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Huginn and Muninn flapped their wings, soaring quickly over all lands, bright eyes seeing everything, ears hearing every shout and whisper. They could hear every song sung in the Mead Halls, the clash of blades in every battle. They could see all the weddings and every hunt, wither they fail or end in a kill. There was nothing they couldn’t know about.

Those sharp ears picked up the tramp of many, heavily booted feet, as they flew above the Artic Circle, heading over the mountains between the kingdoms of Denmark and Sweden, towards the Norwegian Sea. Huginn winged down first, followed by Muninn. On a rugged path walked two large Jötunn. Muninn knew them at once, it was Magne and Colby, a pair of Loki’s kin and lackeys. Magne carried his two handed, rune sword in a sheath on his back and Colby had a great spear on his hands.

Behind the two Jötunn, half a dozen Jætte Trolls ambled their way up the path, their large and misshapen bodies shifting back and forth. Each was armed with an iron bound club or axe and clothed in roughly cured skins.

Bring up the rear of the party, came a Hersir, his son and ten of his Huskarls. Each Huskarl was armed with a fine sword, good shield, a shirt of mail and an iron helm. The Hersir and his son each had a mail shirt forged by the Dvergar, gifts from the king of Denmark for great deeds in battle. The Hersir had a rune sword, he had won in battle with a Jætte Troll. The son had a fine axe.

The whole party was talking about a weapon to cut the bonds of Fenrir. They all agreed that the Dvergar would know about one or could be forced to make on. Magne and Colby were voicing that they should force the Dvergar to make them a weapon, as forcefully as they could. One of Jætte Trolls asked just what Loki was offering for their help. A promise of great wealth was made.

Huginn and Muninn flapped away, making all haste to return to Odin and report to him the news. Long before the sun set, the two ravens perched on their master’s shoulders. The great one-eyed chief of the gods was not surprised to find his ravens returned early this day, in fact he seem to be expecting them. The great gods nodded grimly as the ravens whispered in his ears. Once their tale was told, Odin lifted his hand and waved the raven’s forward.

Bobbing their heads, Huginn and Muninn launched into the air and took off. They flew over all the lands of the Danes, stopping to speak with every Jarl, prince and king, telling them to send their best to the south shores of the large lake, Vanern, in Sweden. Ships launched from the shores, carrying great warriors, highly skilled Skalds and those skilled in the darker arts. With in a month, a great crowd had gathered, each wondering what they were to be judge worthy of.

Among them was Falkor Bjarnarson. His village had sent him because if they had sent any of the more experienced warriors, only only a few longships could overwhelm the small coastal settlement. So they send a freeman, an owner of a small farm, who would surely be sent back and be able to defend the village again.

Falkor shifted in the sea of people, crowding the shores of lake Vanern. His blue tunic didn’t stand out and the one handed axe in his belt was nothing special among all the mighty swords and mail-clad warriors. His shield was painted with a simple pattern of red and blue. On a platform at the edge of the lake, the king of Sweden stood before the crowd. A pair of very large raven circled overhead.

“My fellow Danes” called forth the mighty Swede king, “Odin has a great quest for only the finest of us to partaken. His raven’s circle over head, when I have finish, they shall pick those worthy from all the great persons gathered here. Now for the quest. A pair of foul Jötunn seek to free the giant wolf Fenrir and find the rooster Fjalar, to let loose Ragnarök on us!”

With his final word, Huginn and Muninn flew over the crowd, dipping lower now and then to inspect a person. After looking over all the gathered, they circled three times and dived down, coming to land on Falkor’s shoulders.

”You shall join” whispered Huginn.

“Join the king of the Swedes” whispered Muninn.

The raven’s took off again, leaving Falkor standing there, startled to be picked. He started forwards, through the crowd and made his way up on the platform. As the king embraced him, Huginn and Muninn circled three times again and dived.


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The cold, biting wind of the snowy plains bit the skin of Volnik's back. He was told to wait there for some ceratin instruction from an unknown individual. He enjoyed the view from one of the only elevations within a small distance, seeing a slushy river wind around some uncovered dirt.

