A recount of bloodshed and kin-loss, two winters ago.
"Come now, my kin! We will rest here for the night, and at dawn.. we make for Eburwod!", the tall blonde man shouted out as raising up his walking stick, that was burnt at one end from using it to poke the fire; in response he got cheers at the news of finally going home!
For three seasons the company had traveled around the stretches of Northern Mirkwood, and now as the snows fell their hardest on the peaks and the wind blew like floating ice, they were finally going home. The men and women started to set up their tents made of hides and sticks. One of them was much larger than the rest, and this was the one the blonde man walked to.
"Hail brothers! Hail sister!", the man smiled as his arms looped around the necks of his older sister and one of his younger brothers.
"Hail Vidargeir!", his sister spoke out, excited for the first time she had been in a whole season's passing.
"Do you think fadir will be proud, Vidar?", the young boy looked up to his elder brother in wonder.
"Joah, I'd say so, Bjorn.", Vidargeir smiled down at the brown haired boy before releasing his siblings necks to move towards a log that was placed beside a roaring fire.
Tales soon started to be spread through the camp as the moon rose ever higher, casting its pale light through the thick eaves of the trees. No birds cried in the night, and only the crackling of the fire was heard for the first several hours of the night. However, soon enough this silence was broken with a howl floating on the winter's wind. Then another.. and another... and like a chorus of trumpet blowers, the howls grew louder and closer.
"Arise men! Gather arms and protect the women!", Vidargeir shouted out with his deep voice like thunder as he lifted up his large great axe. In one hand he held the shaft of the axe, and in the other he lifted up a large ox-horn and blew into it to awaken the camp. "Rise!!"
Out of the shadows of the trees skulked many shapes; some large and white and others small and black. Each of them had eyes as if a fire burnt behind them, and their teeth were shining beneath their growling maws. They moved ever closer, before the largest brown wolf let out a howl on the air and they all moved in!
Long legs bound them forward, and sharp teeth sunk into flesh and met with bone. Wild screams of pain and fury was let out from the men as axes started to swing and knives were being drawn. Blood of both sides was spilt.
'Bjorn!! No!!", Vidargeir shouted out as he ran towards the outskirts of the camp. His brothers fingers were clutching in the mud, fear in his young eyes as he was pulled off into the forest before help could arrive. Tears of fury and grief came to the brown-eyes, and his axe now swung wildly until it broke upon the back of a wolf.
A shrill scream pierced the air, as Vidargeir's sister watched Bjorn draw his last breath and she did not see the wolf that now bit her from behind and pulled her backwards to the floor. Drawing his knife now, with his golden braids stained with blood; his shirt ripped and torn by teeth and claw and blood trickling down his arm. His voice came like a roar, chasing down the great wolf and plunging a knife into it before it could eat his kin, and then he shouted out to the men and women still fighting on!
"Kin! Do not let up!! These are just wolves.. what we use to dress our young! Fight on! Use fire if you must!!"
And with this, Vidargeir lifted up his horn and let out a note so loud that the wolves shrinked back with their ears in pain. This gave the woodsmen just enough time to lift burning branches from the fire, and now the tables had turned! Predator turned into prey as the roaring orange heat swung upon the hides of the wolves, sending embers floating into the air.
The fight did not go on for much longer, and now the wolves had fled back to their dens deep in the darkness. Twenty nine men and women set out three seasons ago, and now only thirteen would return. The dead were piled up and burnt, and in a pile next to them the wolves were also burnt after the men had took their share of hide and meat.
No song was sung on the journey back. No smile came to the bloodied lips of the men. No joy came to the heart of the women as they looked upon their home. Instead grief took place, and for long it stayed.
