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Grem - The Holmgang


Takimaru

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This is a short story I made about the dueling custom of Grem, called the 'holmgang', roughly based on the Scandinavian tradition. Depending on how I feel, I might touch down on various customs and rites of passage around the world of DLaby.


GREM - THE HOLMGANG

Before it came to be known as a Republic, the northern land of Grem was just that--a territory, its boundaries marked by sparkling white. Its lord was not a man, but the grasp of Winter itself. Grem's inhabitants, known by its few visitors to be hardy and strong people, attributed this to the goddess of snow and cold: Nordia.

She had never appeared to them in the familiar form of a woman, as she was often portrayed on quilts and tapestries, but even so, anyone in Grem could tell when she was present; when every breath outwards produced visible clouds of white, when one's skin formed tiny bumps and each hair stood on end, when their teeth chattered and their muscles couldn't help but spasm in an effort to stay warm. In that sense, Nordia was everywhere. An inhabitant of Grem had no choice but to fear her, yet they still respected her deeply; she was the source that punished the idle, spared the hard-working, and separated the dead from the living. All too often did one quality coincide with the other.

Because of her vast influence across the land, human settlements were few and far between; those that did thrive were tight-knit communities retaining a strong sense of identity. This was not an environment that was particularly kind to the loner, after all; people here had no choice but to work together if they were to make it. Everyone fell into their roles rather neatly, for such stations lent themselves to the survival of the community as a whole. In a place like this, there was little room to be anything else, so the people of Grem often said.

Men were expected to be men; women, to be women. For the latter, their domain was the home and hearth. While every citizen of Gremic society was expected to be able to generate flame from their focus and concentration alone in order to be considered an adult, women were relayed the tasks of starting and maintaining the fires needed for cooking and warmth. As such, they eventually developed a reputation for being the more competent of fire-generating mages between the two recognized genders. Over the years this expectation was given time to solidify from a loose custom into a time-honored tradition.

The males, on the other hand, were relegated to more physical tasks, and as such, their bodies became sturdy; their wills, strong. Even the most diminutive of Gremic men had little choice but to learn in their own ways, to overcome the weaknesses given to them at birth and find strength through training and persistence.

To be a man in Grem, one learned a specific set of skills--to fell trees, so that the family might have firewood and warmth when they needed it; to hunt, so that the family may eat; to fight, so that the family may have glory and not have its integrity questioned. To preserve this honor was the duty of a man. Reputation and standing in Gremic communities held a great deal of clout, and so honor came with both company and belongings.

But out in the wilderness, miles from the village of Fyridal, one man found himself alone, with neither possessions nor family. Worst of all, he had lost his honor, had it taken from him in a bout by another, whom many now considered a superior man. This bout, however, was no drunken bar fight or heated scuffle. It began with a cold, yet fiercely delivered challenge. It was a formalized duel--a holmgang.

The holmgang, as it was called, was a Gremic tradition of dueling with sword and with shield, a device specifically designed by which a man retained (or gained) his honor, along with that of his wife, his children, even his parents and siblings. Without this notion of proper 'honor', a man's family could be subject to scornful talks, of scandalous rumors. As such, one was expected to defend it when the time came. Naturally, some were often ready for this occasion. Others were not.

Teit, as the man was named, fell into the latter category. It was not that he was of poor birth, or of ill shape, or largely disliked by his former peers. In fact, it was quite the opposite.


Born of the Gremic ideal of light blonde hair and ice-blue eyes, Teit was the only son of Valtyr, a respected physician and warrior, and Eydis, the daughter of a late but reputable tanner. With a handsome face and a personable disposition, it didn't take long for him to find a handful of friends in his community.

Like every boy living in a Gremic village, he had been taught the art of the sword, shield and axe from a young age, as well as how to chop wood and to hunt. Teit had long dreamed of becoming an explorer. It was often said that with his skills, and his natural-born talent of excelling at practically anything he put his focus and effort into, that he would grow up to one day be a great man, one who might find a new world. How lucky the woman to be courted by him would be!

