Finna's historie and other stories

It's happy hour, the alcohol is flowing. It's time to pull up a tankard of ale, bottle of wine for the ladies and regail tales of heroism and grandeur.

Topic/Postby Finna » 19 Oct 2009, 09:31

A few years passed...

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A white, snowy world… the winds streamed and took cold, icy air with it, through villages, through woods, over hills…
The few people that dared to go outside were packed in thick clothes and had their cloaks around them tightly… Animals had sought shelter, and those that were out hunting walked against the wind, their heads low, eyes half closed against the icy, snowy streams of air…

In this land, this icy cold land, a soft crying was heard. In the middle of a few snowhills, on top of some craterlike hole in the snowmountains, a little snowhill was crying.
Or no… there was someone sitting there, covered in snow, crying her little dwarven heart out. Red hair peaked through white pieces of snow, and the tears started to freeze already on her cheeks…

Finna just said there… just sat there and looked down. Looked down, on what once had been her hometown, her little village.
Once a lively, warm town, people walking about, fires, stoves and forges burning and keeping them all warm, there now was… nothing. A big, white, cold, nothing. The village had been burned to the ground… Everything was black… with a thick layer of white snow covering it.
Finna dared not go down… she saw her parent’s house and saw the rampage that had been going on there… She cried. For minute, hours even, she just sat there, and cried, watching the horror below her…

Suddenly, the tears stopped. The trance went away, and another sort of mist came in front of her eyes. The mist of anger. Rage. Rage of what the trolls had done to her family. Her parents, her brothers… her uncle. His bear. The rage grew heavier. Her neighbours. All the nice people of the village. All… dead.

But also the rage stopped after time. She knew she could do nothing to get them back. They were gone, forever. She sighed and stood up, looked at the burned down village one last time and walked back to where she came from.

She had been so looking forward to visit everyone, to tell them of her progress, of joining the king’s Guard, how proud she was of that! She had found the road to the village, but had been wondering already why she heard no one… and then, she saw… that. The horror…

Finna walked back to Coldridge Valley and asked around for information, who had seen anything, to please tell her, tell her something, let her know what had happend to her village! Word came that there was one old dwarf, who now lived far away in the woods, not seen again by anyone, who knew more about it.

Off she went. Finna Stonecleaver, captain of the Mithril Guard, packed her axe and left for a long and dangerous journey. Through the snow, she went, through the streaming cold air, with the marks of the frozen tears still on her cheeks.

She walked and walked and walked, untill finally, when she was just about to give up, she saw something. It looked no more then a hill, but there was something strange to it. The snow was thinner. And Finna knew, that if that was the case, then the ground below it must be warmer.

She walked to it and yes, indeed, there was an entrance to an underground house, and the hill she had seen, had been the roof of the house. Unseen to anyone not looking for it, this was the perfect hiding space.

Finna carefully looked down into the entrance. She said “‘ello?” into the entrance but nothing happened. She also didnt see anyone. Carefully and step by step she went in. The fire was lit and it was nice and warm inside. A rug was lying before the fireplace and there were a table with two chairs on one side, strangly enough on the other end of the room as where the fireplace was, and a nothing but the rug near the fireplace. She wondered why that was. Stairs led down and Finna wondered if she should go further down. Her curiousity won. She went down but only ended up in the celler. Here was a bed and some guns. And again, a large place where nothing stood, and a rug.

Suddenly Finna heard a sound coming from above and she quickly went up, while grabbing her axe. But she was too late. A huge white bear caught her on top of the stairs and sent her together with it tumbling down the stairs again. Dizzy from the fall she heard a voice call down: “Snow? Snow? Wha’ ye got thar laddy, come, take it oop ‘ere!”

Still dizzy, she tried to get away, but the bear took her in his teeth, not uncarefully, she had to admit that, and took her back up, where it put her in front of an old dwarf, who looked at her angrily.

“Wha’ ye be thinkin’ tae jus’ come in like tha’ an’ also go down me property, ey?”, he bursted.

Finna came around again and realised that indeed she had done something the owner of the house probably hadn’t liked.

“Ah’m very sorry sah bar ah think ah was lookin’ fer ya”, she said.
“Ye THINK ye were lookin’ fer meh, lass? Wha’, ye lost yer mem’ry o’sumtin?” he glared.

Finna looked at him. “Ah ‘eard thar was wan dwarf who still knew ’bout wha’ ‘appened tae me village, sah. Ah’m sorry ah went intae yer house bar ah really wanted tae find tha’ person an’ ah really ‘ope yer ‘im…”, she said, as tears welled up in her eyes again.

The looks on the man’s face first hardened when Finna spoke of the village, but then softened when she started to cry. “Noo, noo lass… ‘ave a seat… an’ take it easy, ah nae wanted tae ‘ave ye eat’n by Snowy ‘ere… Noo Snow, let ‘er go lad!”, the old dwarf said.
The bear promptly let her go, and she stumbled on the rug. The man helped her up, gave her a handkerchief and put her on a chair. He took the other one himself. Somehow he reminded her of someone… His bright red hair and the gentle look on his face somehow reminded him of her father and she grew sad again.

While she looked at him, the man suddenly also had a look of rememberance and recognition on his face… but then grew stern again. The bear went to lie down on the rug and now Finna realised why there was such a big space of nothing in front of the fireplace and by the bed.

“Noo then lass… tell meh wha’ ye knoo”, he said. And Finna told him. She told him of how she had left the village, and how she had wanted to go see them again, and how she found the village there… she started crying again.

“An’ s…so, s…sah, they told meh ah could find ye ‘ere, if…iffin ye be tha’ dwarf, tha’ is…” she stottered.

The old dwarf smiled wearily. “Aye lass… ah be tha’ dwarf. Ah’ll tell ye all ah knoo…” And with that, the old dwarf started to tell Finna all that had happened. How one day the trolls had come. How the warriors of the village had fought alongside the hunters that had sent their pets forward and shot from the bridges, how the rogues walked around the group of trolls and attacked them in the back… how the priests and paladins had helped healing and fighting… but all for nothing. The trolls were stronger this time… this time, they won… The man sighed, while thinking back to that time with tears in his eyes.
He had feignted his death… his beautifull bear, however, did not have to feign… he cried now too.

“In tha’ time ah feinted, ah also passed oot… bar nae before ah saw sum people taken away by tha trolls… ah dunnae wha’ they were gonna dae tae them… after ah got me consiousness back, ah was alone… naewan in tha village, naewan alive, tha’ is… bar so many dead… ah burried all o’them… includin’ me own family, lass.” He sniffled and looked into the distance.

But suddenly he was back and looked at her straightly. “Bar, lass, please tell me who ye be, ’cause ah’m sure ah see sumtin in yer face ah know…”

“Me name be Finna, sah. Finna Stonecleaver.” she said, and watched in horror as the old man gasped so deep he went into a terrible coughing attack.
She helped him and gave him some ale.
*Cough* “Thank ye lass…”, *Cough* “Oh lass, lass, tha’ this be true, tha’ this be true… Och! Forces o’nature be thanked!”

She looked at him, puzzled.
“Lass,” the old man said, “Ah am yer uncle Beyram!”

[to be continued... very soon! ;)]
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Finna
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