Private A Pilgrimage.

[Dorian Durinson]

Wearing | Location | Aelin Erevos​

Winter had yet to truly break. The days in Hardhaven were yet short and cold with the sun rising behind fat gray clouds and remaining hidden until setting what felt like only a handful of hours later.

The days were biting cold even through leather and furs. The nights remained cold enough to kill if caught beyond shelter when the sun set.

The spring thaws were closer than any of that would suggest and when the spring came so would war. The Wolves we need to take advantage of the last of winter and steal a march on their enemy or they faces the very real likelihood of being pinned where they were, smoked from their dens and slaughtered.

Winter was harsh and brutal and it could not be avoided. Spring would be the same. The fields would bloom red as they are watered with blood.

Dorian Alpha of Clan Kanaka was draped in furs. He stood at the edge of a small dock on the shore side on the bay of Fafnir's fall. The smell of salt water scrubbed the sleeplessness from his eyes as he breathed deeply. For a Wolf of The North Dorian had always found the sea refreshing. No doubt that he carried some Ylva blood in his veins.

In the warmer months the port of Fafnir's fall was alive like no other place. Sounds and smells of a thousand varieties all competing for notice or attention. The shouts of merchants or traders, children running along the wooden paths, hammers, cursing. The scent of hemp ropes, sea spray, fish of untold size, color, and taste. It was all there but that would be some weeks yet. Few ships were fearless enough to brave the ice filled waters of the bay. Paths could be found amongst the mountain sized shards of frozen ocean that plagued the waters offshore but it would take a special ship and a fearless captain to see them through.

Dorian by his luck had both of those things and he required passage out of the bay and into the open sea.

He was waiting for someone. A couple of someone's as it were.

He was waiting for Aelin. He had promised to show her something.

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[Aelin Erevos]

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Outfit | XoXo
Location | Fafnir's Fall, Islimore
Tag | Dorian Durinson

Aelin trudged through the biting cold of Hardhaven's Northern expanse, kicking up plumes of dusty snow as she moved towards the icy shores of Fafnir's Fall, her stomach twisted in knots. The piercing wind seemed to cut through her like a knife, much like her thoughts about Dorian and their last encounter. She'd failed to assert her dominance over Gerwald, and feared she'd lost some of the wolves respect as a result, Dorian being among them. Despite his unexpected pledge to aid her cause with troops, she knew it was only at the behest of his advisor's influence and their shared goal of survival that forced his hand. It was nothing she'd done to win him over. Her hands curled around her thick cloak and pulled it tightly around her body, feeling an unsettling sickness tinge her insides.

"Anasa," Came a deep voice from beside her, ripping her from her thoughts. The towering figure of Anders trudged through the snow with the same fluid grace he seemed to have in everything—almost as though this were his natural environment, no different than the endless spring fields of Bellassa. His crimson hair danced in the icy breeze like a blood-soaked banner, a stark contrast to their monochromatic setting. "Do not trouble yourself. One misstep doesn't overshadow your strength."

Her fiery eyes turned to look up at him, holding his gaze in consideration, lips parting as if willing to finally address the events she'd been avoiding since that night. Her ruby lips pressed into a hard line, instead. "We should pick up our pace," she urged, her gaze panning out over the horizon. "We don't want to keep Dorian waiting."

As they advanced towards the frigid shoreline of Fafnir's Fall, Aelin couldn't help but notice its desolation, accentuated by the few ships daring enough to challenge the ice-choked waters. Briefly, she wondered how it would feel to captain one of them; she had never been fond of traveling through the cosmos in a metal contraption, but commandeering a ship and sailing it over endless waves beneath an open sky, seemed a different experience entirely. The very thought of it sent a thrilling shiver down her spine.

Waiting for them at the bay's edge stood Dorian, a massive, veritable beast draped in thick furs—his presence reminiscent of the towering sentinels belonging to the yronwood forest. "An interesting place you've chosen for a meeting," she mused as they drew near, her breath swirling into frosted clouds with every word.

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[Dorian Durinson]

Wearing | Location | Aelin Erevos​

Dorian's head turned at her approach. He smelled her long before he saw her. He thought she smelled of summer. Like heat and smoke, like sweet sweat and blood, she smelled of the stars themselves.

