As the creature came into sight a shiver ran down his spine. Only in folklore had he heard of the Svartalfr. Never did he think that one would show itself to him, he was however thankful. Eirik could not understand its guttural speech but it neared him speaking all the while. It had come to help. The svartalfr set his leg bone and splinted it. As the svartalfr nursed him to full health a great kinship materialized between the two.
Eirik was ready today to return to his young son Hrolfur. The mythical creature was surefooted and led him to the cave entrance. It was nighttime the creek next to the cave’s mouth trickled merrily. Just as Eirik stepped out he was swung violently and now hung upside down. He looked to his friend sheepishly embarrassed by his childish mistake. The elf smiled at him and produced a curved blade. As the elf started humming a tune while he worked Eirik screamed for what seemed hours, until finally death claimed him. The Elf was happy with this new skin. He walked away greatly amused the pitiful stream was now red. Eirik Strongarm had been an amusing toy.
Hrolfur woke up to a commotion at his door. He jumped up thinking his father had finally returned from the sacred caves. He walked out the door and in front of him the stood 2 Huskarls covered in blood, yet not a scratch was upon them, as they knelt he felt his legs go weak. ‘All hail Jarl Hrolfr long may he reign!’
The youth broke through the guards,he had to see his father’s corpse.. When he finally entered the tent he vomited. Nothing of his fathers skin remained and parts of him had been eaten. Carrion had gotten to the body. It was however not hard to identify Eirik. His great bulk, the gap in his teeth and those piercing pale eyes with purple flecks were unmistakable. Yet sanding there looking at a corpse that was so mutilated it was almost impossible to not try to doubt or hope that this was someone else than his father, false hope however was no friend of Hrolfur and he quickly let it go. Finally he told the holds shaman ‘prepare my fathers remains. wrap him in cloth and I shall make arrangements for a pyre.’
As was tradition the air stacked the pyre and collected the wood. A full day and a half passed until Hrolfur was finally appeased. Today his father stalked with his fathers in the hunt. The pyre burned for 3 days and nights. When it was finally over Hrolfur fell to the ground. he had not slept for 5 days.
He awoke to a familiar voice. it was his fathers.. his thane Sigurd. ‘Boy you’ve been out for two days. You must eat something and when you’re ready we must talk about your fathers death.’
Small smirk escaped Hrolfs lips. ‘Ive become Jarl and still you call me boy and order me around.’
The old man laughed. ‘that’s the first smile I’ve had all week my Jarl’