Frelda grew up in a small village on a mountain. She was always more pale than her peers and that caused a great deal of animosity towards her. Frelda needed to prove herself at every step in hopes they would accept her. One day a child named Skithaell, dared Frelda to slide down the mountain on a shield. Never one to turn down a chance to prove herself, Frelda grabbed a shield, took a running start, and sledded down the mountainside. Everything was going great until she found an ice shelf, and found herself falling down an ice crevasse. First Frelda held onto hope that someone would come and pull her from this pit, after the third day she decided no one could find her. She screamed until she had no voice left, but still no one called or came. She decided to look for a way out. She climbed and felt the ice gnaw at her fingers, before she fell again. She used the shield to bash the wall to make footholds or a hole to climb through, to little avail. The shield splintered on the ice and all she was left with was the shield boss. Six days after her fall, Frelda found some frozen mosses in the ice. She used the boss to break the ice around the moss and ate the frozen flora. It must have been a gift of the gods because she felt replenished and ready to continue fighting the ice. She bashed the ice with her boss, successfully making indents big enough to rest her toes in, then her foot in. On the ninth day, she climbed out of the crevasse. Her body was weakened but her spirit was filled with fire. With this trial she had proved herself to herself and now had a hunger to do more in life. She found the determination to walk back to the village. There she was treated as a draugar and had to prove she was still alive. Once she was well enough, she left the village searching to satiate the hunger for life she’d found.
She ventured from place to place to find the best life had to offer. She worked off her travels however she could. Usually helping with housing maintenance and farming, as that’s how her family raised her. She’s tasted great foods, heard great tales, viewed and felt great fabrics, but something seemed missing. When she found great solitude she heard the rhythm of the world. Frelda’s feet would keep time, occasionally a bird’s wing would speed the tempo, the waves on the shores would slow the tempo. The crackling of logs in the fire would spark chaos and offer a whisper of peace. Now Frelda hears the music of the world no matter who’s around. Still something was missing, so Frelda continued traveling and searching
One day Frelda found herself in a trading village and the voice of a curious man caught her ear. She eavesdropped on the man and heard he likes ‘shinies’. Curious way to put it, but Frelda also likes shinies, just of a sometimes less physical variety. Frelda maneuvered to meet the man and learned his name to be Torgils. She felt a push from the gods to gift Torgils a ring, so she did. Torgils was filled with glee and soon he was gone, as though he just vanished when Frelda blinked. She heard others talking about Torgils and how he is in Jarl Aesa’s camp. They spoke about the wonderful things the camp had done, and Frelda understood the push from the gods.