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Fate had brought them together. Fate had brought them to prison. Fate had gotten them out of prison and onto that boat. And Fate had landed them stranded in endless winter, with new trials and nightmares at every step of the way.
And with kindness, Fate let them leave, together. It had been a long and difficult, and deadly journey. Many times Jornir was certain they would not make it five more minutes in that frozen land. But the fates were kind, the wyrd allowed them to leave.
They had left Drakkar and made their way to Yona. Queenie was the only one sure of a home to go to, that could maintain all of them. They were not splitting up. Jornir wasn't sure some of them could survive without the others. Skrimm certainly couldn't. He barely could before.
So here they were in a temperate forest. The spring and summer had been blessed with bountiful food and hunting, constant almost unbearable warmth after what they survived but they were happy to have it over the alternative. Even the autumn was pleasant. Cooler but not cold. Nothing close to what they faced before. They still had underlying fears of a lack of food, so throughout the whole year they spent in Yona, they had been preserving food. Queenie was canning and jarring, Taishen was drying herbs and curing meats. Skrimm was preserving food in ways Jornir wasn't sure was safe, but he insisted he'd 'done it before and he was fine!' Barnabos was using traditional methods that were used by sailors, salting and other such. Teaching the others tricks they didn't know before.
They had a root cellar as well. It was packed wall to wall with all the food they had preserved before winter hit. Well, mostly. Half of the cellar was filled with wood. Wood from trees chopped down all across the forest they lived in and replanted by Queenie. Barnabos and Jornir spent much of their autumn months finding dead trees to process and store. The spring and summer had been seasoning younger more living trees.
Skrimm had been squirreling away food since the beginning. Once they starting preserving it got even worse. They would find food all over the place.
"If we have secret stashes we won't have an emergency! Its the emergency back up food! Its a perfect plan! Leave it!" Skrimm would snatch the food back and find a new place to hide it.
Queenie had taught Taishen how to fashion coats, blankets, all sorts of clothing from the pelts of animals she had hunted throughout the year. They worked together to have an excess of furs stored and available.
All this preparation and when the first snow hit they all felt a primal fear. They weren't even ready for it. It hit in the night, and they hadn't seen a cloud in the sky the day before. Barnabos was the first to awake that day planning breakfast with the meat Queenie had processed two days before as well as some greens they'd gotten from a farmer a few miles away. When he looked outside and saw the expanse of white his heart and stomach dropped.
"Oh my lover, please be with me." Barnabos whispered to himself before rushing back to the others, still sleeping in a pile. A habit they could not shake. They'd tried in the beginning but after a week of no one sleeping and horrible anxiety that someone was taken, the cold killed them, or something else awful had happened while they were out of each other's sight.
"Wake up, snow has hit!" Barnabos rumbles into the room.
Jornir opens his eyes immediately. He thought the fear would not over take him. He had lived lifetimes in the cold, but it coming back was a nightmare he had not anticipated.
"Oh dear, I think perhaps I should make us some tea. It can help warm us while we make plans…" Taishen slowly rises in a daze to grab the teapot. The ritual that has always comforted him has continued to do so through the frigid wilds and the warm return to familiar lands. Queenie places a hand on his arm as he goes.
"Taishi, wait a minute, we'll go with you." Her foot was thumping quietly beneath her.
Eventually Skrimm wakes up with the commotion.
"What's going on? Why are you all awake, its still dark. Be quiet." The goblin grumbles and rolls over.
"It snowed last night." Jornir states plainly.
Skrimm doesn't move for a moment and grumbles again. Suddenly the goblin shoots upright and looks at them with wild eyes.
"What!? But- But it wasn't even cold yesterday? When did it snow!? How much? Are we going to die!?"
"Skrimm, calm down. I'm sure it ain't that much," Queenie tosses a blanket over Skrimm's head, "and we got food and wood right? We're better than we were last year."
"It looked like a good few inches, and its still coming down. We ought to get that fire started though." Barnabos scratches his chin before turning to the main room of their home. A large first place as well as a wood stove sit on either end of the room. Barnabos goes to start filling the wood stove and Jornir begins to fill the fireplace both moving in silence.
Skrimm is still panicking in the bedroom, where Queenie has piled pretty much every blanket, fur, and pillow on top of the goblin hoping to press the breakdown out of him.
"Skrimm, panicking isn't gonna help. You gotta get your ass outta bed and help. We gotta light the fires and check the stores. Pull out the extra furs. Pick somethin' cause if you don't all your gonna do is lose it." Queenie says.
Skrimm takes as deep a breath as he can before shaking off the soft pile upon him.
"You're right, you're right. I'm gonna go grab food. I'm gonna count what we have. It'll be fine, everything's fine! Hahaha!" Skrimm climbs out of bed and scrambles to the root cellar.
Taishen lights both fires before beginning to brew tea for everyone. He has their preferred flavors to preferred situations memorized by this point. Better than they do.
Barnabos begins making a stew instead of the plans he had before. Stew is economical and stretches further. He cooks in silence. The others had gotten used to him humming or singing shanties while he cooked, but, he can't bring himself to that level of cheer. It feels like they crashed into the ice all over again.
Jornir is checking the doors and windows for drafts and sealing them with spare furs and pillows and whatever else is around. Once he is satisfied, he moves to place a hand upon Taishen's shoulder.
"Taishen. Come sit by the fire. I believe we can continue the tea there."
"Oh, Jornir. In a moment. I cannot stop steeping it once I've begun, it will ruin the flavor." Taishen speaks a little flatly and doesn't even look up to the firbolg. Jornir simply nods and stands by the dragonborn, standing close and sharing heat. Queenie eventually hops over and squeezes herself in between the two with ease. Taishen shortly finishes the tea and passes a cup to the two beside him, before sitting in front of the fire.
With some time, Barnabos eventually leaves the stew to render further. He arrives in front of the fire with Skrimm by the scruff. The goblin is wriggling but not fighting the carry.
They huddle closely together and drink the tea Taishen had brought them. They all stare quietly into the fire.
Every winter had been like that. But they always had each other and they always were over prepared. That made it easier. It never truly became easy. Years was spent that way even as they grew older and grayer. The first year they spent as four instead of five was painful. Skrimm was never going to out live anyone and they knew that. But living it? That was a different experience. And with that gap in their plan, their defense against the cold, it jacked up everyone's anxiety all over again.
And years passed. And four became three. Then two. Then one.
Fate had brought them together. Fate had brought them to prison. Fate had gotten them out of prison and onto that boat. And Fate had landed them stranded in endless winter, with new trials and nightmares at every step of the way. And with kindness, Fate let them leave, together.
Fate brought them together and it tore them apart.
But with all the kindness fate could give, it took away eventually. And Jornir was fated to be alone.
It was so much harder to be alone again after being shown family, and yet Jornir must continue. Fate was not done with him yet, for if it was, he would be there beyond the veil with his family.
Jornir stares into the fire alone on a cold day. He sighs and stands. There is more to be done.