Yet before he would manage adulthood through the creation of his first flame, the fire of love would find him beforehand, in his adolescence. It was inevitable that Teit's boyish good looks would earn him the attentions of a suitable other, and so they did in the form of Lilja, a girl considered by many to be the fairest in all of Fyridal. What had started as a shy, innocent love soon blossomed into a passionate and heated romance. Lilja, of hair and complexion matching Teit's as if to form the pinnacle of a visually ideal Gremic couple, had often been the center of much love and attention from those around her.

As such, her needs in that department were not low by any means. All too often she would crave his kind words, his kisses, and his warm embrace. A kind ear to hear one's concerns and a body to snuggle up next to during those cold Gremic nights were Lilja's main wants. And Teit would not hesitate to provide just that, fulfilling her every need for companionship both physically and emotionally. She became like a drug for him, as her presence was like an addictive high--time flew when they were together. It was never long enough.

So intense was his desire to be around her, and her for him, that his need to be out in the wilderness again or amongst the other boys dwindled. His ambition to explore the outside world was gone, faded, replaced with lazy but comfortable nights spent in Lilja's company. As a result, he had acquired a few jealous rivals... but they were still few, while his friends were many.

And Teit was still very talented, passing his test into Gremic adulthood with flying colors. He had generated a flame almost effortlessly after learning it in half the time many boys had taken to catch on to the concept. Of course, it was no surprise to the villagers, who by this time were quite convinced of his talent, if not his efforts, which seemed to be reserved for Lilja.

After 'graduating', he was free to choose a profession, and a wife. As he had learned the arts of manhood and herbalism from his father, Valtyr, he would naturally follow in his predecessor's footsteps. But while he proved competent at that line of work, it was all so that he could afford a nice home and support a future family with his bride to be.

Teit and Lilja would be wed only a month after that. Their time as newlyweds was no less intense and loving than the relationship they shared beforehand. While Lilja might have been considered needy to some, she made a great wife, and took care of the home and hearth while Teit went about his duties. Lilja promised to bear a child for him, and so they shared many warm nights in each other's company. And while she had not yet conceived, they were happy together. Those times, as Teit remembered, were the fondest recollections he cared to keep.

But now, in the chilly Gremic winter, such pleasant memories were just that... only memories. And as his story was not quite over, these scenes would give way to darker and more humiliating ones, fresh as they were, as Teit plodded alone through the gradually hardening snow, his heart as heavy as his legs. Once dressed in the fine clothes afforded him by his profession as a physician, he was now bundled up in layers of worn pelts and dirty rags, donated to him by his few true friends in the village. What was left of his rations comprised a small chunk of stale bread. While he might have had the luxury to throw it out in his previous life, now he had no choice. He shoved the morsel into his mouth, chewing to savor it, then swallowed. The brief moment of respite passed all too fast, and his hunger remained after the fact.

This misery, which he had never known beforehand, started on a single morning.

Teit had risen out of bed one day, during the early morn, while Lilja was still sound asleep between the sheets. An incessant knocking at his door had kept him from sleeping in, though his wife still struggled to keep her eyes shut in spite of the persistent noise. It would only stop when he finally opened the door. Was it an emergency, someone deathly ill? An accident perhaps? Even if he was half-asleep, he would at least answer their pleas.

Unfortunately for him, it was something completely different. A scowling man with grey hair and weathered, slightly tanned skin, stood nearly a full foot over him. The stranger moved his gaze downwards at the good doctor, who himself was not a particularly small man either. A quick scan of his frame would reveal that he was clad in the mail of a man geared for war, while a long wrapped bundle was strapped diagonally across his back, no doubt a polearm of some kind. A career warrior, perhaps?

Teit knew not this man, knew not his face. Had never seen it before. And while this traveler had some visible scars upon his lip and his hands, they were very old, far from fresh. He certainly didn't appear wounded...

Then, the man opened his mouth, and uttered several shocking and unexpected words that caused Teit's stomach to drop and a cold sweat to form upon his brow.

"You're not the like of a man, and not a man in your heart," stated the man in a booming voice. It was a declaration Teit had never heard before--not spoken directly to him, anyway. This, he realized, was the declaration of a holmgang.

