We all awoke with a slight chill. As we all rested I made sure to wrap my two companions in some of their blankets from the Wagon and pulled my leathers tight. The drizzling rain had stopped some time in the night. Everyone rubbed the sleep from their eyes and smiled to one another. As we ate our dried foods I looked to my companions.

“Mary, changes in the way the air feels will alter how your lute needs to be tuned. Make sure that every time before you play to adjust your strings. Gerald, thank you for the shelter for the night. If you're headed towards Merryweather this is where we part ways again.”

Gerald shook my hand and I ruffled Mary’s hair affectionately. “Thank you for the tale Dolan. May the gods bless your travels.”

“May the gods bless you as well.” I climbed down from the wagon and looked at the miserable donkey known as Bess. I felt for the beast of burden but knew Gerald would take good care of her.

With a final wave I started down the road once more. The sounds of morning preparations and Bess being strapped into place to pull the wagon echoed along the road. The ground was wet but hard packed enough that my boots didn’t squelch or be pulled by mud. My mind was much clearer than yesterday. Spending time with kind people and telling a tale had done wonders to brighten my mood. The trickling of power I got from it further fought off the slumber that called.

My jaw ached from how hard it was to chew the dry foods and I drank a few gulps of water from my skin. It felt a little light and I promised myself to fill it up at the next creek. The skies were gray and overcast but there was no scent of rain on the wind. The day warmed as light seeped through the clouds and I began to hum a song to further boost my spirits.

The road split three ways and I headed northwest. Soon I approached a creek by midday and the thick short bridge that gapped it. I stepped down to the water and refilled my skin to bursting. My hands went numb from the chilly waters. My breath came out as a steamy puff as I rubbed them together. Some winter winds from the local mountains seemed to have made their way down from the peaks. I returned to the road and noticed a thin smoke rising into the sky from the coming town.

There was no wall or palisade surrounding this town. A great swathe of land filled with stumps led up to the town. Homes were tightly packed and butting against the dense forest that started on its other side. The sounds of chopping wood echoed through the clearing leading up to the town.

I spotted no immediate signs of an inn or pub and I became a little disappointed. Then around a corner I spotted a longhouse. Great long logs lay in a cabin like formation. It was at least half a dozen homes long and two homes wide. Two chimneys lay interspersed along it. Women toiled in front of it with baskets of laundry being scrubbed on washboards. Men had thick logs lined up on blocks as they chopped it down into firewood. A greatly diminished stack of it was shoved towards the front under a small covered roofing to keep it dry as it aged.

Children held and moved the logs for the adults and worked on bringing clean clothes inside to dry in front of fires. A larger man, a head taller than my current form wielded the largest ax and each swing split wood easily. Around his neck hung a unique necklace bearing a symbol of the Duke. I made an educated guess that he was the leader of this town.

A few of the children started pointing in my direction and calling out to the adults. The great man set his ax down and wiped sweat from his brow as I approached. His voice was deep and sonorous, “Hello traveler, what brings you to our humble village Thomstown. I am the keeper of these lands, name is Gregory Thomson.” He held out his town.

As his hand engulfed mine I squeezed just enough to be polite but I could tell he could crush hands if he wanted. “Dolan Talespinner, minstrel by trade. I’m on my way to the capital and like to spend my nights entertaining others. I’m looking to restock on supplies and maybe find a warm fire to spend a few nights by. It feels like a rainstorm is coming. I can pay with song, tale, or coin for shelter.”

He stroked his massive shaggy beard. With a glance at the long house I could see the gears turning in his mind. “We could do with some entertainment while the rain comes. Most of our homes aren’t weather worthy yet as they were damaged by the winter. I can’t offer more than shelter though. You’ll have to earn what scraps from others to fill your belly. Unless a hunter comes back lucky.”

“Most gracious of you. May I go inside?” It was hard not to turn and go to the entrance so I could be warm and work on getting dry from the continuous dampness in the air.

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Gregory nodded and grabbed his ax. “I got a day of chopping ahead so make yourself fit in. No time for introductions from me.” His sentence ended with another chunk of wood split with a mighty chop.

