The Path to Svenheld

[Malgonious 2758]

 

 

It was a black night as the fur-cloaked norlanders prepared their aged wagon for the journey.  The air was sharp, cutting to the bone of the yolk of their southeron counterparts.  To the Highlanders of Nord, such was a breeze.  Stark northmen would be seen hefting large crates of honey oat and barley into the wagon, their faces unsure and alarmed at such a late departure.  A ginger haired chap would be seen comforting the old oxen that they had purchased, offering a fistful of sugar to each of the battered ox. The chap would hop aboard the wagon, his coz sitting atop the crates, bundled strong and true for the journey they were to embark upon.

 

"Brother Baldur!" Brennus, a comrade of old would call from the wagons rear.

 

"Aye kinsmen, what troubles you so?!" Baldur would shout as he takes hold of the oxen's reins, their wagon beginning to dredge forward.

 

"Brother I fear I've not heard of such lands you speak so highly of.  What is this staunch basin?  What are we to settle?" An appearance of worry would settle across Brennus and his banners, fearful of the tide forthcoming surely.

 

"Fret not my shaken brother, for the All-father hath foretold of our people's return.  Driven from the southeron creator's oversight, we are people of the Mountain, we are people of the Land, we are not kin to the yolk of the South.  The lands we embark towards resemble that of Norland, a stark mountain, green pastures upon which to grow our young saplings, a warm sea of which we may not hold familiarity, but we are an adaptable people!  I would not lead you astray brother!" Baldur would shout with a smile across his lips, quickening the oxen's pace.

 

Brennus would nod, and settle himself within the cart.  The other men seemed to have been calmed by their leader's words.  The road would be long and cobbled, the path they undertake would soon be roadless...

 

***

 

A swift gust of wind would rattle the northmen, blowing their cart slightly leftward.  Baldur would reaffirm his carts path and suddenly speak;

 

"Our place was never with these fellows, although I do confess while they've nae been overly humble, these distant folk hold values of which I deeply respect.  Their god and our God are one in the same."  Baldur would run his hand through his hair, his eyes deadlocked on the East.

 

Suddenly a Gotan kinsmen would speak, "Brother Baldur, will there be trees upon which we may fashion ships for sailing?' Jens Ornsund, a newcomer to the band would voice his earnest concern.

 

"Of course brother!  Fret not for sailing is a tradition of our great race.  We shall actively work towards settling this great basin, and instilling upon the fertile soil our lineage and legacies for centuries to come.  We are onward to greater things, a merry band we are brothers!  Here Ho!" Baldur would stand, raising his fist towards the Seven Skies.

 

"HO!" The northmen and their compatriots would join in jubilant unison, the journey continuing...

[Birdnerdy 1539]

Karl twitches as he senses the return of the equatormen.

[Andustar 4143]

Viktor would sharpen a stick to keep the Norlander's away from his lands.

[LatzMomo 2088]

Robin Volaren carefully wraps a soft cloth around a darkened seed and with the help of some strong Norland lads, hefts the giant wrapped bundle onto a cart, he turns to Baldur, holding his back after lifting the heavy thing. "May it grow strong, and if it doesn't, I have more." he says with a cold harsh tone like the unforgiving winds. "And be wary, there are those who seek to do harm, even if they have no reason." Robin turns to the road, walking slowly into the distance, until he was out of vision, then he vanished, to return who knows when.