The sound of hooves trotting against snow soothed the Frosthelm pair as they journeyed towards the boarder of the Strom Quol Follower's Isles. They had been travelling for the past three days and were intending on making their way to the Western Kingdom. Brunhilde had insisted on taking the longer route to the city by going through the land of the Lunar Elves and passing through Hogarth's birth place - The Industrialists tribes. Hogarth dismissed the idea, saying that 'he disliked the Elven people - more so, they disliked him after he had gotten into a rumble at one of the local Elven bars after trying to seduce an Elven maiden.' Needless to say, he had lost that battle and won himself a nasty black eye and a broken wrist. What could he say? Hogarth was a bit of a sore loser when it came to bar-brawls and he felt as though the Elven folk held grudges. "Perhaps ... when we return, we may stop for a quick visit, but for now, it is only the Western Kingdom we see,"
he cooed to a frowning Brunhilde.
"Det er noget lort.."
she mumbled as she rested her head on Hogarth's back. The pair were sat upon Erik, Hogarth's trusty steed. "By the way, I don't see why we couldn't have taken Ormir as well. He's a good horse!"
Hogarth chuckled as he steered the horse steadily down the icy path. "That's very good! But I wouldn't have been able to afford a ticket for both you, me, Erik and Ormir. Boat rides do not fare cheaply, child. And I am not made of gold."
Brunhilde sighed, "I suppose ... but Ormir is much younger than Erik! He would have been a far more suitable companion than this gamle stodder !"
Erik snorted loudly, as though he understood Brunhilde's insults. "Oh, I'm sorry Erik,"
she rubbed his side and the steed continued to trot happily along. "He's not that old. And besides, he's much better in combat than your silly little pony."
Brunhilde laughed, "Det var noget pjat!"
Hogarth tsked. "You're going to have to speak the Western Kingdom tongue. Not everyone understands Frosthelm, little one."
* * * * *
"I am not getting on that thing!"
Brunhilde protested. "It's fine! It's fine! It's in perfect condition. Certainly sea-worthy,"
Hogarth tried to hush Brunhilde as they got various odd-looks and stares from the local boats-men. "Pas dig selv!"
Brunhilde yelled at the small crowd before she leaned in to half-whisper, half-yell at the older man next to her. "Er du sindssyg? That boat looks like a pile of bark they crafted together with tree-sap. You're being scammed, this is not worth our 15 gold!"
Hogarth inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Just trust me on this, alright? It's going to be fine,"
Brunhilde took one last glimpse at the boat before closing her eyes and letting out a sigh. "Din skøre gamle mand... Fine!"
Hogarth grinned before turning to the boats-man and tossing him the pouch of gold. "Take us to the Western Kingdom!"
Brunhilde was the first on the boat. The rotting wood under her feet creaked. Sitting down, she shook her head. "This was a bad idea ... "
Soon too Hogarth took a seat next to her and the rest of the crew came upon the 'ship', if you could call it that, and in a blink of an eye, they were off. Brunhilde prayed to Strom Quol that they would make it out of the harsh Frosthelm waters alive.
| Hilde's cloak
| Hogarth's cloak