It was not without witnesses, either. A look around outside, past his potential opponent, would reveal a small crowd, which contained the faces of many of his fellow villagers. They had likely never seen this man before as well, and were probably wondering what he was doing at Teit's door. Still, he was not one to be chased out. Under Gremic law... no, in Gremic society as a whole, everyone from the simplest man to the wealthiest was expected to retain his family's honor. Teit, as respected as he was, would be no exception to this rule, which in itself was one of the main threads that held the fabric of this particular society together... so it was said.

If he was to refuse, he would be considered a niðingr--a villain and a coward, who shies away from any test of manhood. With this many people bearing witness, he would never live it down. The entire village would be disgraced to know that one of their most respected would exhibit cowardice in front of their very eyes. Fearlessness, after all, was considered a very Gremic trait. And Teit was, at least to those around him, seen as a Gremic man.

The physician cursed under his breath, sizing up the hulking man in front of him. Was it such a manly and honorable thing to challenge someone whose career had become healing, not hurting, people? Who had chosen the path of a lover rather than a fighter? His first thought was that this strange challenger was nothing more than a ruffian, a bully. Yet it was his manhood that was being brought to question with the declaration! What an absurd, outdated custom this was... and yet, from the looks on the faces of those outside, they were expecting Teit to comply. After all, he had proven himself as one of the more gifted warriors in the village during practice and in a few skirmishes with rival clans. But that was years ago. He had no reason to pick up his sword, nor his shield, in these times of relative peace. He was but a physician now, and Lilja's husband. Nothing more. So he told himself.

But Teit's convictions alone were not enough to move the man before him. As he struggled with his decision, a set of footsteps could be heard approaching behind him.

"Teit... what's going on? Who's there?"

It was Lilja, half-awake holding only the warm mink sheets to cover her otherwise naked form. The grey-haired challenger looked past Teit, towards his wife, and cracked a lewd grin. The look that formed upon his face said everything that the physician feared--that he fancied his wife... that he would seek to have her as he pleased.

The expression was enough to spark a burning fire in Teit's heart. Everything he had worked for up to this point was all for her... for Lilja. And if some unheralded stranger were to defeat him in a holmgang, and win, the musclebound brute would lay claim to everything he owned. His money, his house... even his own wife. The thought of it made the handsome doctor tremble uncontrollably with anger. Without a second thought, he snapped his gaze forward and up to meet that of his challenger, who had opened his mouth to speak, perhaps to accuse Teit of cowardice. But the larger man found himself cut off.

"I am as much a man as you."

The words were spoken so loudly that even Teit could hear them, as if he were someone else listening from far away. It was the proper response for someone accepting a challenge of holmgang.

An uncomfortable silence passed. At his own words, Teit could feel the shocked silence that had passed over the others, Lilja included. Then, the lull was broken by a bout of raucous laughter, coming from one man--of course, the one before him.

"Hahahahahahahaha! You're as much of a fool as you look," scoffed the scar-faced warrior. "I will see you at the crossing of three roads here, at the front of the village, in three days," he added. "If you do not show your face... everyone here will know what you are. Make your ancestors proud. Do not run."

With that, the stranger turned his back and plodded away from Teit's doorstep, his footfalls heavy and audible. The blonde physician had worked up the nerve to accept the challenge to a duel, fueled especially by the sight of his beloved's pretty visage, but after the fact, a cold chill swept over him. What had he done to deserve this? Why him, of all people?

A chorus of murmurs swept over the other villagers while Lilja hugged his arm. "Who was that? And why... why did he come here?!" she asked with obvious concern in her voice, as if expecting a different answer. And yet, she already knew. Even the women of Grem knew the phrases that preceded a holmgang, of exactly what it entailed. The men were to fight three days after the challenge. He who won claimed all of the property of the other--women included. Clearly, the stranger owned little more than traveling gear and likely a few weapons, none of which would come of much use to Teit other than to pawn off for a few coins. Whereas the doctor had just about everything to lose. It was unfair, no doubt. As far as Lilja was concerned, it may as well have been legalized robbery. But it was Gremic tradition. And just as men were to be men, and women, women, this aspect of their culture would also be preserved... down to the letter.

