Child of Conquest

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Forging  the Brandr

It was midday when Orrell first came into view; Seraphina was utterly amazed by the landscape that surrounded her.  Everywhere her eyes laid upon there were no flat planes.  It was a land of hills, mounds, knolls and valleys the like she had never seen, the streams entwined there way around and along regardless of the presence of such obstructions.  Buildings were perched so high up on narrow ledges that the people that inhabited them were either brave or mad, in either case she decided they were probably both.  Orrell had appeared suddenly from around a corner and it encompassed a large valley.  Making their way down into the dale Seraphina recognised the noise of village life.  She had become accustomed to quietness and it needed some readjustment to attune herself back in. Listening to the mingled voices she was unable to make out what they were saying as they made there way through small wooden buildings.  People pretended to ignore the visitors but watched them out of the corner of their eyes, others were more unashamedly curious and blatantly starred at them.  Her father paid them no intention so Seraphina decided not to either.  As they passed through the people they left the main track and headed back into the valley side where the buildings became more sporadic.  Eventually they came to a small lonely shack overrun by purple heather and other surrounding plant life.  There were some other smaller buildings to the side, which were in the same condition of growth.  To the side was a large trough and a wooden bar which they tied the horses to.  Hammond stretched and rubbed the back of his legs before heading towards the door, pulling it open and peering inside.  There appeared to be nobody home.  Seraphina looked around the small room it was meagre but homely, there was a fire burning and sat atop it was a pot of boiling water.  It was evident that whoever her father was looking for, was not far away.  Hammond made his way through the room and towards the back was another door opened out onto a view of the mountains towering above them.  To the back, there were two more buildings no bigger than the one they had just left.  Smoke was billowing out of the chimneys of both of them and surrounding the buildings were the same purplish flowers that ran up and over the amalgamation of vegetation, wood and stone.  It had been many years since Hammond had been to Orrell and it wasn’t until he had arrived here that he had the feeling of strange familiarity.  It had changed so little, but he had changed so much he was not the same man that had once looked upon that same purple haze.  In the distance he could make out that indistinct resounding sound of clanking and clinging, he waded over to the source of it.  Connell watched the two travellers approached with an experienced alertness; he thought that the man walked in a familiar way but at this distance he could not make out the face.  He placed his tools down and wiped the sweat from his brow with his hairy arm, squinting against the sun he placed his hand above his forehead in order to see better.  He smiled, as the shape became that of old acquaintance.

“Erskine.”  He yelled in recognition.

“Smiðr.”  Replied Hammond.

 Seraphina watched her father embrace the short man in a way only close friends would.  The man, apparently named called Erskine was the oldest man Seraphina had ever seen.  The small ragged man had an overabundance of grey facial hair, he was sweaty and his mid length hair clung to the side of his thin head.  She stood to one side feeling a little uncomfortable.  She was a stranger to these lands, this man and now apparently the language they were both speaking in. The only thing recognisable was her fathers laughter, she watched as they struck each other on the back in a friendly way.  Suddenly they both looked at her and Hammond beckoned her forward, she heard her name mentioned and she smiled in response.  Smiðr who seemed delighted by her slapped her enthusiastically on the back.  They ventured towards the first dwelling where their host fussed over them like a mother with a newborn.  Seraphina watched them talking and listened to the concealed murmurings that debarred her from them.  She looked around the room for something to distract her but there was very little to pay any particular attention to.  She looked again at the two men who could not appear more different to one another.  Seraphina had originally thought him short and extremely sinewy (although compared to her father most men were small.)  However upon the removal of his thick leather apron Seraphina noticed that what this man was mostly hair and sinew.  Without seeing them, it would have been impossible to think that someone’s so small could have arms that large.  It was as if someone had compressed him from above to create a being of strength, she imagined that if she could pull hard enough he would most likely end up being the same height as Hammond.  Smiðr stood up and smiled at Seraphina she thought she heard him laughing as he left through the back door.  She waited for her fathers more familiar voice.  He beckoned her to come and take a seat at the table beside him, she obliged quietly.