The Flotsam and the Mighty Helm


                                            A gargantuan hole in the bow

                                            Will the ocean to enter allow

                                            Oh, what more of a sin than letting it in?

                                            It's letting our good fortune out

                                            The nest to the storm did succumb

                                            While the crow hid his fear in the rum

                                            And the mast

                                            It broke and threw out the bloke

                                            And well, now he's surely my chum

                                            Love letters from under his bed

                                            Holds a cabin boy over his head

                                            A futile try to keep it dry

                                            What tears have already wet

                                            They were penned by a girl in Merak

                                            And the Javanese value their tact

                                            She'll conclude he's horribly rude

                                            'Cause he's sure as hell not writing back

                                            'Cause this ship's going down

                                            All on account of the weather

                                            Though we'll drown

                                            There's no need to frown

                                            'Cause we're all going together

                                            And I won't say "Woe is me"

                                            As I disappear into the sea

                                            'Cause I'm in good company

                                            As we're all going together

                                            >The situation definitely looked grim for the sailors.

                                            >Even grimmer for the people on the ship who weren’t sailors.

                                            >Those who didn’t know what the sea was like definitely were panicking.

                                            >The ones who knew? Probably knew panic wasn’t worth it.

                                            >Anonymous Fredrich Alexander Gott was among the first group, he wasn’t a sailor.

                                            >He was just a young lad that happened to try and sail ‘cross the pond.

                                            >By now? He doubted he’d ever get to the other side.

                                            >So… he just stood on the front of the ship looking at the stormy, cold sea, clutching a necklace and holding a long, wrapped paper object.

                                            >Looking at the stormy sea.

                                            >For the ship’s going down.

                                            >All on account of the weather.

                                            >And though he’ll drown…

                                            >He had no reason to frown.

                                            >Since they all went together.


                                            >Steela’s mind was abuzz today.

                                            >The sticky blood was still clinging to her fur.

                                            >The large head of a monstrous beast lying on the table. It's neck a seared stump that seemed to be stuck in a hateful glare at the mare who slew it.

                                            >The trolls were known for their regeneration capabilities, and this one was no exception.

                                            >Steela of course knew this. He slew many such beasts in her past.

                                            >Ever since she knew how to walk she knew how to carry a weapon.

                                            >But on this night, despite the death she brought tonight, Steela felt no peace.

                                            >Her mind was as stormy as the weather outside as she glanced out the window of the Mead Hall.

                                            >Her father, Ores was praising her, her Valor, her might, her bravery.

                                            >And she raised a horn with the others, her smile fake, but most were already too drunk to care.

                                            >She was drunk too. But no thought in her head felt filled by the mead and feed.

                                            >”Skål!” Another roar came from her father as another horn of mead she downed. The thoughts only got louder.

                                            >Buzzing and crashing, causing her to practically boil.

                                            “Aaaargh! Another!” She roared furiously.

                                            >To most, it seemed like typical cheering after a successful monster hunt.

                                            >Not for Steela.

                                            “Skål!” She exclaimed this time before she downed the horn again, much to the merry of everyone.

                                            >With one other roar she tossed the horn on the ground.

                                            “I'm going for a walk!” She spat out before grabbing her glaive and storming towards the exit.

                                            >Ignoring everyone that gave her sudden surprised looks.

                                            >Ores shot up, looking at her surprised and confused, with a clear worry painted on the Stallion’s face for his daughter to suddenly bolt out in the middle of the celebration of her successful hunt.

                                            >”Rúsínurassgat!” the Elder Stallion called out after her, causing a few other ponies, stallions and mares both, in her age to chuckle.

                                            >Steela’s cheek dusted with light pink but she just nickered.

                                            “I need some air.”

                                            >With her Father shot down, Steela left the hall, stepping out onto the rain, her ears flickering just a bit as she began walking, the water quickly getting into her mane as she walked away from the Mead Hall and in the direction of the coast.

                                            >The weather, the night, even the troll…

                                            >And of course the date.

                                            >It made Steela remember things she didn’t want to remember today.

                                            >Her father no doubt felt the same but he hid it better.

                                            >A crack of thunder was just like a crack of bones in her mind right now.

                                            >Both synonymous with the feeling of being too weak.


                                            >Steela was nothing but strong, at least now.

                                            >She was a huge mare, easily as large as the Princess herself.

                                            >And yet somehow this whole day made her feel small once again.

                                            >Not just in the physical sense.

                                            >She just felt like a little filly.