The next few days after the initial challenge, or at least the memories thereof, were largely a blur to Teit. He remembered only distress, many sleepless nights in which he wasn't even in the mood to hold Lilja like she wanted him to, and neverending nerves. Fear.

He did, however, remember the night before. Awake he was, as usual, having picked up his old, trusty sword. It had rusted a little, from years of disuse, but was still a capable blade overall, built in the traditional Gremic fashion--straight, with two edges and a one-handed grip, its crossguard etched with the heraldry of his family. It was a simple but functional design, and had a way of taking him back. Staring upon its vaguely familiar design, he remembered the days of his youth, when he aspired to be a great warrior. Before the trials of adulthood. Before even Lilja.

When he was a bright-eyed lad, ambitious to prove himself, the notion of a holmgang like this would have excited him. It would have been something to look forward to. Now that he was an adult, with real-world responsibilities, the reality of the situation terrified him. It was the night before the duel, with still many hours to go before the fight itself, and already his hand trembled as it clutched the hilt of his sword. He took a practice swing with it, or two. Still rusty... but better than the previous two nights. All he could do to ease his mind was practice his swordsmanship, and as such, the clinic had remained closed for that time.

But Teit wasn't the only one stressing over the situation. From across the room, Lilja had creeped down the stairs of their two-story home, peering over at her beloved husband. She, too, could hardly sleep, and bore slight rings under her eyes. The thought of losing her husband and relinquishing herself to another man made her nauseous. She called out towards her husband, in her sweetest pleading voice, for one last appeal. Normally, if she used 'that' voice, Teit would be hard-pressed to refuse. In fact, he never once refused her when she did use it.

"Teit, my beloved... come to bed tonight, at least--"

"I need to practice," came his rather abrupt answer, which cut her off. "I will keep our way of life, no matter what."

"Forget about him. Please. Let's run away together," she urged. "You don't have to fight that man. He's probably some homeless brute trying to make a living out of this outdated rule. After all, he owns practically nothing--his entire worth is but a fraction of what you make in a single day! Those are but outdated traditions anyhow, ones that don't even make sense. Just... as long as you're with me. As long as we're together, we can forget about everything else! Teit..."


"Where will we go?!" Teit lashed out, somewhat unexpectedly even to himself. "Fyridal is the only place we've ever known, all our lives! Have you even stepped more than a hundred paces outside this village?! Have you?! No! And neither have I!!" Turning to look at her, his face was twisted in anger that he had never shown her before. All he had shown her before that was kindness and tenderness, of the best husband Lilja could ever ask for.


As his voice was raised, Lilja's eyes widened, welling up with tears as she found a lump in her throat rendering her unable to make any sort of response.

"We will stay," declared the man, to himself as much as to his wife. "And HE will be the one to leave."

Lilja could subject herself to no more of such stressful talk, and quickly ascended the staircase. The rest of the night, again, rendered itself into a blur for Teit, who only remembered resuming practice with his sword strokes. Any other night, he might have resigned himself to curl up with his beloved. But that night was not one of those.
 
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Takimaru

Takimaru

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Re: Grem - The Holmgang

And just like that, the day of the duel came.

When Teit approached the dueling area, clad in his dark green tunic with a white scarf, and armed with his trusted sword, it was a familiar sight. Four posts, each connected by rope, made within them an area of roughly twelve square feet. At the very center, a smaller piece of animal hide, cut of nine square feet, was laid out, and two more squares, each larger than the other, were traced into the dirt between it and the rope boundary. This was where the holmgang was to be held. It was said that some were held on small islands, so that no one could flee, but seeing as Fyridal was a landlocked town, the 'intersection of three roads' was the designated place for it, as it was in every town like it.

He had always looked upon such an area with awe in his youth, as the proving ground where men are confirmed men. Now, it was like approaching his own grave.