A smile whispered at the corners of his eyes when he finally saw her. Bundled in furs she walked the snow cover streets as if she had known them her whole life. He imagined that it came from her life on Seoul. Dorian knew nothing of the world beyond what Aelin had told him. She had spoken of fields of ice and complained most vociferously of the cold but it allowed her to adapt better to the conditions of The North than many of her pack.

She strode surefooted step for step with Anders, her blood-red half breed. Average in height for one of their kind, Anders was lithe but far from skinny, even under layers of fur he looked hard and sharp as lunaris. Fiercely loyal Anders had joined Aelin on her adventure and had ever been by her side even as others like Declan had melted from her or had betrayed her such as her own sister. But not Anders.

"An interesting place you've chosen for a meeting," was her greeting as they drew near. She gave no indication whether his invitation had been a welcome one or if she were here out of courtesy alone.

"This is only where we begin, Jhaansdottir." Dorian told her as he drew closer to her. Aelin may be Anasa but The North knew no Anasa. Dorian would refer to her with her title in front of those that she meant to lead but outside the confines of the council chambers to him she was just Aelin.

Jhaansdotir. Aelin never did name herself as such. She had not spoken much of her father since she and Dorian took a tour through The North's countryside. She had told him of the madness that consumed Jhaan her father, of the terrible events that happened to them when the pack had turned against them. She hinted at the fear and the rage and the shame that had threatened to devour her and yet what had stuck in his mind was the way she spoke of Jhaan's devotion to Aelin's mother. The way she had clung to the hope of her father returning to her after she knew in her heart he never would.

So Dorian would call her Jhaansdottir. Aelin was the blood of Thorir, his legacy made flesh but Dorian thought it important that she not forget that is not all she was. Jhaansdottir had her own legacy as well. A legacy of love.

He stopped a handful of steps farther than was his custom. Something else filled the space between them.

Dorian held his arm out in greeting with Anders. Despite the red-maned Wolf's closeness with Aelin, he and Dorian were yet practically strangers. Dorian hoped that would change. Hoped there would be time for it to change. With war so close upon them the future was in doubt. Anders, known as being Aelin's strongest supporter, was growing a reputation in Hardhaven. Dorian's brothers, the twins Darin and Dorin, had one night taken him to get drunk with the two of them and several other soldiers that made up Dorian's fighting force.

Anders the half-breed with the golden eye and fierce scar on his face proceeded to spend the night drinking and fighting northern Kaiha and by morning Anders had won himself several new bruises and a fat bag of coin for his trouble and the admiration of two pups.

"Is that her then?" A female's voice called over.

A woman warrior was heading toward the three of them from the direction opposite of Aelin and Anders, a flagon of ale in her hand. She wore animal hide pants and boots, and a scaled leather chest plate stained black over a black iron ring shirt. A fearsome red-eyed dragon was stitched into the leather.

She was tall for a female, close to six and a half feet, and yet he still needed to look down to meet her eyes. No, her eye; Her right eye was hidden behind a thin leather corded patch, raw painful looking scars clawed past the edges of the patch but her left eye was a fierce icy blue. Her hair was yellow gold and fastened in a long braid that ended just above her butt. The sides of her head were shaved close to expose the tattoos on her skull.

"Well no wonder you chose this one for Varblessum, Durin's son, would you look at her." The she-wolf said when she reached the three of them.

Dorian was grinning like a fool. He greeted the newcomer by laying his head on hers.

"Careful you don't spill." She chided as she returned his affection, nuzzling her head against his.

"Aelin, Anders, this is Malinda Kovesdottir." Dorian said breaking away from Malinda.

"Was that one at the Varblessum as well?" Malinda asked of Anders, the look of a predator in her eye.

Introductions were briefly exchanged.

"Aelin was it then?" Malinda asked, "Dori tells me this is to be your first time." Malinda produced four cups and filled them from her flagon. "First time always calls for a drink."

"To no longer being a maiden!" Malinda toasted and drained her cup.

"Hey ya!" Dorian agreed enthusiastically, draining his own cup.

