In the darkness of Sofandi Dreka Skogr, the Gloomy Forest that separated two dwarven kingdoms, Sterkburin and Dabalinn's Keep, the sound of travelers' voices suddenly broke the silence.
"Can I… get a seat on Vaness, too?" a panting voice from a young dwarf rang out. He walked with his head down, hauling a massive load of luggage on his back.
A brown-haired elven woman, stretched out languidly on the back of an enormous wolf named Vaness, didn't even open her eyes. She replied in a cold voice, "No, you may not. Vaness is my cherished companion, not a common mount for just anyone to ride."
"But… I really can't keep walking like this carrying all this until morning."
"Complaining over such a little thing? Is this really the famous 32nd Prince of Ósigrheimr, Mikillulfr Drakavaldr?" The brown-haired elf girl pushed herself into a sitting position, proclaiming his full name and title in mockery.
"Nessy!" the dwarf, a prince of a fallen kingdom, hissed sharply. "Don't you go spouting the name Ósigrheimr so carelessly! If an enemy happens to overhear, it will turn into a massive mess!"
Vanessa, known simply as "Nessy," continued to mock her dwarven companion. "Do you really think anyone still remembers your collapsed kingdom?"
"Of course they do! Otherwise, that whole mess where you assassinated Lofar Afbarahants in Sterkburin—mistaking him for the king—which forced us to flee for our lives, they wouldn't have believed it was my doing, the one who seeks to reclaim the throne!"
Vanessa shook her head in exasperation. "You dwarves are all obsessed with treasure. Who would have thought the dwarf wearing such a massive crown was just a city lord, not the actual king?"
"You never plan anything, do you?" Mikillulfr said reproachfully, shifting the heavy straps on his left shoulder.
Vanessa retorted instantly, "You dare accuse me of not planning?! What about your three-year plan to not cut your hair until you married that tavern owner's daughter? Wasn't that a complete waste? In the end, she married someone else, and all you got was a haircut."
Those cutting words struck Mikillulfr with severe force. He immediately dropped to his knees, right hand clutching his chest over his heart, displaying an expression of profound agony.
"You can't stop walking now," Vanessa urged. "It'll be morning soon, and we still won't reach Dabalinn's Keep."
"I cannot walk any further. My heart has been shattered," Mikillulfr said in a faint whisper.
Vanessa let out a long sigh. "You are utterly useless. Vaness! Just grab him." At her command, the giant wolf gave a low growl, then gently gripped the dwarf's baggage strap in its mouth and hauled him onto its back, finally claiming Vanessa's napping spot.
The border village of Dabalinn's Keep, named "Litrfagrbyr," was home to dwarves with a wide variety of hair colors. Green and blue were especially common, considered highly unusual for dwarves. It was believed that the dwarves in this region had a fondness for the meat of Drakes, most of which were green and blue in this area. This eventually became the legend explaining the origin of their unique hair colors.
Early this morning brought a novelty to Litrfagrbyr. A dwarven warrior arrived in the village accompanied by a brown-haired elven slave girl. The two came bearing valuable-looking metalwork and glassware to sell.
The elven slave girl arranged the exquisite, master-crafted goods on a spread cloth, while the stern, powerfully built dwarven warrior stood nearby with his arms crossed, watching over the stall.
A metal sculpture of the great god Odin became a particular point of interest, leading to a fierce dispute between a blue-haired dwarf, who was accompanied by his stout wife, and another dwarf whose beard was tied in two braids.
The blue-haired dwarf shoved his braided rival, sending him tumbling to the ground. He snatched the statue and turned immediately to the elven slave girl running the stall: "I'll take this! How much?"
"Eleven silver coins, sir," the elf girl replied with a smile.
The blue-haired dwarf immediately reached out to his wife for the money, but his wife, looking flustered, was struggling to find her coin purse.
"I'll give one gold coin if you decide to sell it to me!" The voice of the dwarf with the braided beard, having just scrambled to his feet, rang out from behind, his tone defiant. (One gold coin in this area was worth thirteen silver coins).
"Wait! I already agreed to buy it, didn't I?" the blue-haired dwarf protested angrily.
Meanwhile, his wife was trying to count the silver coins she had on her, which turned out to be only seven. Finally, she made a decision and held out a gold coin to the elven slave girl to secure her right to purchase.
However, Vanessa reached her hand past her, accepting the gold coin from the dwarf with the braided beard instead. She announced clearly, "Agreed. I sell it to you."
