To Suffer A Witch

A Quiet Village

The Lord who owned the land had taken an unusual measure of pity on them though. Allowing the families to continue residing there, even if they had a hard time upholding the terms of their leases these days. It was a charitable act that the other neighbours did not necessarily agree with. Their closest neighbour, Mildew the Miserable, was one of the most vocal of the lot. Continually eyeing up the fallow stretch of dirt as if longing to plant more of his gross cabbages in it.

Finally Tuffnut arrived - carrying his pet chicken under one arm - and at Astrid's glare, he and his sister loaded into the cart alongside the vegetables without another word. With a shake of her head, Astrid hoisted herself onto the bench seat instead and flicked the reins. Stormfly immediately falling into an easy canter as they set out down the rutted old road towards the village. The church bells were already chiming the hour in the distance, and Astrid couldn't keep from huffing an exasperated sigh as she tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She knew that Gobber would never get cross with her for showing up late with a delivery, but hopefully he wouldn't be too inconvenienced by it either. If only she could depend on her human friends as much as she depended on her faithful equine one.

The village of Berk was a quiet one with a weird history. Positioned along the coast of the North Sea in the county of Suffolk and keeping mostly to itself, it boasted decent fishing and a fair amount of arable land - as well as a few hundred people with very weird names. According to local lore, the townsfolk were of ancient Norse ancestry. As such, they tended to still give their children traditionally hideous names in order to frighten off gnomes and trolls. Astrid wasn't sure how much stock she put in the old tales. In her opinion, most of the villagers sounded more like they came from Scotland than from Scandinavia.

Thanks to this colourful heritage, many of the little homes and businesses bore far more decoration than in other towns and villages nearby. Most of the shops on the Main Street sporting carved pillars and dragon motifs on the facades. Gobber's tavern, The Mead Hall, even had two massive statues of helmeted Viking warriors guarding the entrance. This elaborate display was likely only for the sake of travellers though, as most of the homes outside of town were far more understated. Still painted in bright and cheery colours, but without all the expensive carvings.

It was a nice place to live, and the only one that Astrid had really ever known. When she was younger, her father used to tell her stories about the rest of the Kingdom. Weaving fanciful tales of the lush green hills of Ireland, and the craggy Scottish moors. Astrid used to sit on his knee by the fire and dream of escaping her harsh existence to explore the world around her. Then she had grown up and realized that such dreams were only for the naive and childish. No one escaped this life. You could only make that best of what you had, and be happy for it.

When they rolled to a stop outside Gobber's tavern, the large man was already standing on the steps waiting for them. Burly arms crossed over his big barrel chest, and his mouth drawn into a frown below his braided blonde moustache. Gobber the Belch was a formidable looking man with a bald head, missing teeth, a peg leg, and an interchangeable prosthetic arm that was currently sporting an attachment with a large meat tenderizer on it. He was also a big softy that would give you the shirt off his back and the peg off his leg if you needed them. Not that you'd really want either thing. In a village where bathing already wasn't commonplace, Gobber was the worst of the lot.

"Bout time ya got here," Gobber grouched as Astrid hopped down from the bench and fussily straightened her navy blue skirts.

"Sorry Gobber, but it wasn't my fault," Astrid countered blandly. Shooting a glare back at the twins, who were conspicuously looking off in different directions to avoid her eyes. Stormfly snorting in agreement as she pawed at the dirt.