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[Aelin Erevos]

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Outfit | XoXo
Location | Hardhaven, Islimore
Tag | Dorian Durinson

Aelin's stomach clenched so tightly it ached, noting the change in Dorian's familiarity as he chose to stand farther away than usual, unable to help but wonder if that gap would signify a permanent shift in their relationship going forward, or if it was merely a conjuring of her mind. Softly, she cleared her throat, trying to push aside the gnawing ache of worry and focus on the present. "Begin?" she echoed, glancing at the boats. Did he mean?

Her expression lit up, blooming like wild roses in spring as a genuine smile graced across her features. "Where are we sailing?"

Just then, an unfamiliar voice carried across a short distance from them. "Well no wonder you chose this one for Varblessum, Durin's son, would you look at her."

"Aelin, Anders, this is Malinda Kovesdottir."

Aelin cheeks flushed prettily at the brazen mention of the Varblessum, though she kept her features schooled enough that she hoped the heat in her cheeks would be attributed to the cold. Slowly, her lashes raised to meet the gaze of the one Dorian now introduced as Malinda, finding a proud woman staring back at her.

Strength radiated from her pale skin in waves so powerful that Aelin could actually feel it. No doubt, this woman was a warrior, a fighter, a force of nature - a presence so simultaneously comforting and commanding that the little wolf found her posture softening without thought; here was a wolf who carried her battles with her, never hiding them from the world.

"Well met Malinda, it's nice to meet you."

"Was that one at the Varblessum as well?"

Anders huffed a laugh and shook his head, "I'm afraid I didn't have the pleasure of attending the Varblessum," he quipped with feigned disappointment. "My dance card was rather full that evening—entertaining other equally thrilling affairs." If you could call escorting Eydis Erevos a thrilling affair, though Aelin held no doubt that her sister would have kept him on his toes through the evening.

As the ale was held out, Aelin hesitated, glancing at the extended cup filled to the brim. After a moment, she held up her hand in polite refusal. "While normally I would love to join you all in this toast... I fear that Northern ale and I have had some disagreements as of late. I wouldn't want to spoil the days fun by retching all over the boats." Her eyes met Anders briefly, silently seeking his support.

"It's true—one sip and she's praying to all the Gods for the remainder of the day. Northern ale is much stronger than most southern wolves seem able to handle." reaching forward, he plucked the cup meant for Aelin from Malinda, the first drink sloshing in his right fist. "But as the Anasa's faithful servant, I am more than happy to bear her burdens and drink on her behalf... no reason to let good ale go to waste." He raised both hands, heartily proclaiming,"Skål!" before downing the two drinks.

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[Dorian Durinson]

Wearing | Location | Aelin Erevos​

"While normally I would love to join you all in this toast... I fear that Northern ale and I have had some disagreements as of late. I wouldn't want to spoil the days fun by retching all over the boats."

“Spoil it?” Malinda asked incredulous, “Half the fun is watching first-timers white knuckle their oars and swear oaths to Naé as they spill their insides.” She said with an encouraging laugh.

“You’re the picture of courtesy aren’t you?” Malinda asked when it became clear Aelin was serious.

Malinda had been friendly enough but Dorian knew what she felt. He himself felt the same. It didn’t matter how unintended the slight was, it was felt all the same. Aelin had her reasons for a certainty but it was impossible not to feel the rejection. Rejection of The North, of their hospitality, of him.

“Another,” Dorian said to Malinda holding his empty cup to her. She filled it once more with the hazy oaken-colored ale. It took only three gulps for his cup to empty.

“Another.” He said. Malinda wiped her mouth after finishing a second cup for herself and did as Dorian bid.

“For him as well.” Dorian did not ask if Anders would take another cup. Dorian need not ask, he was Alpha. Malinda filled one of Anders’ empty cups and her own as well, emptying the flagon.

“What do we drink to then?” Malinda asked.

“The Anasa.” Dorian said dryly.

“To you then,” Malinda said, raising her cup in Aelin’s general direction before emptying her cup once again. “Come on Durinson, no time like the present.”

“Did Dorian tell you what he has planned?” Malinda asked Aelin as the four of them headed toward the end of the dock. “You should have seen his excitement when he come to me last night, he was half a pup again.” Malinda laughed. A grin crossed Dorian’s face as well.