                                            >As the gravel underneath her hooves crunched she made her way through the dark of the stormy night, her road illuminated only sometimes by the lightning flashes to the edge of the village. Away from it where the road turned from gravel to well walked grass.

                                            >She didn’t even know when she began mouthing an old song.

                                            >One her mother sang to her, back when she was a little filly.

                                            >Still listening about her father’s exploits and raids…

                                            >No sound left her mouth, but the words were clear.

                                            “Þat mælti mín móðir…”

                                            >The storm around her somehow quieted her own mind as she pushed past the trees. Not caring for the mane and fur sticking to her body.

                                            >The clothing clinging to her and the biting winds.

                                            “...at mér skyldi kaupa…”

                                            >This time a sound came, leaving her lips as she found the cliffside she slowly walked up. Standing at the edge and looking at the crashing waves, striking the stones down below.

                                            >The song being a bitter reminder.

                                            >But in a strange way it was also a source of comfort for her, as her ears flickered once again.

                                            “...fley ok fagrar árar…”

                                            >She never thought herself a good singer but… she liked that song.

                                            >It was familiar… it brought her warmth.

                                            >Good memories.

                                            “Fara á brott með víkingum.”

                                            >Her voice was drowned by the wind and the crashing waves.

                                            >Just as the rain washed away the tears.

                                            >No one would ever notice either the song or the tears.

                                            >That definitely was a good part of this weather.

                                            >”Standa upp í stafni…”

                                            >She once again could remember her mother’s face.

                                            >”Stýra dýrum knerri…”

                                            >The smile.

                                            >”Halda svá til hafnar…”

                                            >The Night.

                                            >”Hǫggva mann ok annan, hǫggva mann ok annan…”

                                            >She opened her eyes again, wiping them with her wet foreleg before… something caught her eye.

                                            >Down on the beach to the side something flickered in the weak light.

                                            >For whatever reason, Steela felt that she had to see it as she quickly made her way down.

                                            >As she reached the sand, she noticed what flickered so much.

                                            >Silver necklace.

                                            >It’s owner? Lying right next to it, flotsam scattered abound.

                                            >No doubt a ship carried them… whatever the lanky creature was.

                                            >Then she noticed something… the creature was alive.

                                            “Streð mik…”

                                            >Without much thought, the creature was on her back the next second and she was galloping back home.


                                            >The warm, fur covered bed Steela loved so dearly was sadly out of her reach as she woke up in the wee hours of the morning.

                                            >The simple bedroll has to be enough.

                                            >Her eyes moved lazily around her room, looking again at the hanging coat made with soft, yet unfamiliar to her fabric, she took off from the creature.

                                            >The creature that was currently occupying her bed.

                                            >Perhaps occupying was a wrong term.

                                            >It was not the creature's fault after all.

                                            >And she personally brought it here.

                                            >Her eyes drifted slowly to the remaining clothes hanging around her room. All of which were stripped off the creature leaving it fully bare in her bed.

                                            >The occupant, whatever he was (Steela figured it was a he by seeing its stallionhood), was strange.

                                            >The closest in body shape was a Minotaur but his body wasn't covered in fur. Besides some thin hairs on his arms and legs, thicker tufft on armpits and crotch and on his head, he was mostly bare.

                                            >His skin visible, his legs about as long as his torso, unlike minotaurs, and his head…

                                            >His head was interesting. With small ears on the side of his head, small nose, thin mouth.

                                            >Steela caught herself leaning over him and quickly stepped away, going to look at the items she fished out from the various pockets of his clothes.

                                            >Just to see if nothing was broken of course.

                                            >She totally didn't rummage through the pockets of the strange creature in hopes of learning what it was.

                                            >The silver necklace had a picture of some other being like him in it, although with longer hair and different facial structure.

                                            >But there were a lot of fun things her guest had stored in his pockets.

                                            >A small glass on a chain that made things appear closer.

                                            >The cane which paper wrappings was destroyed by the sea.

                                            >A small ticking thing she didn't figure out how to open.

                                            >Definitely plenty of things that were of interest to the large mare.

                                            >She was currently toying with the ticking thing as sudden, small groan caused her ear to flicker and she hastily put the object down.

                                            >Seeing that the creature was still asleep she let out a breath she didn't know she held and picked up the tiny glass.

                                            >She looked it over a few times before turning to look through it at the creature.

                                            >The glass allowing a closer look gave Steela a chance to look at the creature with more detail and to be honest… It was an interesting sight.

                                            >The large mare wasn’t fully sure yet what she felt as she looked at him.

                                            >It was like looking at something weird and cute at the same time.

                                            >The small lips, nose and eyes definitely were cute but at the same time the lanky build was weird.

