The Legend of Eadgils
Eidgils walked out of his small cramped forge at Gilsa, and looked over the settlement with a smile. He caught sight of his daughter Alvilda tending to the settlements shrines, and was amazed that something so beautiful could grow despite the harsh conditions. The metal work that housed the shrine was his; years of painstaking work waiting for Automata scrap to come in to add to it bit by bit until it was finished. The Gilsa Shrine is renowned for its beauty amongst the tribes, of the intricate knot work etched upon it, and the seamless melding of metal to make the whole. He was widely acknowledged at being the best crafter of the eastern tribes.
Eadgils stretched and took a walk. He has been hunched over all day, and needed a break. The elders were in their usual place around the central fire telling the children the stories of the old world before Ragnarok, and was just finishing the story of their escape to this land when Eadgils joined them. It had been hard, the road from then to now; but they were safe, mostly, and that was all that mattered.
After the story had stopped and the children had run away laughing, discussion started up about a growing rumour of reports that crafters were going missing. Eadgils had heard these rumours before, and it filled him with unease. He waited for a breathe in the conversation and then spoke up.
"We need to do something," he interjected. "For over a century we have lived liked frightened mice and its time it stopped!”
The Elders had heard this speech from the crafter before. As gently as possible, Brokkr, a man of failing health explained the situation to him again.
"Eadgils, please listen! We have tried that before and it failed! We lost scores of Stalkers that has taken us almost half a century to recover!” The settlement leader started to wheeze and cough, and all waited for him to finish with concerned eyes. After a few minutes he continued.
"You weren’t there my friend. What I saw that day showed me there isn’t a hope in all the realms of us ever winning a fight with the Svarts, They don’t fight like men, they fight like those damn automata; unrelenting and without stopping!” Brokkr rubbed his face, he knew this wouldn’t stop him, but what could he do? Eadgils was the most skilled crafter in the settlement and that gave them a lot of trading power with the passing tribes. The crafter looked up at Brokkr and sighed.
“I just want a world for my tribe that doesn’t involve skulking like rats, is that too much to ask for?” he said as he turned and stalked away from the fire.
Eadgils walked back to his hut, the weather turning to become a bitter cold night. As he walked he saw Embla, his beloved wife, playing with his daughter as they were settling her down for the night and smiled, knowing that despite it all he had his family and that was enough for him. Walking past the scene, he entered his forge; his habit after a heated conversation, and worked well into the night to fulfil the tribes demands for building equipment and weapons.
Hours later, just before dawn, he had finally finished the last of the snares. Setting the workbench to rights, he grimaced at the scolding his wife would give him for not coming to bed. Walking outside to head towards the house he slowed as he noticed an unnatural stillness about the settlement. Normally at this time there was the noise of the Stalkers and Foragers getting ready for the day, but not a sound could be heard. Speeding up, he headed for his front door at a run; that’s when he felt a sharp pain at the base of his skull and his vision went black.
Eadgils looked around his now familiar dwelling. It has been many years since that night; since saw his daughter and his wife, and his tribe. 'They’re probably all dead now,' he thought to himself morosely as he washed the night off of him at his basin. At least he was alive and had been in a situation where he could make a change, though this was small comfort for the unlikelihood of that eventuality.
Eadgils left his dwelling and made his way through the winding corridors until he came to his workstation. He picked up his tools and set to work on his given list which was the same as every day this year; bolt's, screws, nails, metal plating, and those damn housing units. He didn't always work on this mundane things, he used to work on much more restricted projects; but they never let anyone work on those too long.
The cores were only made here, in this city, and their construction was the most closely guarded secret around. The refugee servants who worked on that project, were not given those secrets, but they all knew one small part. Eadgils knew more than that. Before he left and moved on to his new job working on the housing units, he had left behind a bit of a surprise. That was almost a year ago.
He was woken up in the middle in the night two days later by a violent shaking. Opened his eyes he saw a figure above him. "COME EID!!!" urged a familiar voice he couldn't place, yelling at a him in a whisper whilst dragging him out of his bed. "Quickly; if you want to live!"
Before he could even speak, they where running down the corridors, but these ones he hadn't seen before. They twisted and turned through unfamiliar parts of the labyrinthine complex until after what felt like an age they emerged into the light of a sunset through a heavy metal door. The stranger spoke quietly, the hood pulled down over his face:
"They've traced the flaw to you. I don't know how you did it; how you even knew to do it, but you did and they know, and now he has shut us down. You are too... talented, important even... for us to let them take you. Now, get out of here."
Eadgils stared at his rescuer. Something wasn't right, he didn't look Human and he definitely knew that voice from somewhere. A growing suspicion formed in him as the the stranger pulled a pack off of his back and shoved it into his hands. His surprise...
"Head north, stay hidden, and dont stop." I'll find you in ten days time."
Eadgils didn't wait to be told twice. He took the parcel of clothing and rations from his saviour and started to run. He didn't know where he was or where he was going but he was free, for now. Like the movement of the Tribes back home, his life had come full circle. He had wandered, and now he was returning. Heading north as the stranger said, Eadgils began his journey, but he needed to go home first.
How long had it been since he had seen Gilsa? How long since he had been snatched away in the night? He could see the pathway into the settlement in the afternoon light, but he was afraid to go further; afraid of what he might find. Instead, he waited until nightfall, and crept in unseen.
The years hadn't changed the settlement. Apart from some new buildings the place hadn't changed, and Eadgils stood in wonder and rising emotion as he saw his forge tucked up in a corner with his house attached. It was all still here! How he had feared it wouldn't be! The fire was burning. Curious as to who would be using his forge, he crept closer and heard a familiar voice coming from through the doorway. It was his daughter! Emotion overwhelmed him and he ran to the entrance, and stopped in the shadow just beyond the door. Alvilda was an adult now, and covered in soot. She was relentlessly hammering a piece of metal into shape with a small child sat next to her, "Mom, tell me again of Gran'pa," she said in a sing song voice, and Eadgils had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop from crying out loud with joy. Alvilda began to tell old stories of Eadgils, and from the shadows wept with happiness as he listened.
It is from Alvida that we have this story. Her father spent the remainder of the night talking to her, and playing with his grandchild. He told her all about the inside of the Svart cities, of their architecture and their society. He was never treated badly; never beaten, never starved. The Svartalfar considered it an honour for a Human to be taken to a Svart city; a sign they were skilled enough to work with them. He never wanted for anything; he just wasn't free to leave. There were others too, other Humans that he saw, and made friends with. Some had been there for generations, serving a Svart household, and couldnt fathom why they would want to do anything else. There weren't many Humans, and even fewer Jotunborn within the city, but they were there, and all of them worked for the wealthier of the Svart. But he could not stay, nomatter how much he wished to. Staying here the whole settlement in danger, and in the predawn light, with tears in his eyes he made his way back out of Gilsa, and headed towards the mountain.
The stories of what happens next vary wildly. Alvida told her story the very next day. Search parties were sent out, but Eadgils was never found. Some say he went up to the top of Mount Dun Dhoral and became a hermit, determined not to bring danger upon his home. Others say that he's slowly building an army of young men to fight the Svarts as he always wanted to. A lot don't believe it at all; that Alvida dreamed it, or was going mad. There were even stories he was seen by other tribes, travelling with a Svartalfar north of the mountain. Why would a Svart work with a Human?
This story is now over 20 years old, and no proof of any of it has been found. It is now told by tribes across Svartalfheim.