The cave was lit by a long hearth dug into the floor. A strange scene it was, let me tell you, half-way between a bear-cave and a lord’s hall. You get the picture.

In the fire-glow of the hearth, the great sword that had been brought out of the deep barrow seemed to burn with a fire of its own. Erasmus stood by Lord Bruin’s bench, holding it aloft for all to see. A fine blade that could only be of Elf-make. The Thanes and the Rangers looked upon it in awe. Erasmus now seemed a lord, tall and triumphant, even beside the huge, bear-like bulk of Lord Bruin.

Bruin, in honour of Erasmus’ successful trial, had invited all the companions to a feast, where he had toasted the Paladin and even swore undying friendship with him.

“A fine weapon it is!” boomed the giant. “Yet it is ill to keep a blade naked. A sword must have its scabbard!” With that, Bruin took up a sheathe, made of wolf-skin or something.

“I had my people busy wit this all day. It is wrapped in the fur of a great wolf-chieftain, before I personally liberated it from him of course, har har!”

Then a strange thing happened, great she-bears came waddling into the cave on their hind legs, carrying in their paws trays with jugs full of drink and many horns hollowed out for drinking. The scent of mead, brewed from honey, came to the nostrils of the Thanes. They were all so eager for a drink that they hardly batted an eye-lid at the strangeness of it all.

When everyone had a full drinking-horn in hand, Lord Bruin raised up his own mighty flagon and roared, “To the honour and courage of Erasmus! May the sun shine on his face! And to Lady Erda and her quest! May the stars guide her way!”

A great cheer went up from the Thanes, overshadowed somewhat by the mighty bellows from the assembled bears. Then came time for the feast proper, the companions were sat at long tables, while Erasmus and Erda were seated beside Lord Bruin, the bearded giant laughing over a horn of mead. The others were busy feasting on venison and fish, with wild-berries and honeyed sweetmeats on the side. All were having a good time, drinking and laughing and singing to the glory of their captain, who had braved the shadow and returned with an ancient blade. They were so wrapped up in the celebrations that they hardly batted an eyelid at the badgers and the bear-cubs that waddled back and forth pouring drinks and carrying out empty dishes.

“Three cheers,” cried Conn, raising up his horn, “to Captain Erasmus, Lord of the Barrow!”

“What? Only three?!” boomed Kregan. “You Rangers are as short on compliments as ye are in height!” the bearded giant roared with laughter.

“At least we are not as tall as our bellies are wide!”

“What was that? This is all muscle you little savage!”

The two began to mock wrestle as the companions howled with laughter. Even Myra and old Ruadh had joined in on the jokes and the songs.

Lord Bruin chuckled to himself. “A fine pack of dogs you’ve assembled here Erda. Not a lot of them, but each one worth their steel.”

“Yes,” Erda nodded. “I have allowed myself a little more hope than I did before.”

“Aye. I smell it in the air… you’ll face much hardship before the end.”

“But to what end, I wonder.”

“That is not for the likes of us to know for sure…” rumbled Bruin. “But methinks this fight of yours will bring on much change. My people have little cause to get caught up in this, but I would not have my clan stand aside while this story unfolds.”

“Then, you have decided to help us?”

“I can promise little… there are still many messages to be sent, many families to talk to. But I am sure I can muster up some young brutes eager for a fight. I already know what others will think of that though. We’ve our baskets full already. The Wolves have become more daring, and we can hardly keep them out of valleys. And what is more, the old tunnels have been getting traffic again. These mountains are not as quiet as they once were…”

Erda shuddered. “That is ill news… and all the more reason to make the crossing as quickly as possible.”

“ Aye. You Rangers know your way about the mountains, but not as well as we do. You had best take the secret roads. I will send with you one of my daughters to guide your way.”

Erda beamed with delight. “That will be most welcome! We shall treasure even the smallest amount of help we receive.”

Lord Bruin laughed “Glad to hear it! She is a daring lass, I’ve only asked her to take you as far as the northern foothills, but I reckon she’ll stick with it to the bitter end. I ask only that you keep her out of too much trouble. It gnaws at this father’s old heart to have her galloping off with so many strapping lads!” Bruin laughed and then leaned closer and spoke in a hushed, conspiratorial tone. “Methinks she’s also taken a fancy to that Paladin too. So make sure she behaves herself.”

