“He lifts up the broadsword, explaining, “This is a mækir.” “A maker? It looks like a sword to me.” Arghin drops it so the point is next to his foot and sighs dramatically at me, “You're determined to be an outsider aren't you? Learn our words for things because in the heat of conflict you won't understand a shout of warning if the guy guarding your back is speaking the old dialect.” “Fine!” I snap, giving him my best 'crawl back into your hole and suffocate on your own stink' stare.... Clearly moody, he points at the spear, “Geirr.” “Gee-er?” He nods, “Geirr is a spear.” Then he points at the arrows, “Oddr, are arrows. The shaft is gísil.” “Odir,” I repeat diligently. “Geezil.” He nods, flicking me an approving stare. Lifting the sword up he runs his finger along the sharp edge, “The blade of your sword is brandr.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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