                                            >Not unpleasant though.

                                            >Just alien. Alien that she should just let sleep.


                                            >Today's weather was much better than yesterday all things considered, the sun was breaking through the clouds and the day wasn’t as chilly.

                                            >As Steela was pulling the bucket from the well one of the stallions that was yesterday at the Mead hall came over to her.

                                            >Not that Steela wanted to talk with him.

                                            >She was somewhat busy but… oh well.

                                            >She didn’t turn to face him, she just poured the water from the bucket into a jug.

                                            >”Hey, do you need any help?”

                                            >Steela just sighed.

                                            “No Magni, I don’t.”

                                            >Short, to the point, serious. Steela preferred it that way.

                                            >”You sure? I mean you left early yesterday so I thought that you felt sick or something.” he continued as Steela closed the jug and put it in her carrying basket.

                                            >She began walking again.

                                            “I’m fine. I was just tired. Needed some air.” she said, hoping it would be enough but he seemed to follow as she began walking towards the market.

                                            >Bombarding her with questions as per usual.

                                            >Magni was barely an adult and Steela knew he always had an infatuation with her.

                                            >Maybe because when he was a little foal she used to take care of him.

                                            >Now that he actually could go for quests and on raids, somehow he got it into his head that he’ll win her heart.

                                            >Forgetting that she was literally changing his diapers.

                                            >He was talking about some adventure he was on recently.

                                            “Mhm.”

                                            >That was the main answer from Steela as she was busy buying food, more focused on what she should actually get to feed her guest. Was bread good?

                                            >What vegetables should she get?

                                            >Milk! Milk should work. Porridge could work, right? With honey.

                                            >To her luck, it would seem that Stout Pear had some fruit for sale. Dried, mostly, at least in this season, but it was still good.

                                            >Yes, dried fruits, honey, that would be some good porridge.

                                            >Perfect to ask her guests a lot of questions while eating.

                                            >Tasty food shall surely loosen his tongue.

                                            >She wasn’t actually sure if the creature was talkative but it had clothes and various items so it must be intelligent.

                                            >Hopefully they speak the same language.

                                            >Placing the jug of milk alongside the purchased fruits, Steela began walking back towards her home. With Magni still following.

                                            >She reached the doors, opened them and stepped in before turning quickly to Magni.

                                            “Well, thanks for keeping me company, but I have things to do. Why don’t you go and talk with Hilda? Byeee.” She closed the doors before the poor colt.

                                            >Sure, he was nice, but it was too awkward for her, he was a little brother to her. So hopefully Hilda will go and do something about him.

                                            >For now Steela just moved further into her home, putting her basket on the table.

                                            >She glanced towards the opened doors of her father’s room. He was still asleep, drunk no doubt. He drank a lot. But she didn’t blame him. It was a celebration.

                                            >For now… she just moved to cook the best Slepnir damned breakfast.


                                            >Anonymous felt sore. His body shuddered, but not from cold.

                                            >At first he was ready to say it’s just exhaustion but then a sneeze left him and he collapsed back onto the bed.

                                            “Ah…at least this bed is soft…” he muttered. As his hand slowly moved across the fuzzy covers.

                                            >Fuzzy?

                                            >He opened his eyes and he noticed the bed was covered in very large wolf furs.

                                            >One of them was large enough to cover him whole and there were multiple such pelts.

                                            >Whoever lived here was a great hunter.

                                            >Anon slowly looked around the room, taking in the furniture. Wooden, carved by a skilled pair of hands.

                                            >Then he noticed his coat and other clothes hanging in the corner, alongside his undergarments.

                                            >That was a moment where he quickly looked underneath the pelt.

                                            >Noticing his exposed body he felt a sense of shame at the thought someone undressed him, but as the memories of why he was in this situation hit him.

                                            “Ah yes…” he muttered to himself. His eyes moved down to a bedroll.

                                            >Adding two and two together, he soon figured out it must belong to whomever found him. >They must’ve been a truly kind soul.

                                            >Giving up their bed to a stranger like that.

                                            >Anonymous slowly moved to sit at the edge of the bed, holding the wolf pelt over himself while also making sure it would cover his privates up.

                                            >He noticed his items lying down on the simple desk that was in the room, at least everything he had with himself when he stood on the deck, he reckoned. Or what was found in his pockets.

                                            >He slowly stood up, shaky at first, but soon enough he stabilised himself and walked over to the desk, looking at the necklace, even the cane he carried with himself. The gift for his father.

