His breath rapid and shallow, Fell was running. Biting cold and the animalistic cries of the Ursine followed him, their howls growing ever closer as they always do. Pushing himself further Fell increased his speed trying to increase the distance from those horrendous claws and teeth. Dark ice surrounded him, a eon age bridge in the distance. Infront was a deep trench, many axe-lengths wide and impossible to cross due to the intense winds emerging from its seemingly endless depths. On the other side were fearsome warriors wielding a range of weapons from bows to hammers equipped with bizarre horned helmets inspiring fear within Fell. As the bear-kin neared Fell could only step backwards with his back turned to the frost filled trench. One Ursine was larger than the rest, its back littered with arrows and one of its fangs broken. With a roar seemingly capable of causing avalanches many settlements in distance it picked up speed, barrelling towards the terrified Fell. It pounced on a frozen Fell, blood-stained claw nearing his eye. Flinching backwards Fell stepped back falling into the endless trench.
Fell woke up in a cold sweat, thick furs wrapped around him in a simple tent made of furs with empty piles of furs around him. “Get up sleepyhead” spoke a kind voice from outside the tent “breakfast is ready, and it’s your favourite.”
Fell quickly unwrapped himself from his furs and swept his unusual red hair back and tied it with a strip of leather, and responded with a grumble “come on Ljos, one more minute” The lack of response told him what his elder sister thought of his request. Stepping out of his tent he walked into the centre of the camp. The camp had one large communal bonfire that had been put out and was instead smouldering with his tribe scattered around it. Spotting Ljos and the other children he shared his tent with nearby he walked over, shaking his head to get rid of that constant dream he’d been having for over a week.
“Here’s the birthday boy” smiled Ljos “in two days the Winter festival of the winter’s mother will happen, and you will receive your song strand and join us adults as men and woman of the Notai”.
A young boy of approximately 11 spoke to Fell “you’re so lucky your 13 now, I can’t wait to become of age! Finally I’ll get to use an axe! Well my Da has let me swing his but I can’t keep it but I really really want to and he says he’s already made one for me but he won’t let me see it and”
“Skarde!” interrupted Ljos “I’m glad your exited for your clan brother but if you don’t eat your stew then ill feed it to the Elnuks.” His eyes widening in panic the young boy rapidly scooped the stew into his mouth, then coughing as the fatty stew got caught in his throat
After eating and participating in the casual conversations of his fell tribesmen Fell began to wonder around the camp. The smell of woodsmoke filled the air, as the remains of last night’s bonfire lay on the snow covered ground, partially melted snow around it. The ever-hungry herd of Elnuks roamed around it, scraping at the ground for the exposed grass.
After having roamed the camp, Fell came upon two burly men who were sitting down on pelts, one being Njal, focusing on what looked like 7 white stones with unique markings on them. The other man pointed at a face down stone and spoke something to which Njal growled “shield”. He then flipped over the stone, scowled, and passed the other warrior a heavy looking leather bag. Turning around he noticed Fell looking curiously at him. “Happy birthday kid. Suppose now I can’t call you that anymore.”
“What are you playing?”
“A game we picked up from a Demarcian trader last season called tellstones. It’s too complicated though, too much thinking.” Then as if acting on a sudden thought he said “Oh right I’ve got you a gift. I’m sure you know that usually it’s a parent’s responsibility to give their child their first weapon but since your parents never had that chance, I thought I’d do it.” Njal stood up and walked to his nearby tent, and with a clatter of metal and a curse that was presumably a result of his fallen blacksmithing tools, he came out just after with a hand axe with a shorter handle than normal.
The Handle was made of simple wood with leather cross stitch and grip. The blade made of simple steel; it had a slight curve with a exaggerated bit. The surface was smooth, with a pattern beaten into it due to the blacksmithing surface. Along with it was a simple leather sheath, unembellished but sturdy, the leather thick and the inside greased with fat. While all these additions were made for battle not for decoration, it was clear how much time and effort the typically stubborn and cold Njal had put into forging and making this axe.
“Woven steel” Njal remarked. “Heat the steel, twist the steel rods along with untreated iron to prevent shattering while keeping strength. The blade will dull quickly though so look after it. When you are bigger, we will make another.”
Surprised and touched by the unexpected gift Njal had made for him Fell was speechless. “I… Just… Wow. Thank you Njal. I swear I’ll be a great warrior just like you!”
Speaking with a low chuckle “Don’t mention it kid. From now on, just before we setup camp we will spar, and I will teach you how to fight. Ill finish a shield for you tomorrow, and then we begin. For now relax and enjoy your birthday, and tomorrow you train to become a warrior. Just remember don’t show the elder that axe until you have received your songstrand, you know how she is about our traditions.”
