Chereads / Myth's End / Chapter 5 - Midgard

Chapter 5 - Midgard

The man was a giant. It was hard for him to get through the tavern's door. He wore woollen rags under some chainmail and a new bear fur coat. Under his arm, he holds a rusty bucket of a helmet with a small part of metal to cover his nose. On his back rested a giant, two-handed axe. It shimmered like a newly forged weapon, but when one looked closer, one could see the tiny rills of a used weapon. The blade was sharp, sharp enough one could trim his beard with it. On his bare, muscular arms, he wore two bronze rings, thick enough that one could wear them on his neck instead. His flat face had a few scars on it, and his nose was certainly broken multiple times.

As one of the patrons staggered into his way, dead drunk, he didn't hesitate to smash his fist into the smaller man, shoving him away. A so common procedure that most of the other guests didn't even look up at the commotion.

While the big man pathed his way to the tavernkeeper, two other guys entered the room, looking like they were his brothers. They wore similar clothes, missing the fur, and were nearly as big as him.

As they made their way towards the ample, oaken counter, the keeper just looked at them before getting a few horns of beer ready just as they reached him. On the whole bar, there was only a single man sitting. Compared to the three men, he was short but had broad shoulders and muscular arms. His hair had the colour of honey and was long enough to reach his shoulders in a long braid. He had no weapons on him; at least none could be seen.

While the newcomers drank, he just sat there, staring at a half-empty horn, lost in thoughts. He didn't move or drink until the three had finished their drink. They were pretty drunk, as the keeper wanted his pay. The first man grabbed a big bag and threw a few pieces of copper in front of the tavern owner, grinning madly.

"It's one silver for each horn…", the keeper argued as the men stood up to leave.

"One silver for a horn of this horsepiss? Are you stupid, greedy or just an idiot?" the first man growled.

"One silver for each horn. That's the prize."

The big hands of the warrior crashed on the table; he brought his ugly face right in front of the keepers.

"I tell you what, the beer we drank was worth this, and exactly this. For all of us…", he whispered in the keeper's ear, loud enough for everyone to hear it.

The smaller man, who once may have been a warrior, but these days were long gone, flinched a bit but withstood the glare.

"One silver is…."

A fist rudely interrupted him, hitting his nose. The keeper wailed back with a surprised scream, blood gushing out of his face. The warrior raised his hand, grabbing his collar. Then, he swung his fist. But before it hits its target, the smaller man reacted to the commotion. His fingers gripped the wrist of the bigger man, stopping his swing.

For a second, everything went silent.

The warrior slowly turned his head towards the new figure, maybe wondering behind his thick skull where this figure came from and why it acted up.

"Calm down, big fella. You may get yourself hurt.", the small guy said.

"Someone", the giant answered, "will get hurt today, but it ain't me. Brothers, grab him."

The two other men tried to get his arms, but their target escaped by ducking and kicking their chair between their legs. The right one stumbled over, knocking his skull against the counter. The other one staggered but did not fall. Cursing, he tried to knock his fist into his opponent's jaw, but the other moved his head away just a second before the punch connected. The oldest one tried to loosen the grip around his wrist but seemed to struggle even though his physical advantage was clear as day.

"If I were you, I would think about this again.", the small man said gently. "One of you is already out, one seems too weak to put anything against my hold, and the third missed me when I barely moved. Are you sure you want that fight?" he asked.

Instead of an answer, the man with the bear coat drew a dagger from beneath the fur, and his brother grabbed the hilt of his sword. The blond man let go of the giant's wrist, barely dodging the blade of his knife. Instead of drawing a weapon, he took up his half-empty horn. It was a massive thing, with a giant iron column at the bottom and a bowed, sharp end. When the brother attacked, he poured the beer in his face, then blocked the dagger aiming at his neck. Instead of flesh, the stab only cut thin air.

With an evil grin, the small man took the arm of the bigger one, smashing it on the table. Then, holding the hairy thing down, he raised the horn. With the sharp end first, he rammed it through the guy's muscles and flesh into the wooden plate. Awfully screaming, the big man grabbed the horn, trying to pull it out. His brother shook his head to get the last drops of beer out of his tearing eyes; then, he swung his blade again. This time, his target raised another chair and blocked the attack just before the blade cut him. Wooden splinters shot through the room like shrapnel, and the sword got stuck. Before the warrior could free his weapon, the smaller man kicked against the chair, hitting him between the eyes.

As he hit the ground, his brother finally got to free his arm, howling in pain as he ripped the horn from his flesh. Panting, he stood there, the bloody horn in his colossal hand, from which ruby-red drops of blood ran. His eyes glowed with hatred; he hardly noticed that his brothers were already lying unconscious on the ground. Without even thinking for a second, he attacked. But his opponent reacted faster and intercepted the stab with his horn. His fingers found the already existing wound, and as he squeezed, the attacker's senses faded from pain.

The whole fight didn't take two minutes. As the winner saw the mess they created, he reached for the big man's purse, pulling five golden coins out of it, throwing them towards the keeper. The man still was in shock, so the gold pieces fell on the floor as the man left the tavern.

After a few minutes, he walked through the snowy village; the small man met with two others. They were even bigger and bulkier than the guys he had just beaten up. But in comparison to the three brothers, those two couldn't be any more different, ignoring their size and muscles. One had short, curly brown hair, the other one fiery red, straight, long hair that reached his hips. While one was really broad, the other one, even when being as tall as his companion, was way slimmer with longer arms and hands. The brown-haired one was wielding a two-handed sword on his back, the other had two axes on his hips. One wears chainmail and leather, the other coats of fur.

While the face of the redhead was, for a man from this height, somewhat narrow and a bit fragile, even with the apology of a beard that grew from his chin and cheeks, the broad guy was just that. Broad. His head was as big as a boulder resting on his shoulder, his neck was nowhere to be found, and his beard grew matted down to between his legs. The bearded one didn't wear any jewellery besides a small golden ring, his friend was overloaded by golden rings worked into his hair, some spikes going through his lips, silver circles around his fingers, and about a dozen earrings on him.

"Wulfric", the redhead greeted the small man. "We found the weapons we were here for. We are ready to leave this place."

"Also, not too long ago, we met three pretty… unpleasant guys, probably brothers. Bothered some of the townsfolk until we stepped in.", the other one added.

"Yeah, I met those. They were out for trouble and were unlucky enough to bump into me.", Wulfric mumbled. "But for the moment, we should stay here. A storm is brewing, and winter is already here for too long. Travelling now at all times could be a death sentence."

"This winter… doesn't it take too long? Like, it's been years since we last saw a day without snow.", the bearded one asked.

"You sound like the elder. Always talking when winter is longer than usual. Of course, it will end. Why wouldn't it?" his comrade laughed.

"Fimbulwinter." was the only answer he got.

With a strange glare, the man called Wulfric marched past them, signing them to follow. "We need a stay for the night. Tomorrow, we're leaving."