                                            >Didn’t matter right now. He had to learn where he shipwrecked. Learn how to repay his saviour too.

                                            >Anonymous sighed before gently looking at his pocket watch and picking it up. To his surprise it still ticked and he quickly opened it to see that the hour was supposedly eight.

                                            >He gazed back at the bed and then wrapped himself in the wolf pelt with slightly more attention.

                                            >The clothes, he noticed, were still damp, so wearing them wasn’t the right choice.

                                            >Perhaps his gracious host could lend him some later.

                                            >With the makeshift covering in the form of the wolf pelt held on his waist he slowly made his way towards the doors.

                                            >Hearing the sound of gentle hums which sounded quite feminine.

                                            >He quickly decided to fix up his hair, simply for the sake of not looking horrible in front of a lady and then opened the doors.

                                            >At first the scent of food reached his nostrils and as he took a few steps down a small staircase onto the rock floor which felt cold against his feet he noticed something.

                                            >A horse. Very round… cute looking horse.

                                            >Pouring food into wooden bowls. With a ladle in its mouth.

                                            >The horse turned to look at him and put down the ladle.

                                            >”Oh! Yer finally awake.” the feminine, although gruff and strong, voice reached him.

                                            >It had a vague icelandic accent.

                                            >And it no doubt belonged to the mare.


                                            >Anonymous only slowly nodded. Still observing the large mare.

                                            >She was something very peculiar to the human. Something he'd probably call impossible.

                                            >Steela at the same time tilted her head just a bit in curiosity. Despite her usually steely and rough expression by the standard of most ponies, she tried to look friendly now.

                                            >But the creature, who now stood before her clutching a wolf pelt at their waist, seemed to be confused.

                                            >”Uh… I made breakfast.” She said, setting the bowl at the table.

                                            >Hopefully she didn't scare the creature, or anything. After all, she had never seen anything like it.

                                            >Anonymous nodded again.

                                            “Thank you for your hospitality… uh… Mmmiii… miss…?”

                                            >He wasn't sure how to refer to her, that much was definitely clear.

                                            >But he could talk which was a huge relief for the mare.

                                            >”Just call me Steela. You don't have to call me miss or anything.” She said as she glanced back in the direction of the room with the open doors and shrugged, covering up the hanging pot.

                                            >Then she sat at the table.

                                            >Anon followed suit.

                                            >The bench used for sitting was actually quite comfortable. It didn't have a back rest, sure, but it was still comfortable.

                                            >The porridge was simple, easy to make, filling.

                                            >And this one even had fruit and the sweet scent came no doubt from honey.

                                            >Noticing that the mare before him was already eating, Anon was about to reach for a spoon… only to notice one wasn't there.

                                            >Steela seemed to be just holding the bowl between her front gloves while her muzzle was buried in it.

                                            >Leaving Anonymous unsure he cleared his throat.

                                            >When Steela didn't seem to notice he cleared his throat again. Louder this time.

                                            >Her head shot up to look right at the human.

                                            >”Yeah? Uh… something wrong with the porridge?” She asked, a hint of worry on her face, her ears moving just a bit, halfway through flattening on her head.

                                            >Anon thought it looked positively adorable.

                                            “Well… not quite mi… uh Steela. I just wanted to ask if you have a spoon?” He asked.

                                            >Steela seemed confused at first and then turned to point at the larger, wooden spoon, made for stirring, not eating with.

                                            >”Only that one. Why…?”

                                            >She seemed confused now, but her ears perked up again.

                                            “I just… don't misunderstand, I don't want to seem like an ungrateful guest, I just usually eat with utensils… but… I guess for equines it's not very practical to use.”

                                            >Anonymous then slowly grabbed his bowl with one hand and blew on it.

                                            >He had to fight off all the things he was taught as a child about etiquette and he slowly used his fingers to scoop some of the porridge and eat it.

                                            >Steela was about to eat too but… the manipulation of food done by his fingers seemed to interest the mare.


                                            >Her eyes were now focused on how he'd lift some food up and into his mouth.

                                            >”Heh, they seem pretty useful.” She mused.

                                            >Anonymous looked at her, about to ask what “they” were but he then looked at his hand and understood.

                                            “Ah.”

                                            >A small noise left him.

                                            >Then he gently licked off porridge off his fingers.

                                            “My hands I presume… you… don't see such a thing often?”

                                            >He asked slowly. Hoping to learn more about this place, even if indirectly.

                                            >Steela shrugged. Looking at his hand curiously.

                                            >”Griffons have their claws and so do dragons, but theirs are either sharper or shorter. Yours though… seem pretty big. And more…”

                                            >”Dextrous?” said Anon.