Erda nodded and furrowed her brow at the uncomfortable image forming in her head. “Erasmus is an honourable man, I don’t think you need worry much.”

“Har har! If you say so! But it’s not his behaviour I’m worried about!” Bruin laughed long and hardily. “Well then, enough business talk. Time enough for that on the morrow. Tonight forget your worries and be merry!”

The night went on. Myra drank and ate sparingly, not having much stomach for it. Woodsmoke filled the hall and stench of animal fur was making her a little dizzy. Yet to see the whole company laughing and singing like this was… comforting. Already the quest had been arduous and filled with death and despair and shit weather. But for now at least, everyone could forget the trials behind and before them. She looked to Erasmus, she longed to be by his side, to reassure herself that he was truly still alive. But he was being fawned over by the Thanes. This was his moment of glory. She thought she was happy for him, but he seemed so distant, now more than ever. She sighed. How the hen must marvel at the hawk as it soared so high above, so unreachable.

Myra decided that she wanted some fresh air. She looked about, and realised that Pike was not at the feast, had not been present for the entire time. Strange that he was so difficult to forget… yet so easily forgotten. She put some food on a plate, along with an empty horn and a spare jug of mead. She left the bench, unnoticed amongst the feasters, and made her way to the cave’s entrance, the passage lit by wax candles set in niches. She came across a raven, sat on a stony ledge and nibbling at some fish. Myra stopped awkwardly.

“I’m… just going to take some food for our other companion. Just so somebody knows…”

The raven looked at her, as if it did not understand. Then it bobbed its head up and down and spread out its wing towards the entrance, and resumed its meal. That was enough for Myra, and walked out into the chill night air of the mountains.

She went down a trail that hugged the mountain. The horses and pack-mules of the company were tethered and left to graze on a grass covered shelf of outcropping rock. There, sat in front of a small fire, Pike was cleaning and oiling his broadsword as he chewed on a strip of dried beef. He heard Myra’s approach and looked up at her with his usually frown.

“Hullo Pike,” Myra said. “Noticed you didn’t show up for dinner.”

Pike turned his attention back to his sword. “You honestly surprised by that? Eating in a cave full of animals that probably want me dead isn’t quite my idea of a good time anyway.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“I’ve still got rations. It’s good enough for me.”

“If you say so,” said Myra, placing the plate and the mead-horn on a rock. She noticed Pike gave it more than than a glance. “You should still have come, it’s a feast for Erasmus’ honour. You should have been there to offer your thanks.”

“Already did,” Pike said gruffly. “No need to make a show of it.” Pike inspected the edge of his sword, then thrust it back into its sheathe. He sniffed the air. “Is that venison?”

Myra smiled and handed him the food and drink. Pike eyed the plate wolfishly, savouring the sight before he looked back up at Myra suspiciously.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“What’re you doing here anyways. Oh gods, you’re not here to seduce me are you.”

“Hell no. You wish,” Myra said. “I just wanted to say… that I’m sorry. For trying to kill you and all that.”

“Well don’t be!” Pike snapped before tearing into the venison. “Stupid thing to get all sappy about,” he said around a mouthful. “You were just trying to get even for Garm. Don’t start apologising for standing up for yourself. Start doing that, you might as well just roll over and die.” He swallowed and turned his attention to the mead.

“Even so, we’re both are on the same side here. I should be thinking more about this quest than myself.”

“Why’d you even come along then? Oh right, the Paladin. Lot of danger to go through just for a chance to polish a man’s sword.” Pike grinned and took another drink, clearly pleased with his own joke.

Myra grinned wickedly. “You’re one to talk. Why’re you here? Seeing Erda made you tired of polishing your own sword?”

Pike frowned. “That is entirely different. I owe her one magic potion, and all my money was stolen. I’m here to kill things and pay off a debt, that’s it.”

“You can’t hide these things from a woman Pike, we know these things. Even if you weren’t so easy to read. That grim mask you wear softens a little when your eyes fall upon her.”

Pike finished gnawing on a bone and tossed it into some grass. “So what? I’m a man, and she’s got a pretty face, and wide hips. It’s just nature.”

“Of course. And would you have any other woman, if it meant not seeing Erda’s smile again?”

Pike scowled as he peered into his empty drinking-horn. “I liked you better when you were trying to kill me. You didn’t talk as much.”

“Have you ever loved a woman like that before? No childhood sweat-hearts even?”