The dwarf with the braided beard, having received the item, laughed triumphantly and walked away with the Odin statue in hand. Vanessa accepted the gold coin and was about to put it in her purse.
Suddenly, the blue-haired dwarf's stout wife lunged forward, full of rage. She raised her arm high, aiming to slap Vanessa hard across the head.
But in that critical moment, the elven slave girl slowly bowed her head, merely to look at her own coin purse in an unhurried manner. The descending palm missed her head by a hair's breadth. The dwarf woman's portly body immediately lost its balance. She spun halfway around before collapsing pathetically onto the ground.
The blue-haired dwarf, her husband, turned crimson with both rage and humiliation. He strode forward quickly, intending to harm the elven slave. But before he could lay a hand on her, Mikillulfr suddenly appeared, blocking his path like a stone wall.
"If I were you, I would absolutely not do that," Mikillulfr warned the dwarf, his voice firm.
"Are you threatening me? Do you even know who I am?" The blue-haired dwarf jabbed a finger at his own chest.
"Not at all. I am simply offering you a well-intentioned warning," Mikillulfr replied in a flat tone. Inwardly, however, he was aware of the impending disaster. He knew Vanessa well... The elf girl standing before them had the ability to single-handedly infiltrate a subterranean castle, assassinate its lord, and escape as if she were just taking a stroll in a garden. If she were truly angered, this entire dwarven village might not have a single survivor, not even a corpse, left.
"Nonsense! I am Igor, the younger brother of this village's chief! You've picked the wrong people to mess with!" The blue-haired dwarf postured, puffing out his chest and arrogantly declaring his authority.
"I am warning you for the second time. Let all of this pass peacefully," Mikillulfr insisted, his gaze unwavering.
"Who... who are you, anyway? To dare to command me?" Igor demanded, his voice full of irritation and contempt.
"My name is 'Mikillulfr.' I am merely a traveler passing through," Mikillulfr replied calmly.
Igor could no longer contain his rage. He roared, lunged at Mikillulfr, and shoved him hard in the chest. This was immediately followed by a rapid punch thrown at the other's face.
Mikillulfr remained standing still, thinking in confusion, 'Vanessa is the one who made this dwarf angry. So why am I the one getting hit?'
But the punch from the village chief's brother was astonishingly light. Despite being hit squarely in the face, Mikillulfr felt no pain at all, as if he'd only been brushed by a hand. It made Mikillulfr guess that this dwarf had never received any combat training whatsoever. A person like this... even if he gathered ten more, they would still be no match for himself.
However, on the flip side, Mikillulfr was well aware that even if he gathered ten men like himself, they would still not be considered a match for Vanessa.
And that wasn't even counting the powerful giant wolf she had as a companion. He believed it might take a hundred men like him to barely handle her and her companion!
Igor, seeing that his opponent didn't react, as if he were a dullard, grew even more confident. He threw his full weight forward and swung another punch at his face!
This time, however, his fist was caught in mid-air by Mikillulfr. Then... a great gust of wind swirled as his body was yanked high off the ground. Igor's eyes widened once more as he realized he had been lifted from the ground by the other's single arm!
Mikillulfr held Igor's collar with his right hand, lifting him high. His gaze shifted and he saw that the stout wife had just staggered back to her feet and was about to go after Vanessa again. He unhurriedly extended his left hand, grabbed the stout woman's collar from behind, and lifted her off the ground as well.
Mikillulfr's unimaginable strength was instantly apparent to all the dwarves of Litrfagrbyr. Everyone fell into a stunned silence.
"Let me down!" Igor, now completely helpless, could only make a pathetic, pleading sound. His wife, however, still had some fight in her. She struggled desperately, trying to scratch at Mikillulfr's powerful arm with her fingernails.
Mikillulfr had never intended to harm the couple from the start. Hearing Igor's defeated plea, he decided to give them both a light toss, sending them flying a short distance away.
Igor and his wife rolled on the ground, thoroughly humiliated and disheveled. Several villagers in the crowd even snickered, feeling a sense of satisfaction, as they were all fed up with his bullying and his habit of using his connection to the village chief to intimidate others.
Once free, Igor scrambled to help his wife up. He immediately began to leave, his eyes filled with a simmering hatred. Everyone assumed Igor was heading straight to call upon the village chief's cohorts to get revenge on this foreign dwarven warrior.