                                            >Steela nodded.

                                            >”Yeah, that's it. They seem soft too.” She chuckled before going back to eating.

                                            >Griffons and dragons?

                                            >This made Anonymous only more confused but she seemed to be as interested in him as he was in her. Did that mean no humans were here?

                                            >It would make some sense.

                                            >Maybe…? But what island even was that?

                                            >Steela herself, now that he looked, had a body covered in scars.

                                            >The inside of the room and her accent made Anonymous think about Vikings.

                                            >Sure, they weren't exactly a thing anymore, but his friend in college was Scandinavian and talked plenty about the Norsemen of the past.

                                            >Was she a… norsehorse?

                                            >”Aaah, damn, you must've been hungry. You want seconds?”

                                            >Anon lifted his head only to notice that he must've eaten the entire bowl before even realising it.

                                            >He must've been hungry indeed.

                                            “Uh… yes please.”

                                            >Steela took his bowl and filled it with fresh batch of simmering porridge and slid the bowl to him.

                                            >”So… don't want to be the mare who tears the hungry from his bowl… but you know my name… what's yours?” She asked.

                                            >Anon just remembered he hadn't introduced himself. Which felt like a horrible faux pas.

                                            “I'm Anonymous Friedrich Alexander Gott… but just Anon is fine.” He said.

                                            >A small chuckle left the mare.

                                            >”If we're giving full names… I'm Steela Oresdottir. My pa, Ores, is sleeping.” She pointed towards the room. “Probably won't wake up anytime soon. We had a celebration yesterday.”

                                            >Anon nodded.

                                            >”So… Anon, what are you?” She leaned in closer to look at him with a tiny smile on her muzzle.

                                            >Anon cleared his throat, his theory confirmed.

                                            “I'm a human.” he said.

                                            >Seeing how it didn't seem to make the mare understand more, he sighed.

                                            “Humans aren't exactly common… I understand?”

                                            >”More like non-existent. I never even heard of anything like you. Much less see it.” She admitted.


                                            >Anonymous sighed.

                                            “To be fully honest with you… mares capable of cooking porridge and talking aren't exactly an occurrence where I'm from, so I guess we're on the same boat.” He said with a small smile.

                                            >Steela laughed at that. Nice, deep laugh.

                                            >”You got that right, lad. We're in the same spot.” She mused before one more chuckle left her.

                                            >She smiled before she wiped her muzzle with her forearm. Or maybe rather a foreleg.

                                            >”So… hu-man, I found you washed ashore, in the middle of a stormy night. What happened?” She asked.

                                            >Anon thought for a moment.

                                            “I was on a ship, back home. And we got caught in the middle of a storm… I'm no sailor, so I can't say I know what exactly happened but… the bow got a hole in it and the ship sank.”

                                            >Steela nodded thoughtfully. Her muzzle scrunching as she thought.

                                            >”The storm yesterday was strange, I agree… I'm guessing your ship was full of other hu-mans?” She asked curiously.

                                            >Seeing Anon confirm she let out a thoughtful hum.

                                            >”I’m no unicorn so all that magic stuff is usually a bunch of gibberish but… we should go to our Goði. She should know what to do, I think.” Offered Steela.

                                            >Anon raised an eyebrow.

                                            “Unicorn?”

                                            >”Yeah. Unicorns. Horns on their heads… do magic… we don't have many of them around here, it's mostly earth ponies or Pegasus here but we have some, you know?” She said.

                                            >Anon just nodded slowly.

                                            “So… uh… it's just horses here…?” He asked.

                                            >”Ponies, actually. That's the correct term. But yeah.” She confirmed.

                                            >Anon was positively fascinated.

                                            >Hearing the term magic caused him to think it was something whimsical.

                                            >And in truth unicorns, pegasi and talking ponies were whimsical.

                                            “You spoke of griffons and dragons too? Do they live anywhere nearby?”

                                            >”Griffons do live further east from here, and dragons usually live down south. Way down south.” She answered.

                                            >”Fascinating…” muttered Anonymous.

                                            >Steela chuckled at the human's reaction.

                                            >Looking at him with an amused smile as he seemed both stuck in fascination and whimsy painted on his face.

                                            >Finally Anon looked at her.

                                            “Say… would you be so kind and take me for a walk…? And maybe to the beach where you found me? I'm most likely very far from any place that's Europe but… this place seems like an adventure.” he asked hopefully.

                                            >Another laugh left the mare, it wasn't malicious, just amused.

