Chapter 2 – Hunter
Inside a cosy little cave, the family dwelled, warming themselves by the fire and getting the cold out, the cave was deep enough, luckily shielding the Nords from the bitter frost, however their natural cold resistance kicked in so they weren't affected by any sort of frost bite.
"Son", called Skjorl, "Have I ever told you why you are call Harroc?"
"Yes Father you tell me all the time", replied Harroc in a whiny tone however Harroc liked the story so appeared intensive especially in the situation they were all in.
"When you were but 10 years of age you were a watcher, you watched almost all wild life with utmost focus, you were fascinated with how they lived, breathed, cared for one and other, fought but most of all, how they hunted. When you were only at the age of 12, you mastered the bow, crafted your own, from the native oak of Skyrim, and became a lethal marksman."
"With my help of course the mother replied"
"Oh stop Haioa, we both know it was me who influenced him", Skjorl replied with a laugh,
"Hey! Come on I wanna hear about my first hunt!" called Harroc anxiously,
"Fine", sighed Skjorl, "It was mid spring, you were almost 13 years of age however your knowledge of animal behaviour and skill with the bow proved to me that you are indeed gifted by Talos himself, and so I took you hunting for local game. Out we set, the men out on an adventure, even if one is only 13. We ended up tracking a bear, its tracks were dangerously close to our village, so we set after it. Down the tracks we ended up at its cave, I told you to stay behind because you were not yet ready to take on such a magnificent beast, I was wrong I went into the cave, only to end up knocked to the floor by surprise of its giant claws, thankfully you heard my cry of pain and charged into the cave, miraculously you shot your arrow clean between its eyes, the arrow struck with such force, that the arrow head ended up going right through the skull, the bear dropped dead, a clean kill. It was at that moment I knew that there is something special about you, the way you can master something so quickly, endure so much and learn ways so quickly that you complete tasks with perfection."
"So I am guessing that's how you got those scars on your chest, hey Pa" stated Harroc.
"Yes my boy, and thus we named you, l'grana, Harroc, Fearless hunter."
Haioa interrupted, "Yes and when you were 14 I used to tell you stories of dragons, oh how you loved them."
"I still do!" cried Harroc happily,
"You loved to hear the story of how the Dragonborn would rise up against all odds, and slay Alduin, the world eater."
"Don't believe anything your mother says Harroc, I say you trust in the bow, and soon the sword."
"And I say", stated the mother, "true bravery, comes from the heart, and not from the arm"
"Yes mother," replied, Harroc.
"Well," groaned Skjorl, "I think we have all had a rough day, let's get some sleep and pray to Talos that this damn blizzard clears up."