THE HALADIN

by Archaic Scribe

Chapter VI
SKÁLI

Haleth ran the palm of her hand along the walls of turf and stone as her long, slender fingers followed their lead, hesitant to lose the sensation of the outside material that insulated the skáli where she lived with her father, Haldad. She stood for a few moments, lost in pleasant thoughts as a chilly wind caressed her skin.

Before entering the expansive longhouse, she turned around and surveyed their land as golden fields of wheat spread far to the edge of a dark forest shaded by tall, green pines. Breathing deeply, she felt peace and happiness, even in the wake of the circumstances the Norns had beset upon her - no, she laughed as a serious look overcame her face without warning. She made a strong vow within herself that she should not lie within her own heart, for had done her part to earn fault for some of what her fate would be as time lead onward.

Her cheeks grew to round apple-like balls as she exhaled another deep and purifying breath, turning back around to open the timber doorway that lead to the familiar entrance hall. As she entered the house, she finally felt the comfort of a safe refuge and the wonderment of the strange feeling that seemed to overtake her senses. How easy it would be to stay here feeling safe from Orcs or any other force that might harm her, with the warmth of a blazing fire reaching high up to the rafters, searching and drifting ever higher, searching for the vent that meant escape, lest it consume that which surrounded its containment.

Her lips pursed tightly into a severe, thin line of irritation as she ousted the cheerful, carefree thought that had just moments ago warmed her soul beyond what she felt herself capable of feeling after the death of Bryeth. She would not be here long enough to experience any long-term ease, but would hope instead the simplicity of refreshment, and no interference in sending messages to the outer settlements. And if she could gain a near acceptable, or even decent amount of sleep before departing again - no, she dared not hope for such luxury.

Haleth shook her head as she began to realize she was on the borderline between self-pity and an exaggerated form of exalted martyrdom, in her own mind, and quickly squashed such wayward thoughts.

She continued down the lengthy great hall, where carved oak benches ran along either side of her down the length of the room, and then turned right down a short, narrow hallway to where their food was stored.

This sizable pantry held large, wooden casks of food along with some stored fruit wine and short mead, which had been fermented earlier that season. Haldad had fashioned his home around a small spring that this room had been built around, making getting fresh, drinkable water a small chore for any in his home who desired it. Although, back in those early days of being a newly wed gentlemen, he would have freely admitted his real reason: To impress his courageous warrior wife with his intelligence and creativity. Besides, he had suspected her lacking, at first, in the duties that went along with housewifery, and on that account, he had been right, but she had learned quickly and did what needed to be done when it needed doing.

Filling both arms with food and a fired clay jar brimming with mead, she took another right after she left the storage pantry and wrestled unsteadily with the door to the Main Room. Loathe to set down any of the treasures her ravenous stomach began to growl more loudly for, she was able to swing her hip and through a maneuver of pushing and bumping, she managed to open the door.

Sitting down at the cross-bench at the head of the room, she looked tore into her rations and after he appetite had been sated, she stared at the empty fire pit in front of her as she thrust her legs up upon the bench next to her. Her stomach gaining more and more satisfaction as the food finally began to digest after a hurried meal, she wiped her hands on her trousers and stood, bending to the side to pick up and drain the rest of her drink before stepping around the fire and walking along the long corridor. As she strode by the middle of the long passage, she trained her eyes deliberately away from the bed closet she passed and continued towards the Entrance Hall and out the doorway.

By her own will, Haleth only allowed herself to acknowledge her desire when she was well enough away from her house not to give-in to the temptation. Ah! What she wouldn't give for a lengthy sleep!

At least her belly was full enough, she reasoned, as she went about the business of sending messengers away to gather those who settled on the edges of the village who were under their guardianship.

Haleth stopped by the smithy and inquired about the number of weapons they might have at their disposal and then, promising to return to talk over the details of the business, resolved to continue on to her brother Haldar's home and grounds.

