Midwinter, 1489
Dre'zel my love,
Stepping out of the Tiny Hut, I cast Speak with Animals on Hell’s Teeth, the black coated alpha of the sled dogs, explaining that the pack would be fed and taken care of, but that we had a dangerous journey ahead, and should we encounter trouble, she needed to lead the pack to safety.
Hell’s Teeth was a proud husky and reluctant to flee, insisting that she was a warrior. I explained that her job, like mine, was to keep the pack safe, and she agreed to prioritize the pack’s safety. With our remaining time, she told me tales of her heroic exploits. Afterwards, I sat with the pack and went into a trance.
As my trance was ending, the pack began barking, and Hell’s Teeth chased the other dogs away before quickly returning to my side.
In the light of the almost full moon, I saw a snowy owlbear ambling toward us, a spear shaft protruding from its shoulder. Growling, Hell’s Teeth bravely maneuvered to face off with the much larger monstrosity.
I quickly tossed one of the pack’s rations to the owlbear’s side, prompting an almost puzzled look from Hell’s Teeth. The owlbear took advantage of the husky’s distraction and turned to the food, sniffing it before scarfing it down. My companions followed suit, tossing more rations, and the owlbear used its huge paws to extract the meat, leaving everything else behind. Slowly approaching the creature, I extended one Goodberry-filled palm towards its face, and once it began to sniff my hand, I smoothly removed the shaft from its shoulder with my other hand. To my surprise, it spurned the Goodberries but seemed to relax, stretching its injured shoulder before turning and ambling off.
It was then that I saw the words etched into the spear’s iron tip: Fang of Bjornhild. Noting that the owlbear had come from the northeast, I informed Talyth and the others.
As the sun rose that morning, there was no aurora to shield us from its dazzling brightness. Although I had finally fully recovered from the exhaustion that had been dogging me since the trials on the Island of Solstice, I was now hindered by the sun’s glaring rays.
Talyth shared the results of her previous night’s Divination, when she had asked: “Is the prince of Stygia the reason you're protecting the glacier?” She said that the smoke from the ritual’s incense took the shape of some frost druid apparitions, who—before dissipating—chanted:
“No prince, no king; She wears the crown,
Let the world shiver with dread.
Clad in winter's whitest gown,
Her snows enshroud the dead.”
At first, I thought the sun’s brilliance was causing me to hallucinate, but my companions confirmed that they also saw tiny lights twinkling in the trees across the frozen river of Lac Dinneshere’s northern tributary.
Carefully crossing the frozen, we explored the glittering pine trees, and soon encountered a reindeer with a nose so red and shiny it seemed to glow. On its back was a rotund chwinga in decorative red cold-weather gear.
The tiny, round creature waved us forward, and we obliged until it held out a hand for us to halt. Then, one by one, it pointed to each of us and beckoned us forward.
As Taimen approached, the chwinga reached into a sack at least as large as it was and produced from it a wooden pipe. Taimen eagerly lit the pipe, and as she exhaled, a scene emerged in the smoke. It was a snowflake that became an island, then a skull emerged from its center. Closing in on the skull, we saw it begin to crumble, and there was Taimen riding through the collapsing skull and rescuing the dragon egg.
As Ulder approached, the chwinga wagged its finger at the Duke and made a sour face. Then it produced a chunk of coal and handed it to him, responding to the Duke’s perplexed expression with a gesture to eat the coal. Heading the advice, the Duke spat out two dice, which he seemed grateful for.
As Talyth approached, the reindeer sneezed and its red nose shot off into her hand, filling it with ruby dust.
Then it beckoned me forward and strained to produce an arrow from its sack. It tossed the arrow toward me, and it was indeed heavier than I would have expected. I later discerned that this was an Arrow of Walloping. Bowing in gratitude, I tossed the chwinga my last Goodberry in return, which it eagerly gobbled up.
The chwinga waved as the reindeer turned and pranced into the trees and disappeared.
Returning to the tributary, where Vellynne was waiting with her undead sled dogs, we continued to follow it northeast for five hours until we reached the small island where the Redghed tribesmen had made their encampment. Mjener and his men were overjoyed and relieved to see us and gladly opened their yurts to us, inviting us to feast for Midwinter’s Eve.
We ate well, and the drinks were flowing, and although I gave cheer to whatever gods were mentioned, I abstained from their drink. Mjener drunkenly commented that Mielikki would not be displeased, and I held my tongue, internally grateful that my faith does not require me to follow any precepts other than those in my heart.