"Hmmm. Wonder what I could be expected to do? Wonder who summoned me?" Volnik began to think about a way to turn that into a poem, but to no avail. He stared at his spear, perched in the ground. It glinted the sunlight off it, creating a pleasant sheen. "Ah, what a lovely day."

Volnik was not aware of the situation going on between the gods, as he had just recently been venturing out in the wilds to look for inspiration. He wrote an epic saga on a piece of cowhide about it, but unfortunately it was eaten by a wolf. He then wrote about his frustration on that fact, but it too was eaten by a wolf.

Trudging through the already walked on snow, Finreyr marched on. He had been one of the few Dvergar allowed to leave the Caves, as the others were awaiting a threat or attack from a band of men, Trolls and Jötunns. Still, if the ravens of Odin had called upon the men of the land to appear at the shores of the lake Vanern to be tested, or so he'd been told, then every lord had to obey. His lord had sent him, the only dwarf wanting to leave the caves for the uncertainty of the open world of Midgard.

The wind battered him, billowing his cuirass straps and the cloak that kept him warm, even sinking into the recesses of his hood to pull it off his face. His trousers were filled with it, greatly expanding them, as if they were ready to burst. But Finreyr liked this, much more than the darkness and dankness of the Dvergar Caves. The open view, that stretched farther than the eye could see, the constant change of the landscape, always a new detail, it all fuelled his love for the land.

He had marched for days, weeks maybe, he didn't keep track, rather just tried to enjoy it while it lasted. The tracks of the Danes in front of him were still fresh, and every time he reached the top of a hill, he could see the dark brown procession glide down the face of it, the band of warriors all too eager to please the Gods.

And so, after following their tracks for days, Finreyr finally found his way to the lake Vanern, where hordes upon hordes of men were gathered, the great King of the Swedes viewing them all from his high perched throne. Two dark forms swooped in the sky, their large wings blotting the very light of the sun out whenever they passed in its stead. The two ravens, Huginn and Muninn.

He saw them descend, spiralling low, as they landed on the shoulder of one worthy to join the Swedish King, it was a woman, who soon took her place at his side, next to a bewildered man. Obviously HE wasn’t expecting it ... The Dvergar stood where he was, placing himself firmly on the ground and daring anyone who bumped into to him to come and say sorry to his face. He never liked big crowds, he liked open air, and these proud, haughty men did nothing to up his view on the humans that the dwarves lived with.

His axe was in his hand, as his eyes darted across the magnificence of his own handiwork. Never had he made a weapon so balanced, so lethal, so ...

He stopped, the sun had been blotted out once more, yet this time, he was caught in the darkness thus created. His bearded face looked up, only to see two black birds swoop down towards him, the crowd of men around him retreating to leave them space for their descent. Each of them landed on one of his shoulders, their beaks at his ear, as he gulped once, and waited for their words.

"Dvergar, you, of all your people, should go to see the King of the Swedes." said the one on his right shoulder.
"You show worthiness, the God's wish you to help them, take your place at the King's side." said the one on his other shoulder.
"Go now, son of the earth, and claim what Destiny and Fate have thrust upon you !" they both screeched in his ears, before launching off him, back into the sky to find the next one worthy to join the cause. Grinning, Finreyr made his way to the dais, all the Norsemen letting him pass.

He steadily made his way up the steps, and greeted the great man with a small bow and a hand shake. He gazed once at the man on his right, once at the woman on his left, and stood there with them, axe head resting on the ground, bronze pommel in his cupped hands, his deep blue eyes scanning the sea of people that watched them, all awaiting to stand at their side.

The Swedish king stared at the petite woman who mounted the platform, half for her pure beauty and half at the fact a woman was chosen at all and she wasn't even a Shieldmaiden. So not to be rude, He embraced her just the same as he had Falkor. Not that getting his hands on her, even briefly, wasn't a pleasure. As with most men, the king was fond of the company of lovely women.

