The Saga of Friedrir Black-Hand

Weak Harvests and the Winter

Friedrir woke some time before midday, his unkempt brown hair had become messed during the night; a symptom of sorrowful sleep. His companions remained asleep and so Friedrir glanced around the great hall. The long pit, which he had last seen blazing with life, bright embers flying from the fading firewood, had burned cold and the blackened, charred wood was all that remained covered with piles of dead ash. His green eyes moved towards the great seats of the kingdoms, where he and his fellows had been seated in merriment, but to him they seemed desolate and lifeless stood upon the empty platform. The hallowed walls which had been lively and full of glorious figures dancing in the blazing light were no longer full of splendour and instead the mythical warriors stood static; locked in a moment of their greatest triumph.

Brasannerr was close to the door whilst the other retainers lay scattered around the room covered in soft furs and atop pillows to help them bask in their dreams. The only person that Friedrir could not see was King Golbadir, who's furs lay empty at the centre of the vast hall. Restless, Friedrir moved towards the great oaken door and pushed it open gently, not to disturb his sleeping friend.

Friedrir stepped out into the open air and again absorbed the sights that unfolded around him. From the doors of the Brondehal atop the high hill, Friedrir could see the sun as it began to lift over the horizon and the winter fog which descended throughout the night dissipated at its coming. The fields surrounding Brondehal had been gripped with frost during the night and a deep chill could be felt within the walls. The farmers had rushed out before dawn, after very little sleep, and vainly harvested as many crops as they were able, but most had been frozen stiff or ruined by the weather and were discarded. The mud paths of the town were cracked and hard as the frost consumed them and there were people all around franticly gathered as much food to store as possible. At the bottom of the hill leading to the Brondehal, where the townspeople conducted trade and commerce, Friedrir spotted King Golbadir accompanied by some of the watchmen and standing atop a cart as he addressed a crowd which had gathered in the small central area. A pile of discoloured and ruined corn and other crops was amassed between Golbadir's cart and the crowd. Upon seeing this, the still mournful Friedrir ventured towards the crowd to hear the cause of the gathering; it was not long before raised voices could be heard.

"The crops have failed, we'll starve before the winter's end." One member of the crowd cried angrily. "The Sicire have finished us, our people were away fighting while crops withered, and farming was forgotten." Shouted another. The crowd was visibly angered and continuously heckled their king, demanding justice. However, noble Golbadir remained calm and waved his hands, gesturing for the people to quieten so that he may address them.

"Listen here my people, there is no reason for this outcry against me." King Golbadir explained himself to the crowd. "We have been forsaken by Influnae, that fickle god has allowed none of her plentiful harvest to come to our humble land and we must suffer for it. Perhaps we have neglected our duties and should do our best to appease those who have become disillusioned. If Influnae has no compassion for us, then we shall give her gifts and praise and gain her love again so that our next harvest will be joyous and plentiful. Perhaps I have also neglected my duty to my people and by allowing Influnae to forsake us I have doomed us all; this winter will be our last."

The crowd was silent, utterly baffled by the words of King Golbadir and each one quietly lamented to themselves, praying that their king would give them words of comfort or hope. Friedrir had made his way to the crowd by now and stood at the side of the king, watching the crowd to quell any unrest. Brasannerr and the other retainers had gathered at the crest of the hill outside of the town hall, as they had been awoken by the words of their king, and closely listened to him.