Then the shaman mentioned how, long ago, the legendary drow ranger Drizzt Do'Urden, used to hunt elk and leave the carcasses for the tribe. You know my feelings about this, despite all the legendary hero has done. Again, I have much to be grateful for. Gathering my things, I prepared to venture out for some hunting.
As I was preparing to leave, they erected a tall pole as part of a challenge. Inspired, I easily ran up the pole and grasped the ball at the top. Apparently, I had misunderstood the nature of this challenge as the tribesmen began to chant, “Lick it! Lick it!” Despite my companions cheerfully taking up this chant as well, I refused to be cowed into such a ridiculous trick and peered out over the horizon searching for the best place to hunt. To my disappointment, it was even brighter and harder to see at this height, so I slid down the pole and wandered off.
As I walked off, with Hell’s Teeth at my side, I saw Taimen easily hauling herself up the pole. Using her tentacle-like arm to grasp the pole, she was able to twirl around it as if she had done it many times before.
Hell’s Teeth and I roamed the tundra for many hours but found no elk. We found tracks, but they were old and would take us too far from the encampment. Dismayed, we resigned ourselves to return to camp four hours later empty-handed.
The sun had already set by the time we reached the encampment, and I could hear the sounds of celebration continuing from the island. I would have encouraged more caution, but I appreciated the need to celebrate the occasion, considering it might be our last opportunity to do so. Fortunately, my eyes were well adjusted, and I saw something move just a few hundred feet from the encampment. It appeared to be a bush. Stealthily, I drew my bow, and my arrow sliced into it.
I ran over to the quivering bush and discovered that it was indeed an awakened shrub. Grabbing the thing, I ran into camp and alerted Talyth and the others. Though they all seemed to recognize the threat that this presented, they seemed too inebriated to mount a sufficient response.
With Hell’s Teeth still at my side, I took it upon myself to stand guard, finding a good spot for us to keep watch over the continuing celebrations.
Later that night, as the festivities were winding down, JoJo, riding Rowan as an eagle, landed in the encampment. It was good to have them back! Not only would we need their strength on the journey ahead, but they were both sober, at least for the time being. When Rowan transformed into their usual form, it was clear from the many bruises that there had been a battle.
Soon after, we saw a bird fly across the moon and quickly realized that it was none other than Auril’s infamous roc! Even though it continued east, this sight seemed to remind everyone of the magnitude of the situation, and everyone began to bed down for the night.
Before evoking her Tiny Hut, Talyth approached me and handed me the Ring of Warmth, saying that the Codicil now protected her from the cold.
Before entering a trance, I cast Speak with Animals on Hell’s Teeth, and we spoke of the day’s events. I explained why we avoided a fight with the owlbear, choosing instead to conserve our strength and avoid unnecessary injury. I explained why I opted to return empty-handed from the hunt rather than risk wandering too far from the encampment. I also explained why my eyes were not used to the sun and that hunting was usually more successful. Hell’s Teeth expressed surprising wisdom and a willingness to suppress her natural desire to pursue the hunt on at all costs.
On the morning of Midwinter, I approached JoJo, asking, "Were you successful in restoring peace between your tribes?"
“I believe so,” he replied stoically, “but only time will tell.”
I offered him the Ring of Warmth, and his face practically split open with delight as he thanked me. Then he seemed momentarily flustered until he handed me his Hat of Disguise, suggesting that I might get more use out of it. I could not ignore the irony of this possession. Then he proceeded to tear off most of his clothes, elated to be free of them…and to expose his massively impressive physique.
As we continued east along the tributary, I approached Rowan privately, asking, “Did things go as you wished?”
With a somber expression, the druid shook their head, saying things didn’t go well.
I was disappointed, but also surprised, as their demeanor was even less sour than usual.
“Perhaps we can fix that after we deal with the Rime,” I offered.
“Perhaps,” they nodded in agreement.
The towering wall of the Reghed Glacier continued to grow as we continued east. We had been traveling for almost seven hours when the frozen waterfall that would flow hundreds of feet from the glacier into the tributary came into view.
As we approached, I noticed the dogs began to walk into the snow as if it weren’t there. As I signaled for them to stop, dozens of striped Reghedmen jumped out of the illusory terrain and raised their spears at the howling command of Queen Bjornhild Solvigsdottir!
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