When Finreyr ascended to the steps, the King returned his handshake with great warmth. "Welcome master Dvergar" said the king, "Many thanks to you and your kin for joining us on this great venture. Many thanks to you all" The last word were meant for all those gathered on the lake shore that day.

Three more times Huginn and Muninn circled and dove down into the crowd. A large blond man made his way up, followed by a small, scruffy, brown-haired wildman and well groomed redhead. Each was greeted by the king with en equal warmth and comradely.

Falkor watched as each person joined him and the king, bowing to everyone a little. His eyes traveled over everyone and out over the crowd but consistently found himself sneaking glanced over at the beautiful woman whom the raven's had chosen. It was not only her looks that drew his eye but he wondered just what skills she brought to the band. So half of his looks were stares and half were measurements.

The raven's still circled, searching for any talent they had missed.

Stormy winds heaved on the Northern Waters, Ada placed his foot upon the mossy wood of the Dafuinger. A long a mighty ship, who kept its deck clean and her guests, satisfied. A’da earth mothered feet, jostled and buckled as the ship rose and waned from the doom baring sea. A’da tumbled grabbing out to anything that would give him support. His hand and clasped an arm, given to him by the Captain.
A’da looked up, after planting his feet on the deck. Greeting the captain, with a rustic shake of his arm. The Captain was an Old Saxon, who had found his way in to Nordic waters, far from the Germanic and Normandy shores.
Even though Swedes were some of the best sailors around, A’da felt safer on a Saxon ship, during a stormy night. Their ships had seen the worst that Britannia storms could give them, and this one looked like it bested the worst of them. With its dents and cracks, that had been mended with strong and sturdy hands. A’da kept his eyes to the wooden floor, trying not to get sick, by staring at the choppy waves.
The Captain chuckled, watching the Earth Mothered man make his clumsy steps on his ships.
“Nas ever been on die ship, I’d see.” The Captain said as he pulled away the rope from the port, letting Dafuinger free from its foreign imprisonment.
“No, I haven’t” Ada muttered sitting on a bench nearby. The Captain was trying his best to speak in A’da’s native tongue but his thick accent and lack of grammar made the conversations more of a chore than anything pleasurable.
“V’ed be’ist the time gets to movin.” The Captain called out his men to start rowing, calling them out in his Germanic tongue, A’da couldn’t understand a word as the men grumbled and cursed while the rows raised and lowed in and out of the murky waters . A’da clutched his cloak tightly as heavy down pour smacked across his back.
“Thor be dammed under his name.” A’da mumbled, hating the dreary weather that had suddenly risen around him. His staff lay at his feet, rolling from side to side, stopped by the raven’s beak.


A’da eyes became heavy as the nymphs quite calls from the sea, lulled him to sleep. A cloud of some swelled in his mind as he dreamt.
The fog of his thoughts cloud around his sprit. The nymphs we’re calling out to him, though his sandy eyes and peerless eyes, the spirits of the water gave the Healer a warning.
“Teshimer, heed our cry.”
“Who calls out my true name? I have not give it to you, so how would you know it?”
“The water knows many truths about this world. For the sea has lived beyond the hours of the gods, and it will live on when the gods have left.”
“Why do you speak in this way. Tell me your name, for you know mine so well.”
“We are Ashia, Meshia, Bilihier, and Tliehier.“ A’da’s eyes widen hearing of their names, bowing in humility. The four were messengers of Njörðr, god of the sea. They had the power of the four mighty currents. If he wished not to die he would heed their words.
“Forgive me, let not my sharp tongue give you reason for my ending. I will listen.”
“Be of good heart Teshimer, we nymphs have not the time or place to take you to Hel. We have a warning for you.”
“Speak it, and I will hear.”
“Loki is free, and the sands of time are starting to fall.” A’da eyes widened and quivered at these words. The freedom of one god, is said to bring the end of the world. “A Völva has spoken the word of warning to Oden, you will hear these words three times in your lifetime, when the third time is called, and its words will be of the present and can never be changed.”

