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Ragnar Hellson drew the honing stone slowly back across the edge of his axeblade. There was a dull rasp as he worked out the notch a metal helm had put in the steel. Back and forth, back and forth, he worked the stone with care. He had the time to put a keen edge back on the blade. "Time enough." he said aloud to himself.
Behind him, down the overgrown road, lay the body of his horse, the bodies of his two companions, and the carcasses of a score of orcs. Among the slain were two large ogres, their bodies hacked, slashed, and partially dismembered. They had taken quite a bit of killing. The orcs had been little more than blood to bathe his axe in. It was the ogre pair that had slain his companions, his horse and nearly himself.
Somewhere, a little ways down this track, a very angry giant would be hearing about all this, he thought to himself. At least a handful of the verminous little goblins had escaped and they would no doubt tell their master.
The giant would probably just step on them for their trouble. "May their bones pierce its hairy feet" Ragnar said to himself.
He paused and looked at the blade. The notch was not deep and the stone had taken the rough edge off leaving only a small semi-circle bite from the sharpened steel. He stood then and hefted the axe, letting it swing once or twice, catching the light from the late morning sun. Ragnar 'hrumphed' in satisfaction with the feel and balance of the weapon and the fresh edge to the blade.
Turning away from the bright sunlight, always so much harsher in winter, he let his gaze wander.
This land, it was like the lowlands of his home. The Corrusk Mountains rose tall and deadly around the land of his childhood, like these Barrier Peaks and Crystalmists here. This Geoff, its forests, fields and hills, hugged by the arms of those mountains, it was as beautiful as the northeastern lands.
And now the beasts of the mountains, the giant-kind, held the lowlands in their arms and under their fists.
"Giants!" Ragnar spat out the name like a curse, how he loathed the creatures. Humanlike, but not human. Not just big humans at all, but part of the hills, of fire, of ice. They were of the Oerth, sky and the elements themselves, formed in the shape of Man. He hated them all. This giant he had come to hunt in secret and in stealth, it would be the death of him.
"No one will sing of this battle," he mused aloud. It wouldn't matter. "These southern lands," he shook his head, "most deaths go unsung."
* * *
(To Be Continued)