She had known her brother's wife through many changes of season, but she remained an unpredictable conundrum of mystery to Haleth. Smiling to herself as she viewed the low stone wall of their farm on the horizon, she knew that Haldar would not have it any other way and that no plain maiden could hold his fancy.

She was more blood sister than a sister only in law, and Haleth accepted her as one of the family with no questions or concern because it was what Haldar wanted, had always wanted. Though they trained in weaponry, day in and day out, sometimes at their old stomping grounds at Haldad's home and other times adventuring in the terrain of the landscape, they could always count on her to accompany them before she had given birth to their first son.

Haleth could admit only a slight tinge of jealousy, now that she had seen her dreams of a domestic life fade with the death of Bryeth, but often buried it quickly before it could take root. Two forces battled continuously inside her, pulling her to a quiet and peace-filled home life and the other raging at her to battle dark forces.

Alas, there had been no dark forces to battle since the time before her family had crossed the Ered Luin and battle seemed as foreign and far away as a worthy friendship with any of the High, Noldor-born elves. Her mother's rigid insistence of Haleth having to practice proper fighting with her brother mostly seemed asinine to her, but now she was beginning to see the value in it and felt thankful to have some skills to battle against this enemy who threatened an overall peaceful and untroubled existence.

Haleth reckoned her mother was laughing at her now, waging that bony finger towards her with a smile that reached the bright light of intelligence that shown in her eyes. Her mother. It had been far too many moons to count since she could think of her mother associated with a happy memory because most of the time she shut it down too quickly for it to become too painful to bear.

Some priestess, she thought a little sullenly, before she identified the path she was mentally riding down as she pulled up to the door of her brother's family. Sweet slumber, she thought suddenly for a fleeting moment, my healing lies in sleep and the grace of recalling no dreams or uninvited visions.

Haleth vigorously jumped down from a rested horse that she rode to Haldar's homestead from her farm and pounded loudly on the sturdy oak door with the side of her clenched fist. If she could not directly consummate any form of immediate repose, at least her faithful roan mare should, she thought with superficial jealousy.

"Aye, my beautiful sister!" Jorhild exclaimed, thrilled with excitement as she glanced longingly beyond Haleth, searching eagerly for Haldar as she engulfed Haleth into an emotional and benevolent embrace.

"Haldar is required in Mulco, for they need all the strong and willing men to build our defense against the enemy," Haleth explained with a slight bit of consternation.

Jorhild looked at her without reserve, squinting her eyes and attempting to exact her condition by maintaining her gaze and trying to judge her suffering as her blunt and searching expression softened.

"I feel regret for all the moments that you have been deprived of, little bear," and after a moment's hesitation continued, "Why do you not come in - you must be starving!"

Haleth laughed at Jorhild's use of her nickname as she pictured her pig-like inhalation of food a little earlier and replied, "Nay, I should like a drink though for I am parched and the roads are thick with dust carried on a ruthless wind."

"Ah, you have already eaten then," Jorhild replied, the allegation earned Haleth an elevated eyebrow from her sister-in-law. "I am contented to see that you have not lost that celebrated and hardy appetite of yours, my esteemed sister."

Haleth's lips curved upward into a extensive grin that reached from eye to eye and her gray irises brightened into silver, like the new moon bursting forth from the darkness, "Where is Haldan?"

"Ah! That one! He is underfoot with the herdsmen out in the pastures this afternoon, but I expect him to return home later this evening," Jorhild said, shaking her head with such tumult that the strait strands of her hair escaped from the hair fastener she wore, doubtless thinking of some unshared and likely comical anecdote concerning Haldan.

Haleth nodded with a comprehensive grin stretched across her slender face as Jorhild sat down upon the wooden planks beside her in their hall, much like the one Haldad had at his home.

"What are the latest tidings you bring forth from abroad? I would have this information without the empty allure of glamour," Jorhild spoke with a candid glint of brutal straightforwardness that would have intimidated any who did not know her well. Her posture remained tall and sturdy, braced for whatever news Haleth would share with her.

