Halldóra the Courageous
Alvar the Guardian Slave
The deeper the thorns tore into Alvar the tighter his grasp matured. Blood poured form the wounded parts, but he continued to choke the boy until the ivy vanished. He did not understand what they were yelping but Halldora arrived with her bow and arrow directed on the strangers. When the wind blew over them Alvar, stumbled back with eyes glaring.
"Celtics?" Halldora questioned not using their tongue, lowering her bow, she knew if the two where foes they would not shout but soar their weapons into combat. Halldora knew a bit of the Celtic tongue , for her father has defeated Celtic clans of which they migrated near the Artic lands.
Alvar however found them as enemies for the thorns of which stabbed him. He rose his sword to attack but Halldora spoke to them now using their language, "Put away with your blade, Alvar. If he wish for a battle she would have brought one."
"Yes, my master," he answered her, sheathing his weapon.
"You are... Celtics, yes?" she toiled through the words with a heavy accent.
"We no fight... If you no fight."