One-Handed
Heidrek lay in bed longer than he should have, but he was nursing his wounds. He had been wrestling with Vollek the day before, and the older boy had taken great delight in hurting him. Of course, although Vollek was a little older and a little bigger than Heidrek, he'd been very sneaky about it, so no one had understood when Heidrek had cried out in pain and left the field early.
He could hear that the rest of the household was already awake and moving. He tumbled from the bed, cursing quietly as his left knee gave way beneath his weight. He hadn't realized quite how much pressure Vollek had applied the day before, and now, on the day of his first hunt, he could barely stand, much less run. He quietly rubbed some galin root on his tender knee and then bound it in a cloth.
He pulled himself to his feet and tested his knee gingerly. He could move, but not well. He hoped no one would notice, for hunting was dangerous, and he might not be allowed to go. At twelve, he was the youngest hunter in the village, a position that had previously been held by Vollek. He made his way slowly outside to where the rest of the group waited.
"Come on boy, there's mouths to be fed today," jeered Vollek, his tone making it clear that he didn't think much of Heidrek.
The rest of the men gathered laughed nervously. No one really cared for Vollek, but his father was jarl of their clan and none dared oppose the boy for fear of the jarl's wrath. As far back as anyone could remember, Vollek had been a disagreeable sort. He had inherited his father's size and was on his way to being one of the largest men in the village. He'd used that size to bully the other children all his life and now it seemed he would grow to be a bully as a man as well.
The group mounted and rode north, into the Forest of Stjordik, in search of caribou. The caribou themselves were only dangerous if cornered or stampeded, but they were often hunted by the greay wolves of the forest. The wolves could breath an icy mist that would freeze a man in his tracks, and they were as fond of human flesh as any other. More than once, one of the hunters had taken a caribou only to be taken himself when he tried to collect his prize.
The morning passed easily and Heidrek nearly forgot the pain in his knee. Around midday, they made a small fire and had lunch. After lunch, they left the horses and proceeded on foot. About half the men carried spears, the rest carried great bows of horn and sinew. Heidrek, with his sore knee, had decided to bring his bow, since the spear usually required one to get much closer and thus more movement. As he headed deeper into the woods, he noticed that Vollek also carried a bow.
He picked his way carefully through the woods, trying to avoid puttng too much strain on his still tender knee. He came across a small stream and followed its smooth bank east for a time. Feeling a slight breeze in his face, he knew he had a good chance, since he would be downwind of his prey. He came to a widening of the stream, a beautiful ice-covered pond. There, where the stream entered the pond, was open water.
He carefully moved away and picked a good spot to hide and wait. He didn't have to wait long, for soon he heard the sound of something approaching. Holding his breath, he tried not to make a single sound as a large caribou came slowly into sight then bent majestically to drink from the pond. He was mesmerized for a moment, then snapped into action. He drew back his bow, and taking careful aim, he fired. His aim was true and a half a breath later, his arrow pierced the heart of the caribou.
He tried to contain his joy, for no hunter had ever taken a caribou on his first trip before. He waited a moment before he moved in to examine his prize. If one of the grey wolves was there, it would arrive soon. As he waited, he saw Vollek come into view, survey the kill, and move in. Heidrek called down to Vollek from his tree and the older boy just looked at him in shock for a moment, then a broad smile broke his face.
"I got one,", cried Vollek, "I got one!" As Heidrek approached, Vollek pulled the shaft from the heart of the great beast, tossed it aside, and replaced it with one of his own.
"That was my..." he began, his complaint suddenly cut off when he spotted a wolf rushing up behind Vollek.
"Behind you!" he called, but Vollek just smiled at him. Ignoring the pain in his leg, he charged forward and dove at Vollek, knocking him aside, just as the wolf breathed at them.
The pain in his right arm was incredible, it felt like it was on fire and numb at the same time, he rolled off Vollek in time to see several of the other hunters arrive. The wolf, hungry, but not starving, decided to run. Vollek stood up and excitedly began telling the story of his kill and of how he had barely saved Heidrek from the wolf when Heidrek had foolishly approached too soon.
It was all Heidrek could stand. "Liar!" he spat. "You know it was my kill and that it was me who saved you when you tried to take it"
"Don't be stupid, one-hand," said Vollek, gesturing at Heidrek's useless right arm. "We both know you can't press your claim now or ever!"
"I challenge you," said Heidrek. "One hand or not"
"Bah," said Vollek. "I do not fight with children or cripples."
"I challenge you; do you accept, or will you admit to your lies?"
A hush fell over the group. It was clear to most of them that Vollek was lying; the character of both hunters would have told the tale well enough, but the tracks proved it. Still, to call Vollek a liar could mean nothing but trouble for young Heidrek.
"I accept." said Vollek. "Name your contest." Normally, the challenged got the right to choose the contest; by letting Heidrek choose the contest, Vollek was expressing utter disdain for Heidrek.
"Hfenaftal" said Heidrek, a slight grin on his lips.
The other hunters nodded their agreement. Heidrek was one of the best hfenaftal players in the village, and moving the pieces around the board would be no challenge, even with arm in a sling. Vollek lacked the patience for the game and was among the worst players. The outcome of the challenge was a foregone conclusion and Vollek would be forced to apologize.
On the day of the match, a skald arrived with a message from another clan; they had need of hunters and wondered if the jarl had any to spare. The jarl agreed and selected Heidrek to be the one to go with the skald, whose name was Sigurd. After inspecting Heidrek's arm and deciding that it would heal in time, Sigurd agreed to take Heidrek and explained that because the need was great,the pair would have to leave immediately following the match.
The match came to its conclusion and Vollek was forced to admit to the whole clan that Heidrek was a better man. Even as he spoke the words, the gleam of hatred filled his eyes and those of his father. Heidrek was almost glad to be leaving his village behind.
He and Sigurd travelled until nightfall, then made camp. As they sat at the fire, the old man told him the truth of their meeting.
"My name is, as you have been told, Sigurd, but I am not a skald. I am a priest of the Order of the Emerald Spire. I placed you in the care of your foster parents when I found you alone in the woods, and bade them tell me when you were ready to leave the village. I would train you in the ways of our order Heidrek One-Hand, that you might temper your wit with wisdom and your strength with kindness. Will you join me?"
And so it was that Heidrek, once called Heidrek One-Hand, began his journey on the Emerald Spire.