Haleth's eyes lit up with laughter and she shook her head back and forth, appreciating Jorhild's abrasive method of being direct and forthcoming in all matters.

"We must remove as soon as all can be gathered to the intersection of Ascar and Gelion where the men plan to build a stockade of defense against the enemy."

"Hmmm..." Jorhild replied with skepticism, looking pensive as she considered Haleth's words carefully before responding. "Will we not be trapped and at their mercy should the stockade fail - and what of food and drink?"

Haleth nodded with added agreement at Jorhild's shrewd statement of criticism, wondering if any of the clan godis or Thingmen had given any weighty consideration to this very thought.

"I do not know the details, Jorhild," Haleth said regretfully, "But I suspect they must have examined such a situation and its necessities and are making plans to adjust to it."

"Humph," Jorhild snorted. "Well, it is in the hands of the men, then, and let the blood be on their hands should it fail," Jorhild said, her tone resigned with certainty.

Haleth started unexpectedly from her position and adamantly clasped both of Jorhild's hands. "Have you seen something then, Jorhild? Has Urth granted you a keen understanding of what is to develop from this threat?"

Jorhild stared at her for an instant, and then turned from her and considered her question for a length of time before she would explain. "No, I have not had any visions of the future as of late, but I feel..." she trailed off. "I feel...uneasy."

Startled by Jorhild's statement, Haleth's eyebrows creased together with apprehension as she considered Jorhild's words. After numerous years of disbelief and hesitancy, Haleth had had learned to rely on her visions with the utmost confidence.

Haleth polished off her refreshing draft and then rose to leave, "I must go to the smithy and find out how many useful weapons can be added to our numbers."

"After that, you must go home and sleep. Return tonight and sup with us for Haldan would dearly love to see his second mother," Jorhild added with a warm smile.

"Count on it," Haleth said as they walked out of the house.

After mounting her house and bidding Jorhild farewell, Haleth came upon the smithy as he wiped his hands upon his industrial apron.

"Well, what say you?" Haleth demanded with a teasing hint of zeal in her loud voice as she called to the blacksmith, Beinir.

The short, brawny smithy eyed her and then cracked a smile at her in with a lightened tone, welcoming the dealings with the godi's daughter and her knowledge of weaponry.

"Ah! No wilting flower here, I see, as always, my dear Lady," Beinir exclaimed, laughter on the brink of his bold and dauntless declaration.

Haleth smirked at him, almost exasperated by their typical exchanges as the smithy sighed and started to wipe his hands together as sweat gleamed on his face, glistening in the harsh sunlight of the day.

"We are lacking, I am unhappy to say," Beinir said with regret, meeting Haleth's eyes with apology.

Instead, Haleth smiled and dismounted from her horse, putting her hands on his leather apron, feeling ancient, thick forearms beneath, full of strength and mastery of mental.

"We are unprepared for this and no one foresaw its arrival," she said with reassurance. "We will make due with what we have and transport all the weapons we have to a stockade being built by the godis and Thingmen between Ascar and Gelion."

Haleth pressed on steady and absolute with her direction, "I comprehend all in this land, but through your dealings, you understand who may be more suitable and is better able to bear arms. We will send those men who remain here in Haldad ahead of the women and children and under your command, Beinir the Strong, once you have determined who is worthy of this task. You should hasten as briskly as you can endure because your assistance is needed in constructing the stockade, for your carpentry skills, which have been dormant for far too long, will be essential in aiding in the plan for defense. Messengers have already been sent, requesting the men on the outskirts come to your smithy before your departure. They should arrive by nightfall and it is of greatest importance that you leave as soon as they can be outfitted, even under the cloak of darkness."

Beinir's eyes widened for a moment before he looked at her solemnly and put both hands on her shoulders, "You may count on it, my Lady Haleth."

