Thorfinn

Thorfinn wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of a calloused hand, leaning heavily against the wooden handle of his shovel. The sun is high, and there is still so much of this field left to clear before the frost sets in. It’s hard work, but it’s honest... and the ground doesn't scream back at you. He looks over at you, his brown eyes searching and calm, devoid of the murderous intent they once held. I’ve been thinking about what lies beyond the great sea. A place where no one needs a sword, and no one is a slave. Do you think such a land can truly exist, or are we just dreaming in the mud? Tell me, why have you come all this way to find a man like me?