your duty as towerguard.« Ransil's voice did not sound glad about the news. »I have spoken with the other families and they see it the same way. No man of Bree would like it if an outlander - of whom some fear she could be with our enemy - sit in a tower to guard over the fate of the town. It would agitate the people terribly if they would know that you are an attendant.«
The young woman thought to feel how all of her blood left her head and shot down into her stomach. The handle of the door already in her hand, she turned with a pale face around. Alone already because of the unfair accusations she would not tell the truth. »That is mean, Ransil.«
The militiaman looked at her indifferently and nodded as sign that she was excused.
Swiftly did Frøydis leave the guardhouse, the disappointment had silenced her. As she had reached the mead hall of Jarnsalr, she cried hot tears of anger into her pillow, before she finally fell into sleep.
The next day, Frøydis spoke with Viglund during a training exercise about the rejection that she had gotten from the militiaman. The bald warrior, whose beard had turned in the years silver, simply grumbled something. »We will see«, was all that came over his lips.
Skjalddís had come to know him and befriended the old grump, as they all called him. It was said that he once belonged to a Jarl's guard in Dale, but had paid his duty with his right hand, that the Dwarves of the Erebor replaced with a mechanical construction for him to hold a weapon.
Later that day, she had agreed to meet with Arnleif, a young woman only a few years older than her. At first, when Arnleif had come into the mead hall, Frøydis had found her very eerie, as she was thin like a corpse and always dressed in black. Also had she been very sick. But with the coming of the winter, the woman had recovered and even refrained from wearing the hood and the veil, so that her beauty became all apparent. Frøydis admired Arnleif for the mystical aura about her, the black hair and the deep blue eyes.
Frøydis did not marvel too less as her friend appeared with a dog sledge. The construction allowed four wheels to be attached to the sides, with which one could also travel short distances without snow or over streets.
On metal skids did go over the frozen snow, Frøydis on the seat and Arnleif standing behind her to lead the dogs and the vehicle after her directions. Intentionally did the silver-blonde haired woman lead her friend far away from the usual road towards the edge of the forest. They used stakes in the ground to bind the dogs and the vehicle until they would return and disappeared into the thicket.
Frøydis knew every path and every tree and led Arnleif on wrong tracks at times, though still into the direction of the chiming stones. She had decided that her friend should know about them and also what she had observed that particular day.
She just wanted to step out of the protection of a hanging branch as on the side of the glade moved several shapes, clothed in white winter pelts and came forth from behind the trees.
Instantly, she became aware of her mistake and hurried back beneath the fir, threw herself to the ground and drew Arnleif with her.
»Frøydis, stop. It is far too cold«, protested the woman, but quickly was she silenced by Frøydis' hand on her mouth.
»Please, Arnleif, be quiet.«
The woman with the black hair wiggled herself free and seemed to see now the hardly recognizable hunters in their white garments that had almost the same color as the snow. »Men of Andrath«, it came over her lips. »What are they doing here?«
Skeptical did Frøydis look at her friend from the corner of her eye. »Do not say you think too that I show them the best of Bree's hunting grounds.«
»Ah?«, Arnleif made surprised. »Do they say that now?«
Frøydis relaxed. »I have overheard them, but forgotten that they were planning on meeting with ...«
»Soini«, her friend ended for her.
»How do you know?«
»Because he just stepped towards them.« She pointed to the spot without trees, where the men had gathered. Also Frøydis directed her attention again towards the glade, where the man of Bree was greeting his comrades with a grandiloquent gesture. »Are you getting what they are trying to do? It does not look as if they were after deer and game animals.«
»They have targeted a Blackwolf«, Frøydis explained to her. »Somebody in town has ordered Soini to catch it alive. And because he does not dare it alone, he calls help from Andrath, the coward.«
From their location out, they could not hear what the men were saying. Taking turns, they held different kinds of traps in their hands to probably agree on a suitable device that could be used without hurting the best too much.
Frøydis laughed quietly. »That is all just children's toys. The wolf will bite it to iron chippings.«
»Have you ever seen a Blackwolf before, you boaster?«, Arnleif wanted to know.
»But of course«, the young woman gave victoriously back and looked to the side to see her reaction. »We have met over there by the rocks. I sat on the tallest and the wolf was lurking around me.«
»Certainly, Frøydis«, Arnleif gave back, grabbed into the snow and hurled some of it over her friend. »Cool your fantasy.«
The white powder descended ice cold into her neck and spread inside nose and ears. »Stop that«, she reprimanded her, while she was trying to wipe clean her face. »Otherwise they will notice we are here.«
»They have left«, Arnleif said. »So I think, at least. In their pelts they are hard to spot against the snow. Almost invisible.« Arnleif stood up and snuck over the glade, looked around and finally gave her friend a sign, to be understood as that the hunters had left.
Frøydis heard the warning voice in her inner, but followed anyway.
They began to look for any tracks and tokens that the hunters had left. All what she needed was a proof for Ransil and she would have Soini by the collar.
»I do not think, we will find anything in the snow«, Arnleif said disappointed.