Just as Igor and his wife were leaving, a large group of young dwarves suddenly came sprinting from the opposite direction, their faces panicked. They were all shouting over each other:
"It's terrible! There's some mysterious, ferocious monster at the edge of the forest!"
"We found so many Drake carcasses... just torn apart and left uneaten inside the woods!"
After listening to the full report from the large group of young dwarves, everyone in the village rushed off to see what was happening at the forest's edge. Mikillulfr and Vanessa followed the crowd of dwarves quietly.
Suddenly, a herd of Drakes burst from the forest, fleeing for their lives in a terrified stampede. Behind them, the massive shadow of a gigantic, gray-furred beast was chasing them down.
Everyone thus saw the giant wolf at the same time, for the first time. The sight almost made them stop breathing.
The villagers of Litrfagrbyr had never seen a giant wolf like this in their lives. Its sheer size, as enormous as a small mountain, caused many of the colorful-haired dwarves' knees to buckle, and several collapsed to the ground in terror.
The giant wolf hunted the herd of Drakes as if it were playing a game, rather than hunting for survival. It used its immense speed and strength to chase down the Drakes—which were several times smaller than it—biting them and felling them easily, one by one. After one prey was injured and collapsed, the wolf would abandon it and immediately move on to the next.
Amidst the fear gripping everyone, one young green-haired dwarf muttered with frustration and worry:
"That giant wolf... if it hunts Drakes like this, soon there won't be any Drakes left for us to hunt."
As was well known, the villagers of Litrfagrbyr depended on Drake meat as their primary food source and a vital resource for their survival. To witness a predator this strong and terrifying was nothing short of a disaster, a threat to the very livelihood and sustenance of the entire village.
Vanessa suddenly moved closer to Mikillulfr. Her eyes were fixed on the giant beast. Then, she spoke in a decisive tone, devoid of any hesitation.
"Master... go and take care of that giant wolf."
"Me... take care of it!?" Mikillulfr replied, his face a mask of utter astonishment.
This brief exchange caused the dwarves of Litrfagrbyr to look startled at first. But in the next instant, their expressions changed to ones filled with hope and admiration for this foreign warrior, who would volunteer to face the disaster threatening their village.
"Does anyone have a weapon my master can borrow?" the elven slave girl turned and asked the villagers urgently.
"Will this axe of mine do?" a bald dwarf in the crowd called out.
Vanessa, in her role as a slave, moved toward the bald dwarf and accepted the large axe from him. She feigned that it was almost too heavy for her to lift, having to drag the axe along the ground as she struggled to walk it back to her master.
"This axe is very heavy. It should suit your hands, master," the elven slave girl said, presenting the newly acquired axe.
Mikillulfr, though still looking confused and uncomprehending, nonetheless accepted the axe she offered.
Vanessa suddenly used magic to communicate directly into Mikillulfr's mind: "I've already told Vaness to play along with you. You go out there, act like you're swinging the axe in a wide arc one time, and Vaness will run away."
"Are you serious?" Mikillulfr sent back, his expression not very confident.
Vanessa continued to communicate telepathically with her fake master: "It can't be helped. These dwarves just happened to see Vaness. You have to pretend to chase him off. That way, these dwarves won't suspect we are traveling together."
Mikillulfr nodded his head slowly. A bold smile suddenly appeared on his lips. He began to stride forward toward the giant wolf before him, the heavy axe gripped in his right hand.
The dwarves of Litrfagrbyr who were witnessing this nearly forgot to breathe, tense with an excitement that bordered on stress. All eyes were fixed on the great warrior from afar who had volunteered to confront the village's doom—a giant wolf the size of a mountain. And then, the miracle occurred!
The heroic dwarven warrior from afar swung the great axe at the giant wolf just once. The giant wolf let out a pitiful, pained howl, then turned and fled fearfully back into the forest.
A roar of victory echoed throughout the area. Fear was replaced by wild adoration, along with the true birth of a new hero.
On the return trip to the village, Mikillulfr's feet were no longer required to touch the ground. The villagers of Litrfagrbyr carried him back on their shoulders. Meanwhile, the village chief—Igor's older cousin—had been lying in wait to ambush him. But when he heard the story of the heroic deed that had just occurred at the forest's edge, all his prior anger evaporated. The plan for an ambush was transformed into a grand celebration.
By now, every heart in the village of Litrfagrbyr had the image of Mikillulfr impressively engraved upon it.