Pike shook his head. “I am married to the sword. My only children are the slain of the battlefield. Women are a distraction, to be squabbled over by lesser men.”

Myra was all like, "Strange, I have heard stories and rumours of you, Pike. But I don't really know anything about you. Who is the dreaded Manhunter really? Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"I'm not interested in telling tales." Pike pulled his hood over his eyes and laid back against the rock. "I've got a headache. Go on back to your party."

"Hmm, a shame." Myra shrugged. She sat herself down on a bed of grass and pulled out a pipe and a small bag. Pike sniffed the air.

"What's that?" he said.

"Oh, this? Just some Leaf I knicked from the Thanes. Why do you ask?"

Soon Pike and Myra were blowing smoke rings into the night-air. Pike made a lopsided grin and took another pull. "Well, you see, I don't like to show this off, but I'm from the western coast, the Foglands. One of those warriors that came over the hills with fire and sword."

He let a lazy spiral of smoke escape his mouth as he watched the stars. "I'm a Skraeling. I have been a fighter all my life."

"I've heard of them, the Skraelings…" Myra said, almost whispering. "Possessed by devils, they carry swords since the moment they can walk…"

Pike laughed. "You mean giving swords to babies? No, that's dumb. What'd a baby even do you with a sword? Ridiculous. Ha!" He tapped out his pipe and reached for the bag. "But no, I wasn't. I was just abandoned in the woods as a child by my Old Man."

"Oh, that's…" Myra began.

"Not like the way poor people get rid of children htey don't want. I mean on purpose, for training. You see, being a Skraeling isn't just about knowing how to deal death, it's about becoming death itself. To hear the Voice of the Beast."

"The what?"

"The voice… in my head," Pike tapped a finger against his temple. "Makes me strong."

"Oh…" Myra shook her head, pretending to understand.

"But first, I had to survive on my own in the wilds. I had to learn to live and to think like an animal. Any of my people that chanced to see me were ordered to kill me on the spot like a rabid dog. And so that went on for a long time, until I just stopped thinking like a man. I don't know how long I lived that, the years didn't mean anything to me. But I had passed the trial, I had learned to become the beast and to hear its voice. My people welcomed me back, and I joined my brothers as a Skraeling.

So yes, after that I just mostly cut my teeth on sea-raiders for my Old Man. The odd clansman when fights were picked. But that was all just training for the war."

"Between the Foglands and Paladins? Aye, but I've always lived in the north, the fighting never reached us."

Pike nodded. "But the Paladins didn't do much fighting at all until the end. I was there for the first battle, when some fancy Paladins were leading a rabble of Rivermen up into our hills. We ambushed them. That was the first time me and my brothers truly let ourselves go. We tore through them like they were dead leaves.

“After that we were always on the move, when the other clans joined us. We went from city to city, killing people wherever they tried to stand against us. We just kept winning. But we spread ourselves too thin. Let the Paladins come ua as in the rear while we Skraelings were trying to break the last forts in the south. We started losing, and soon it was all over. Me and my brothers got surrounded, and I did what I could to survive…"

Pike paused and glanced darkly into the night for effect. Myra raised an eyebrow, "Like what? You have to bang somebody…?"

"What? No! No… I killed my feather and took his head…"

"Oh… oh dear…"

"I handed his head over to the Paladins, and they let me walk free with a bag of silver. And then not much else I could do after that, except go wherever someone was willing to pay for my sword. From there I just wandered my up north, and here I am." He sighed, tapped out the ashes from his pipe. "I have lived only for battle, I can't do much else. So I get the work where I can."

"You could have sailed away. We have heard of Skraelings becoming corsairs and mercenaries… You could have been a warlord by now."

Pike was dreadfully afraid of boats. He shook his head. "I don't intend on being another man's soldier again. I've known warlords, they always either fall to enemies… or get betrayed by their own. It always ends up a bloody mess. If I have no allies, then I cannot be betrayed…" He yawned. "Cuts my problems down by half."

Pike's head began to droop. Myra looked deep into the campfire. "Won't get your heart broken either…" she said quietly.

She heard soft snores, Pike was asleep, still sitting up. Myra sat there for some time, watching the stars while deep in thought. Finally she stood up and collected the plate and jug she had brought out. She made her way back up the trail to the cave from where snatches of song still could be heard. For a moment, she could not help but hear the voices of old companions in those songs.

