There had been a stirring of excitement among the besieged survivors of Tyrstoftir. The camp had been made as comfortable as possible, but everyone knew there were too few resources to feed them indefinitely.
Word had filtered through from a few independent sources that the great port of Ironhall had been rebuilt, and that they were welcoming family groups and skilled artisans. This was confirmed when Cuinn called all to the hearth, where he broke the news that they should strike camp and leave on the next tide for Ironhall, where their new home awaited. At last Odin had begun to smile on them all again.
There was a frenzy of packing and stowing their possessions on the serpents, then the frantic rowing of the slender ships to break out of the tidal barrier. At last the great square sails popped open and luffed as they were trimmed expertly by the men. The sense of excitement was palpable among the refugees, as their sleek serpents cut water heading for Ironhall.
On landing the port looked like it must have done before its decline; new mortar filled the interleaves between brick and stone, and the smell of fresh cut oak and pine was everywhere. The refugees stepped ashore, some kissing the ground and praising Odin in prayer. They were welcomed by Elders and teams of industrious thralls and bond maids were deployed to help the newcomers find a true Ironhall welcome.
The port had an energy all of its own, and this immediately started to imbue the newcomers with its vigor. The refugees turned to each other, and almost in unison said, "Home."
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