"You have never let the family down, Beinir, and you have always had our fullest confidence," she replied, bestowing a kind smile at him before she turned to mount her horse.

"Wait!" Beinir called, "I have something for you!"

Haleth arched her brow, gingerly wondering what frolicsome friskiness Beinir might be contemplating. Noting the intonation on her face, Beinir laughed with resounding vivaciousness and put an arm around her narrow shoulders as they walked into his workshop.

"You suspect foolery overly much," he replied mischievously as went to a table and picked up a small carved figure of a symbol of thick lines that entwined with the head of a bear.

"To protect you from the trolls," he said softly, but with a fierce expression of warning and command with his intonation.

Haleth stood motionless for an instant, speechless as she ran her thumb back and forth along the smoothed over grains of wood in her hands. Struggling to control the overpowering emotion that pushed against her shell of defense and normalcy, she slipped the leather string over her neck, never taking her eyes from Beinir.

"Thank you," she said as her words spilled forth in a croak.

Beinir patted her harder than necessary on the back as he began to grow uncomfortable with the intimate moment and Haleth's reaction.

Haleth realized how awkward Beinir must feel, worrying that she may be on the threshold of a womanly outburst of weeping and responded, "Have you not any steel for me as well, my good Beinir?"

Beinir broke into a wide grin and motioned for her to follow him into the depths of the room, were he uncovered a formidable sized dagger, hand-carved with a single, lone translucent emerald jewel encrusted in the hilt.

"This looks like my mother's dagger," Haleth whispered breathlessly.

"Aye, so it does," Beinir replied with a hint of difficulty. "It is much like the one she must use as she continues her journeys in the netherworld. Her jewel was brown, like the earth, for I knew well she loved all things that had their roots in the fertile fields, as her Freya," he paused in respectful silence, nodding towards the open door to the outside, "Would have willed it. But for you, my lady, the forest is your essence and so green must be your color."

Haleth nodded with approval, running her fingers along the blunt side of the blade and than lightly touching the sharp tip before she grasped it with both hands and made a few ceremonial swings which rang out with a swoosh of air. After attaching the small scabbard and new belt, she chose one of the standard swords in the smithy, and bade Beinir adieu.

Waving after mounting her horse, she continued home where she sat for a while on the cross-bench at the end of the main room, where it was customary for the women of the house to sit. Her thoughts drifted to a numb void as she curled up on the raised plank, and recovered her strength along with some of her spirit with forgotten dreams that were held at bay from her consciousness.

As she awoke in the newborn gloom of eventide with a stiff pain in her cramped neck as she at once moved to build a fire in the pit and stretch her rigid muscles, thinking ruefully of the comfortable bed closet that would have afforded her more physical pampering. Before long, Haleth began to warrant that that mayhap falling asleep on the hard wooden bench had been for the best because the main room had held a warm comfort all its own, whether a fire was blazing or the stone pit was full of gray ashes. It was an easy thought and an equally acceptable solution. The main room was the center of the family, a cozy gathering place of eating and drinking among close kin.

The Hall was used for gatherings that were more formal with larger numbers of people, and held its own special memories and tales, but for her, the Main room was were this house was made a home.

Haleth remained for a while, enjoying the memories of her family life and pushing any thought of Orcs and responsibility out of her mind before she let the fire turn to throbbing coals that glowed with orange and red heat.

When Haleth knocked once and then entered the homestead of her brother's family, she was immediately thrown off balance by a tackle from her boisterous nephew, Haldan. Jorhild beamed with emotion at her ecstatic son as she put her hands on her hips and motioned the two into their Long Hall where many of the herdsmen and fieldworkers sat in companionable chatter over tasty food and frothy ale brewed freshly from Jorhild's large, metal cauldron.

Wearing brown trousers and a tunic, Haleth fit well into the scene of casual, working clothes and discussion taking place amongst the workers, who greeted her with embraces and excited words of welcome.