A’da heard a light whisper coming from his ears, the woman’s voice speaking out to Odin. Her voice rang out his ea., As she chides her words of doom, and the fall of the gods. A’da felt pain as the woman screeched out the terrors of the war, and death of many. Fire and flame filled his eyes. The numbers of deaths reached beyond his count. The chared earth burning bright as mighty waves crashed over.
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As the prophecy ended, A’da eyes opened. A bright light buried his eyes. It was the sun, its bright light glowing in his face. A’da squinted his eyes and he looked around. A window was the source of light than shined down upon him.
“Where am I?” A’da said as he rose his hand over his brow. He looked at his arm. These were not his clothes. Who had taken them, he wondered. He looked around as his eyes became accustomed to the shining light. He was in a small room, lying on a bed of pelts. The wooden walls around him smelled of Northern Ash, and Marigold. A’da stood up, and out of the bed. His body felt heavy as he fumbled to his feet.

His footsteps created loud thuds across the wood floor. A’da looked out the door, lifting the sash that hung from the doorway. He’s feet planted on soft dirt, which fumbled into the cracks of his toes. A fire sat in front of him, and a kettle hanging above it. The kettle held a fine creamy liquid, which waste starting to boil. A’da felt that he hadn’t eaten in days, and some soup would help quiche his hunger. He reached out for the nearest spoon he could fine.
He placed the spoon into the brew, and then pulled out a small sample of the soup, brining it close to his lips. Before he took a sip he heard a voice calling from behind him.
“I would drink that if I were you, that’s sheep’s’ urine.”
“Ugh!” A’da dropped the spoon to the floor, as the liquid splattered on the dirt. The Gothi turned his head about to see a young woman carrying a basket. She was dressed in a light green gown, and a red belt that complimented her slender frame.

“So it seems you finale woken up, Eh?”
“Huh, what do you mean by that? And better yet, Who are you?”
“Hmm well you’re a bitter one.” She had a thick Swedish accent, that made A’da chuckle on the inside. “ I’m Henda, and apartly you’ve been asleep for two weeks now.”

“What! Two weeks, but I.... I remember, the ship, I....” His head filled with pain trying to think back on what happened. “How did I get here? Where am I?”
“You are in the Kingdom of the Sweds, Not too far from Vanern.”
“Uhh, Vanern..I” A faint tone touched his mind, the feeling icey winds braced him, the name Vanern. “No.. no I ...I I need to leave.”
“What?”
“I shouldn’t be here.” A’da started walking away from the encampment, anywhere was better than here, but before he could go any further, his arm was held back. The young woman, Henda. “Let me go.”
“What is wrong with you, are you just going to walk out into the woods, with nothing but a Night-in gown.”
“Better than being here.”
“Why?”
“Its... its hard to explain.” A’da looked up to the sky wondering if he was being toyed with.
“Well explain it.’ Henda pulled him back closer toward her, given a stern look, and the stomping of her feet.
“I don’t know what it is, I’ve... I’ve got to go, where’s that ship?”
“What ship? You were found lying on the beach, with nothing but your clothes and that funny looking stick.”
“No ship?” A’da’s voice was gloomy as the realized the predicament he was in. As he thought about it, he assumed that the crew was dead out at sea. The man sat down rubbing his eyes, Why me? Why did the gods take their lives for mine? Just to hear an omen of doom. He lifted his head up again gazing up at the clouds. “ I don’t understand this.”

Henda walked up to his side, putting her arms behind her back. “ Well if your have’n trouble maybe the king can help.”
“The King?”
“Aye, he may be old, but all those wrinkles have given him much wisdom.” A’da thought about it, maybe she was right. Better be an old sage to decipher the prophecy than some young fool. But the thought of living out the prophecy might lead to his own doom, or just a wild goose chase that will take him away from his village. A’da stood up and walked away from Henda again. “No I can’t ... I need to head back home.” A’da took a few more steps, but his movements were stopped yet again by Henda’s reach. Pulling him back. “What! Leave me alone!”
“No, you’ve wasted half my days looking after you. Now your going do something for me.” He felt another sharp yank as he was pulled back into the den.

