The man from the West.
I am a Beorning, I am a skinchanger.
And as both of these things, I have to admit, I grew up lucky, happy and well looked after.
My mother, Svala and father, Frekarn love us as dearly as any Beorning parents would. My mother is nurturing and kind, strict but a good woman. She puts much care into all she does. And like the jewellry, charms and dresses she makes with her hands, she has shaped us to be good women with her heart and head. She’s smart, my mother… She taught us patience and sense, or at least tried to.
My father is strong, stoic and a little grim… Though he loves us just as much as my mother, he just seldom shows this heartfelt. He wanted sons, warrior sons. And when the arrangement was made for him to take a Mate, he chose Svala. Their partnership was of little love to begin with. Though they say now they love each other dearly. So that is good!
He wanted warrior sons… Instead he got three daughters.
The eldest, Laerka, who I hear brings trouble… Though I do not believe it!
Agnes too, who has given them grandchildren and lives now in the North. She makes my mother very proud.
And the youngest. Me! Solveij!
My father knew I would be a great warrior one day. And so he encouraged me, nay… Pressured me to be one. I feel he still wants sons… Maybe I would give him grandsons one day… But a warrior may not live long enough.
Nonsense! I think I will live to a good age. I hope I age as gracefully as my mother.
But for now, I want nothing more than to follow in my father’s footsteps, to patrol the Pass in the mountains like he once did, to defend our lands from the Orcs and Wargs that would, given their way, destroy us.
Three years ago, in a rather muggy and warm Autumn, the quiet, sleepy evening was disturbed by the coming of two men from the Mountains.
One we all knew, he was my Cousin! The popular and very charming Andri who I adore! I think he left without leave and people were getting somewhat worried. I knew he would return and at least he returned in one piece. In fact he returned in more than one piece. He brought someone back with him.
A man from the West lands, beyond the Mountains. The first thing we noticed was his blonde hair and short and slim build. But he walked with a warrior’s gait and a heroic determination on his scarred face. He looked charming enough, if not a little different.
He introduced himself as Askelin of Breeland. He took Andri’s sister as Mate and came to get their father’s and the Chieftain’s blessing. I could see as much from the sour look Andri had. I’m surprsied he did not just throw him off the mountainside the moment he met him… No one would have heard anything out there in the desolate mist.
But he did not. This man of the West was the closest thing to news that we had regarding the whereabouts and doings of his sister, and perhaps he knew this. Though most of us were more curious about the Man that stood before the Chieftain.
We would hear his tales of strange, far off lands.
The long empty miles of frozen lands cloaked by the shadows of night unending, where colourful lights flickering in the sky like gentle ribbons, guiding the birds from the sea.
A forest of old, cleverly changing trees, tricking and trapping unwary travellers in their oppressive canopy to sleep forever beneath their roots.
Foggy mounds where dead kings lay and wake, dancing woe to all who tread above their tombs.
A great city sunken by an unending torrent of water, to lay beneath a lake as a drowned gem in the North.
Of vast moors where great armies clashed, leaving only ugly trolls to pick at their corpses under a crimson moon.
Of Dwarves and Elves too, and the lands they own in the West. Elves we know of. They are strange people, they would put trickery unto you if they could. I could see an Elf lulling us all to sleep in the Chieftain’s lodge one night with ancient songs, only to then steal our mead and never be seen again!
The Dwarves we have just as little trust in. They dig hard metals from the Earth and build great kingdoms of cold, loveless rock. But apparently they can make very good axes and swords!
And through all of that. It turns out he came from a simple town, not too unlike our own. A town called Bree. And much like the wild hedges that surrounds the Chieftain’s Lodge. They have a hedge too! I wonder if berries and roses grow in it.
After tales were shared and the mead was all drunk. More sober talks he shared with our Chieftain and I knew not the nature of these discussions. I simply went home to bed with the sweet taste of mead lingering on my lips and lofty thoughts of the outside world… Thoughts my mother cautioned me not to think too much of.but some days later, the two left for the Mountains again. No one knew why… Until they returned… Victorious!
My cousin claimed he cut down two dozen Wolfmen all on his own! We know he had help!
A feast was held in their honour, celebrating their achievements. Grimbeorn gave the Westman his blessing, but The rituals of foreign lands mean little to us. It only counts if we hold them! there could be no true mating ceremony unless Arindiis returned.
And one day she will. I know it!
