The weather outside was cold: if you spent a couple of hours outside without a warm fur coat, you would die. The village of Jelling was the only stronghold of at least some warmth and tranquility. Egnar sat in the Jarl's long house, taking care to feed his dogs the bones left over from dinner. He gently ran his hand over the fluffy heads and even allowed himself a meager smile when he looked at them. Suddenly the door of the long house opened slightly and Egnar looked sternly at the newcomer.