Henda pulled his clothes out a old wooden box and tossed them at A’da. “Here, get dress.” He did as he was told, putting his tunic and pants back on.
“Umm where’s my cloak?”
“Ohh I got it right here.” She pulled out his green cloak out of the basket she was carrying. A’da looked at the cloak, noticing that there was now gold sewing on the right side. He opened the cloak out, seeing a design of a reindeer’s head on the lower right side of his cloak, that was not their when he got it.
“Ohe what’s all this.”
“Do you like it, I sewed that for the first week you were asleep.”
“Ya a guess so, but why.”
“Do I need a reason, and besides, I think it looks allot better. “
“I suppose so, hmm well thanks.” The young man dug in his pockets thinking about what to do next. His fingers ran against a smooth but sharp object. It was cool his hand and he grasped it. Pulling out whatever it was out of his pocket, he saw that it was a stone. It was clear, and blue, much like the colour of the ocean water. He held it tight in his finger, the stone started to glow the longer he held it in his hand.
Henda was amazed as well stepping up closer to get a better look. “It never did that when I touched it.”
“I haven’t either.”
“Wait so this isn’t yours” A’da was about to speak but stopped looking back and forth between the jewelled rock, and Henda. He had no idea what the stone was, but he needed answers. However much he didn’t want to follow the gods plans, he could help to think that they were bartering him to move on.
“Ya it is, come on let head to the King, it seems I have changed my mind.”
“Great!” Henda grabbed A’da as he put his cloak on, in which the young men yelped, as the cloak’s knot yanking on his neck. Begin pulled against his will toward the village, A’da kept the rock in his hand. No matter how long he held it, the rock would never warm to his skin. The constant cold was wonder, that he could not understand. He did need answers, still he could not help but fear that he was walking to his death.
Henda kept her basket in her right arm while pulling A’da in her right. “Hurry up.”

As the two headed into the village, the sound of cheers and hoots filled his ear. A’da groaned, he didn’t like the idea of crowds. He had a personal vendetta against people he thought to be simple minded, and a large horde seemed to be just a unfined body of simple minded idiots.
Getting a better look he could see that they were mostly warriors and berserkers. Great, not just a bunch of idiots, but a bunch of idiots with axes. Great.
As A’da legs fumbled across the road, his feet caught on something. His body started to crumple as his momentum started to send him flying into the crowd.
His face slammed into a nearby shield that was lying on the ground. A red brush filled his face as A’da got to his feet. “Ah my face.” He put his hands to his face trying to relieve the pain. As the pain cleared, while picking up the staff, he realized that the stone was gone. Feeling around his tunic, and patting down on the ground, but he could not find the stone. Standing up, he shoved his way around the crowd, while looking down below him.
“Sorry... excuse me.. Ah....sorry....” As he moved through the crowd, the warriors and villagers moaned and grunted as A’da pushed his way through.
Getting his feet caught up again, A’da slammed down on the ground, landing in front of an angry Dvergar hold an axe that was bigger than his face. The man grumbled as A’da got to his feet.
“Sorry.” A’da said, but before he could walk away, the Dvergar grabbed him by the waste. “Hey what that, I said I was sorry.”
“Watch where you’re going, fool!” The Dvegar’s mighty strength lifted up the young man over his head. “This will teach you!” The Dvegar tossed A’da across the crowd, and landed right in the middle of the opening.
A’da looked up, seeing the king and a collection of humans and other creeds standing at his side. “What is this? Some kind of gathering, huh.” A’da had no time for this he needed to find that sto ne.
His eyes lighted up, as he could see the blue stone standing right in front of him. A’da reached out, his finger ever closer to his goal.
But as soon as the stone was in his reach, it was taken away, as a black raven clasped the rock in its beak. A’da clenched his finger back, and then slammed it to the ground. “Damn it.”
A’da sat back on his bottom, putting his hands over his face. “Uhh, nothing is working for me today.” A’da looked up to the sky, seeing that two ravens circling over head. One of which was holding the stone. “Now they’re just toying with me.” A’da picked up his staff, calling out to the black crows above him. “Hey! Give that back! Or I’ll make a stew out of you.”
The other crow cackled, as they both dropped down toward the young man. A’da’s eyes widened, and cried out in shock, Surprised that they understood him. “Ahh! I didn’t mean it.” A’da stepped back, trying to get away.