After the chatter of conversation died down and supper had ended, the drink continued to flow as Haleth stood and gained the attention of the group before her.

"We pack tonight and leave at first light of tomorrow's dawn for Ascar and Gelion, which most of you must have already gathered from rumor," she said distinctly over the gathered crowd of farm-hands and milkmaids. "Messengers were dispatched earlier on this day and those from the outer areas will arrive by the morn. I have sent Beinir ahead with most of the men able to bear arms and craft structures. By the time they have basic knowledge and the foundation, they may require more assistance with their labor, which I know you all will be more than glad to lend in our defense. When you gather your belongings tonight, take less than you would like and only what is necessary, for we must make as much haste as young children will allow," she continued, winking at Haldan, who was staying awake way past his normal bedtime.

The later of her statement gained her a scowl from her normally playful nephew, even with her attempt to consider his reaction. With that said, Haleth raised her hands and repeated the ancient words of the basic benediction required from a godi's daughter and soon the crowd began to dissipate and depart.

If there is any voice left willing to hear a command from one soiled with unworthiness for a petition of blessing, gods, let it be granted unto these common, peace-loving folk; if it be your will, Haleth pleaded silently after Jorhild buoyantly shut the door on the last women to exit the dwelling.

Haleth slept fitfully after returning home, and in the early morning hours where no hint of sunrise threatened the sky, rose from slumber and sought the temple that her father was responsible, as a godi, for maintaining.

Before leaving her home, she gathered various foods from the storage pantry that had been steadily harvested over the course of the summer, based on their ripeness in season. She then added a jar of fruit wine to her goods and continued to the Entrance Hall.

Turning left after padding along the walkway, Haleth reached down and grabbed the woodcutting ax without breaking her stride as she made her way towards the animal shelter.

Tying a thick rope around the neck of a young lamb that had been born earlier that previous spring, she continued afoot towards the temple made of stone walls that encompassed the entire sanctuary of worship. The high temple was a roofless wonder to those who did not always participate in the sacrifices of the priests and priestesses of the village.

After cleansing herself in the holy spring bath waters of the temple, Haleth approached the stone alter, naked, and spoke resolutely, "Naïveté in the name of forgiveness, I beseech thee, Mother Freya."

With that said she knocked out the lamb with the head of her ax and then lifted it up onto the high altar. Using twigs and straw from a tinderbox a distance away from the altar, she kindled a fire. As dark gray smoke began to billow from the pit under the alter, she moved her hands over the lamb and chanted words known only be the brethren who served the gods for the acceptance of the innocent sacrifice made in their honor and to beg formal and proper forgiveness for her violation of sacred laws.

That done, she numbed her body to all external feeling and meditated on her wrongdoing and continued to beg forgiveness, acknowledging in her mind that a penance would be forthcoming and that forgiveness did not mean exoneration.

Yet, if the goddess accepted her petition, she could begin the long road for full pardon of her selfishness. As the lamb caught fire and began to burn, Haleth kneeled silently, closing her eyes in concentration, drawing a clean palate to her thought.

After the ceremonial rite had been concluded, she rose and said, "Forgive me, my Mother Freya, Goddess of all that is fertile and the One who delivers the bounty of sustenance to we mortals who are bound to Midgard."

As Haleth donned her ceremonial gown of green and gold and then made her way to the outer circle of stone as a hint of pastel light began to shoot muted rays through the darkness. She marveled at the sheer beauty of it, feeling bonded with closeness to her goddess and blessed Freya for such a cleansing, immediate sign.

Yet, that was only the beginning of Freya's merciful act of forgiveness for as the morning's temperature slammed into the leftover chill of night, a fog appeared around her, hours away from being burned into disintegration by the rays of a hot sun. Haleth blinked her eyes, as a tall form, shrouded in a dark cloak stepped out of the fog and seemed to float towards her.

