Freystein reached up and checked his tree. A leafless branch hung awkwardly where it had been broken in their fall. Halthor looked at the disappointed expression on Freystein's face. "Let me up," he said. Freystein looked over at Halthor with confusion. "Let me up there and see the tree," he said, "I think I can help. If I remember how."
Freystein stooped and Halthor climbed up their leg to their knee and from the knee up to the shoulder where the tree sat precariously. Halthor looked the tree over. He could see cracks in it and a branch was just about broken off. Halthor sat down on Freystein's shoulder. "I have some rope. I can wrap it around and support the limb. I just need something solid to brace it with." Halthor gasped as Freystein shifted and the world seemed to sway for a moment. Then an enormous hand was holding a handful of skeleton bones. Halthor scrambled over and took a selection of them. A pair of femurs were tied to the trunk of the tree to brace the split wood. A collection of ribs were tied to the trunk and the branch that was half torn off. A part of Halthor said that it was a waste of rope but he pushed the thought away.
Satisfied that the tree was well supported and the rope was going to hold, Halthor put his pack back on and climbed back down. Freystein cautiously stood, reaching up to touch their tree. "HOW HAVE YOU PUT MY SAPLING BACK TOGETHER?" they asked. Halthor scratched the back of his head and looked down at the snow. "WHAT MANNER OF MAGIC DOES HUMANS POSSESS THAT MENDS BROKEN TREES?"
"My father taught me how to do it when I was a young boy. It makes the tree grow how you want it to. He did it with quickwood to save time on carving out shapes," Halthor answered. Freystein very carefully placed a great hand on Halthor's side, a touch almost butterfly light with a hand that could crush him to death. It was a human gesture but mildly disturbing from a mountain troll. "Quickwood makes for somewhat reliable doors and such, but it's better for carving into furniature. And my father said if you really wanted a reliable good, you'd do better with anything other than quickwood." Halthor realized that referring to Alaric as his father felt good and made the ache of being alone easier to bear. "You don't have quickwood up there. But I think you'll gain glory with the bones of your foes supporting your tree," Halthor added, looking up at Freystein.
"THE LAST TIME MY PEOPLE MARCHED TO WAR, THE GREATEST OF WARRIORS WORE THE BONES OF THE FALLEN. IT IS AN HONOR ABOVE ME," Freystein said, "YOUNG HALTHOR, THE HANDS OF GODS MOVE THROUGH AND ABOUT YOU. WHEN TROUBLES COME AGAIN AMONG MEN, MY CLAN SHALL COME TO YOUR AID IN MEMORY OF THIS DEED." Halthor leaned his shoulder in against Freystein's great hand. They had traveled far though it had not seemed so. While it was impulse and a strong sense of self preservation that pushed Halthor to name Freystein as friend, he couldn't help but feel a sense that it was right and proper that he did so.
Elwis nudged Halthor in the left leg with a whine. Halthor looked down. "Alright, boy," he said, "I'm moving." He turned and began walking across the snow covered ancient battlefield. He paused a moment to sling the shield with Olerand's device on it across his shoulders. He wasn't sure how the count would greet him when he came back with his great-grandfather's arms slung across his back. He was just a builder caught up in a whirlwind of strange events. The fey dog trotted unerringly forward unto a hollowway through the trees that Halthor hadn't seen. Halthor decided that the dog knew where they were going and if he were lucky, Elwis would lead him to a traveler's rest before sundown. Because it was shortly past noontide and Halthor was already tired.
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