Stormrider

Chapter 5: Fothmorn

Fothmorn

Fothmorn was built upon a small area of bedrock that jutted out from the shore to form a natural wharf.  Several boats were moored there. The people of Fothmorn lived in small houses, many of which were set on stilted legs to keep dry in the case of high tide or storms.  Many of the folk that populated Fothmorn were transient; sailors, shipping merchants or the occasional adventurer.  Thus there were several inns and empty rooms to be occupied at certain times.

The village was another stop along the northern trade route like the Fjording.  Vessels often arrived from the west, across the ocean, bringing trade goods into the east.

The more permanent inhabitants of Fothmorn were inn-keeps, fisherman or held some trade relating to the same.  Generation after generation of boatman, net-weavers and fisherman lived here for the better part of the last few centuries.  Fothmorn had been built err the Ridderwold had transformed into a great forest.  Early in its settling, the people of Fothmorn traded with the Hithridderan.  Even Beomound had had dealings with the people of Fothmorn in the past.  In his day, Stalalf was often sought from across the sea by kings and lords and they trading with him here for work wrought in steel.

The village itself stood much as it had then, having grown only a little over the years.  Much of what changed were the faces of the people, growing from young to old, and then over again with each successive generation.  Sometimes, one of the people of Fothmorn might join with the Hithridderan, as had been the case of Roggron.  At other times, one of the Hithridderan might leave the fields in exchange for the shore.  However, for the most part, those that did leave Fothmorn for another life found their way south into the Bregolad and beyond.

The group wandered up to the village not long after dusk and found a lone porter at the gate who greeted them with some curiosity.  He stood leaning against an old grey and weather beaten fence, which by the look of it should not have supported its own weight much less that of the porter.  A small gatehouse stood by him, with a single lantern to light the darkness.

“Hail,” he began, “if I be not mistaken you’re of the riding clans away off in the forrest, eh?  It’s a miracle you’re alive.  Saw that fire from this spot not too nights hence.  A terrible shame, it is.  Used to go into that forest many a time myself.  Lor’, it looked like the sun rising across the horizon, it stretched from Murkfell all the way to the river.  Ne’er seen anything like it, and by God, the heat! I could feel it from here!”

Beomund greeted the porter, who called himself Mekle.  “Might we find shelter here? We are much weary from our travels.”

“Aye, there be a few inns you might try.  I’d recommend TheWater Horse, given how you’re on horseback.  ‘Tis the only place about these parts with a place to stable those horses.  Fellow that owns it came from horse-clan folk like yourself.”

Beomound thanked him as he held the gate open and they passed within.  The streets of Fothmorn were lain with straw and planks entrenched in the sand.  The houses were much like the fence guarding the village.  Constructed of boards, perhaps once finely wrought, now warped and grey from the harshness of the sea and the sun.  The village seemed over dark, as though the houses absorbed whatever light the lamps and torches produced.  Though being only just after nightfall, the air of the place hung low and silent like mid-night.

After passing the first block of houses, they turned right, down the first lane they came to, which ran northward, roughly parallel with the shore.  All the houses they passed looked much the same and any stranger might have lost track of where he was going if not for the occasional sign designating the various inns and tradesmen's shops.

Near the far northern area of the village they came at last to the Water Horse.  Like the other houses in this part of Fothmorn, it was squat and grey.  The only difference being that a long low open-air stable stood off to one side stretching away from the village.  The stalls looked narrow and cramped, not even enough room for a horse to turn around.