He got a chuckle out of the younger man when he called his brother a git. Thorfinn nodded as he listened. "My birth nearly killed my mother," He admitted as he draped both arms over his bent knees now, watching the blacksmith as he spoke. "She never recovered, she was so often in bed people thought she would pass any day, my father was murdered when I was six... so no more siblings for me." He didn't tell many about his family, but there was a dark edge when he mentioned his fathers murder, like he had to shove his emotions down as soon as he said it. Not in a duel, or raiding, those wouldn't be called murder. "I have a friends I consider family, Jo, Leif and Einar. They are as much family as if they were my own blood."

Thorfinn took a breath, how did he explain that. "I killed a lot of people, Kol. Not even those I was angry at, or even knew, just everyone who got in my way. I've done terrible things." He looked guilty as he lowered his head so Kol couldn't see his termoil. He hated talking about himself, admitting what he is. But, Kol was a norsemen, Kol would understand he figures. The things he hated about himself were the things that made him a living legend back home. The boy warrior. "I don't aim to punish myself, it just started after my fall. I don't think warriors can feel this way..." He didn't want to admit he had been a Thrall. There was such prejudice against them in his time, even if he had bought his freedom back he didn't know if it was something he was ready to admit yet.

He reached up, pushing some of his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear but not looking up. "I bet we could find some bog iron."