As the crows got closer, A’da resorted to the simple waggling of his staff, “Back away!” Again the ravens cackled, watching the mortal try to force them away. Huginn kept the stone in his beak, while his twin reached down and grabbed the staff away from A’da.
“AHh!” A’da yelped as the staff was taken away from him. Falling back on his rear again, he covered over his face, trying to protect his eyes. Believing the myth that ravens will scratch out his eyes. However A’da heard a voice echoing in his mind.
“Do you fear death?”
“Or are you afraid of your destiny?”
A’da replied back to the voices, “Yes.. I am.”
“Why?”
“Hel is not a forgivable place, a plain of death is not my idea of a happy ending.”
“Do you think life is some tale, where the hero always wins?”
“No.. I just don’t want to die yet.”
“Teshimer, your life will see death to which there can be no end. You know this.”
“Yes, I do... I have seen it.”
“You know where you will stand in the end.”
“I do.”
“Oden’s will is absolute, you will either stand by him or against him in this war.”
“Stop it! Don’t tell me what I have to do!” A’da opened his eyes. He felt weight on his shoulders, He saw the two ravens sitting on him. One holding the rock and the other with his staff. Muninn spoke first in his ears.
“Teshimer, your life was never meant to be one of simplicity.”
“You know that there is more to your life than living.” Ada squinted his eyes, taking a deep breath.
“Aye, I know.”
“Then stand, you know what will happen. The hour grows near, and the death of many will start soon.”
“Rise up, and face the doom. You will see the end, but there is something beyond that.”
“Aye.” A’da got to his feet, looking out at the king before him with heavy eyes. A’da opened up both of his hand, as the Ravens dropped the stone and the staff into his hands.
A’da walked up to the king, and bowed his head, as Huginn and Muninn lifted off his shoulders. “My Lord, I am Tesh... A’da... and I come from the Shores of Iceland. I am a mere gothi, but it seems that the gods have taken me for this quest. I pray that I don’t become a bother to you.”

Alassë Aldaríon smiled to herself as the King embraced her with such briefness, the surprise at a woman being chosen, still dawning on him. It was the smile on one who glowed in the satisfaction of knowing she was, and could bring, what no one would expect.

Pulling away after mere seconds, Alassë bowed her head meekly for a moment before lifting it to stare out at the crowd, those rounded blocks of ice traveling over the face, then rising to follow the course of the ravens. Thrice more the ravens soared down to choose one whose talents would be beneficial to the group, and the entire time Alassë felt the eyes of the first chosen on her. Beneath her skin she's writhed with glee at the scrutinizing she was receiving. The hairs rising on the back of her neck as he continued to watch her, Alassë watched as the Gothi ambled and threw himself about, before the Ravens chose him and he rose to offer his services.

Only then did Alassë turn her unearthly face to the first-chosen, her lips parting subtly and curling up into a sly smile as her orbs of ice bore into the man. She stared at him more a moment, before allowing the bushy red tail to slip down beneath her clothing, just the slightest bit, to allow the man a glimpse, before it returned to hiding 'fore any eyes other then his could glimpse it. Let his scrutinizing increase ten-fold, let his mind work the truth out from that one glimpse.

The King embraced A’da, just as he had done with all the others. His body was old but his muscles still held the strength to welded his sword and cut a man down in the mist of a raging battle. A smile filled his face as the king stepped back. "Have no fear young gothi" he said, "There will be honor, glory and many songs written about us and plenty to share." Huginn and Muninn flew down to land on the King's shoulders, their wings making no sound. They hopped and shuffled on the proud shoulders, that never had buckled under the strain of ruling over many long years.

"Theses are thes one Odin approves of" spoke Huginn.