Fell wandered around the tribe gradually getting to where the Elnuks were kept overnight. Elnuks are big hairy beasts, taller than everything but the strongest warriors and stronger than even them. Yet the elnuk of the Notai are tame and simply stay in a area nearby the tents, pushing through the fresh snow to get to the grass hidden underneath. As both a source of meat, milk and being a form of transport, the elnuk were the lifeblood to the nomadic Notai and as such were always guarded by warriors.
“Prepare the caravans, we leave as sun rises” called the elder, who despite not yelling her voice was so clear and loud even a roar made by the chosen of the storm would surely be jealous. “We continue our path and move to Hortha to trade, then further north to spread the message of the mother of winter”.
All of a sudden, the tribe of approximately 40 people became of a hub of activity. The rustle of furs, and clang of metal and the cries of people filled the air as an atmosphere of activity arose. Furs were gathered, tents collapsed and put into carriages, and Elnuks hooked up to the attached harnesses. All remaining firewood was gathered, such is the value of wood in the barren hills of southern Freljord.
Jogging back to the youngling’s tent Fell collected his little belongings – his sleeping furs, his collections of favourite stones and pebbles, and his new but incredibly treasured axe. Glancing around at the now empty tent he focused on his now empty bed of furs. In 2 nights he would no longer sleep there, joining the communal tent where all adults who are not warriors slept. Checking that no one was around, he pulled out the axe he had hiding in his belt under his furs. Removing it from the oiled sheath, he once again admired the beauty of the blade, twisting patterns crawling along the metalwork, shining from the sunlight peeking through holes in the tent. Having finished admiring the weapon, he gripped just below the axe head at the shoulder of the handle. Crouching down, Fell carefully carved his name into the wooden support pole in the centre, alongside many others done throughout countless years
Once ready he joined the other children and the young woman in the transport caravan and settled down for the long trip. As the tribe was ready a sharp yell was heard followed by the grumble of the elnuk. Smiling at the similarity of the sound of the grumble of the elnuk and Njal, Fell wrapped himself up in his furs to protect himself from the eternal cold of the Freljord.
The trip was long and boring, the ever-present snow coating the ground. The tribe moved east through barren hills and valleys, passing little more than snow, ice, and rock. The occasional cry of wolves could be heard, but the combination of daylight and Elnuks made it so none were seen. Passing the time, fell pulled out a knife and a small log of wood and begun carving the wood. Ensuring that the shavings could be used for kindling were caught in a shallow container, he carefully removed the wood. Holding the handle as far to the blade as he could, Fell carefully pushed the blade forwards with his left thumb while guiding it with his knife. Moving carefully with each push, Fell removed slithers of wood slowly creating. Slowly but surely a carving of a Rimefang Wolf appeared, seemingly alive with its powerful hind legs ready to propel itself forwards towards its pray, frost infused fangs ready to tear off a limb. Putting aside the carving, Fell watched as the barren plains and snow covered hills passed by, the only colour the occasional rock jutting out from the ground.
It was an uneventful trip, with the tribe beginning to make camp. As a child Fell had no responsibilities in preparing the camp short of transporting some light baggage. Once the camp was set up and the hubbub of noise had turned into the gathering around the communal bonfire. Fell enjoyed the bonfire as once they moved further north trees would become sparser and they would lose the luxury of having as much wood as needed. Shuffling up to Ljos he asked her a question that had been on his mind since Njal had mentioned that Demarcian game. “Hey Ljos?” to which Ljos responded with simply turning her head “have you ever left the Freljord?”
After a second of thinking, she responded. “No never. I’ve met Demarcian traders just like you have, but I’ve never left here. Why?”
“Well aren’t you curious? We’ve heard about these lands where there is no snow, with huge cities with thousands of people living in one place. Don’t you want to see that?”
“Honestly? No not really. Those great cities are always constantly at war, always fighting. I’m happy here, just travelling with our tribe and enjoying life while spreading the will of Anivia”
“But were not safe here! What about the Ursine? The frost trolls? Raiders like the Winter’s claw?”
“That’s why we have warriors like Njal. He will project us as he always has. And soon so will you, judging by that axe sticking out of your furs” Shocked, Fell rapidly tried to hide it by placing the handle into his trousers, so hurriedly that he would have cut himself if not for the sheath on the blade. Having successfully embarrassed himself, he shot an annoyed look at his sister who was clearly trying to hold back a smile to little effect.
With a annoyed humph, he walked back into his tent choosing to go to sleep early as he would begin training the next day. Wrapping himself up in his furs, he took his axe and hugged it to his chest. Sleep rapidly taking him, he chose to name his axe, as Njal had named his own. “Fyrsta” he mumbled, sleep overtaking him. A great warmth emitted from him as he did this, like a hearth being lit.
