Chapter 309: Traveling Together

The frozen soil of the Norsca Mountains has never been a good place for marching. Even for an elf with excellent physical fitness, Norr is about to give up.

His keen sense of smell allowed him to smell the unpleasant odor of sweat on his body and the stench of rotten flesh that lingered inside his wolfskin coat.

The cold wind struck the frozen soil, making a series of shrill screams.

The cold winds from all directions pushed the elf's body. Whenever the changeable north wind suddenly turned back and forced Noel to move against the wind, he had to lie down in the snow and compromise with the unnatural power.

The elf's senses allowed him to catch the raging storm of magic. The wind of magic was always so abundant at the poles that even the newly fallen snow was full of magic.

Fortunately, the amount of magic wind has not yet reached the threshold, and this is just the Giant Country Mountains, not the Hell Peak further north.

If the environment was suddenly given life by magic, he would definitely die here.

Noor prayed to Salir, the "God of the Dead", and expressed his awe of death and his longing for a peaceful world after death to Salir, or his name on the human side - More.

Of course, Noel pleaded with the Lord of the Dead. He hoped that death would come as late as possible, at least to allow him to have a rich enough memory, and to let him fall into a peaceful sleep after he had experienced enough adventures.

When the wind became strong enough to move forward again, Noel climbed out of the snow and continued to be pushed forward by the wind.

The elven longbow on his body became abnormally heavy in the extreme cold. Noel could still hold on, but his weapon seemed to be about to collapse.

No wonder the Norscans further north preferred javelins to shortbows.

Noel didn't even dare to adjust the bowstring, for fear that it would break with just the slightest touch.

As a masterpiece that Noel had used since he was a child and made with his own hands, if it were to be destroyed like this, it would be the worst punishment that fate could give to the elves.

Another long night fell, and Noel found a slope that rose to the north, hid under the slope, and carefully protected the longbow.

It was just slightly heavy and did not break as Noel had expected.

This may be related to the several magical symbols left by Prince Pearl Litanel on it.

The "Hidden Sage" would bestow blessings on all elves who encountered him. Perhaps what he gave to Nol was the weapon's resistance to the severe cold.

The elf held his bow and took a short nap, his ears perked up sharply, catching any movement in the night.

What first awakened him was not the enemy, but the unbearable hunger in the freezing cold.

He took out the flagon and took a sip of the strong liquor that could be used as fuel in Kislev, then took out the hard strip of meat and put it in his mouth.

In the brief moment of his struggle with the food, the elf keenly caught the unusual footsteps coming from the west.

It seemed to be a heavy individual and did not know how to hide.

Norscan?

Not long after, the light of an oil lamp came from the west, bringing with it a short creature as thick as a water tank.

Might as well be a Norscan.

A bad feeling grew in Noel's heart. He looked at the dwarf in the light cautiously, took out the arrow, and clenched the longbow.

The dwarf was wearing a horned helmet and intimidating plate armor. It was hard to imagine how he could carry hundreds of pounds of steel across the snow. Noel only hoped that the stupid and impulsive dwarfs would not regard him as an enemy.

He is not an elf who discriminates against dwarves, but dwarves are too unfriendly to elves. Whether it is Druzil or Asur, whether it is Eslai or Ainir, meeting a dwarf will not be a wonderful encounter.

Too bad!

The Asur mail Nor wore was lightweight, but it offered no protection like the dwarf's thicker rune mail.

His arrows could not penetrate the dwarf's armor, and if he got into close combat, his magic sword might not be able to shatter the dwarf's rune helmet.

On the contrary, he was so light that he could be easily split in half by an axe.

Even if the dwarf's battle axe could not break the standard armor of the high elf soldiers, the impact of the blunt weapon was not something he could withstand.

That's terrible.

Noel had already considered giving up. Trekking in the dark was not an option, but there was no other way.

He was not an elite high elf soldier who was equally matched with the dwarf warriors during the "War of the Longbeard". He was just an Einir who had lived in comfort for hundreds of years.

Just wearing the same equipment as a veteran doesn't make you a veteran. Thinking of this, Noel felt even worse.

The dwarves gradually approached the slope, and their armor style was obviously not the antique from the "Battle of the Longbeard".

The armor on Noel has not been improved for thousands of years. Who knows whether the forging technology of the dwarves has been improved?

Perhaps before leaving the Forest of Laurentlauren, Nor should have visited Ulthuan first, and studied swordsmanship with Asur for hundreds of years before going out into the world.

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But it's too late to regret now.

As if noticing Noel, the dwarf who was advancing in the wind and snow suddenly stopped, put the lamp on the snow, and took out the round shield behind him.

As if he thought it was unnecessary, after seeing Noel's appearance clearly, he put the shield back behind him.

The loud voice conveyed goodwill in ancient Khazarid language. Fortunately, Dwarven is a rare dwarven language that the elves, who are also an ancient race, have learned.

"I smell alcohol! Not Valaya's Tears, nor Grimnir's Harvest. I've had enough of those two bitter beers. Do the elves have strong alcohol, too?"

An obvious inhalation sound came from inside the armor. The other party's silly behavior did not attract Noel's ridicule. He just felt relieved.

"Human wine!" the dwarf said loudly in an affirmative tone, picked up the lamp with a little greed, and approached the elf who was resting at the bottom of the slope.

He looked at the elf's tightly grasped bow and arrow, not caring at all, and continued to communicate in a tone that was unclear whether it was sarcastic or sincere.

"I am not a dwarf from the Undying Realms. Put down your weapons! Is this your first time in the Land of Giants?"

Noel retracted the arrow and asked in confusion, "The Immortal Realm? It sounds like there are differences between the dwarven kingdoms. I thought you were a whole."

In Nor's experience, dwarves liked to hear such words, and their identification with the Mountain Kingdom was as stubborn as their personalities.

"Of course we are a whole! But the High King who rules the Norse Dwarves is Granni. The High King after Granni cannot gain our loyalty. He can only rule the Dwarves in the Immortal Realm."

Just as the elf expected, the dwarf laughed as he explained, and he seemed very satisfied with the elf's opinion of the Mountain Kingdom.

When he noticed the dwarf's greasy gaze constantly wandering over his body, Noel guessed what he wanted, and decisively took out the wine jug, successfully diverting the disgusting gaze that was like a pervert looking for a woman.

The lid of the exquisite elven wine jug was opened roughly by the dwarf. When the dwarf put his mouth around the bottle and swallowed the wine without any disgust, Noel had already made up his mind to change the wine jug.

(End of this chapter)