Blade of Erogrund

Chapter One- Unwelcome Visitors

Dragonfire, Godric swore to himself.

With another grunt and strong heft of force into the crude wooden plow, he managed to break up another foot or so of thick, clay dirt. Leaning back on the plow, he wiped his sweat-stained brow with the already drenched sleeve of his ratty tunic. The sun was just reaching its height in the noonday sky, virtually cooking everyone that was unfortunate enough to have to stand beneath it. If it had not been for the miserable heat, the acres and acres of plowed land surrounded by dense, lush green forests would have made a pleasurable sight, especially mixed with the pleasing aroma of blooming flowers from the Cobblestone Brook only a ways away, which was carried by a gentle breeze into the fields where he was working.

Godric glanced up briefly at the sun, gauging the time. Roughly twelve-thirty. Only five more hours, he thought with a groan before once again forcing his weight against the infernal wooden machine. Clearly it was getting dull, because it only made it another foot or two before the long wooden spike that tore paths in the ground snapped with a sudden crack.

"Hellstorm," he cursed quietly. With a sharp tug, he drew the crude plow out of the ground and carried it a ways to a stump near the field. The breeze rustled the trees as he walked, which somehow always seemed to be a relaxing sound. In a stroke of luck, someone had left a hatchet in the wooden stub. Sitting himself down, Godric drew the short hatchet and began sharpening what was left of the prong that had broken. Enough was probably left that it could do they job well enough, but he would likely have to make another that night.

Just as the spike was nearly at a point, footsteps alerted him that someone was coming. Turning around, he was surprised to see Mira walking toward him. Judging by the sizable books under her arm, she was had been reading by the brook.

Subconsciously, Godric looked himself over quickly. His chestnut brown hair was still matted and dirty from working in the fields all morning, but he did his best to rearrange it in a semi-presentable manner by brushing it out of his deep blue eyes. His stout, strong arms were dark from smeared grime and deep tan of being in the sun and his cloths were in varying states of disrepair. Not exactly my best look.

The last time he had seen Mira was at the Planting Festival several days ago when her father had invited the village over and they had celebrated the planting that took place the next day. He fondly remembered that she had worn a long green dress that seemed to flawlessly match her eyes while at the same time complementing her long, beautiful red hair. She wore a similar dress today, but it was coarser and lacked the former elegance. Not that she needs it, Godric thought, smiling.

"Are you okay?"

The question snapped him out of his reminiscing and he realized that she was standing in front of him with her arms crossed, a confused look on her face and a humorous light in her eyes.

"What?" The question sounded even more stupid than he had thought it would as his voice cracked awkwardly at being taken by surprise.

Mira smiled in a kind, mocking way. "Hmmm, maybe you should spend a little less time in the sun, Farm Boy." He smiled back and looked down in embarrassment, his face flushing. "It's okay, I'm sure you'll recover from your delusions some day."

He laughed a little an nodded. "At least I don't whittle away all my time reading dusty manuscripts next to a pond."

Her face fell in a look of pretend-hurt. "I'll have you know that it is a brook, not a pond, and some would consider that a noble use of time. Better than rooting around in the dirt all day."

"Well, I can't argue with that," He said, his grin widening. "Then again, almost anything is, so that isn't really saying anything."

She shook her head. "Some people are hopeless."