Asterix shifted about, muttering inaudibly. Suddenly, his head shot up and he yelped, panting and feeling cold sweat dripping from his forehead. He blinked, his eyelids heavy with sleep. He was back in the norn steading again.

Strange…he couldn't remember falling asleep here. He was sitting at the wooden table, arms resting on the table top. A soft, warm fur was carefully laid around him. Slowly, he raised a hand to rub his eyes. That same dream again. When will it end? Every time he had it, something about it changed and made it worse. It was once again a dragon attacking his home, but this time, as the world around it burned, its pale eyes shifted, and it looked at him.

It looked at him. It beckoned.

Asterix shuddered as he thought about it. Why did he keep having those dreams? Was there some kind of purpose to them that he didn't understand yet?

Bobbo approached him calmly, snorting as he waddled. The grizzly nudged him in the belly with his big nose and woke him a bit more. He shot up in surprise, but then he realized the bear was behaving. He truly was just an oversized dog. Hesitantly, Asterix placed a hand on Bobbo's head, and the bear began to groan pleasantly when his fingers rubbed a fuzzy ear. He began to glance around the room. It was the same as before. Thick oaken wood made up the dome-shaped ceiling, from which Margrit's tattoo art hung. The fireplace was still lit, though it had dimmed down a little. A strong smell of food being cooked wafted through another door's thin openings; presumably, the kitchen laid behind it. Dogmatix sat near the door, watching it and waiting in excitement.

Eventually, he yawned. His mouth and throat felt dry. He wanted to stretch himself, but then he felt a pain between his shoulder blades. He winced and hissed. "What the-" He lifted his hand away from Bobbo and tried to feel at the source of the pain. There was soft linen patch covering it. Then he remembered. He was having that mark removed from his back. He remembered how much it stung. But how could he have fallen asleep during all that?

Wait a minute… Of course, it must have been the tea.

"Welcome back t' the world o' the living, lil' man!"

Was that the voice of…Obelix? He turned to look. No… It was just another norn, hired to fix Margrit's broken door that currently stood wide open as he knelt beside it. His voice was almost an exact match of his best friend's. But the real Obelix didn't have that accent, and he would never call him a 'lil' man', anyway. The norn even had long red hair, as well as a thick beard with braids, accompanied by a mustache.

"Quiet one, ain't ye? Ye've been asleep since before I got 'ere. Was afraid I'd wake ye with me tinkerin', but ye kept on sleepin' like a dolyak."

Asterix blinked groggily. That tea was way too strong for him. "Good…" He stared out the doorway, it looked like it was getting dark out. "…evening?"

"Aye, early evenin'. Ye picked a strange time t' be sleepin'." The repairman made the final adjustments to the new lock he hammered into the wooden door, then gave it a slap, and the door slammed shut. "There, good as new! Now I best be headin' home quick. Me wife 'n kids await me fer dinner." He packed his tools back up and got up to leave.

"Wait, shouldn't you be getting paid for this?"

"Naw friend, me 'n lil' Margrit know each other well. She paid me upfront. Enjoy yer meal!" The door closed, and the norn was gone.

Enjoy my meal? What does he mean by that? He looked around again and saw his belt and tunic laying on the chair beside him, where he had left them. He took them and carefully put them back on, paying mind that he didn't move his shoulders too much, which proved difficult. After the short struggle with his clothes, the other door creaked open, and Dogmatix got up and began to yip. Bobbo also got excited. Margrit came walking in with two platefuls of food. "Hey there, little rabbit! Sleep well?"

"I guess so," he answered while he rubbed his neck. "Your friend just left, by the way. The door's fixed."

"Ah, you met my friend Horin. Good!" She set the two plates on the table and walked back to fetch a bowl of raw meat for her bear. As well as a small slab on a dish for Dogmatix. After she gave the two animals their share, she sat down. "All right, dig in!"

Asterix inspected the plate of food set before him. It was a rather exotic cuisine; composed of a large slab of powerfully spiced meat that looked like nothing he'd ever seen, and various whole roasted vegetables that were all but known to him. The pile of food was far too much for him as well, as though Margrit had expected a norn to be visiting. He looked up at her - who had already tucked into her meal - questioningly. "Just like that? You're inviting me for dinner?"

"Well, I can't just send you out into the cold at night." Margrit replied as she popped a cut of meat into her mouth. She stared back at him momentarily, noticing he was hesitating. His lack of excitement worried her. What if he lost his appetite after going this long without proper nutrition? If so, she was going to have to fix that. She just had to figure out how… "You're not telling me you're refusing a norn's hospitality, are you?" she asked finally.