Lilja trailed him, dressed rather conservatively. Teit's childhood friend Astvin trailed by his side, carrying three round wooden shields, crafted in traditional Gremic style, on his person.

"So you are not a Niðingr. I'll give you that," pronounced the challenger, who was already waiting beside the square. One of the villagers, whom Teit recognized as Ingimar, a bitter childhood rival, was holding the stranger's shields for him. Was there some kind of connection between them?

No... there was no time to ponder such politics or accuse anyone of conspiracies. The holmgang was at hand.

"I am Halldor," said the hulking warrior. "We shall see exactly how much of a man you are today."

"Everyone here knows," said Teit. "You will be the one to see it for the first time."

And so the doctor entered the arena, drawing his sword and taking his first shield from Astvin, while the towering Halldor was handed his first by Ingimar. Each man was allowed up to three shields. If all three should break, along with their sword, it was a loss. If one stepped outside the permitted boundaries, it was a loss. And if one should receive such a cut, enough that a drop or splatter of their blood would visibly drip upon the hide... it was a loss. It went without saying, but death was also a loss condition. There was much reason to be nervous.

But for the first time in a very long while, Teit allowed those nerves to fuel him. He steeled himself and moved into stance upon the center square, while Halldor unveiled his weapon. The wrapped bundle was not a spear or a pollaxe... it was a sword. A gargantuan one, at that. Teit's eyes widened at its sheer size. It would take two hands at the very least to wield.

Barely showing any signs of strain, Halldor hoisted the nearly six-foot-long blade over one shoulder. Indeed, the rules in holmgang were that one was to use a sword and a shield; but no exact specifications were made to the nature of the former! Teit had heard of such practitioners before. Hardtslag, they called it, if his memory served him right. The thought of such a formidable tradition of swordsmanship being commanded by a figure like this added even more pressure. Teit could feel his grip upon his sword loosening unconsciously. Snapping into focus, he renewed the tightness of his hold on the weapon and prepared himself.

"So, little man... are you ready?" asked the towering swordsman.

"... Ready," replied Teit.

"Heh. Hrrggghh... HRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAHHH!" Starting with a low growl, Halldor allowed it to erupt into a war cry, which, while startling in its own way, wasn't nearly as terrifying as the massive swing that accompanied it. There were no feints, no trickery, no finesse in the berserker's first attack. Only raw power, speed, and the intent to kill, making his simple yet singular slash practically impossible to intercept.

Yet the physician somehow managed to do so on sheer reflex, barely managing to move his shield in time to parry the blow from the side. While normally such blocks only needed a small amount of force to deflect a blow, the swing that Halldor took was anything but an ordinary one. Teit had never been hit so hard in his life, and while he successfully 'parried' the first attack, it had instantly rendered his first shield into over a dozen half- splintered planks, leaving him holding the severely dented remains of a metal boss. Teit's hand went numb from the sheer force of it, and it took him a second even to let himself release what remained of the grip.

Already, the witnesses would find that a small cut had been inflicted upon the outside of his wrist, even after the blockage provided by the shield!

Lilja covered her mouth and looked away.

"He's done," Ingimar cried out, a hint of excitement in his tone. Indeed, a trickle of blood had formed upon Teit's forearm, and was well on its way to finding the ground.

But before the first drop could fall completely, Teit had, on reflex, caught it with his other arm, allowing it to be absorbed into the fabric of his tunic sleeve.

The experience in itself was terrifying. The psychology of the first hit was important; receiving such a blow helped determine, by instinct more than by logic, whether the recipient could afford to take another. Clearly, Teit could not. While he wouldn't admit to being scared if anyone had asked him as much, his body spoke for him.

But as far as the wound he had received went, Teit's skills as a doctor paid off. He knew that to stop the bleeding, he would need two things; pressure and elevation. With his wounded shield arm, he held the cut against his scarf, then uncoiled it from around his neck in sequence. Circling, he tightly wrapped the long white cloth around his arm, where the blood visibly soaked in, and quickly tied it off. It was fine--it would have to do for now. Most importantly, none of his blood had hit the hide beneath them.