                                            >”Oh trust me, you'll find plenty of adventure here.” She said before standing up.


                                            >The old suit and the coat was now dry enough for Anon, to let him put his clothes back on and leave with Steela.

                                            >Stepping outside, to Anon's surprise the air wasn't as chilly as he expected, it was definitely brisk but nothing his current clothing couldn't handle.

                                            >The village, since that's what Anonymous assumed it was, definitely looked like a typical viking settlement.

                                            >At least from what Anon knew.

                                            >The pair walked forward but very quickly they noticed a lot of eyes being locked right on them.

                                            >”I think I'm quite an attraction…” whispered Anon, leaning just a bit to Steela.

                                            >The mare snorted, but remained neutral.

                                            “Yeah… can't blame them though.”

                                            >Anon chuckled just a bit before glancing at the mare.

                                            >”I am the town freak now?” He asked with a grin.

                                            >This got a small chortle out of her.

                                            “Yeah. You are.”

                                            >The amused pair walked towards the market where Anon had a chance to observe even more ponies.

                                            >True to Steela’s word, most here were earth ponies, who seemed to be mostly also quite built, but none really reached her size.

                                            >The pegasi Anon got to see all seemed smaller. Probably to be better fliers.

                                            >Of course Steela dwarfed all ponies here, but he still could notice the body shape difference between Pegasus and regular ponies.

                                            >”So… this little… town… or village, I'm not really sure, does it have a name?” He asked.

                                            >Stella nodded.

                                            “Varmahlíð. We're a coast town.” She informed the human as they were passing through the market, between the merchants, peddling mostly trinkets at this time, although some selling food were still around.

                                            >”Sounds cosy.” He mused as he looked at the small cart selling wooden necklaces.

                                            >”Hmm… interesting. May I?” He asked the small mare that was selling the jewellery.

                                            >”Oh by all means! Go ahead and look, my lanky friend!” The small, blue mare and with orange mane smiled as Steela stopped and looked at Anon, who was currently lifting one of the wooden necklaces and tracing his fingers across the wood.

                                            >It still looked very interesting. How his fingers curled and moved.

                                            >Sure she had a chance to see them while he ate but the delicate manipulations made her curious.

                                            >”Made by hoof! All very high quality wood, so you can be sure they are worth their price.” The small mare definitely tried to sell her products.

                                            >”Oh they definitely all look very nice.” Said Anon as he gingerly set the object down.

                                            >”Only ten bits. It's a good price.” She smiled.

                                            >”Oh no doubt, but I left my wallet at home. I'll be sure to buy some later.” Anon answered, to which the little mare seemed disappointed.

                                            >Both him and Steela moved again. This time going towards the beach.


                                            >The pair stood now at the sandy shore, which stretched all the way from the cliff further into the distance.

                                            >Anon stood next to Steela with hands in his pockets, sea breeze in his hair.

                                            “Beautiful place.” He commented. Glancing down at the mare.

                                            >”I agree. I like coming here. Just watching the waves.” She pointed at the cliff. “The view from up there is the best but… I'm guessing you want to look through the wreckage? And all the debris.” She asked.

                                            >Anonymous nodded as he slowly walked closer to the water, looking at the things both washed to the shore and what was still flotsam.

                                            >Steela followed suit, kicking one of the boards.

                                            >”Hopefully the things you want were not derelict.” she said as she followed the man to a bigger chunk of wood.

                                            >”Sine spe recuperandi… or something like that.” Said Anonymous with a thoughtful expression.

                                            >Steela just looked at him as if he cast a spell.

                                            >”Yeah… that. Whatever that meant.” She muttered.

                                            >The human laughed a bit.

                                            “When on the ship… I was playing cards with one sailor who was talking about all those… port terms.” He said amused as he moved to move some pieces of debris.

                                            >Finding nothing interesting underneath it, he just kept walking with Steels.

                                            >”You don't look like a sailor. You're too scrawny.” She teased.

                                            >Anonymous groaned at that.

                                            “Ugh, not everyone can be a warhorse. I've seen how much bigger you are, and the butter eyes that one stallion gave you.” He teased back.

                                            >Now it was Steela’s turn to groan.

                                            >”That's just Magni… he's… like a little brother to me, but I seem to be an object of love for him.”

                                            >Anon chuckled at that.

                                            “Seems like an interesting dynamic.”

                                            >”Don't get me wrong. He's not a bad colt… he's just… ugh, I was changing his diapers, when he was a baby. It feels weird.” She sighed. Shaking her head.

                                            >This just made Anon laugh out loud. Before patting her back a bit.

