“If you cannot contribute with strength, there are still many other ways to contribute to the community. Only the lazy and worthless would claim that there is nothing they can offer to a community, and for such people, I say that there is nothing a community can afford to give to them in return.” - Angvar of Clan Snowstorm, Tribal chieftain from Vinjaun.

“Old man Erik!” yelled out Gudrun spiritedly as she led the small group – Aideen and the rest of her charges went along with Aida, Gudrun, and Leif out of curiosity – towards one of the longhouses on the eastern side of the town. The longhouse was the fourth from the center of the town, so clearly even in his old age Erik was still seen with quite a bit of respect by the locals.

Her call directed everyone’s attention to a figure that stood in front of the longhouse, who was splitting wood in the light snow of the afternoon. The man was old and rather thin, as was easily seen from his bald head and long, white beard. He only had one arm, as the left sleeve of his tunic was tied off at the shoulder, yet as he raised the axe he held in his only hand, the old man was clearly used to his condition.

The way the old man expertly swung the axe down and accurately split the small log into halves with one blow spoke of decades of experience spent doing such work.

Given the rather short distance the old man heard Gudrun’s yell and looked towards her with a kind, grandfatherly smile. He waved at the group with his one hand, leaving his axe on the cut log he used as a platform to split the other, smaller logs on. Despite the way he looked frail at the first glance, Aideen took a closer look and noticed that the old man was still quite hale and hearty for his advanced age, though he looked oddly thin for some reason.

“Ah, heya there, little Gudrun! I see you got your ma and brother along today!” greeted the old man in a cheerful manner as the group approached. Just as he said that a burly man – probably in his middle ages – came out from the longhouse behind him and walked over to pick up the wood the old man already halved. He piled them up carefully in his hands and brought them into the house.

“Niklas, we have guests, do set a pot of tea on the stove, will you?” said the old man to the burly one.

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“Will do, Pa,” said the middle-aged man with a childlike smile as he went into the house.

“So, what brought you and the little ones over, hmm, Aida? And who are these fellows?” asked the old main once the burly, middle-aged man left them. He greeted Aida and her children with friendly hugs – which made sense given the cold climate, a sharing of warmth was the friendliest thing one could offer under such conditions – before he looked questioningly at Aideen's group.

“Ah, they’re guests at my house, pretty curious about how we live around here, thought I’d take them around,” replied Aida as she returned the old, one-armed man’s hug just as warmly. “Yngva’s sending up over with some eggs in exchange for the ones you gave us yesterday, as well as a little snack for you as a bonus.”

“Aww, you shouldn’t have,” commented the old man, who Aideen had long guessed to be the aforementioned Erik. He must be at least in his seventies or eighties, she guessed, which was a pretty impressive age to reach in the harsh conditions of the region. “Ah, where are my manners, come in, come in. Why are we standing out here in the cold for anyway?”

The longhouse Erik lived in was a little smaller than the one Aida and her family lived in, but had much of the same layout, with a kitchen on one end. Where Aida’s place had a workbench however, Erik’s place instead had several fur cushions set on the floor with a larger one on the far end. Probably for use when Erik was teaching some of the local kids.

They sat around the long table set in the middle of the longhouse – Erik’s was only around half the size of the table at Aida’s place, but was still enough to seat all his guests and himself around it – where they relaxed. The hearth was kept running and the fire’s warmth was felt throughout the house, which seemed to be shared only by a few people.

“The eggs for yesterday’s, old man,” said Gudrun as she placed the basket of eggs on the table. It contained the six eggs she had been told to bring to Erik’s place. Her older brother carefully placed the smaller basker he carried on the table as well, though Gudrun snapped up before he could say anything. “Oh, and ma also sent ya a pie!”

“Oh, you really shouldn’t have…” mumbled the old man sheepishly, though Aideen could see that he was clearly happy and rather touched by the gift. Then again, like Yngva said, sweets must be hard to come by in the region, given the harsh climate and dangerous wildlife and all.

“You say that but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not devour one of Yngva’s pies in seconds, Erik,” replied Aida with an amused scoff, after which both she and the old man laughed uproariously. The old man then asked for a knife from the burly man who was tending to a kettle on the stove. The burly man picked out one of the smaller knives and brought it over to him.

Since Yngva had set the half of the pie she sent over on a wooden plate, it was trivial for old Erik to use the knife to slice it into six equal portions, then he did a quick count and further sliced four of them into three more portions each, to the obvious delight of Aida’s children.