He went around the tree and found exactly what he wanted. The fallen tree trunk created a roof at least five feet wide and about the same high above the ground, what used to be the dry needle-covered base of the tree now created a cozy wall. That wall would protect him from the wind and the eyes of anybody traveling on the path, he could start a small fire knowing that the flame was well hidden by the wall and the smoke would carry with the wind away from the path.
While doing a habitual sweep of the area nearby, he gathered some branches and smaller firewood sticks. The long branches would provide additional wall support when pushed into the soil and leaned against trunk above, tying where needed with the thin and flexible spruce roots which run in all directions on the ground. He chopped a few low hanging branches of a twenty year old fir to create an outer covering of the shelter, he hung the branches with the needles pointing down intertwining the branches to strengthen his construction. He liked to work with fir, the flat branches provided the best protection from the elements, they were natural shingles of the forest, also the needles were not sharp as these of spruce. He moved quickly with efficiency that came only with hundreds of times he did the same thing since his childhood. The sun was almost setting when he finished his shelter preparation, he had nothing else to do, but to make fire and relax. Quickly, he pushed the dry needles into a comfortable bed about half a foot tall.
Making fire would be as easy, Vardlokkur did not rush. He's cleared the ground for the fire pit from the needles and anything else that could catch on the fire at night, he stacked the bigger branches into a small pyramid, the smaller twigs went inside leaving space for his starter tinder. From his backpack he pulled a waxed, water-tight leather pouch. Almost religiously, he spread the content on top of the pouch, being careful not to place anything on the damp soil. There was a flint, a small, semi-spherical piece of metallic meteor, a small grass bird nest, some dry moss, pieces of black "cramp balls" fungi. He had a habit of picking up these items during his hikes and always having an ample supply. He pulled a some grass and made a little tinder nest on top of his palm, he put it aside. He took a pinch of dry moss and placed it on the slice of fungi. A quick inspection of the flint with the thumb revealed a the best, sharpest edge, he struck it against the flat, metallic side of the meteor, the sparks were hardly visible. After no more than five well placed strikes the delicate ember started to glow and a tiny vein of the smoke snaked upwards. Carefully he grabbed the moss between two pieces of fungi and blew gently, the smoke intensified, fungi edge became red hot, he dropped the embers into the grass nest and blew more, the grass caught on fire. He placed the grass fire ball inside the wood pyramid and made sure the fungi he used to start the fire with is fully extinguished and stowed away together with all other fire starters.
He did not have to cook tonight, he still had some bread and meat left from last night. He ate slowly enjoying the warmth of the fire, he placed his backpack under his head, the hunting bow and quiver of arrows within the easy reach, he covered himself and while listening to the quiet and familiar forest he drifted away into the peaceful dreams.