"Yes" said Muninn, "But not all that will join you, seek out the skald, Volnik Uderfrykte. You will find him to the north. Once you have him on your company, go north, into the great mountains. Loki's forces seek out a long forgotten passage into Niðavellir there and a weapon they need to complete a foul task."

"You will see us again" cawed Huginn and Muninn together, flapping their black wings and taking off. With in seconds, the two ravens were no longer in sight. The king looked up and then out of the crowd of milling warriors.

"Good Danes" called the king in a loud voice, "Odin has chosen and many have been passed over. The chosen will travel into danger, for the rest of you, I have had many Mead tents set up to the east. Eat, drink, sleep and then return to your homes!"

The crowd cheered, the promise of free mead and food stopping the rumblings of anger over not being chosen. They slowly began to move away from the lake shore and the King turned to the chosen seven that would come with him on this quest. "I have horse ready for the journey" spoke then king, walking off the platform. Ten dun color Fjord horses were lead from a nearby stand of trees by two of the king's slaves.

"I hope you do not plan on making us fight from the backs of the beasts" grumbled Bjorn Bonebreaker, the Huskarl from Greenland, following the king. Finn said nothing, leaping off the platform and shuffling over to the smallest horse, the horse winnied, not pleased with the human choosing to ride her. Herrick Greycloak also said nothing but nodded and followed the king himself.

Falkor had been listen to the ravens and the king but his eyes had nearly stayed glued to the woman. He thought he had seen the very tip of a tail peek from under the helm of her dress. A slight and hidden shiver ran through his spine. The only beings he knew that looked human and had a tail was a troll and some of the tails told about what a troll woman did to human men were not pleasant. He shifted to follow the king to the horses but waited for her to go first.

Finreyr huffed as the king presented them with horses. He was not used, and indeed would never get used, to the beasts. Still, they were far quicker than men's feet, and tired less. He understood that it was needed. Lifting his axe off the ground, he slung it across his shoulder, and started behind the party. He did however notice the bestranged look on the first chosen's face, maybe because of the girl, or maybe not, he could not tell.

Marching through the snow, the king led them to the brown beasts, as each in turned saddled one of them. His steed seemed to even grumble as he mounted the saddle uncertainly, horses never seemed to like Dvergar. "My liege, he started, where are we setting off to ? To the north, to find this Skald, or have you other plans ?" I myself would prefer heading back down to those mead tents.

Gazing back at the lake, he saw he huge flock of men, warriors and poets, mages and shieldmaidens, heading away from its shores, as one whole mass of people, a black swarm that moved in unison back to the warmth and conviviality of the mead halls. If it was organised by a king, he was sure it would be a grand feast indeed. "And I'm missing out on it, as usual ..." grumbled the sour dwarf, now sheathing his axe and stroking his horse's ear with a gloved hand.

The First-Chosen's reaction amused Alassë, and with another slight curl of her lips, she turned her body to follow the king. The small, subtly jolting steps she took caused her hair to swing softly with each step, her body swaying in time. As she approached the beasts, she eyed them affectionately. Such wondrous conformation; the way their held their heads and stomped their feet, their necks strong and sure, their backs ready to hold any weight.

Such magnificent animals, which were worthy of carrying one such as the King, and even more worthy of running free. Alassë refused any helping hands as she approached one of the geldings. Skittish and frightened at the loud cheering of the crowd, the slave that lead him was having a hard time keeping hold of its bridal.

Taking the bridal, Alassë waited until the slave had moved aside before placing a hand on the geldings neck. Murmuring softly as she walked down his side a few steps, Alassë trailed her hand over his coat softly to keep him aware of where she was. Still throwing his head, the gelding remained skittish for a few moments more before he began to settle.

Lifting herself into the saddle easily, Alassë remained sitting side-saddle for a moment before swinging her leg over. Gathering the reigns, she turned the gelding in a tight circle once, before backing up slightly to gather his temperament with a person on his back. Finding him to be deftly submissive, she looked on to the other chosen as she waited upon them.

Alassë Aldaríon