                                            “Don't worry, I'm not judging.” He said.

                                            >They reached another piece of the wreck, this one had some barrel shards around it. Although their contents seemed to be either destroyed, or lost.

                                            “Hm. Maybe a gunpowder barrel or two survived.” he mused before he noticed something that caught his interest.

                                            >At first Anon tried to push away the piece of a mast himself. But seeing him struggle, Steela laughed before walking over.

                                            >”That's how you do it, pansy.” She teased before with ease pushing the mast away revealing a suitcase.

                                            >Anon exclaimed something before quickly picking it up.

                                            >”Uhh… What's up with this suitcase? It's important?” She asked.

                                            >Anon just smiled.

                                            “Very. It's mine.”

                                            >Steela glanced at the case again, before looking at Anon.

                                            >”Ooooh. Makes sense.” She nodded.

                                            >Turns out he'll have something after all.


                                            >The pair wandered the beach for a while longer, in truth they didn't find much else that could be seen as useful for anyone.

                                            >The suitcase itself was still a great boon, even if Anonymous didn't open it yet.

                                            >Even if drenched and covered in salt, more clothes was already something good to have.

                                            >The pair once again walked through the town, Anonymous noticed a few other ponies, still mostly smaller than Steela herself, saluted her, to which she saluted back to them.

                                            >Noticing his curious gaze, Steela grinned a bit.

                                            >”They are part of Mighty Helm. Think of them as… a group that takes care of dangers and monsters around here. And well, I'm pretty well respected there. My pa was a caption, although he currently acts more like an advisor.” She explained.

                                            >Anon wasn't blind, the hint of pride in her voice was apparent.

                                            “So you're high ranking there?” He asked after a moment.

                                            >”That I certainly am. Not just because of my dad but because I'm a general baddie.” She said.

                                            >It was clear that she was becoming more used to Anon’s presence. It was cute really, watching her beam with pride.

                                            >Anon grinned right back at her.

                                            “Certainly has nothing to do with the fact you're a head taller than everyone.” Anon said teasingly.

                                            >That earned him a bump with her rump and boy was it hefty.

                                            >The poor human stumbled as he felt the weight bump into him.

                                            >He chuckled as he regained his footing.

                                            “Gosh, I fear what you could do if you put more effort into it.”

                                            >A wry grin appeared on Steela’s face.

                                            >”Crush a skinny thing like you, no doubt.”

                                            >She said smugly.

                                            >At that both let out a laugh.

                                            >”But just so you know, I'm not the biggest around. My Pa’ is still bigger. And Rockhoof is around the same height.” She said after a moment.

                                            >Anonymous didn't know who Rockhoof was, and she seemed to catch his surprised glance.

                                            >”Another Helmsman, and a local hero… to some at least. He still can't defeat me.” She chuckled. “You'll probably meet him sooner or later. Don't let his heroics fool you. He's still a dork.”

                                            >The hint of fondness in her voice didn't escape him either. No doubt she enjoyed this Rockhoof fellow. Was he a friend or something else he didn't know, and Anon was raised with tact in mind so he didn't pry either.

                                            >Though what still made him wonder was why specifically Steels was just so much bigger than the others.

                                            >Perhaps her father would be an answer as they stepped back into the house.


                                            >The large, clearly muscular stallion was sitting at the bench, he really looked bigger than Steela. At least half a head taller and even more massive.

                                            >Anonymous was by no means a short man, but this… was strange.

                                            >Most of the ponies reached his belly button when standing normally.

                                            >Steela reached underneath his chin but this guy…

                                            >This stallion would probably look Anon right in the eyes while standing.

                                            >Right now however, he looked tired, hungover and grumpy as he slowly shovelled porridge into his mouth.

                                            >Chewing seemed like a great effort as he slowly looked at Steele.

                                            >”Hello Rúsínurassgat…” the stallion spoke, tiredly but very affectionately, at Steela before his eyes widened as he noticed Anon standing right next to her.

                                            >His eyes then narrowed as his mind no doubt played catch up.

                                            >Anon could notice grey streaks in his coat and mane, proving his age.

                                            >It's not like he didn't know it was Steela’s father but he could notice a resemblance.

                                            >”What, by Fenrir’s balls, is that?!”

                                            >Suddenly Anon felt awkward. All the situations where he met a father of a girl he liked, only to be met with disdain, came back into his mind.

                                            >Steela wasn't a girl he liked, she wasn't even a human…

                                            >Well he liked her but not in that way.

                                            “Um… yes, hello Sir.”

                                            >Anon tried to be polite, hopefully it will help.