Miles away, from a winding mountain trail, Gorra the old she-bear watched the woman walk back into the cave of Lord Bruin, then turned her gaze back to where she knew the grey-cloaked one would be sat. She allowed a deep growl to emerge from her throat, longing to pounce on the man and tear him apart. But he was too far away, and too near to Lord Bruin's lair. She turned back to the trail and continued along it, to places where beasts of any kind seldom dared to go.

Along the way, she stopped by a gurgling stream and snatched up a fat trout with practiced ease. Carrying it in her powerful jaws she ambled her way into a deep, deep valley, where mists seemed to forever sit. The Bears did not go there, save for Gorra. At the bottom of that valley was a bog, were furtive and slimy creatures croaked and swam. Before she descended any further, the she-bear stopped, stood on her hind-legs and bowed forward as if hunching over. Her fur rippled strangely, her skin shifting. She stood up straight once again, but this time her fur-skin fell away like a heavy cloak, to reveal the form of a woman beneath, old yet broad and still possessing a fierce animal strength. She stooped, picked up her caught fish, and hobbled down into the valley of mists.

She knew the hidden paths well, and went on without much difficulty to the entrance of a cave. It was spooky looking. Gorra muttered and moaned a grisly song as she edged towards the cave entrance, then threw in the trout. A moment's silence, then the sound of thin bones being crushed and blood being slurped. That was good, Grimnir had taken her offering. And for creatures such as he, it was always best to meet them with some food in hand.

With that, she stepped into the cave, and was met by two, luminous eyes staring at her with half closed lids. Gorra could only just make out the monster's shape in the shadows. How long Grimnir had dwelt in that valley, Gorra did not know, only that many years ago when she was very young, she had dared to enter the valley and had chanced to encounter the creature. Luckily for her, Grimnir had just returned from a successful hunt and was not hungry enough for bear-flesh. Ever since, Gorra had occassionaly returned to that valley to speak with the old monster. She had learned many ancient and terrible things from him, as can be quite profitable.

The creature's voice came to her as though from the bottom of a deep swamp. "Oh… it's you… have you come to share riddles again? I am tired… come back another night. Thank you for the fish…"

"I have not come to riddle, Grimnir," rasped Gorra. "I have come to ask, and to repay, a favour."

"Oh? How wearisome… But go on."

"My son has been slain! My poor cub… so strong and handsome… made food for worms by a Man from the south. A grey cloaked warrior! A trial was had, but Lord Bruin and his clan have proclaimed justice served and allowed the man to continue living beneath the sun. But justice is not revenge! I wish for you to go out and slay this warrior, then my son, and my woe, will be avenged!"

The monster groaned, a sound like a door to the underworld creaking reluctantly open. "Revenge? That sounds like a bother. I'm much too old for that game. And warrior's are not much good for eating, all sinew and gristle… not worth the trouble. Besides, last I was out I caught up two children, twins actually. I'm in no mood to go hunting again…"

"And thus you shall be paid! And a great reward it shall be for so small a favour…"

"Well? Where is it?"

"It is with the grey-cloaked one. His companion to whom Lord Bruin has given his favour… a living Elf-lord!"

The dimly glowing eyes were now bright with an eldritch fire. "An Elf! Is this true?"

"Truer than true! He leads a band of men to war in the north. He goes in armour and carries a shining sword. You shall see for yourself."

"An Elf… ohhhhh how long has it been?" Grimnir's voice now swelled with long forgotten power. "Not once have I forgotten the feeling… the strength! I already feel it return to me!"

"That's why I hurried to you, ere he could ride away and be snatched up by someone else. But you must be quick! And before you glut yourself on his blood, remember a mother's grief, and destroy the grey-cloaked one! Make him feel his dying…"

But the monster was already gone, flying past her like a shadow borne upon the wind, cackling with mad glee as he vanished into the mists.

Gorra went up out of the valley and took up her true skin once more. Again in bear-form, she ambled along the familiar trails. She looked to the sky, but a curtain clouds had came in on the wind and hid the stars from her view. A shame, she thought, she would have liked to look at the stars and read their signs. It might be her last. She did not know how long it would take, but Grimnir would catch up to Lady Erda's company. He would drink the blood of the one called Erasmus, and then know her lie. Then he would surely go into a rage at having been cheated so, kill all that company. When that was done, Grimnir would hunt Gorra down and kill her too. But she did not care, death no longer held any terrors for her, so long as the one called Pike was there to greet her in hell.