Asterix looked back up to her in shock. "N-no! Of course not!" He quickly grabbed his fork and knife, and began to eat. Once he had a taste of the meat, he immediately got more excited. Margrit smiled. She found his weakness: politeness.

"This is really good!" said Asterix.

"Thank you. But I'm not that great," Margrit laughed. "It's hard to make dolyak meat taste bad."

"You're better than me, though. I still tend to burn a leg on a wild boar."

"You're the cook in your family?"

"No, not like that. I live alone." He bit down on a slice of a vegetable.

Margrit shot an odd glance at Asterix. "You mean…you don't have a wife? No kids back in Gaul?"

"None of it! It was just me and my best pal. Just having a good time, you know…" He swallowed. "I never was much interested in starting a family of my own. Some of the people of my village thought it was strange; my mother even tried to hook me up with a lady, once…"

"I know how you feel," Margrit sighed. "I've had men showing up at my doorstep, pronouncing their love to me. But they only wanted a wife to cook for them. I've refused each and every one so far." She rolled her eyes and grinned at the thought while she chewed. "Call me selfish, but I don't want to spend my time and freedom on a relationship, or kids… There are too many things to do, to discover!"

"That's exactly what I was thinking!" Asterix said. "I used to go on a lot of adventures back from where I came. I wasn't gonna give that up! Not even for gold."

"Tell me about one of your adventures," Margrit said intently.

They both traded stories, laughed, and ate. Asterix was, not surprisingly, done eating sooner than Margrit was, leaving his plate half-empty. Margrit told him he could offer the leftovers to Bobbo, and the bear ate it happily. When Margrit too had finished, Asterix offered to help in cleaning the dishes. But Margrit refused, telling him he shouldn't strain the wound on his back. He still insisted on helping out somehow, and eventually persuaded her to let him clear the table. Later that eve, they sat near the hearth with warm beverages, and they talked some more.

"So you really do believe me… About Gaul, I mean."

Margrit bent down from her seat and picked Dogmatix up, placing him on her lap. The pup yawned as she began to talk. "Well, when you told me about it, it somehow seemed awfully familiar to me. And that's how I knew you weren't lying… I couldn't quite figure out what, though. But, while I was finishing up ridding you of that mark, I gave it a good thought and then, I remembered."

"Well? What was it?"

"When I was a wee girl, I always used to ask my grandfather why the humans were smaller than us norn. He never really answered that, but instead he would tell me a very old story about how, a couple of thousand years ago, the six human gods first arrived to Tyria through the Mists, and brought the human race along with them."

Asterix stared in bewilderment. "You mean, they're not native to Tyria?"

"They're not. But nobody knows for sure where they did come from. Maybe they all came from this 'Gaul', like you did."

"Well, Gaul's just a small part of the world I used to live in… There are more countries."

Margrit lifted her coffee from the table and sipped. "And let's see if I get this right: your village is the one of the very few that still stands vigilant against this empire of Rome, right?"

"I hope it still is." he answered, a tad worried. "I have no idea what's happening there right now. I know they can handle the Romans just fine…but what if the Inquest are still sending these monsters out?"

"Don't worry. I bet that however they did it, it must have taken a ton of effort to achieve. I mean, for a portal to reach that kind of distance, it must have required a lot of power."

Asterix gave it a thought. "Yeah, you're probably right." He looked back at the fire within the hearth, the flames dancing as they reached out to the sky via the chimney's opening. Margrit observed him in silence, while she scratched Dogmatix's head lightly. She could see him getting lost in thought. Now and then, the limp wing on his helm would twitch almost unnoticeably. For being kept so far away from home forcibly, he looked oddly calm.

But she knew better than to get fooled by that mask. Knowing now that he was once the only warrior of his village, this behavior of keeping his fears and qualms hidden from others was much more of an instinctual act. Keeping his cool was necessary in order to keep his people calm, as well.

Suddenly, he cleared his throat and looked back at her. "So, how about telling me something about yourself?"

She blinked, surprised by the question. "Me? Oh, I couldn't possibly be that interesting…"

"You kidding? This whole world is nothing like I'd ever seen!" Asterix shifted back carefully until his lower back supported against the large chair he sat on. "I mean, from what I've learned, your people worship animals. How come?"

"Animals?" Margrit thought a moment. "Oh! You speak of the Spirits."

"Spirits?" he asked intriguingly, "Please, tell me more."

Margrit chuckled. "Well, they're not gods or anything, but the Spirits of the Wild guide us in our lives. We respect their ways and the habitat of their children, and we hunt in their names. Most norn revere one spirit more than others. There are many different spirits, such as Wolf, Raven, Snow Leopard…"

Asterix glanced at Bobbo, who laid snoring on the mat. He remembered the face of a bear hanging from one of Hoelbrak's great lodges. "Do you revere the Bear Spirit most?"