                                            >”It speaks!” Exclaimed the surprised stallion.

                                            >This is going to be harder than he thought.

                                            >”Steela! What by Auðumbla’s udders did you bring home this time?!”

                                            >Steela cringed at that..

                                            “If you would let me explain sir…”

                                            >Anon tried to speak but his words were drowned.

                                            >”I found him yesterday, washed ashore. Took him in.” Steela spoke in a tone much louder.

                                            >It was clear her father wanted to speak but was cut off by Steela again.

                                            >”Don't you dare complain. You were drunk and I had to carry you to the bed too!” At that the elder stallion shrunk.

                                            >”I'm sorry Rúsínurassgat…”

                                            >The stallion sat down and so did Steela, before she glanced at Anon and he thus say right next to her.

                                            >”Sorry, I'm… groggy when I wake up. And uh… I thought you were a monster.” Spoke the stallion.

                                            >Anon nodded. He wasn't actually surprised. So far he hasn't seen anything that looked humanoid.

                                            >So he wasn't surprised he'd look monstrous, although other ponies here seemed more it less… fine.

                                            >Anon wondered why but that wasn't as important right now.

                                            ”It's fine, sir. I understand. I'm Anonymous, by the way. Your daughter indeed saved me as I washed ashore after my ship was damaged by a storm and sank.” He said.

                                            >The stallion looked at him thoughtfully.

                                            >”I see… in any case. I'm Ores, you no doubt already know, I'm the father of my little Steela here.”

                                            >Anon disagreed with the little part as he glanced at Steela who seemed a bit red.

                                            >There was a moment of silence before Steela cleared her throat.

                                            >”I’m sorry I yelled, Dad.” She spoke after a moment.

                                            >It was a weirdly sweet moment.


                                            >Ores turned to his daughter, before nodding.

                                            >”And I'm sorry I started acting as if your friend here is a troll.” He answered after a moment.

                                            >As the pair seemed content in their apologies, Anon let out a quiet, approving hum.

                                            “Well, if you don't mind me saying… I'm a human. So I'm not surprised you felt shocked.”

                                            >Ores once again looked at Anon.

                                            >”A… Hu-man?”

                                            >It was almost funny how both him and Steela mispronounced the word in the exact same way.

                                            >Now that Anon thought about it, he definitely could see more similarities. Mane colour and eyes they definitely shared, so the coat must've come with her mother, seeing as Ores himself was pale green.

                                            >Anon nodded.

                                            “Yes. A human. My best guess is that we're not… local.” Said the human.

                                            >”We did find the shipwreck, but no other humans. And to be fair… it looked to me like it was only one half of the ship.” Said Steels.

                                            >Ores let out a thoughtful hmm as he looked up, deep in thought. His brow… did ponies even have a brow…?

                                            >Doesn't matter.

                                            >His brow furrowed as well, giving him a very thoughtful look.

                                            >”Half a ship and no other survivors. Hm. I'm no Wise man or a goði, so you'd probably have to go to one.” He said finally.

                                            >”Yeah I said the exact same thing. That's probably the only hope for Anon to learn what happened to his other hu-mans and get back home.” Said Steels.

                                            >Anon smiled, slightly amused.

                                            “You really are daughter and father.” He said with a small chuckle which made Steels turn a bit red. Ores in the meantime seemed to choke on his porridge in the meantime. Although the older Stallion definitely seemed way less bashful about that, probably just shocked that something like that was said.

                                            >In truth it was only more amusing.

                                            >”Well… in any case. We were going to visit Sifa but we then found Anon’s suitcase and we just decided to come back.” Steela tried to change the topic.

                                            >Anon didn’t protest this, it was somewhat sweet how despite acting tough, she still clearly loved her father, even if she was afraid it took away from her seeming tough.

                                            >Anon nodded to that as he lifted the leather case and placed it on the table.

                                            “Yes… I mean it’s mostly my clothes but even then, it’s something.” he said as he opened the case.

                                            >Since Steela was now able to peek inside she craned her neck to look into the case with a thoughtful hum as she noticed some more clothes that looked similar to what he wore, although she did notice there was what looked to be a notebook.

                                            >She tilted her head a bit, quite sure Anon noticed it as well and so he reached for it.

                                            >Sadly, the notebook was damaged by the water to the point that there was no salvaging it.

                                            >”Huh, I guess it wasn’t waterproof? C’mon we can hang these clothes by the fire so they dry faster.” she said after a moment before she stood up.

                                            >Anonymous and Ores looked at each other for a moment before Anon also stood up and followed the mare.