Chapter 2
The weight of her beloved father's words felt like a steel Warhammer had been brought down upon Oddlaug's chest. Years of wondering, denial and acceptance has led her to this moment. For years she had asked herself where she had come from, why she had to endure the feeling of forever being an outsider by her fellow townsfolk. The insulting memories of 'Pig-face' and children's laughter echoed in her mind. Finally, after a lifetime of uncertainty, when Lod had eventually given her a shred of truth, Oddlaug is completely dumbstruck. Lod put his hand on Oddlaug's shoulder and smiled warmly "I know you have many questions girl, and I know you have been waiting a long time for them" He paused.
"I-I don't know where to begin" Exclaimed Oddlaug with bated breath.
"I will start at the beginning, eighteen moons ago. It was the beginning of Frostfall. And it was one of the coldest winters I have ever survived" He checked over to Oddlaug, his massive frame made his head brush against the oaken rafters. He sat back down into his chair and took a long, deep drag of his pipe.
"I was returning from my visit from Dushnikh Yal -an Orc Stronghold located in The Reach, North West of here into the mountains. I had made a trade agreement with the orcs there for Orichalcum and Ebony ore." He exhaled smog of pungent weed smoke.
"There was a terrible blizzard. The wind screamed like a hagraven and frightened my mount. I was thrown from my horse"
"The ground felt harder and colder than it looked, knocking the air from my lungs and throwing Thorsgard from my belt." He checked up at the mantle. "The shiny blade shrilled through the air and slammed into the icy ground""Something caught my eye when I retrieved the blade. There was a trail of bloody footprints, imprinted deeply in the snow where the sword had struck. I followed the trail until I discovered a cave nearby"
Lod paused to take another drag on his pipe.
"Then I heard a scream that chills my blood to this day"
Oddlaugs eyes, entranced in her father's words, glowed pearlescent in the fire of the hearth.
"Then what happened" She beckoned him to continue.
He continued, with reluctance.
"I saw an orc, fighting off an enormous cave bear. It was the biggest bear I had ever seen. With sword in hand, he fought like a beast and was just as ferocious and wild as the bear he was fighting. I recognised him to be Gulbul, your father- the son of the-then chief Lazarg of Dushnikh Yal- before your uncle Burguk killed him and became chief. Nearby, a she-orc was perched against the cave wall, she was badly injured. She was also with-child. Just as the bear got the better of Gulbul, I leaped forward, drew my sword and plunged it deep into the bear's rib cage"
Lod paused. He was trying to choose his next words carefully. After all, he was talking about Oddlaug's parents. How could he tell the young girl that her mother lay on her back writhing in agony? -Clutching at her disembowelled stomach, begging the nord to cut the baby from her. Or her father seemingly driven to insanity with grief, still hacking unrelentless at the corpse of the dead bear.
"You're mother died in that cave. I took you from her arms and brought you back here"
"What happened to my father?" She questioned, in a panic.
"He was driven mad with grief, and in his madness, he fled into the wilds. I don't think he would have returned to the stronghold- as only the chief can sire children. He most likely fled Dushnikh to start a life with your mother. I waited until morning for him to return, I doubt he survived the cold. I waited for as long as I could, buried your mother took your fathers sword and brought you home"
The only sounds that could be heard were the crackling embers that glowed like rubies in the dark, emitting faint light and warmth- though Oddlaug felt an icy chill and as if one thousand needles were imbedded into her bones. She fixed her gaze on the remaining embers smouldering and pulsating in the dark.
More to add here
Suddenly alone, silence crept back into the house. Oddlaug sat in her chair deep in thought, gazing at her father's sword. Her heart thumped and juddered with a mixture of excitement, anxiety and fresh possibility. She leapt up from the chair, sprang across the room and pulled the house door ajar. A fraction of the menace of Frostfall barged in past her, and the flames in the hearth protested violently. Quickly, she ran back inside and gathered some bear hide garments and a pair of old, fur-lined leather boots. She hopped across the floor frantically as she squeezed herself into her wears. Tying her messy, black locks out of her face into a top-knot, she huffed at the effort. She stopped for a few moments to gather her thoughts and her breathe. Oddlaug looked over at the mantle and thought how secure she would feel with Thorsgard in her grip. She stared up to the mantle, the sword almost beckoning her.
Walking over to the hearth she could already feel complete and utter reverence for the blade. Oddlaug reached up, her hands trembling with anticipation. She unhooked the mighty sword from its mount and was completely surprised, for it was deceivingly light in weight and once sheathed securely in its scabbard and fastened to her belt; it proved to be no burden to her frame. In fact the Orcish sword felt considerably heavier against her belt. She stood for a while, gathering her final fragments of courage. Then suddenly, as if pulled from a trance, she quickly made her way to the old, oak door and hastily pulled it open.
It made a keen resistance to her strength, as if the door itself, urged her to stay put. Oddlaug took a sure step outside into the familiar, ready for the unknown to come.