"My lord," Haleth gasped with open-mouthed wonderment, marveling at the impromptu display of what seemed to be the flesh and blood of a living being, a living replica of Bryeth. The first sentiment that came to her forethought after seeing his form appear was prudent restraint. She must not let herself be compelled to voicing her curiosity after her recent good fortune at having ultimately received Freya's gracious blessing.

Haleth yearned with every fiber in her being to reach out her hand and touch his form to see if it was the flesh of a berserk, but she could not command any part of her body into action. He now stood nose-to-nose with her, and lifted one of her hands to his chest, where his heart would have been had he been a living man, alas, there was no beat and Haleth felt her blood run cold and her stomach lurch in shock.

Bryeth tried to resist outright laughter and hide an amused grin that was at her expense and threatened to creep across his handsome face, as his eyes teasingly stroked her face. "You have been pardoned, and even rewarded, my lady."

Haleth registered herself gasping, desperately sucking at the air around them as if hearing and viewing herself as a foreign observer.

"I have waited so long to touch you, my love," he whispered breathlessly into the new dawning of the sunrise that was making its brighter presence known on the horizon, and filling the temple with flickers of shadow.

Bryeth raised her once pliant hand, arid from the brutal elements of the land and lack of time to administer the herbal lotions she normally utilized. He held her palm to his cheek as he closed his eyes as her flesh touched his and after a few moments, he lightly kissed her hand, and let it drop back down to the side of her body.

Chuckling affably, he said, "You have no words for me, after all this?"

Haleth's mouth opened, but yet again, her mind had lost dominion of her body and all of its function.

Bryeth's laughed turned into hearty tirade of mirth as he placed both hands on the side of her face and drew her lips to his, gently probing and nibbling at first and then assaulting her mouth with an exploration of a primal craving left unchecked of restraint.

After a moment, the numbness was gone and Haleth's tongue rose to the occasion and battled inside the moist confines of their mouths.

Reluctantly, Bryeth eased his backward, looking intently in her eyes as tears silently fell down Haleth's cheeks, wetting Bryeth's hands as she struggled, her breathing coming in rasping and choked breaths.

He pulled her to his chest, holding her in a protective, firm embrace as her suddenly leaden weight brought Bryeth to the realization that her knees had given way.

"Draw upon all your strength up, my eternally beloved. You flattering adornment to me is well received, but you have a laborious undertaking ahead of you and your people will need your might, before all this business is accomplished," he murmured as he reluctantly pulled away from her.

She stood lofty and more upright, the building silence enveloping them, her chin pulled up with dignified grace at a somewhat eloquent angle.

"You are the fiber of my heart and we are predestined to unite once again on this threshold between your world and the next, love of my soul," he said and returned into the obscurity of mist.

Just as suddenly, Haleth gapped at him with astonishment for a moment before inhaling a deep breath through her nostrils as she ceremoniously straightened her tunic and absently patted the wisps of hair that had escaped her sleep-ridden, tied-back hair.

After leaving the temple she went back home and broke her fast, contemplating the events that had taken place at the temple as she began to realize the comforting humor and kindness of her encounter with Bryeth before she departed to meet all those who would be trusted into her care for the journey to Ascar and Gelion.

Haleth was anxious to get some distance between herself and the Village of Haldad and vowed to supply any helpful aid that she could manage, even if it meant nightly scout patrol with Lord Tunni himself.

Story Notation:

The following information may be worth noting to some of you. Trolls, as referred to in the sagas, were in essence evil nature spirits, likened to "large dark elves." For the purposes of the Haladin culture in this story, they could be thought of as "Orc-like," I believe, which makes Beinir's gift to Haleth fitting, especially after the death of Bryeth.

The animal represented in the token given to Haleth by Beinir is symbolic of her guardian or nature spirit, the (think fierce mother) bear, which they believed to her protector who she would sometimes make sacrifices to in the course of things. Simply stated, this is meant as a token of protection for Haleth. It also ties in nicely with her nickname, little bear. She is the little bear (no matter how old she may get) of the mother "guardian spirit" bear.