"S-Shit," he stammered, raising his hand and reaching it out to the side. His friend Astvin took that as a cue to throw him the second shield, which the doctor somehow managed to catch.

"He's definitely got the strength advantage," Teit thought to himself. "There's no way I can take another hit like that..."

The nerves caused him to freeze up. He didn't want to... couldn't afford to. But his body, having never experienced such a sensation before, was en route to betraying him. "Damnit, goddamnit, don't fail me now of all times!"

In came another massive slash from the larger man. It went a little higher than Halldor intended to, and Teit ducked beneath it, albeit barely. The close call sent a shiver up and down his spine--but at the same time, the miss helped restore his confidence, if only by a little. That, and Halldor seemed to be moving fairly slowly for some reason...

Teit took a deep breath, regaining the feeling in his fingers and toes, if only momentarily. "But that telegraphing and winding up on every swing the way he does... there has to be an opening, and an obvious one at that. Like-- right now!" He interrupted his train of thought to charge forward, delivering a surprisingly quick overhead slash to the gaping opening that Halldor left for him. He would have to end this quickly.

But such an opening was left intentionally, and the grey-haired ruffian couldn't help but smirk as the smaller man took his bait. A jarring THUD hit Teit from the side. It was Halldor's shield, which he had employed to deliver a counterattack. The physician was sent flying to the side, nearly out of the ring. The sheer power of the blow, even by a blunt weapon, had split his newly acquired shield in two. Gritting his teeth, he cast it aside. Even Astvin could feel the pressure at this point, and reluctantly handed Teit his third and last shield. That moment of courage he had mustered was all for naught. Could he really do it again? He felt his confidence dwindle, and along with it, his control...

Meanwhile, Halldor's own shield had shattered from the force of his own strike. Chuckling, he cast its remnants aside, leaving Ingimar to toss him his second.

This was easy for him... too easy. And as such, the gargantuan warrior allowed himself to relax a little, as if to show that such was the case.

Popping his neck by tilting it from side to side, he showed the other man a loose smile. "Aaahhh... you know, you've got quite a nice home. And a nice little wife too. I promise you, I'll take very good care of both of them," taunted Halldor, holding his shield forward as he reeled back for yet another swing.

The comment set off a switch in Teit's mind. He didn't realize it himself, but a fury from within him had risen. The image of Lilja's smiling visage flashed before him. A glance off to the side would show that she was covering her face, unable to look... no doubt immersed in her sorrow and painful anticipation. He had been her rock throughout most of her life, and now he was failing her. The thought that he had allowed himself to become so complacent, for his blade to become so dull over all these years... it infuriated him. And to think that now, he would lose what he worked all his life to keep and love? The stress took over his body, grasped hold of it, strained his muscles. He lost control.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Teit charged forward, leaving his form and any semblance of logic behind. There was only pure rage. One, two, three, four, five swings. Halldor parried them with ease as the good doctor's form deteriorated under the duress of his burdening thoughts. But Teit's mad rush nearly caused the bigger man to take a step back outside of the boundary. Halldor noticed as much, and when he did, his previous grin wilted into a frown.

"That's enough of your sloppy display, fool," spat the grey-haired brute as he responded in kind with a powerful stroke of his own, rendering his opponent's last shield into tiny bits.

Teit only had his sword left to defend himself before first blood was drawn. He was left on his hands and knees from the immense impact of the last blow. His mind raced, held down by the weight of all the burdens and pressure as well as the stakes that were riding on such a duel. Gritting his teeth, Teit willed himself to stand as Halldor took a step forward.

"Please," he told himself... pleaded with himself. "Please get up. Please get up...!"


His legs finally did take him up. But a glance upwards would show Halldor's sneer... and the massive blade ready to cleave him in two. He remembered the force of the blow, and his body did as well. At this most crucial moment, he was weakest. He was tired, weary, wounded, deprived of sleep. As he finally stood, Teit's legs took him not forward... but backward, into the ropes. He stumbled over them, falling yet again. In holmgang tradition, this was to be considered cowardice.

