Snippet #2646534

"I hear many things Erak. And there is no need for the history lesson. I know the people." Brynjar scowled, most people were wary around him. Usually they were unsure of who he was, but his great bearing and wild appearance kept them at bay. The raven cawed again and Brynjar looked up. Pushing his hood back he shook out his white hair as he stood. The cold invigorated him and he dreaded having to go down into the village. He would do what the gods ordered, but he hated being amongst people, who only seemed to care about what was right in front of them. The gods had a greater plan.

"There is a son of Norvegr in the village. He arrived on a longship from Trondelag." Brynjar reached into a pouch hanging on his belt, clearing the snow from the hard ground with his other hand. Crouching down, the shield on his back slipping a little, he cast his hand over the space. Knuckle bones rolled on the hard ground, the etched runes on them flashing in the firelight from the brazier. Brynjar examined how they fell, then scooped them up and placed them back in the pouch. "Would that I had now what I had yesterday, find out what it was; mankind it mars, speech it hinders, yet speech it will inspire."