was delicious. It tasted like pork rib meat, and he had a whole steak to enjoy. The stew consisted of what looked like carrots, onions, tomatoes, and potatoes, yet its flavor was unlike anything Wolf had tasted before. He could have made a fortune in his time with this simple fare.
“This meal is delicious, ma’am. Thank you,” Wolf said to Nala as he scraped the last morsel of food from his plate. “I have never tasted food this good. You are truly gifted.”
“Why, thank you, sir! You have made me smile. Usually, I make too much and we must eat it the next day. You have finished it all! Tomorrow I will make you more,” Nala gushed.
“I must leave tomorrow to check on my shuttle—I mean, boat,” Wolf said with regret. “I will return soon.”
“Oh, stay, sir. We want to show you our hospitality,” Leesa pleaded, biting her lower lip seductively.
Haakon’s oldest son Trulane laughed raucously and said, “That isn’t all she wants to show you.”
“Trulane, do not be disrespectful. It will not be tolerated in this house,” Haakon said with no real anger in his voice.
“Yes, sir,” Trulane answered, suppressing a grin.
“Come, my friend, we will go out to the porch for a drink of barley beer and a smoke. Do you have a pipe?”
Wolf shook his head and replied, “No, I don’t.” Haakon went to a crude desk and took out an old pipe. He handed it to Wolf, and the two men went to the porch as the women cleared the table. Reon came out carrying two mugs of a brown liquid. He handed one to his father and the other to Wolf, who sniffed the beer and peered into the cup. The liquid was amber-colored and cloudy. He sipped the beer and was surprised by how robust and tasty it was.
Haakon took out some type of tobacco and filled his pipe. He offered the pouch to Wolf and then lit both of their pipes. Wolf recognized the substance; in his world, it had been called marijuana. He chuckled to himself, amused that of all the things to survive on this planet over thousands of years, marijuana was one of them.
“So, you are ruled by a king?” Wolf asked, breaking the silence.
“Yes. He was a renowned warrior once, but old age and many injuries have crept up on him. It is rumored that he sired twins, but he has no legitimate children to continue his line,” Haakon explained. “His land stretches for miles in all directions, but we can’t hold it for him. We are a community of twenty-five thousand, but we can only muster nine thousand fighting men. The king’s castle is protected by an Old Guard of about six thousand warriors—all old and past their prime but ready to die for our king.”
With a frown, Haakon added, “You are fortunate you came to our land. The kingdom to the south is ruled by Jonar, an evil man who covets everything. He wants our king’s land and has attacked our villages, slaying the men and kidnapping our women and children to be sold to his nobles. It is a terrible time for us. You should travel to the castle at Springdale to meet our king. Also, a wise man lives there—a man of much learning,” Haakon said hopefully, thinking Wolf could be of considerable help to his aging monarch.
“A wise man?” At a nod from Haakon, Wolf asked, “How far is Springdale, and in which direction would I travel?”
“It is many days’ walk to the east,” Haakon replied. He pointed to a range of mountains in the distance. “It is over those hills and down into the valley. The mountains are impassable, except for a small cleft. A massive iron gate protects the castle and keeps Jonar out.”
Haakon glanced at the assortment of unfamiliar articles hanging from Wolf’s belt. “You are a hulking man, and your many odd devices and speech make you even stranger to us.”
“These are my tools I use to plot my course. I carry them with me always, and I learn languages quickly. Soon I will master yours,” Wolf said with confidence.
“They are different from anything I have seen or heard.
“This meal is delicious, ma’am. Thank you,” Wolf said to Nala as he scraped the last morsel of food from his plate. “I have never tasted food this good. You are truly gifted.”
“Why, thank you, sir! You have made me smile. Usually, I make too much and we must eat it the next day. You have finished it all! Tomorrow I will make you more,” Nala gushed.
“I must leave tomorrow to check on my shuttle—I mean, boat,” Wolf said with regret. “I will return soon.”
“Oh, stay, sir. We want to show you our hospitality,” Leesa pleaded, biting her lower lip seductively.
Haakon’s oldest son Trulane laughed raucously and said, “That isn’t all she wants to show you.”
“Trulane, do not be disrespectful. It will not be tolerated in this house,” Haakon said with no real anger in his voice.
“Yes, sir,” Trulane answered, suppressing a grin.
“Come, my friend, we will go out to the porch for a drink of barley beer and a smoke. Do you have a pipe?”
Wolf shook his head and replied, “No, I don’t.” Haakon went to a crude desk and took out an old pipe. He handed it to Wolf, and the two men went to the porch as the women cleared the table. Reon came out carrying two mugs of a brown liquid. He handed one to his father and the other to Wolf, who sniffed the beer and peered into the cup. The liquid was amber-colored and cloudy. He sipped the beer and was surprised by how robust and tasty it was.
Haakon took out some type of tobacco and filled his pipe. He offered the pouch to Wolf and then lit both of their pipes. Wolf recognized the substance; in his world, it had been called marijuana. He chuckled to himself, amused that of all the things to survive on this planet over thousands of years, marijuana was one of them.
“So, you are ruled by a king?” Wolf asked, breaking the silence.
“Yes. He was a renowned warrior once, but old age and many injuries have crept up on him. It is rumored that he sired twins, but he has no legitimate children to continue his line,” Haakon explained. “His land stretches for miles in all directions, but we can’t hold it for him. We are a community of twenty-five thousand, but we can only muster nine thousand fighting men. The king’s castle is protected by an Old Guard of about six thousand warriors—all old and past their prime but ready to die for our king.”
With a frown, Haakon added, “You are fortunate you came to our land. The kingdom to the south is ruled by Jonar, an evil man who covets everything. He wants our king’s land and has attacked our villages, slaying the men and kidnapping our women and children to be sold to his nobles. It is a terrible time for us. You should travel to the castle at Springdale to meet our king. Also, a wise man lives there—a man of much learning,” Haakon said hopefully, thinking Wolf could be of considerable help to his aging monarch.
“A wise man?” At a nod from Haakon, Wolf asked, “How far is Springdale, and in which direction would I travel?”
“It is many days’ walk to the east,” Haakon replied. He pointed to a range of mountains in the distance. “It is over those hills and down into the valley. The mountains are impassable, except for a small cleft. A massive iron gate protects the castle and keeps Jonar out.”
Haakon glanced at the assortment of unfamiliar articles hanging from Wolf’s belt. “You are a hulking man, and your many odd devices and speech make you even stranger to us.”
“These are my tools I use to plot my course. I carry them with me always, and I learn languages quickly. Soon I will master yours,” Wolf said with confidence.
“They are different from anything I have seen or heard.
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