Moored at the end of the dock was a longship. She was small, only thirty feet long if that, her hull was crafted of aged oak that had been freshly varnished. She was adorned with no paint, and her sails were plain grey. It was as plain a vessel as could be found save for her stern which had been carved in the likeness of a soft-featured young woman.

“This is the very ship that took me own maidenhood,” Malinda said with a wide grin. “My father and I used to take her out to sell our mead in Frosthold.”
Malinda’s father Kove had produced the finest sourberry mead in The North. It had pained Dorian greatly to have to bury him along with the rest of the corpses in The Gallow’s Wood.

“She’s got six oar benches but the four of us should have no trouble with her.” Malinda finished as she stepped onto the longship. Dorian followed after. Each oar bench was in truth a heavy wooden chest. A place for the rower to store their possessions or earnings as they traveled over the water.

“You’re with me Jhaansdottir,” Dorian said holding a hand out to help Aelin onto the vessel. Once she was safely aboard, Dorian found the chest that would be his and stowed his black fur cloak inside. He had winter in his blood and so the cold meant little to him. Dorian advised Aelin and Anders to do the same. Rowing would keep them plenty warm. When they were ready Malinda and Dorian would show the two southern wolves the proper way to row. Where to bend and when to pull and how to make the motion as one.

It was a practical lesson. In a few week's time Aelin, Dorian, and a small army of wolves would make their first move against the humans of this world. A major part of their offensive would involve using longships and getting Aelin familiar now was vital.

Once they were all as comfortable as they were going to get, they loosened the rope from the dock and dipped their oars into the cold black water.

“Naé is calling! Let us keep him waiting no longer!” Malinda cried out.

Dorian let loose a howl that could wake the world.

​

 

[Aelin Erevos]

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Outfit | XoXo
Location | Islimore
Tag | Dorian Durinson

"You're the picture of courtesy aren't you?" Malinda asked when it became clear Aelin was serious.

A tight smile managed to flicker at the corners of her lips before vanishing just as quickly. "When it's necessary."

Neither Malinda nor Dorian needed to give voice to their disapproval for her to feel it, between the exchange of glances and Dorian's terse use of her title 'Anasa', Aelin knew she'd offended them. But even with the discomfort of it all, the she wolf didn't budge on the matter. There were reasons that were hers and hers alone to hold and understand – reasons she'd withhold until the moment of her choosing.

For Anders part, he drank deeply and unreservedly from each cup offered with unbridled zeal, reminding her of the times she'd shared a table with him and the other Drage brothers back on Bellassa. It'd been a long while since she last thought about her time on Bellassa at all, but she couldn't help but wonder if he too pondered on those same memories? He never complained or reminisced about the past, but he hadn't spoken of it since their arrival to Islimore, either.

I miss it too. She silently confessed.

"Did Dorian tell you what he has planned?" Malinda asked Aelin as the four of them headed toward the end of the dock. "You should have seen his excitement when he come to me last night, he was half a pup again." Malinda laughed. A grin crossed Dorian's face as well.

Furrowing her brow, Aelin shook her head. "He didn't mention it." Glancing back at Dorian's wide grin, she added, "But it seems I'll learn soon enough."

As the four of them approached the longship, her eyes swept over the vessel with a mixture of curiosity and admiration of the rich wooden boat. Despite its seemingly modest appearance, the small touches that made up the structure alluded to a certain level of skill and craftsmanship that must have gone into its creation.

"This is the very ship that took me own maidenhood," Malinda said with a wide grin. "My father and I used to take her out to sell our mead in Frosthold."

"She must hold many memories for you," Aelin said warmly, "I feel honored to be aboard her. Maybe we could hear some of your stories on our journey?"

Grasping Dorian's hand, Aelin cautiously stepped onto the ship, immediately noticing the gentle but constant sway beneath her feet. Her muscles tensed and relaxed in a flowing rhythm as she tried to maintain her balance. She understood it would take time to become fully at ease with the heaving vessel, and she concealed a small smile when an unforeseen jolt almost knocked Anders off his feet, muttering "Streð mik!" under his breath. Reaching up, she unhooked the silver clasp of her cloak and let it fall, tucking it neatly into the compartment.

