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Wolfheads
The Whispering Chief

The Whispering Chief

Morn came nigh and so band feethed unto the home of the Wolfheads; the bodesman howed the people who branded themselves with markings and tokens of yore galder runes, he saw where they han soothed with the bones of beasts and foes alike, and upon the men were gruesome scars from great streaks of strength be it in hunting or hild.

Rough were these men, even their women and knave and gay gyrles wore their hair long, tied under their chins to resemble the beards of their doughty, freekmen.

“Ye bodesman,” The young wolf signaled, “When approach we the chief, lower thy gaze ‘till he hath nammen thee to speak; from whence thou camest it may be underfanging to how those of standing or to so who so ye wishen, but here ye would follow our ways.”

“Forsooth.” The bodesman said, draping his hood over his head.

They nighed the longhouse of the chief, “Yon is his, I shall feethe by thee.”

Within were two rows of folk, one of thieves and lawbreakers and another of folk coming for handout.

The chief was a large man with a long, gray beard sat upon his chest with his mouth hidden below unrimed years of hair. His eyes atewed as pockets, and his cheeks were gaunt. He spoke naught but whispers, as his throat had fanged a wound in a strid long past. His erila spoke for him, ek if the chief wished to foryield wrath to the lawbreakers, he did naught but afall them there; ek if he foryieldeth a bless to the beggars, then he brought for hand sickerly and ordered eking with hield and eest.

“So when so ye wishen,” the young wolf said with his arms crossed, “Aleese thy bode.”

The erila had seen them already and beseeched them to nigh, upon which the young wolf beaconed the bodesman to lower his gaze.

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The erila spoke, “O ye, name thyself.” And the bodesman stopped for a braid, “I have not a name, for I am but an old bodesman from southern foldan, for I have come to thie ye on behalf of the folker for neering.”

The chief lyfted his head and whispered to the erila before cackling to himself and resting his head in his hand, the erila grinned, “Such they han minded us and now wishen to chy us to neer them. Bodesman! We are afraid to tell, but why should the Wolfheads forlet their homes for folk who han not for them?”

“Sickerly, I thie that ye harken unto me. For the Romans from Germany and Italia han infared upon our folden and marker, so where so we gon they don harry us and our kinsmen, leaven us with nay kyre but to seek ye, and to beseech for thy help. Forsooth, the folk of Denmark and Norway han fayed with them ek now they wishen to eke us among them. The folker han wyed them so when so they could, notwithstanding we aren needing a neering from such freeker as yerself; so we would lyst to fay with ye so ye taken us from such bane.” The bodesman kept his head louted, framchirring his gaze findeth not that of the chief or erila.

The chief cackled once more and chirred to his erila and whispered softly yet firm, “My wisdom knoweth not the tinder of those of yon folde, I would lyst to listen to he, nay in short. Though, I shall leave it to thy galder for my kyre.”

The erila grasped the runes in his hander ek blew into them then cast at the bodesman, so where so they landed was that of the tiw rune, a forsay of hild.

So there so the chief stood to his feet, only a hair his head not strike the roof.

“So the galder hath snacked, such that a Roman seeth not his nighing doom,” he beaconed himself and his wolven warriors, “So when so they seen nigh freeker spring upon them, not is theirs to flee from I, for my shield is my sup this day and their souls my bode to yon Hall; ek that faughtenfield ‘tis my home, where pride and freedom don fordwyne, where I do hean the homes and raise the wick, where is the man who falleth not to my sword? Where would be my death? For he has nay to mymory me, so if so han he chirred his head now, I know him not and give him no chirring of mine.”

He strode to the bodesman, “Lyft thy head, such folkways aren for those unkith. Forever are the strong against the many; ‘tis such the relentless wolves ride the path of doom, but flee not nor shall it have flyd from they.”