Feagrim squeezed back out of the creaky old door and into bright light. It was still early, but the sky was clear. He made haste on a round-about route towards the tailor’s shop. As luck would have it, he didn’t run into anyone on the way. Before he could knock on the door to see if the tailor was there, it was swiftly opened. The grey-haired wiry father of the tailor was there.

“I hear you’re in it again young man. Come in, quickly now.”

“I don’t think it’s all that . . .”

The old man’s eyebrows furrowed. “Argued with your father.” The old lips split in a smile. “I would have liked to see Grouser flattened in person. Don’t tell me you’re running off on account of him.”

“No sir. It just doesn’t make much sense to wait until after harvest now.”

“That’s fine then.” The old man held out his hands expectantly. “Come now, take off those old rags and get dressed properly.”

Feagrim quickly complied and soon was standing in fresh trousers and tunic of muted colors. He’d had them made like the ones the hunters wore, sturdier, out of thicker cloth and tough tread. The knees, elbows, and backs of the thighs were double layered and the insides of the joints had inset gussets. Despite being new, they didn’t hinder his movement at all.

“Thank you for . . .”

The old man interrupted him again. “Put that cloak on and no one is going to recognize you. And take these.”

The wrinkled hands took a bundle from beneath the counter and handed it to Feagrim. It was an identical set of clothes.

“Sir, I didn’t . . .”

He interrupted again, “You’ll need them. Making them wasn’t my idea nor my son’s. When his assistant suggested it, we agreed with her. Thanks to you I still have a granddaughter. Now, get out of here and do Dawnwick proud wherever you go.”

With that, the old man ushered him out the door and locked it behind him. Feagrim stood in the street for a moment to process what the tailor’s father had just said. He tucked the bundle into his satchel, pulled his hood lower, and headed for the blacksmith.

Moments later he was across the street and saw the doors to the shop were closed. He could not smell the fire and did not see smoke coming from the chimney. He knew Derntor was always in the shop early. Based on what Catrine said, they might even be waiting for him. He walked towards the wicket, tugged on the latch, and stepped through the door. The shop was brightly lit and Derntor was sitting on his anvil, his chin on his chest, sleeping. Feagrim firmly closed the door behind him and the big man stirred.

“So I hear your father tried to order you back to work.” Derntor rubbed the back of his neck.

“He never stopped to think about what I might want. I’m a little past putting up with other people telling me what to do.”

“Well, just try to remember, he is your father. As a father myself I do need to think about what is best for my family.” Derntor folded his arms. “I’m not sticking my nose in some other family’s goings-on, but it wouldn’t have been a stretch to take you as an apprentice myself, or for that matter, Egerton would have taken you too.”

“I didn’t come for a lecture.”

“Of course not. You’re like another son to me, so I worry about you sometimes.”

Using the boxes of scrap by the hearth as impromptu steps he stood on the anvil and reached into the shadows above. He came back down with three sooty bundles and handed the longest to Feagrim. Feagrim unwrapped it and pulled out the longsword inside. He unsheathed it, checked the blade, resheathed it, and belted it on.

“Keep the other two, for now, I don’t know if they’ll need them or want them but I feel better knowing they’re here.” Said Feagrim.

“When word goes around you’re gone, do you think they’ll go looking?”

Just then the door between the shop and the house flew open. Derntor’s wife was there with Heored behind her. Heored quickly wormed his way around her and picked up a new-looking pack that was leaning by the door.

“A messenger came right after the wake. They said this was for you, from Eadryth Kursk.” said Heored.

Feagrim took the heavy pack and put it on.

“You’re not going to look in it first?” Asked Heored.

“No need. I’m sure Eadryth loaded it perfectly.”

“Do you trust her that much?” Asked Heored’s mother.

“Certainly, she’s never let me down.” Feagrim adjusted the straps on the pack and looked towards the ground. “I’m the disappointing one.”

“I don’t think that’s true dear. Egerton is a little old-fashioned and stubborn,” Said Derntor’s wife.

“As I was just reminded, a father has to consider what is best for their family. I know Master mason Egerton Kursk wants what he feels is best for his daughter and I echo that desire. She is just as stubborn as her father.” Feagrim grinned. “She isn’t about to let him have his way, she has her mother’s rebellious streak too.”

Derntor and his wife shared a look.

Heored glanced meaningfully at Feagrim’s swords. “So I guess those mean you’re going to fight back now?”

“I just want to be well away from town before he gets the idea of coming after me,” said Feagrim, flatly.

A rooster crowed in the distance. Derntor stepped forwards and clapped Feagrim on the shoulder. “Daylight is burning and those feet have some work to do.”

Derntor’s wife opened her arms and gave Feagrim a hug. Heored gave him a brisk handshake.