I made my way to the entrance and went inside past the woman and dodged around one of the running children. A great cauldron of what most called “Grammy’s soup" simmered in one of the great fireplaces. Every day water and ingredients would be added and no two meals would ever be the same. The other fireplace lay filled just with crackling charcoal. Dozens of two stacked cots lined one wall. A line was set up down the center of the room and children used stools to hang more and more clothes to dry in the warmth of the longhouse.

A great elderly woman tended to the soup and I approached, “Do you know what cot might be open for a stranger?”

As she looked at me I noticed one of her eyes was milky and empty of sight. She looked me up and down taking in every detail she could. “I might. You talk to my son? He is in charge.”

“I spoke with Gregory, I’ll earn my stay by entertaining everyone with songs and tales. Seems a rainstorm is coming and I’m hoping for a few days' shelter.”

She harrumphed and set aside her stirring stick and shuffled off. I made the leap that she wanted me to follow behind her. She passed all the standing cots and stood before a pile of hay. “Lay your blanket here boy. No cots are open. The horses that need the hay passed in the winter due to sickness. We have yet to get replacements so the hay is free to lay on.”

“Thank you,” I set my belongings down and unrolled my tightly rolled blankets and clothes. I hung them up off to the corner on the center line so they would dry. I fished out some of my dried food and relaxed upon the hay. Crossing my ankles I chewed as I pondered what tale I would tell while the rainstorm came. I would have a few days to spin a truly epic tale. I would tell the people of the second calamity I had been part of stopping. That would take a few days to spin effectively.

A few curious children peaked over nearby cots and me and giggled whispering to themselves. Soon I was bored and decided it was gonna be wise for me to earn more than just a shelter. I stripped off a layer of my leathers and hung it with the rest of my belongings.

I stepped outside and approached one of the tired men that were huffing powerfully. “You share your dinner tonight and I’ll do some of your chopping.”

The man glanced at me and didn’t spend a moment thinking as he gestured to the ax. I felt the heft of it and the well worn handle. It was made smooth by thousands of swings and I could feel a dampness from sweat. With a practice swing I cracked half ways through the waiting log. It took another swing to split it and I heard a light chuckle from the men around me that split with each swing. I realized I was out of practice and instead aimed for a steady pace.

By night my shoulders ached and my muscles burned. I felt good, empowered by the activity and swell of physical labor. A rivulet of sweat went down my spine soaking into the underlayer I wore. I had ignored the celebratory call of a hunter coming back with a dressed deer in tow. Women periodically brought buckets of fresh water around with a ladle to use to drink with. As I looked around I could see the hide stretched tight as a man scraped a knife along the inside flesh to shave away any blood and meat still tied to it.

Several men had great haunches of meat and were salting it for preservation. Many of the men looked at me warily as I was a stranger amongst their midst. The man I chopped wood for clapped me on the shoulder snapping my attention back to the present. “You get a bowl of stew tonight stranger. Good work today.”

Being led inside a great line of people starting with the oldest all held carved wooden bowls and spoons. I noticed the pile of unused bowls near the end of the line and grabbed my own set and stood beside my benefactor. The powerful scent of simmering venison filled the air. Discarded mixing of unusable parts of forest roots and vegetables lay in a basket beside the fireplace.

The elderly lady looked over the crowd and took a sip from the cauldron. With a smack of her lips she nodded and started filling bowls. Great hard biscuits were handed out with the soup and I could immediately see people break them in half to start soaking in the broth to soften. I watched and noticed the slight preference the woman dishing people had for the children. Her smile only existed while she served them their meal. Several of them would stop and tell her of what chores they helped with during the day.

I received my bowl and biscuit after the man vouched for me and made my way to the haystack that would be my bed. I broke my biscuit and inspected the soup. Great thick cuts of roots and shredded chunks of venison comprised most of the meal. Mushroom cuts interspersed throughout. I couldn’t smell any herbs used for flavor but knew they had plenty of salt to spare. I began to eat and it was pleasant if not a little bland. I could taste a hint of fish probably from a few meals ago.

The only sound in the longhouse was the slurping of food and the sounds of chewing. Soon though the raucous playing of children started as well. Soon I had expectant eyes on me as I finished my food and brought it to the wash basin. I had licked it clean so it was little more than a rinse.

I picked out my lute and tuned it. The room grew quiet as I prepared.

“This is about the first calamity of the world. Told through ancient times long since forgotten.”