A Stubborn Forest and a Few Splinters

By Odin's bristling beard, the trees near Britain are in league against me. Spent half the day wandering in circles, couldn't even find the right stand of oaks! When I finally laid axe to wood, my swings were off. More failures than a one-legged man in an arse-kicking contest.

But a Nord does not yield. Muscled through, turned logs into good, stout boards. Got a decent haul in the end, though my pride's a bit bruised. The forest won today, but tomorrow... tomorrow the trees will fear Bjorn's axe.

Skål!