Snippet #2701454

Smoke curled upwards in the distance as a lean figure plodded towards it. The traveler, Povel, watched it longingly, hoping to warm up at its source and rest his tired feet. He watched as the smoke’s path was shifted by a gust of wind. Wrapping himself tighter in his cloak, he wished that his father had given him more fur before his departure. The young farmer was no stranger to the cold winds of Svithjod but usually in the context of labor that took one’s mind off the temperature. Still, he thought while putting a hand to the purse tied to his belt, at least dad sent me off with some silver.

The great hall of Uppsala grew more imposing as Povel approached it. He looked at the building with awe, remembering the stories his father used to tell him of brave warriors who gathered in halls such as this. His awed joy turned to seriousness however when this memory reminded him of his purpose: to be one of those warriors. It had become an increasingly common job as harvests fell short in other villages similar to Povel’s. Despite a longing for finding treasure and glory while fighting in exotic lands, the young man was not here to follow his dreams. He knew that if he couldn’t find work soon, he would starve.

The door to the hall cautiously creaked open as the young commoner stepped inside, unprepared for the merriment within. Warmth, both literal and figurative, filled the hall. Men sang and joked as ale flowed. A fireplace filled the room with heat in sharp contrast to the bitter cold Povel felt only moments ago. He solemnly weaved his way through some drunken merrymakers to the bar where he ordered an ale. Leaning against a wall, he surveilled the crowd. It was full of men more fierce-looking and muscled than he, but he knew that he had something they did not. He had knowledge of the ways of commoners and a meager life. Being a stern (though starting to soften with drink) farmer, he was sure that he stuck out in a sea of drunken warriors. Taking sips from his mug, he scanned the crowd to learn their ways. For the first time in a long while, Povel felt hopeful.