two warriors in the ring

The man spoke like he knew things, and for as much background as Viðarr had on the situation (read: none), it seemed to make sense. There were so many words that he hadn't heard before in the common tongue. Still, it was fascinating. As he showed Viðarr the quartz stone, his ears perked. Functional, and it was actually quite pretty as well. "Thank you," he was warm. The shadow had no reason to distrust him, or his intentions. This was enough.

With high, careful steps he led the way back to the camp. At its heart, a fire burned softly. His sister had set about drying and salting the meat that he and Iðunn had returned with in days previous. The way they all functioned together, parts of a whole. It was good. "Not long, just since end of spring." He explained, nodding to himself as he did. In the light of the fire he set down the pieces of his new bracers, along with the stone and the remaining hide. "And you?" His gaze was open on the colorful man, studying.

After setting his things down and getting them reasonably settled, the shadow called for his sister. Sanngriðr shouldn't be far, after all. She rarely was.

"Viðarr"