Axe and The Wolf

Chapter V: Blood and Ice

"A true warrior knows that the fiercest battles are fought within."– Yannâk Deepdelve, Reflections of a Slayer

Several days passed, in those days the young son of the miller was given a proper farewell, he was buried following the funerary rites of his people, with gifts and objects pertaining to his social position. Soon the people of the town gethered to organize a feast in order to celebrate Hjálmar's life, inside the inn where Ulfrun spent the last few days nursing his once again injured nose with water and the ointment from the hebralist, who happened to come by twice in order to ensure Ulfrun was applying the concoction properly and in a very stern way to tell him to sleep well in order to ensure the body could recover as it should. After being sort of scolded like a small boy by the large woman, Ulfrun returned to the main area of the inn. The main room was a large space filled with long tables and benches, near the bar was a very large pit filled with burning charcoals over which a whole pig rotated on a spit, being roasted by Thorleif the innkeeper. 

The skin of the pig looked perfectly browned and the smell was enticing. At least me nose isn't as stuffy as before the dwarf thought with relief. Ulfrun sat down in one of the tables with a healthy serving of pork in a plate and a flagon of ale to wash it down; he pulled out his journal as he had decided to begin writing and sketching his adventures in order to keep an archive of sorts of what he saw in the wider world. He began by writing of how he left the hold, the road, his new friend and ride: Abshag, the rangers and the cabins, the contents and he drew how he imagined the Swamp Folk to look, he then drew the cart and the woman he found, later the farm and shed, with the inside of it showing the evidence of Malar worship he found there. 

As he was finishing the drawing of the inside of the shed someone sat across from him on the table. "Your food is going to get cold, master dwarf" came the voice of the gothi who smiled at the dwarf "How is your nose?" the dwarf closed the journal and slightly touched his nose who still stinged a bit in return "Not as stuffy as before but...still hurts" the holy man nodded "I see you are a bit busy" he motioned ot the journal "I'm just writing down my experiences, and uh...sketching a wee bit" the dwarf responded "Sounds fun, however, even more fun, I was told to extend you an invitation to the feast that the town is going to have in honor Hjálmar, is in three days, since a cleric in the service of Hel, our goddess of death, is on her way." The dwarf straightened his back and considered the proposition, after all the strife a night to unwind would be nice. "Aaaah...sure, I'll be glad to attend, be nice to unwind, do all the dead require a cleric like that?" The gothi shook his head "No, primarily she's coming here to help with disposing of the werewolf's body...certain rites are necessary to ensure he won't return,witches and necromancers can try to bring a werewolf back to serve them, anyway..." he rose from his seat and was about to leave but suddenly stopped "Oh yes, I nearly forgot, add this to the medicine you put on your nose, it should help. The Gods help those who serve the same purpose" he added with a wink. The small vial contained a transparent liquid and was about five centimeters tall, he did as told and added it to the ointment which for a moment shone slightly and when applied it seemed to much more effectively and faster, Ulfrun could've sworn he even felt his nose healing.

As the day went on, Ulfrun decided to give some maintenance to his axe, he cleaned it thoroughly with dwarven spirit and a rag, then he sharpened the edged with a whetstone to ensure the sharpness of the steel never dulled and to top it off, some oil for protection. He considered finding a leather worker to commission a leather cover for the axe blade, figuring it'd be better to simply have the metal protected from the elements rather than risking rust ruining it.  

In the days the dwarf remained at the inn he became somewhat restless, he felt useless. He hadn't realized but it seemed that working at the forge had him doing something and avoiding being simply idling, it was strange to have such freedom and downtime. He soon found himself in the kitchen aiding the innkeep and his daughter, the blonde young girl from before, who was named Astrid apparently. The young smith remained for a couple of days in the inn after the night of the fight, he found the pantry to be very well stocked, the smith came to the conlcusion that since the town was relatively close to the capital of the northmen it should be rather easy to get a wide range of supplies from there, or even merchants on their way to the capital might stop by on their way. Ulfrun managed to get his hands on some bread that was already a bit stale and hard, so he made it into crumbs, he also acquired some eggs and fish, the latter was provided to the innkeep by a friend of his, who apparently had caught plenty and then some on a recent fishing trip to the lake near the town. Two large salmons, whose flesh was of an intense pinkish orange coloration. The young smith quickly combined the meat he harvested from the fishes, the breadcrumbs, some eggs and spices, including some lemon zest and mustard, he then kneaded the whole concoction into a uniform mass and formed small cakes with it and set them to cook on a pan over the fire, the inn's clients seemed to like the dwarf's fish cakes, the innkeep's young daughter studying the process and paying attention as to learn the recipe; afterwards she even had one and complimented the smith's cooking while doing a dance in between bites. While nobody was looking, Thorleif helped himself to some and found them to be to his liking, very much so to the point than he ate 8 of them.