»Not so loud«, Frøydis retorted. »The others ...«
» ... could hear you?«, a known voice asked suddenly in their backs. »I found the playing of you as militiaman quite amusing.« Startled, Frøydis and Arnleif jumped up and turned around, only to see Soini who was grinning grubby. »So, Dale kid, is that not the wrong time of season to spy after people in the forest all alone.«
»She is not alone, you dimwit«, Arnleif riled back with a tone that was so very unusual for the thin woman. Her blue eyes formed to slits, the pelt-hunter stepped back a little, but caught himself again and tried to withstand the look of the black-haired woman. A battle that he seemed to loose.
»Begone, Soini«, Frøydis entered the fray, who suddenly became aware that she had only her self made carving knife as weapon with her. »Go and sit in your warm house. But do not forget to blame me and my kin for that the sables are not where you sit.«
The hunter snuffled deeply and spit into the snow. »I hope you remember my promise?« He closed in on Frøydis, who stepped bravely before Arnleif, to protect the fragile looking woman. »If I do not catch at least four dozens of these beasts within this winter, then I know who has angered the huntsman with her family. The farmers and fishers say that they have plenty, but I do not give a damn about that.« He tapped unto his clothes. »Pelts, I do not care for anything else.« He marched off, the snow crunched beneath his boots.
»You should try rats«, Frøydis called after him. »Then you can pull your own skin off.«
Soini stopped. Then he took quickly the bow from his shoulders, placed an arrow on the ready and turned around. The tip of the projectile aimed for the heart of the young woman. »Who should prevent that I kill you right now, dalish brat?«
»The Blackwolf behind you?«, Frøydis proposed in a sudden idea.
The pelt-hunter turned around with a curse to stand against the new impending danger. There the young woman ran already towards him and threw herself against his back. Both opponents fell into the snow; the arrow buzzed from the bow and disappeared without a target into the forest.
But Soini was quick. He drew a long knife and attacked Frøydis with it out of a sudden turn, piercing through her fur mantle and cutting her shoulder. »It does not matter if I skin you now or to the end of the winter.«
The pain and the anger let the heritage of her mother awake in Frøydis. Or so she thought. Feeling suddenly thrice as strong as before, she pushed Soini away. The ring with the two drakes glimmered in the sun and already by the first strike with her fist, that hit Soini at the lower jaw, the bone gave a cracking sound. The second shimmering attack broke his sniffing organ so exhaustive that it was hardly recognizable as such anymore, but rather hung as indefinable bloody chunk in the middle of the face of the pelt-hunter. The shattered remains of the nasal bone protruded as splinters through the skin.
Screaming, the Breelander jumped up and ran away, drawing a line of red drops behind him.
Arnleif hurried towards the side of her friend and looked at the wound at her shoulder. »By Béma, we must return, or you will bleed out.«
Frøydis felt dizziness overcoming her and Arnleif drawing on her clothes and backpack. She had heard that Arnleif was a talented healer, so that the bleeding was quickly stopped and that with a minimum of resources, for the only thing that had qualified for it, had been the linen in which Frøydis had wrapped their food for the day.
But Arnleif's skilled hands quickly quenched the pain, yes even fought off the dizziness with the help of some snow to Frøydis' face. »What will Soini tell the townsfolk, I wonder«, she said out loud after a while that they had rested.
»He will spread lies. And after I have broken his nose, I will probably have gotten his enmity forever, no matter whether the sables are coming or not.« He will hate me, if I undo his wolfhunt. A mean grin appeared on Frøydis' face. »We should return. The clothes are getting wet and the blood is sticky like resin.«
After wandering back through the forest, they reached the dog sledge. Frøydis did not even sit yet on the chair, there she fell already in a twilit half-sleep that let her experience the journey back to Jarnsalr like in a dream.
Her mother would have been proud of her. Like a warrior she had won this battle, although it was not quite clear yet how it would play out in the end. For the better or worse. She had to be probably especially careful now whenever she went into the forest, for her next run-in with Soini could maybe prove to be less lucky for her. Would he go so far, however as to kill her and to bury her beneath the snow? Absentminded, her fingers brushed over the ring. Was it me who was striking so hard or was it maybe just the ring?, Frøydis wondered on and inspected the metal. But in the light of the descending sun, she could not make much out, except that it was mostly green. She would not delve into it further and rather take it as another sign of Béma.
After good two hours, they reached Jarnsalr.
»You should get some rest.« Arnleif swung herself out of the sledge, helped her up the stairs to the door and waved to her. Then she disappeared behind the hall to care for the dogs.
With uneasy steps, Frøydis walked over the planks of the ground of the hall. She snuck past a snorring Viglund, so that she did not need to answer any uncomfortable questions and took off her clothes as soon as she was in her room, to let them soak in a water-filled bowl.
Carefully, she washed herself and touched the naked spot, where Soini's hunting knife had cut her shoulder. A soft burn and a dry crust told her that the process of healing had begun already. Arnleif's skills were almost a little too amazing, she found. She thought about pressing the woman on it, asking where she had learned to care for wounds like that and what technique she used, for such masterwork, Frøydis never had seen before. On the other hand, there was maybe a reason why Arnleif gave herself so detached and it would be unwise and not respecting, if Frøydis would inquire on a field that her friend wanted to remain silent about. The young woman owed Arnleif that discretion.
But from now on, she would go even more often into the forest, although being more careful, in order to sabotage the traps of the pelt-hunters, no matter what Ransil and the others thought of her.
They can go and jump in the lake. They can see for themselves who looks after the town, she said to herself, turned in her bed on the side and drew the blanket over herself.