While she realized once they started rowing, the biting chill would fade into the background and become a mere afterthought, the frozen gale of sea spray that picked up off the oceans icy surface still made her teeth feel as if they'd start rattling like knucklebones in a gambling hall at any moment. With great effort, she sought to ignore the discomfort, gritting her teeth harshly and plucking up one of the oars.

"Like this?" she inquired, turning to Dorian for approval and demonstrating a practice stroke, correcting her technique as necessary before dragging it through the water.

As Malinda's shout blended with Dorian's hearty howl, Anders joined in their celebration. Despite having an idea for the practical and less thrilling reasons for this voyage, Aelin allowed herself to be swept up in their infectious exultation – immersing wholly into their joyous energy, whooping and howling along with them as their ship cut through the waves.

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[Dorian Durinson]

Wearing | Location | Aelin Erevos​

There were scant few scents and sweet as the salt of the sea. Dorian had loved the sea more than any of his brothers or even his father. The very idea of it filled his heart with wonder and his soul with yearning.

The sea was freedom. Vast and unknowable with depths impossible to imagine. Some days the water was so calm and so clear you could see straight to the floor as if there was nothing but air above it and in a moment's notice the very same water could turn black as a dragon's eye and churn so violently the waves would grow large as mountains. Clear or black. calm or violent. The sea was beauty. The sea was freedom.

When Dorian thought of the sea; he often thought of her as well. The scent of brine and salt, the cutting coolness of the sea spray, the indescribable beauty of the sun rising over a horizon that stretched on with no end, the all consuming fear of battling a storm and the serenity in the hopelessness.

He felt all this and more when his thoughts turned to Astrid, Alpha of Can Ylva. He thought of the way her hair shone like sunlight through the last snows of spring, of her eyes that were blue as the sea in summer and the fierceness that was held within.

He wondered if she thought of him.

The early morning air was full of frost and stung like hornets every time the wind blew and yet Dorian remained unbothered even with his furs stowed safely in his oar chest. He could see the pain of the cold in both Aelin and Anders, even in Malinda, a daughter of the North who had spent years practically living at sea. Dorian was the blood of Winter however and the cold never bothered him anyway. Half a dozen pulls of the oar and the others would forget the cold, half a dozen more and they would sweat, by the time they left the bay and reached the open sea the gusts of wind would be welcomed with a cheer. That was a ways off however.

The bay was no small thing to travel, simple enough after the thaw but in the heart such as now it was not an easy task even with an experienced crew. Aelin and Anders were making an admirable go of it for their first time but still their progress was slow and at times awkward. Juts of ice large as houses filled the bay making their effort thst much more difficult as they had to try and navigate around them and avoid those that would come sloshing toward them caught in the current. Twice they had nearly been capsized if not for the quick action and experience of their captain. A third time was an even nearer brush with disaster but they were saved by Aelin and her use of The Gift. A display of power so raw and impressive, Dorian had hardly seen a thing like it.

"Oars up!" Malinda commanded as their ship crossed the mouth of the bay and into a corridor of ice. Dorian lifted his oar from the sea and into the ship. He marveled at the scene around him. The "corridor" was more like a valley in the sea. Great walls of ice a mile high stood on either side of their ship five hundred feet apart. The walls of ice caught and trapped the morning sun and like magic colors of every variety shone all around them.

"Sail!" Malinda called and Dorian rose to help unfurl the plain white banner which whipped and flapped before seizing a gust of wind.

The blackness of the water and the color of the ice left Dorian feeling as though they were sailing through the sky and past the very veil of their world to Freann.

"Sing is a song Alpha." Malinda said taking a seat so close to Anders she may as well been in his lap.

"Mighty warrior before you leave home remember this song.

The lone wolf dies but the pack is strong.

Take up your ax and your shield. Loose a howl loud and long.

The lone wolf dies but the pack is strong

Do not weep, rejoice for those who are gone.

The lone wolf dies but the pack is strong"

It was an old song, passed from generation to generation in The North since the very beginning. Dorian had learned it from his father who learned it from his. It was legacy and it was truth and it grew ever more prescient by the day.

"How did you lose your eye?" Malinda asked Anders. "You tell me your story and I'll tell you mine."

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