The people in the Sagas seemed to hold with a pagan belief, before Christianity took a firm hold, that ghosts or spirits were tangible, meaning they could do things like battle with opponents which is closely related to the belief they held of burying their dead with things such as weapons and other essential possessions. This is why Haleth does not directly inherit her mother's symbolic dagger, but Beinir instead creates one for her as a gift, that is similar to her mother's dagger.

Shape-shifters were thought to stem from the berserks and were said to change their shape to, most commonly, bears or wolves during the night or times of stress. Some were even said to leave their bodies during sleep. I find it interesting to compare Beorn's character and mannerisms in "The Hobbit" to this belief, and I would wager the Professor must have as well. This is another supportive argument, to me, of the chosen animal to be Haleth's guardian spirit. It does not seem too far out in left field if you compare it to Beorn.

Beinir the Strong is a character likeness from "The Sagas of the Icelanders," who was said to have been a carpenter and servant of Halldor from "The Saga of the People of Laxardal." The Beinir in this tale is someone who will do whatever his skills can make good use of to assist in the continued operations of the community. If the "house-building" business is a bit slow at the time, as a smith, he has ample time to create horseshoes and other tools necessary for use in the village. Furthermore, I think anyone who loves their craft and has a natural gift for something, generally will not allow it to sit dormant, thus, Beinir continues with small projects in his free time, perhaps while sitting in front of his fire in the evening after a hard day's work in his shop.

Well, enough on Beinir, but only because he is not the person who stars in this tale. ;-)

In addition, Haleth uses Midgard because she is quoted as addressing Freya. Normally, I try to use Middle-earth in consistency with Tolkien's book except for in the first few chapters where we were learning more about the unique culture of the Haladin. A reminder, just in case, Middle-earth is the literal translation of Midgard. :-D

Author's Notation:

My sincerest thanks to those of you who are leaving encouraging reviews and equally supportive e-mail correspondence related to this tale, along with other random and unrelated musings. The last two chapters were a bit challenging and difficult to write, so I am especially grateful for the comments that have mentioned how refreshing or unique this story is to them. It was my hope that at least one other person out in the wide world would see the uniqueness of these rarely mentioned Folk, though I wasn't, and at times still am, uncertain if I can do them the justice they deserve: Enter Norse and Icelandic Eddas, Sagas, History and Myth (Not to mention a few twists and interpretations from myself, of course). ;-)

As always, kindest regards, and enjoy the trip into this world of myth and fantasy. The ride is about halfway complete.

In addition, my special thanks to Lasse-Lanta1 for her references on the differences and storage methods of mead, beer, types of wine, and ale relating to the Viking era along with the thought-provoking chats from common subject matter to that of deeper meaning. Your help was much appreciated and you will have to e-mail me if I have mis-stated anything based on the references in this chapter, so that I can correct it.

This was probably the longest chapter I have written so far, and I have spell checked it, etc., to the best of my ability, but I fear I may have missed a few things in the mix, as I have noticed after re-reading the earlier chapters - there are a few typos in there, indeed!

TO ME (myself and I - LOL!) : - D Since I cannot e-mail you...This chapter (Chapter VI) was written and posted in a timely manner (thanks to you) after I read your review - it really spurred me on to get over that dreaded "halfway" hump - thanks for the kind and encouraging words!

With my kindest regards,

Archaic Scribe

Disclaimer:

Characters and situations of The Silmarillion (Second Edition) by J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Christopher Tolkien are the property of The J.R.R. Tolkien Copyright Trust and Christopher Reuel Tolkien.

All the original characters and invented towns, places or practices throughout this whole story, however, belong to me, for better or for worse.

This is produced solely for the enjoyment of other fans and not for any monetary profit. Please do not sue me, as I have little money.