Margrit laughed.

"No, I revere each spirit equally. Unless you count Jormag…" Her smile suddenly turned into a dark frown.

Asterix looked back at Margrit, feeling a bit uneasy. "Who's Jormag?"

"The Elder Dragon of ice. The Elder Dragons are giant, horrible things; possibly as old as Tyria itself. They stirred from deep below the earth and brought forth earthquakes, avalanches, —even raised an entire sunken nation— as they woke. Some say they represent the forces of nature, destroying everything in their path without even needing to try." She sighed forlornly for a moment before continuing.

"Several centuries ago, Jormag rose from the mountains in the north, driving us as well as other people of different races to the south. Our ancestors tried to fight the dragon, but even with the Spirits on our side, they were no match. As the Spirits fought to keep Jormag contained, it devoured Owl, destroying her completely…"

"At our darkest hour, the legendary Asgeir Dragonrender had a vision, and he told his people to follow Wolf, Bear, Raven, and Snow Leopard to new land. They led them south, and promised that one day we would fight Jormag again. And thus, Hoelbrak was formed."

"The Sons of Svanir, those drunks from before, revere Jormag as the most powerful spirit of the wild. But the dragons are not spirits, they're nothing but destruction taken physical form. Even today we feel and see their influence on the world. Many have lost family and loved ones to them, either killed or converted into minions…"

When she finished, Margrit looked away, a flush of sadness overcoming her.

"That's horrible…!" Asterix felt a mix of restlessness and anxiety tug at him, either that or it was the coffee. He heard mention of dragons before in the short time he spent in Tyria, but never truly understood their roles in this world. Now, imagining that those dragons were so ancient and great, and so formidable and terrifying, that they could even rival the might of gods... Even the returning nightmare suddenly made more sense. It made him want to leave this place all the more. But he also felt compelled to help in some way. "Has anyone ever stopped them? At least tried?"

Margrit turned her head to face Asterix again. Despite the gloomy mood, there was a glint in his eyes, a spark of hopefulness. "An alliance known as the Pact defeated one," she finally spoke. "But the war was long and cost many people their lives. And there are still more dragons to face."

"Where is that alliance now?"

"The last I heard, they were sending their fleet off to face Mordremoth, the jungle dragon." Margrit forced herself to smile again. "But that's really not for you to be concerned about."

That name… Mordremoth. Asterix scowled. "But I am concerned." he retorted.

"You have your own problems, little rabbit-"

He stood up from his chair unexpectedly. "Stop calling me a rabbit!" he yelled.

Bobbo woke, and looked up in surprise, and even Dogmatix was bewildered. They watched both their masters staring each other deep in the eye. Not a sound came from either one.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't aware you didn't like being called that," Margrit finally said.

"I…" Asterix sighed and slumped back into the chair. He looked down at the floor. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to explode like that." He took his helm off and ran a hand through his blonde hair.

"You're under a lot of stress, Asterix. It's only natural, after all the things you went through." There was another moment of silence. The only sound came from the crackling fires of the hearth.

Slowly, he lowered the hand from his hair again, and he began to fiddle with the helmet in his hands. "Do people get recurring nightmares about these dragons?"

"Well, yes," she answered, "Lots of people dream of Elder Dragons attacking their homes, and loved ones. Why?" Margrit questioned.

"I have them too… I've been having them ever since I came to Tyria, and I never even knew about the Elder Dragons until now." He glanced up at Margrit, his face had turned into a concerned frown. "What does it mean? Is one of them affecting me?"

Margrit forced a smile again. "No, don't worry. Scholars have learned that even their existence can affect our subconscious minds. But they only come in the form of nightmares... We're too far away for any of them to hurt us. Still…" She continued to scratch Dogmatix's head lightly. "Their influence reaches far. Be it through dragon minions, cults, or other means… Always be very careful of them, lest you join their cause or be killed."

Asterix looked back down. His frown remained, and he fiddled with his helm again, straightening out the feathers of its wings. "I see."

Margrit decided to change the subject. "So, any idea where you'll go next?"

Asterix looked back up at Margrit, and his features loosened up a little. "I don't know. They told me it's wiser to stay in the mountains for a while. I don't have any money left anyway—" Suddenly, his mood shifted again. "…Oh, Taranis* strike me down! I can't even pay you! I spent it all on getting to Hoelbrak! I'm such a moron," he censured himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, and he shook his head in dismay.

