Zygurd of the House of Mourne

With a sort of snarl one might expect from a tiger cub, a young boy leapt onto the path. He was dressed plainly in tartan breeches and a small tunic, he was wielding a tree branch and baring a pair of short little fangs. The stranger looked the child over, a truly strange young boy. Long dark hair, a lupine nose and slightly greenish skin. The stranger smirked as the young boy, about 7, delivered an ultimatum.

"Grrr! Nobody goes this way boy-o! better run back or Sigurd's gonna knock your head off!" The little whelp growled. The stranger knelt before the youth and smirked.

"Who's this Sigurd then?" He said in an odd accent. "He must be a powerful warrior if he can knock my head off."

"Sigurd is me!" the child stated proudly, puffing out his chest. "And Sigurd is the biggest toughest warrior in these woods! So you'd better not take another step! It's my duty to protect these lands from intruders!"

The stranger laughed and patted the kid on his shoulder. "That is quite the task... And it is certainly becoming of a strong and courageous warrior." He looked the kid up and down. "You needn't worry about me then O mighty warrior. I am but a humble stranger coming in peace. I will not tarry here long, so long as you promise me you will always keep a watch here and guard this path and this home from it's enemies. Can you do that Sigurd?"

The boy nodded and watched as the stranger stood up and moved onward down the path. The child smiled and turned back to the road, holding his stick like a footman's pike. The stranger smiled and moved to the house. He moved through the yard and found the door. He knocked twice and heard a reply from within. A very irritated feminine voice shouting out.

"One moment! One moment!"

The door swung open and the stranger could see the woman. A firm and beautifully built woman with dark hair. She carried a great wooden bowl against her hip and stared glaringly at the stranger for a few moments. He smiled and felt his heart race... yes... it was here... as beautiful as the day he'd seen her in the underbrush. The stranger pulled his helm off and the woman let out a gasp... the bowl clattering to the floor beneath her. Ilga could hardly speak... her voice cut off with a trembling sob as her fingers trembled. She placed a hand over her mouth and backed away.

"Zygurd..." She gasped stepping back against the table behind her, tears welling up in her eyes. The orc approached her with outstretched arms and she flung herself onto him. Dampening his shoulder with her sobs of joy.

All that Sigurd could mutter at that moment was.

"Is he mine?"

She nodded and pressed her lips to his.

"Yes.. He is yours Zygurd... hes ours... "

Zygurd pulled his head away and looked into her eyes.

"He's beautiful.... He has your eyes Ilga." Ilga let out another laughing sob

"It's been hard... here.. Without you... I've had to raise him on my own... we cannot live in the villiage with the others... we must live here... it's alright though... I can put food on the table... and he's so adventurous.. He wants to be just like his father... I told him about you every day. I told him his father was a soldier... I told him his father had saved my life... I told him that when we made him, we loved each other truly and passionately... I told him about you so much.. I just... I never told him that he'd get to see you....Please... I've been silly... I should have..."

Zygurd shook his head and hushed her, tears of his own welling up . "No... it's alright... It doesn't matter. I'm here now Ilga... and I'll be a father to him... I've been searching for you for six years... You're everything I have now... I've lost much through the war... but I still have you... And if you'll have me, I'll make you my wife..."

"Yes Zygurd...."

They looked once more into each others eyes. ... They glanced out the window of the hut, seeing their son march up and down the road like a soldier... Just like his father. Zygurd turned back to Ilga and let another deep kiss swell between their lips.

"I love you.. Ilga..."

"I love you Zygurd..."

The sun drew it's arc across the sky... setting in the west and casting the warm glow on the hut. As the sun set Sigurd ran home to his mother, unknowing that this would be the last time he called only her name as he ran through the front yard.