The ettin regarded me quizzically. Up close, I understood Baelden's fear of the beasts. Although they resembled mortal men in their appearance far more than their Giant kin, there was a bestial quality to the gimlet-bright eyes now peering at me from beneath furrowed, crag-like brows that I found unsettling. This one was a brute, as well - twelve feet of knotted muscle stacked upon scarred muscle tattooed with the brands of the most violent of the Ettinmeet's clans.
I repeated my question, although I knew the ettin had heard and understood perfectly well the first time. Though many of their kind feign an inability to speak our language, it is my contention that they are possessed of a far greater intelligence than that with which we credit them.
I asked him why he had journeyed so far south, and whether he was alone. The Ettinmeet is four months' march North through the most inhospitable terrain. Seldom do the ettins venture so far south. Whether this one was emissary or raider I had yet to decide.
The ettin cocked his head. Maybe I would get no response. Maybe this one was no emissary but a savage who did not speak our language, after all. I was readying myself for a confrontation when, to my surprise, our guest rumbled a reply.
"Three brothers south brings Gymir, two brothers of one blood and one father-brother of witch's flesh born."
I was surprised to say the least. Although I had less experience of these man-beasts than some of the Order, I understood the ettin to mean that four of his kinsmen had made the journey south, one of whom, if I was not mistaken, was a witchbreed. A shaman. Rare indeed are such creatures, mixing the fearsome strength and atavistic savagery of the ettin with the uncanny intellect and power of the magic-touched.
"You are Gymir?" I asked.
The great ettin rolled his shoulders, cracking scarred joints and flexing muscles tattooed with runic wards and sigils I did not recognise. A low rumble left the beast's lips, and I realised that our guest was laughing, a wet, gurgling sound that sent chills down my spine.
"I am Gymir-Whose-Laugh-Stinks-of-Killing."