Margrit also had forgotten about that. She sighed somberly. There he goes again. No more coffee for him from now on. "It's okay, we'll work something out."

"What did you have in mind?" he asked.

"Well, you could look around for a job in Hoelbrak, or the Black Citadel, perhaps. Though, if you're not leaving the mountains, you're going to need a place where you can stay…" Margrit pondered. "What's the best place for a human to stay in the Shiverpeaks?"

"With a norn, perhaps?"

Margrit looked at Asterix and blinked. "You want to stay with me?"

Asterix shrugged. "Well, I mean, if it's not too much of a bother… I would rather be here than in the city. It's too busy for me there."

She stared at him as though he were joking. It was a rather unexpected proposition to her, and she smiled a bit nervously. Asterix noticed her hesitation and laughed a bit. "Yeah, you're right, stupid idea. Forget I suggested that."

But she was making a serious consideration. "Actually, it's not a bad idea. You're gonna have to stay somewhere, but you can't rent a place of your own until you earn money. Also, neither you and your little pup take much space, so there should be enough room for all of us here." She petted Dogmatix again, holding the tiny thing in one hand and stroking his head and back gently with the other. "I suppose I could also use some company, especially Bobbo," she added as an afterthought.

Asterix brightened up. "You're serious? You're letting us stay?"

"Yes. On the condition that you do your part around the house and find a job to pay me back."

"Done!" he placed his helm back on his head and held out a hand towards her. "Let's shake on it."

"Then it's settled." Margrit took the hand and gave it a firm shake, accidently nearly swinging him in her grip and making him lose balance. She gasped and apologized, but then couldn't help but laugh when she watched him try to straighten himself.

"It's fine. I'm used to it," he spoke up quickly as he stood up. He couldn't help but laugh together with her.

"You're at least not as fragile as you look," Margrit snorted in her giggling. Eventually she calmed down. "All right, it's getting late. Let's fix you a place where you can sleep."

That night, he laid in his makeshift bed. It was no more than a wooden bench. Using some thick furs and a pillow, it was easily turned into a nice cot, and it was the perfect size, too. It was comfortable and warm, and it should have been easy to fall asleep in it. Asterix, however, couldn't sleep at all. He'd already slept just hours ago, so he was still wide awake. That coffee wasn't much of a help either. Instead, he simply laid on his side, staring out to the living quarters where he was spending the night. The restlessness bored him so. One part of him really wanted to sleep, so that he didn't have to wait for dawn. But the other part was afraid of the returning nightmares he suffered. Now that he knew more about what they meant, he wanted to avoid having them all the more, as well as the culprits causing them.

But there was also a morbid curiosity. Why did the Elder Dragons exist? How great were they truly? Was their one and sole purpose really to destroy the world, and nothing more? That didn't make sense, the pieces didn't fit. He wanted to know more - no, he needed to know more. He had to understand them. The train of thoughts gnawed at him like a persistent itch.

He rolled to lay on his stomach, and he looked around. The dark of night made Margrit's steading look unappealing and cold, but it was no less comfortable. The warmth of the extinguished fireplace was trapped within the building. The hearth itself was also closed, with strong iron doors, so warmth couldn't escape through there either, and feral creatures couldn't crawl inside. It was perfectly safe here. Horin, the repairman, even put a reinforced lock on the front door. So there was no reason to be worried about these Sons of Svanir kicking it down overnight.

Margrit had retreated to her own dorm, and the only company were now Dogmatix and Bobbo. Both were sound asleep. Dogmatix laid on top of Bobbo's back like he always used to when he slept together with Obelix. It made Asterix smile lightly.

He rolled back to his side again, letting out a quiet sigh. He began to wonder how his friends were doing. Hope you guys aren't in too much trouble…

He heard a noise, a shift of something heavy, dropping down outside. It surprised him at first, but then he remembered it was just the snow sliding off the roof. The flight of winter birds predicted a storm. He overheard the norn talking about it as he traveled to Margrit's. And indeed, it was snowing heavily outside now. It made him thankful that he was allowed to stay here, where it was warm, protected, and quiet. He was sure he wouldn't be able to keep even one eye shut over at Hoelbrak, with those norn singing and partying all night. Maybe that's why Margrit moved here, as well.

Some time passed when he finally could feel his eyes grow heavy and he began to yawn. He was completely unaware what time it was, or how long he'd been waiting. He hoped he would have enough time to catch some sleep. He shifted to lay on his other side, and he pulled a fur to better cover him. Tomorrow, he was going to look around for a job. His mind was set on paying Margrit back, and not only for her services, but her generosity as well. At least now he had a goal to distract himself with.

* Celtic god of thunder