As if repenting its mildness in the early part of winter, the weather of Aefter-Geolla was as furious as any man or woman of Gefndene could remember. The land lay so blanketed in ice and snow that keeping doors and compounds clear so that folk could mind their beasts in their byres and pens was a daily chore. Such travel as was undertaken required skis and even then most often must be done in the teeth of driving snow and harsh winter winds.
For six long sennights the snows persisted unabated. Only the Eotan seemed able to move across the white-mantled valley, and even then they needs must labour through snow in drifts up to their mighty thighs. However, Gefnhame did not starve, for each month, as promised, they brought an aurochs bull for the slaughter. They began, too, to bring gifts of butter and fresh cheese, made in their new-gifted cauldron and panikins. Clearly their mighty wild cattle were foraging well in the water margins despite the weather.
Indeed none could recall such a fat winter, though stocks of grain and roots ran low as they were fed to their byre-bound beasts. Folk joked that Solmonath – when such fare was cooked up into cakes, that being usually all that remained of winter stores by the end of the month – should be renamed Flaesc-monath for the amount of flesh eaten at this unaccustomed season.
Midway through Solmonath the thaws came, the river swelled and the pastures were revealed once more. The ground was muddy and boggy awhile but Gefndene is well drained land, sloping as it does to the river and mere in north and at last Thegn Osgar was able to send the promised work-parties to Beornfrith’s land to mend the damages caused by the Giant Gromscatha at Geolla. They took with them meats and cheeses that were in surplus in Gefnhame to fill bellies further up the valley and the Thegn did much to enhance his reputation as a good lord amongst the wider folk of Gefndene.
It was the beginning of Hrethemonath, the month of honour, when men begin to think on the oaths and undertakings they swore to the Gods in the dark days of winter. Eawulf the Goda announced that his dreams had shown him an ancient but neglected oak in the forest to the East. The oak is sacred to Thunor and he believed it was the God’s wish that he should seek this sky-reaching tree and free it from whatever ailed it.
Warriors remaining at Gefnhame were few, for aside from the party gone to Beornfrithstead, there were many tasks to be done to repair the ravages of winter. However, Wistan Wulfinga was there warming his toes by the fire – for who could expect an Aetheling to labour on house repairs. Herefrith the marsh-wise also remained behind, ostensibly to help his cousin mend the fish-traps of ice damage. These two both considered that their talents would be better deployed in helping the Thunor-Priest in his quest.
So it was that the three set off to the east into the wild woods. The setting of the oak in Eawulf’s dreams made him believe that it most-like nestled in the slopes to the south of the valley there so it was in this direction they searched. So intent were they on looking for tall trees it seems that they neglected somewhat the forest for they more or less stumbled upon a strong hunting party of Pukels who were more ready for the fray than the Geats.
Pukel darts flew, some few finding their marks in Geatish bodies, but they were not daunted. Scorning to form the shield-burgh for such puny foes, Wistan Wulfinga simply tossed aside his battle board and gripping his rune-marked spear in both hands, met their charge with his own. Seeing the Aetheling’s reckless courage in the face of the enemy, Herefrith clearly felt that he could do no less and he too jettisoned his shield. Meanwhile, Eawulf the Goda, kept his shield but eschewed a weapon. Instead he drew his narwhal horn rune-wand and waving it above his head, began shrieking the galdor runes thereupon, imploring Thunor to grant them his protection. Immediately the Thunder-Lord cast his mantle around the priest. Pukels quailed in its presence and those hardy enough to persist in their attacks were stung by its aura.
So it was that the Geats fought back to back against four times their number of foes, yet always within the protective ambit of Eawulf’s ward. Though they were sore beset at times, eventually the Pukel-tide began to ebb as the flashing spear-blades of the Geats harvested their comrades and the merciless regard of Thunor took its toll upon them. When the last of the larger sort of Pukel was laid low the remainder turned tail and fled. They left more than half their number lifeless upon the forest floor along with a fine, fresh-killed buck that they were in the process of butchering when the Geats chanced upon them.
Though there was yet light to continue their journey, the Geats decided to camp a short distance away from the slaughter site to rest and tend their wounds. That night Eawulf once more dreamt of the great oak and felt it to be but a short distance away to the south. In the morning they set off up-slope in that direction and began to cast around. Wistan climbed a couple of tall trees to obtain a vantage point and from the branches of the second he was able to discern a large oak in a shallow valley below.
As they approached this great king of the forest, Eawulf realised that this was indeed the tree of his dream. It was situated in a slight bowl, between a couple of low ridges emanating from the southern slope of the main valley. Just in front of the oak, to the north, was a pool which looked to be the product of the run-off of the valley rather than a spring or permanent stream. It was dark and still, full of old leaf mould and debris from the tree. On its western side was a pile of mossy rocks. The tree itself was vast – tall and broad with a mighty girth. Looking closely they could see a large opening in the trunk itself above the great tangle of mighty roots that delved down into the pool.
Eawulf took the lead in skirting around the pool towards the dark crevice in the trunk. Wide it was and the height of a man, wider at the bottom than at the top. As they made their way around the treacherous margins of the water, slippery with mud, ice and entangling tree roots, a truly awful stench assailed their nostrils. To wood-wise Wistan Wulfinga it recalled something he had smelt before, but he could not quite place it, until …… Eawulf crept up to the opening and stood there peering into the dark from the light ……. Wistan suddenly remembered.
“Wolverine!” cried the Atheling, a fraction too late, as a truly monstrous creature – a wolverine indeed, but one the size of a large bear – surged out of the darkness, slicing at Eawulf with long razor-claws and pitching him backwards into the pool. Then swifter than any bear it rounded on Wistan and overbore him too on the treacherous pool bank, pouncing upon his prone body. Things would have gone ill for the Atheling had Herefrith not stepped forward, catching the monster’s attention by thrusting his spear into it. It turned its ferocity then upon the Marsh-Geat who struggled to keep it at bay with his spear. However, Eawulf emerged from the pool, streaming with chilly water and covered with mud and filth but wielding spear and wand, to claim the protection of Thunor against this unnatural beast, no doubt grown strong by filching the goodness of his sacred tree. Rounding once more upon the Goda it keened its rage at the pain of assailing his Thunor-ward. Eawulf stood firm while Herefrith continued to thrust at it with his spear until it died, snapping and snarling to its last breath by the side of the pool.
After a short rest they began to explore the tree and its surrounds. The pile of mossy rocks looked once to have been an altar made of enormous slabs of stone, though its lintel was now broken. The crevice in the tree trunk proved as expected to be simply the wolverine’s den – foul with the stench of the animal and the detritus of many meals. There was no immediate sign of treasure and after a while attempting to clear up the filth it became apparent that this was no work for heroes. Eawulf decided that he should return, perhaps with some of the faithful and some thralls when the weather was more clement.
As Eawulf explored the tree, Wistan busied himself with the skinning of the beast. So it was that the heroes returned to Gefnhame carrying an enormous wolverine pelt and its teeth and claws to give proof to their tale.