The mead hall was a long, domed structure full of boisterous men and women all drinking and eating and singing prayers to the gods. Amidst the group of large and fierce people was a small and slender boy with fair skin and hair and blue eyes. He was largely human in appearance but the tapered points of his ears poking out from behind his hair gave away his mixed-blood heritage. As small and delicate as he appeared, the young half elf was just as loud and just as fierce. He climbed up onto the long table that took up the bulk of the hall and stole a large tankard of ale from a much larger man's grasp, knocking it back and drinking the cool liquid in one greedy gulp.
The larger man sat dumbfounded for a moment before a roaring laughter erupted from his barrel of a chest, those nearby soon joined in. The boy ran and danced up and down the table, singing songs of glory and stealing food and drink here and there. The festivities ran on for hours, late into the night and early into the morning until a fierce woman grabbed the boy by the arm and dragged him off of the table.
"Hey! Who do you think you are" I'll-"
"You'll what?"
The sound of her voice cut off his own bold threats and he turned to look up at her, flashing the most sweet and charming smile he could muster.
"Go straight to bed. That's what I'll do, straight to bed so I can get up early and get water from the well and get you a hot bath. Naturally.?
She gave him a withering look and turned, dragging the boy behind her as she approached the mead hall's exit. Several of the men around them laughed at how quickly Gvrant gave in to his mother, despite all of his big talk and feisty attitude.
—-
The next morning she woke with her son missing and the tub used for their bath empty and dry. Down in the village Gvrant plucked the strings of a lute and sang a song to the Warrior in all of his mighty glory with the instrument's wooden case set out in front of him, silently inviting the generous donations of his fellow northmen.
I say to the gods, I have wedded this blade and will take no other wife I have bones for her bride-price and a barrow for our bed and the blood of our enemies to dress us both in red.
It's hard to recall now the man that I was then returning from raiding across the wide sea; My heart full of pride and our ship full of plunder, I watched for the strand where my stead watched for me.
We thought it was fog—and that out of season— that cloaked our fierce prow and swallowed our wake. But the thicker it grew, the more it smelled of burning. We pulled the oars then till we feared they would break.
I say to the gods, I have wedded this blade and will take no other wife I have bones for her bride-price and a barrow for our bed and the blood of our enemies to dress us both in red.
We made groundfall; it seemed a hundred years later. When we could see clearly we wished we were blind. Our steadings were broken and bloody and barren; We knew from our raiding what else we would find.
We wandered like wolves through the ashes of kinsmen. The crows mocked our howling to long-deafened ears. The stink of death sickened me nigh unto retching. We salted the earth of our dead with our tears.
I say to the gods, I have wedded this blade and will take no other wife I have bones for her bride-price and a barrow for our bed and the blood of our enemies to dress us both in red.
Some say I'm mad now, but I'm only enamored of my new shining bride and her face in the light. She weeps that she's thirsty, and I live to please her— we search for her slaking through day and through night.
Where a wraith goes, only wind marks its passing, but where a man goes, a good bear-dog can track. And I'll hound them until the last wears the blood-eagle carved like a lover's knot deep in his back.
I say to the gods, I have wedded this blade and will take no other wife I have bones for her bride-price and a barrow for our bed and the blood of our enemies to dress us both in red.
I say to the gods, I have wedded this blade and will take no other wife I have bones for her bride-price and a barrow for our bed and the blood of our enemies to dress us both in red.*
The words hung in the air and echoed throughout the square like some magic commanded them to stay there. Soon, many voices joined the bard's and the entire market square was singing along as he repeated the chorus. Before long the bottom of the lute's case was covered by a solid layer of coin and when at last his dear old mother, Fjord he scooped them into a little cloth pouch and tucked them into a hidden pocket that lined the inside of his leather jerkin.
The instrument was then put in its case and he bowed to the various praises of his singing and playing before rushing off to hide from his mother's wrath.
Gvrant was roughly ten and two years then.
*Berserker Song
The larger man sat dumbfounded for a moment before a roaring laughter erupted from his barrel of a chest, those nearby soon joined in. The boy ran and danced up and down the table, singing songs of glory and stealing food and drink here and there. The festivities ran on for hours, late into the night and early into the morning until a fierce woman grabbed the boy by the arm and dragged him off of the table.
"Hey! Who do you think you are" I'll-"
"You'll what?"
The sound of her voice cut off his own bold threats and he turned to look up at her, flashing the most sweet and charming smile he could muster.
"Go straight to bed. That's what I'll do, straight to bed so I can get up early and get water from the well and get you a hot bath. Naturally.?
She gave him a withering look and turned, dragging the boy behind her as she approached the mead hall's exit. Several of the men around them laughed at how quickly Gvrant gave in to his mother, despite all of his big talk and feisty attitude.
—-
The next morning she woke with her son missing and the tub used for their bath empty and dry. Down in the village Gvrant plucked the strings of a lute and sang a song to the Warrior in all of his mighty glory with the instrument's wooden case set out in front of him, silently inviting the generous donations of his fellow northmen.
I say to the gods, I have wedded this blade and will take no other wife I have bones for her bride-price and a barrow for our bed and the blood of our enemies to dress us both in red.
It's hard to recall now the man that I was then returning from raiding across the wide sea; My heart full of pride and our ship full of plunder, I watched for the strand where my stead watched for me.
We thought it was fog—and that out of season— that cloaked our fierce prow and swallowed our wake. But the thicker it grew, the more it smelled of burning. We pulled the oars then till we feared they would break.
I say to the gods, I have wedded this blade and will take no other wife I have bones for her bride-price and a barrow for our bed and the blood of our enemies to dress us both in red.
We made groundfall; it seemed a hundred years later. When we could see clearly we wished we were blind. Our steadings were broken and bloody and barren; We knew from our raiding what else we would find.
We wandered like wolves through the ashes of kinsmen. The crows mocked our howling to long-deafened ears. The stink of death sickened me nigh unto retching. We salted the earth of our dead with our tears.
I say to the gods, I have wedded this blade and will take no other wife I have bones for her bride-price and a barrow for our bed and the blood of our enemies to dress us both in red.
Some say I'm mad now, but I'm only enamored of my new shining bride and her face in the light. She weeps that she's thirsty, and I live to please her— we search for her slaking through day and through night.
Where a wraith goes, only wind marks its passing, but where a man goes, a good bear-dog can track. And I'll hound them until the last wears the blood-eagle carved like a lover's knot deep in his back.
I say to the gods, I have wedded this blade and will take no other wife I have bones for her bride-price and a barrow for our bed and the blood of our enemies to dress us both in red.
I say to the gods, I have wedded this blade and will take no other wife I have bones for her bride-price and a barrow for our bed and the blood of our enemies to dress us both in red.*
The words hung in the air and echoed throughout the square like some magic commanded them to stay there. Soon, many voices joined the bard's and the entire market square was singing along as he repeated the chorus. Before long the bottom of the lute's case was covered by a solid layer of coin and when at last his dear old mother, Fjord he scooped them into a little cloth pouch and tucked them into a hidden pocket that lined the inside of his leather jerkin.
The instrument was then put in its case and he bowed to the various praises of his singing and playing before rushing off to hide from his mother's wrath.
Gvrant was roughly ten and two years then.
*Berserker Song