#kvigr

[gff-archive]

some sketches of my heavy, kvigr

[adamarmeadowcroft]

Morning came much easier this time as the sun began to peek in through gaps in the fur covered windows. Nothing like getting your ass half handed to you for a night of good sleep. Adamar’s eyes slowly cracked open and the first sight to meet them was that snowy white hair half buried under the furs beside him. Synna was sound asleep, and rightly so after the busy schedule she seemed to have the day prior. He pressed a kiss gently to the top of her head before rolling out from under the furs. Inside their lodging was warm and comfortable, the fire in the center of the room burned low but still crackled with unspent fuel. He pushed open the door and instantly regret that decision as a bracing cold winter breeze blasted him full in the chest. His gaze drifted to his armor then, looking the chainmail over and the breastplate that went over it all. He grazed his fingers over the surface and felt it was still quite chill. Then he noticed the stack of leather and furs piled up on the floor beside his boots. He smirked lightly as he sifted through the garments, figuring it best to try and blend in as much as he could.

He looked for time at the reflection in his shield, finding the person looking back at him looked like a stranger. His eye was still swollen and bruises lined his face from his little 'scrap' the previous day. But... he looked like a few of the men running around the camp now. He cleared his throat lightly, looking over his shoulder to spy that Synna was still sound asleep before turning back to his reflection. He grinned as he silently threw his arms up and whispered 'Witness!' before pretending at pounding on his chest. He then spent a few minutes practicing his most fearsome facial expressions and even practiced his toasting. "Skol" He grunted and shook his head... no no, to soft. "Skoool." To long, that's not believable.

He heard some stirring behind him and suddenly his cheeks flushed red, hoping she hadn't seen any of that before he quietly made his way out the door and into the village proper. The village was already alive with activity, folks readying their boats and nets. Skinners were hard at work tanning the leathers of the previous days kill. He could hear and see Kvigr already hammering away at his anvil, though he thought better than to let his gaze linger to long. Most folks gave him a wide birth and akward curious glances while others openly laughed, or clapped him hard on the back before making comments in their common tongue. Best to just keep moving, Adam.

He spent a good portion of the morning just exploring the village and acquainting himself with its layout. But his true purpose for venturing out brought him before a rather ornately decorated home. The wood had been carved in the likeness of dragons, wolves and great tusked boards. The detail alone was enough to cause Adamar to stand for several minutes. Long enough for the resident of the house to step out into the morning air. He was old man, greyed and wrinkled but by no means did he look frail. Lean and muscled, tattoos covered majority of his skin that was showing. He had this awkward look on his face as he tried to make sense of who this stranger was on his door step. The realization came though when he raised a finger to point at the swelling about Adams eye. He said a few words in their native tongue before a grin crossed the old mans face, making a mock punching gesture with his right hand. It must have been quite evident that Adamar had no idea what the man was saying because he stepped forward and laughed. "Ayir... make.... strong. Strong... Shield... Maiden." He laughed then, loud and hearty before clapping Adamar on the shoulder much like the other men had.

He could feel the heat begin to rise to his cheeks, but did his best to keep his composure as he watched the old man walk around to the side of his house. Adamar followed and was shocked to see the man had a complete workstation dedicated to carpentry. It was all pretty primitive that what he was used to working with, but he knew these antiques could get the job done almost as easily. The man was surprised to see Adamar had followed him and quirked a brow as he readied to chase him off. But his interest was peeked when Adam began to trail his fingers along the beginnings of a figure head for one of the long boats. The craftsmanship was incredible... not a crack in sight or a rough burr under finger. Adam turned his gaze to the old man and it was his turn to grin. He knew he was going to butcher the word, but the basics were the place to start. "G-óð-r."(good) The old man nodded his head with a smile. "Góðr!" He laughed and sat down at his work station, readying to start for the day. He looked up at Adamar and raised his chin before pointing at him in a questioning manner. He made a chiseling motion, as if asking him if he knew how to carve. "Yes. Alittle." Adamar replied, which cause a grunt and grin from the old man. He stood and paced towards a table covered in tools, but instead grabbed an axe off the ground that was leaning beside it all. He turned and tossed the axe to Adam who caught it easily enough. "Good." The old man said and the two of them seemed to come to an understanding. The old man made an x in the air with his finger before making a chopping motion through it, then pointed off towards the tree line nearby. Already Adam could see the large red x's painted across a selection of tree. The cream of the crop as it were.

Majority of the day would consist of chopping, and hauling. Back, and forth. And every time, the two of them exchanged a horrid conversation of broken words and butchered languages.