Snowy Ground: Chapter 1 Part 4 (and a half)

The griffons out of Milgan were grounded until the storm would pass. The great stag just threw Samythiel over his side, racing away into the fog of the blizzard as the great yeti roared in the distance. Samythiel rolled onto his back, protecting his bag of brushes and supply of paints that very well could have spilled out over the snow. The wind, however, made sure that he continued to roll along. Still in that Eynnil’s cloak fastened securely around his shoulders that seemed to swaddle him warmly as he hit the ground and knocked into the shins and legs of another man with similar scouts garb. Samythiel was picked up and dusted off.
“What’s yer name?!” The scout shouted over the whistling wind while a second smaller roar echoed outside of the town gate.
“Earthenboot! Samythiel Earthenboot!” he responded, pulling the scout’s too-big cloak around his shoulders and bracing against the cold.
“Well Earthenboot, get tae Ignar’s, he’s got a cellar. Didn’t ye hear the yeti out there?” the scout’s attention came to the cloak around Samythiel’s shoulders. With great force, he took a hold of it and brought his face closer to the family crest emblazoned on a medallion pinned over the closure. He called out to another scout who came running with a fist to his chest in salute. The superior scout took Samythiel’s shoulders and shook him forward and back.
“This cloak! It belongs tae an Eynnil dunnit?” He competed with the blizzard as to who could be the loudest. He turned to the subordinate before stripping Samythiel of the cloak, throwing it and folding it over his arm. “You, take this one to Ignar. Noblehood is out there. If Rigs is here tha means we ain’t got the time tae dawdle!”
The recruit was quick to throw the slack of his own, dwarf-sized, cloak over Samythiel’s shoulder and pull him along toward the general store whose sign rapidly faded under the cover of snow. The door burst inward to the pockmarked floor and Samythiel was shoved inside where a trap door in the floor lay open just a crack. Two brown eyes peered out from behind a white plate helm belonging to a holy warrior of old. The general store owner scooped at the air demanding that Samythiel come hide from the storm in the cellar. He didn’t ask twice, scuttling down the root cellar stair where he was then folded in amongst the other men and women to wait out the storm.
Commotions outside, calling for a ‘Noblehood’ shouting someone get Noblehood! Cracking of whips and a bellow of something between a ram’s call and the bugle of a trumpet off in the distance. Ignar stood at the head of the township which had gathered under his store, holding the strap so the trap door remained shut to the cold as his windows rattled.
Whips cracked. More calls.
The cellar door rattled and shook in time with a loud boom, Ignar kept his grip on the handles, bracing his foot on the steps as the roaring yeti outside town fell quiet. Samythiel was pulled away from Ignar should the cellar be breached by the creature. There was more running around, shouting for ropes, and for someone to hitch the rams! Commotion to get Rigs into the stables, light the fires, and sound the horns that the town was once again safe.
Then it went quiet, Ignar’s daughter played idly with the silver coils she’d woven into her beard. Her betrothed stood beside her.
“Pa, I think it’s safe now” She laid a gentle hand on her father’s arm, allowing him time to let go of the cellar door and push it open with a loud creak echoing through his store. He looked about the store before crawling free of the cellar. Followed closely by others, Samythiel among them.
“Aye, it’s safe tae go back tae yer homes. Take care in the storm, she should be passing soon.” He turned to his daughter and nodded toward Samythiel. “Faedryd, can ye house an extra guest at yer inn?”
“Sorry, pa, most of the town is headed tae my inn as it is. Perhaps ye can pull down the extra cot?” Faedryd said going for the door with her husband. She went out into the snow and wind, gusts of both entering the general store and rattling snowshoes hung on the walls marked for sale. Ignar sighed and took off his helmet, climbing a ladder to replace it on the shelf where it likely would grow dusty again and be blanketed in cobwebs. He looked down at Samythiel before glancing out the windows. He tossed a piece of cloth overtop of his old pride and returned to the floor.
“I’ll get ye a cot, just wait here” he offered a friendly smile “Yoo can help me by lightin’ a fire.”
Ignar went about his business of retrieving the extra cot from the rafters of the store, watching over Samythiel as he started a small fire in the hearth.
“Soo, who’d ye get tae take ye intae town eh? Cant just ask anyone tae take ye out in a blizzard” Ignar asked opening up the cot and even putting a decorative throw pillow down for his guest.
Samythiel shook his head. “Asked a mountaineer tae get me this far. Figured I’d get a place tae stay and wait out the storm then be off by mornin’” He told the story of the eynnil he met and finished once he’d recounted how he had come to this general store and was now taking up someone’s cot. The night ended with Ignar humming a song and heading up to his own bed while a candle in the window flickered and the fire roared as loud as the wind cried.