In the dead of winter and with his only companions the sound of the baying wolves and the flickering of the flame, he stood alone in his longhouse, the scent of steel and wood were toying in his nostrils and the taste of wine still bitter in his mouth.He tosed his cloak aside and stood tall near the fire, his head bowed and heavy with burdens of time old. He clutched awkwardly the flask of whine in his hands and hastily brought it to his mouth, with eagerness he took a sip, spilling whine all over and yanking the flask aside rather disturbed. "Nysnidrae", the name pierced his mind as he stared the shadows move over the dancing flame. Despite his age his physic was still that of a bolstered bull and a flask of wine was not enough to bring him down, not this man at least. He shook his head trying to shake the memories away, but alas...it's their night and he cannot run nor hide from them.
The sound of the anvil made him grasp his head and cow in fear, the hammering on the forge again and again made his mind explode and filled it with images. He knew this was not real , this was just a dream and Einar was a part of it, he stood at the side of the forge where his father used to work and hold tight the scraps to be hammered. He could smell now the flint and feel the heat in his body from the burning forge, he reached with his hands but to no avail...he knew it all along, this images where only his cloudy mind....
Using his hands he stood again on his feet , the yank did actually brought him back to his senses or at least he though so. His eyes grew heavy and his feet crumbled at the weight of his mass, and with a large noise he landed on his knees, tired and heavy, his head hunged from his neck heavily and his eyes were now surely blured. His mind recalls the time he battled the giants unarmed and the feeling of the kill, the rush, the excitment the burn in his body and the exhaustion he felt afterwards, but now this is worse.
"You could have come with me, you could have skipped this bitter end of your existence" his voice sounded soft and warm, but his words sharp and cunning.
" I belong here, I was born amongst these people and I will depart when I choose to do so", he knew he had to be accute , he knew he had no choice now. "Show yourself! Aren't you tired of hiding in the shadows? Aren't you......" with the reflex of a young man he yanked a torch from the flames, and violently shook it over his head, revealing the emptyness of the room. He stood frozen for a split second and then he jumped on his feet. Where are you, he though but the very though faded in his mind, noone was there, he was alone. Finnaly he collapsed, his nostrils met the floor in a rather unpleasent way and at that point he knew he had to let go and succumb to slumber. He shut his lids and in an instant he was dead asleep.
From the nearby shadows the figure comes out moving lightly upon the heavy wood and closes up on him, with a swift move the figure removes his cloak and tosses it over the large shoulders of Storm, bending one knee over him he touches his head and whispers amidst the dark of the night ".....sleep tight father, I will be here till the world tears us apart...." and with that he dissapears swiftly into the shadows.
Comments
Post a Comment
The language of the posts must be in plain English in order to be allowed due to the fact that people from different countries cannot converse in the mother tongues.