Feagrim turned and left the shop behind. He made a straight line out of town on the road to Stormfort walking as quickly as he could.

*****

A heavy knocking shook the door. It had been raining hard most of the day so for anyone to come to their house in these conditions, Eorrid thought, it must be important indeed. She glanced to her brother who looked like he was going to continue eating and ignore whoever it was that was knocking. The knocking became a pounding that threatened to break the door. Nervously, she got up from the table and opened it. Outside stood the tall, muscular blacksmith, Derntor. His expression was one of anger, which softened as he looked at her.

“Sorry to intrude.” He looked past Eorrid and saw Garmer, her brother at the table, eating. He visibly relaxed. “I was looking for someone, they’re not here.”

“Why would you think anyone would be here?” Garmer spoke around his mouthful of food.

Derntor squinted over Eorrid and Garmer swallowed nervously. “They are not here, but you Are. That is all I needed to be certain of.”

Quietly, Eorrid asked, “Who are you looking for then?”

Derntor looked at the girl, her eyes looking down and to one side. “Not him. Again, I am sorry to bother you at supper. Excuse me.” He turned and walked back into the darkness.

Eorrid closed the door. She looked back at her brother as he was getting up from the table. He had that strange lopsided smile that meant trouble for someone. He was muttering.

“I’m not the one you’re looking for, but if you came here looking for someone, and it was you coming here looking for someone and it wasn’t me then I know who you’re looking for, don’t I. Oh, ho, something must have happened and HE went missing, how unfortunate.”

Eorrid slowly moved away from her brother and put some furniture between them.

“A little birdy told me that HE has been making plans to leave our sleepy little town, oh the misfortunes of the road. SHAME if something were to happen along the way, there are just so many things that can go wrong.”

Eorrid watched her brother put on a cloak and pick up a haversack he kept by the door. She knew he kept some food and other things in it. He took it everywhere and with it, he could stay away from home for a few days. Eorrid licked her lips, her mouth having gone dry. Her brother had been waiting for a chance to catch Feagrim away from town and had recently bragged about some new tools he had.

“It’s raining kind of hard,” her voice shook, “shouldn’t you wait until morning?”

He whirled on her. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re actually worried about brother dearest.” He fixed her with a penetrating gaze. “I was just going to have a meeting with your suitor to remind him you’re already spoken for.”

“I don’t need you to tell him that.” She couldn’t look at him. She felt the tremor in the floor from him walking closer.

“But you can’t tell him yourself. You’re too kind and too weak to go. So your brother will have to go for you. Aren’t you grateful for your dear brother and everything he does?”

“Yes,” she felt sick and was breaking out in a cold sweat. “I’m grateful for my brother.” He was inches away now. She could smell the mildew in his cloak.

“Then how about showing your brother dear a little of that gratitude?”

He reached out and brushed her hair with his hand. She flinched.

“Is this the gratitude you have for your brother?” he roared.

His leg lashed out, kicking her. The hard boot connected just above her hip. She hit the floor hard, holding her side. His haversack crashed to the floor and his cloak landed on top of it in a heap. He bent down and grabbed the hem of her dress and jerked it up to her chest.

She gasped, “Please! Brother, stop it!”

“Where is the gratitude? Where are my thanks for getting rid of that nosy invader that turned our home inside out?”

She writhed on the ground, trying to keep her knees together. She blinked just in time to see a fist coming. Her head snapped to the side and all she could see were bright pinpricks of light.

“What about silencing all those questions and all those people that kept getting in our way? All the things I did for you!”

His leather belt hit the floor by her head, and she tried to jump away from the sound.

“No more brother! Please!”

She felt his hands on her thighs, forcing them apart. Overwhelmed, she didn’t have the strength to resist him. There was a tug at her hip and a tearing sound. She felt a sudden chill at her groin.

“Not this brother! Please! No!”

He forced his hips between her knees. She could feel his hairy legs pricking her skin. His hands pinned her shoulders as he began to grind his crotch against hers.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Give me the gratitude I’m due! You’re mine! My sister and no one else gets you!”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, running around her swelling cheek. She was getting tired. He was thrusting against her thigh. His balls were chafing her skin and the flaccid penis dangled lifelessly. He started grinding against her vulva and remained as soft as new dough. Hopeless, she sobbed. He slapped her, hard. She stopped resisting, praying for it to end. Praying for a hero to save her. Suddenly he stopped and stood up.

He stooped and grabbed her by the throat. His fingers tightened choking off her air. Inches from her face he screamed, “I’ll just go put an end to this problem once and for all! I’ll take care of him! I’ll get rid of your suitor for you! Then I’ll come back for my gratitude!”