Halldor frowned, stepping forward. But the larger man would not kill him. Instead, he directed the tip of his blade at the doctor's face, and left the slightest of cuts upon Teit's cheek. A trickle of the handsome blonde's blood turned into droplets that hit the ground below. Several tears would follow. Teit could not catch any of them, this time around, and both flowed. He had lost.

~~~~~​

The formalities that took place following his loss in the holmgang were, again, largely a jumble, a blob, a mixed blur to the dishonored Teit. There was something about the proceedings... legal ones. Halldor was given ownership of his home and everything in it--including Lilja. Exile would follow, though he couldn't even remember if it was his choice or that of the villagers. Even if he was somehow allowed to stay by the others who he had befriended, there was simply no way that he could live in such a small village with another man in his home, with his wife. The very thought of it was simply maddening.

But those formalities were relatively unimportant at this point in time. Perhaps he had blocked it all out, subconsciously. Maybe he honestly couldn't remember. What stood out most in Teit's mind was that he lost, not only the holmgang, but what he loved most. He had forgotten the drive, the desire to better oneself, and embraced the indulgence of lazy, yet romantic days, with Lilja. Now, all of that was gone. He was alone, traveling through the tundra to anywhere that would accept him. The will to even go on fluctuated with every step. After all, settlements in the frozen tundra were few and far between... and there was no guarantee that a disgraced man such as himself would be taken in.

It was hard to tell how long he had been traveling for. All Teit knew was that he couldn't feel his toes... or his feet... or his lower legs, for that matter, and that his rations were gone. His tattered clothes were soaked. Somehow, while lost in his sorrow and self-pity, he had wandered into a snowy forest. He could hear faint howls in the distance. Perhaps he would become food for the wolves. Maybe then he would finally be useful. Men who weren't men, by virtue of strength and of courage, were better off as meat, after all. Stumbling forward, he fell to his hands and knees. It was a vaguely familiar position. His eyelids were heavy, and closed themselves halfway.

The temptation to close his eyes completely, and keep them closed, was strong. Fatigue pulled at his muscles, wearing him down. But a strange light, a warmth, could be felt ahead. Teit was mildly curious as to what it was, but the lingering thoughts of despair and hopelessness were still present, nagging at his mind.

Teit grit his teeth in anger. Not so much at Halldor--he had no control over men like that. It was directed towards himself. He had been all too idle his whole life. Too complacent and satisfied with everything he had ever owned, overlooking many friends, family and possessions, taking them for granted at every opportunity to drown himself in the pleasure and the distractions that made up his daily routine. But when he finally decided that it was a crucial time to keep it, it was too late. He wanted the luxury of the family life without retaining the grit to keep hold of it. Teit had allowed his senses and his blade to become dull and rusted. So useless. Maybe it would only be right for Nordia to finally claim him now...

No. His mind had been through this cycle of despair and hope dozens of times during his journey. Opening his eyes, what he saw ahead was a clearing. It was like nothing he had ever seen. Was he hallucinating?

His legs ached. They would barely move, and he wasn't sure if any of his limbs would listen to him. But if he were to stop, he would die here.

"Get up," he told himself. He was no longer begging; the fear was gone. After all, there was nothing more to lose. "Get up right now." Now that Lilja too was gone, the promise of her warm embrace and a soft bed no longer holding him back, he moved... moved forward.

Like an old friend, the curiosity he had felt from his childhood had returned to him, now that he had nothing left and something new to be curious about. Indeed, there was some kind of meadow, a lush green in stark contrast to the bland white around him.

Spared from Nordia's cold embrace, he fell face-first into the perfect circle, clearly out of place in the middle of the dark wood. Through here there was sunlight, flowers, grass... a stream. It was a large area, no doubt, and yet all of it was... so surreal. Not a single trace of other people or settlements could be found. So it seemed, he was the first.

With a change of scenery came a gradual change in resolve. Teit had found something--and not just anything. There was nothing like this in all of Grem that was even spoken of in myths and legends. It was ... entirely new. And he would not let himself die here so that nobody would know. No, he would return, so that everyone might.

TO BE CONTINUED
 
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