User blog:The Retroriffic Man/"Sagan af Tórvald" (Torvald's Tale) - Part Two

Equipped with an axe; to cut down trees and cape; to keep him warm. Torvald set out to the edges of Falkreath forest south of the village. His mother had asked him to get some more firewood, since they were running low and Rorikstead wasn’t exactly densely populated with trees. Torvald relished the opportunity. He was alone, and could do everything at his own pace. A nice hike to the woods would do him good.

It took about half an hour to see Falkreath forest rise up from the horizon of. Torvald sat down on a mossy stone for a second, to make sure his beige puttees weren’t loose. And also tightened the knot on his cow leather shoes, just in case, subsequently he pushed the knot into the shoe so that the string didn’t dangle out. After he’d done that, he combed his dirty blonde hair back with his fingers, making it wave over to the side of his face. He had been having trouble with fleas in his straw stuffed bed and every now and then they’d make him feel it, itching all over his head. His nose had turned a little red from the chilly nip in the air. But nothing a Nord, no matter how scrawny, couldn’t handle. Torvald took his axe firmly in hand again, and stood up, ready to venture into the forest proper.

The smell of pine was carried by the wind. And it grew ever more noticeable as the Nord approached. An old Imperial cobblestone road with direction arrows at the T junction appeared in sight. Solitude: west, Falkreath: south and Whiterun: east. Torvald remembered the words of his mother, to not venture far off the road. She said so right after she had given Torvald lunch wrapped in scented leaves this morning. By now the noon sun stood high, casting shadows on the path under the tall trees.

The wind wasn’t as strong anymore, now blocked by trees and foliage. Instead it was replaced by the gentle sounds of nature, birds whistling and leaves rustling. Torvald was looking for a rather young tree, something he easily cut down. With his axe in both hands he whistled “Ragnar The Red”. Tapping on the handle with his fingers along the jaunty beat of the old folksong. All the while he was looking for the perfect tree to cut down. But eventually when Torvald had ran out of original songs to whistle he got annoyed by the severe lack of proper firewood trees. At least, those he could carry. Sure, he could just as easily go gather twigs and fallen branches, but he didn’t want to come back with that. He wanted to show his strength and actually cut down something. To show the village his worth.

The path got less visible, and narrower. And so did the treetops, now keeping out a good portion of sunlight out of the forest. this was reflected on the ground below, which was dryer and less densely populated with small plants than earlier on the road. These were the old trees, no way was he going to cut down one of these behemoths. The young Nord sighed. He had gotten quite deep in the forest, and his legs felt it. Soon he’d go back and see if there was perhaps an able root he had missed. But first, he would enjoy a little lunchbreak; One his mother was so kind to prepare for him.

Torvald took out the wraps and opened them up, a loaf of bread glowed up from within the dark green leaves. The young nord could hear his tummy rumble just by looking at it. It conjured a smile on his face. He bent over to smell it.

“hmmm, honey…”

Did his mother treat him. The bread had been stuffed with smears of honey. Such savory sweetness.

The Nord parked his ass on a nearby grassy rock, which would serve as a stool, and  got comfortable. But just as he wanted to tear into his lunch he heard something coming from the deep forest behind him.