Gwenno grew up in Svolvær and had always wanted to be a troll hunter for as long as she could remember. Each winter the hunters would fill her head with such stories of terror and adventure that she wanted nothing more than to take part in them herself, and each summer they would go out and fight and fewer would return. Year after year this went on and Gwenno decided that as soon as she was old enough she would join them. She grew big dreams of being the best troll hunter ever, of protecting her home singlehandedly, and of nobody ever having to be scared of the world ever again, but dreams are brittle and sometimes there are more than trolls standing in their way. As the years progressed it became apparent that she had no affinity with any kind of firearm, and after more than a few close shaves including blades while training, her teachers and family kindly suggested that it would probably be safer for her to stay away from trolls.
Her mother was from Iceland, and much to Gwenno’s dismay had made sure to teach her daughter to read from a very young age. Because of this, she was given a job as an assistant to a skald, and although her heart was still tied up in stories of troll hunting, she kept it hidden and worked hard to keep her family happy. She tried her hardest, she really did, but the dreams burnt a hole in her heart, and each night she would sneak out and train with anything she could get her hands on, be that cutlery, tree branch clubs, or rope. Some wondered how she’d collected so many bruises working such a mundane job, but it was mainly accredited to clumsiness and left at that. One night, while bruising herself and still making no progress, she saw a broken broom handle and decided to give it a spin, and somehow, something just *clicked*. While she still had a hard time getting things to work, she started getting better, and after a while she progressed to “borrowed” knives, and crafted her own wooden staff. Far away from the eyes of the world she grew stronger. Due to her previous failure she had become timid however, and scared to ask for any form of help lest she seem weak. This meant that although she had become a better fighter she found herself unable to ask to join, and as summer arrived she watched the warriors leaving for their first hunt of the year from her seat at the window-desk. Night fell and once again Gwenno sneaked away to find a quiet spot to train, before realising that the hunters still hadn’t come back. In a brilliant if ill timed moment of bravery she grabbed her staff and knives and climbed over the fence, with the intent of joining the team and helping them if they were caught in trouble. The night was still, and as befits a plan of such phenomental glory and stupidity, her presence in the darkness didn’t go unnoticed, and before she had even reached the first settlement a shadow crept behind her and lunged.....
The troll hunting team found her the next morning on the way back to Svolvær, proped up against a tree, covered in blood, with two cracked ribs and a smile on her face. Sourrounding her on the floor were various pieces of troll. As she was treated back at home, nearly in tears she shouted that if they wouldn’t let her join the team she’d just go out and fight the trolls by herself. What she didn’t know at the time however, was there were pieces of at least three trolls littering the floor around her that day, and it was agreed that maybe she deserved another shot.