He dropped her. Her head bounced on the floor and she lay there gasping and gagging for breath. He stood over her half-naked, bruised body and dressed. He let his eyes wander over her soft legs and the sharp lines where her panties left a red mark when he jerked and tore them off. Finished, he picked up his cloak and haversack and walked out into the rain.

When the door closed, she curled into a ball and sobbed. Feelings of filth, disgust, and revulsion welled up and made her retch. Feebly she crawled to the table and gave up trying to pull herself up. She sank into despair and bawled.

After a time, she recovered herself a little. She remembered something her Auntie had said, “when all seems lost don’t wait for a hero, sometimes you need to be the hero and dig deep, find the strength.” Her brother had to be stopped, she had to warn Feagrim.

“But I am so ugly and disgusting how could I go to him?” She asked aloud, “how could he bear to look at me?” A memory drifted by. “He’s alone too. That’s my fault.”

She reached for the table and pulled herself up. The house was silent, the rain had stopped and the light was streaming through the windows. “Did I sleep? How long?” she asked the room. Limping, she went into her room and carefully redressed. She splashed some cold water on her face, tucked a few small vials into her belt, and left the house.

The air outside was cool and helped clear her head. The rest she pushed away, she had to find Feagrim before her brother. She rushed as fast as she could to the square. Nearly in a panic, she didn’t know who to ask about Feagrim. Despairing, she ran to the house of Elder Thordis. Limping and out of breath, she recognized the blacksmith’s son who was good friends with Feagrim coming out of the elder’s house.

“Where’s Feagraim? I have to warn him!”

“Hold on, you’re hurt!” he exclaimed.

“That doesn’t matter,” she gasped, “Feagrim is in danger.”

“Well, that’s a given. We need to get you fixed up. What’s happened?”

“Don’t mind that! I have to warn Feagrim.”

The elder’s grand-niece stepped out the door and cleared her throat. “A bit noisy this morning are we?” She pointed and said, “Stormfort. Good Luck.”

Eorrid looked at Catrine, then at Heored, and turned to go where she had pointed.

“Wait up now, you’re all banged up! Let’s get you taken care of first.” Said Heored.

“No time for that.” Eorrid turned and ran.

She ran until she couldn’t and slowed to a walk to catch her breath. She was tired and her bruises were aching but she kept moving. It wasn’t much longer she heard shouts.

“Why now? I’m leaving, isn’t that good enough?

“I’m gonna make sure you don’t come back!”

It was Feagrim and her brother, she was too late. She hurried.

“You’ll never bother my sister ever again!”

“I never bothered her to begin with!”

“She watches you all the time! You! Not me, her more deserving brother! Why? I want to know why!”

Feagrim had a large tree to his back, and her brother was inches away screaming in his face. Feagrim had the same placid expression as all the times before. Then he looked up. Her breath caught in her throat.

“I’ll tell you why she watches me! I stand up for others, I protect them from people like you that have a childish fit when they don’t get what they want! You ran off everyone that could have been a friend to her and kept her locked up. She doesn’t deserve to be saddled with someone like you!”

Of all the times her brother confronted Feagrim he’d never once pushed back. The indignant expression and his words tore at her heart.

Garmer roared with rage and lunged for Feagrim. Feagrim ducked and Garmer struck the tree, sending shards of bark into the air. He howled in pain and clutched his hand. Feagrim backed away, showing empty hands.

“We don’t have to do this.”

“I wasn’t going to kill you. Just gonna leave you for the monsters to finish off for me!”

Garmer lunged again and Feagrim tried to dodge, but Garmer tripped him. Feagrim fell prone and Eorrid’s heart fell. A sudden shadow dashed past her which made her stumble. A figure in a brown cloak stood over Feagrim and shoved a bewildered Garmer back. Garmer tackled the person in brown, yanking at the cloak and equipment strapped over their back.

“Get out of here, boy!” shouted the person in brown.

Feagrim scrambled to his feet. “Thanks, Asbjorn! I’ll owe you one!”

“The hell you will!” Asbjorn grunted as Garmer kneed him in the groin.

Feagrim turned and hastened down the road. Eorrid fell to her knees, thankful Feagrim was getting away. As she looked back up, to her horror, her brother had pulled a crossbow off Asbjorn, aimed it, and fired. The quarrel flew through the air and slammed into Feagrim’s back, so viscous was its flight it knocked him down. Feagrim laid face down in the grass unmoving. Garmer raised his arms in victory, shouting in glee. In one swift move, Asbjorn drew a sword and slashed at Garmer. She screamed as blood sprayed from her brother.

Garmer dropped the crossbow and clutched at his side. Asbjorn stepped closer and hilt punched him, blood spraying from his broken nose. Garmer went to his knees with a whimper.

Eorrid came to her senses and rushed forwards.

“Your brother will live if we can get him back,” said Asbjorn. He kneeled by the blubbering Garmer.

“What about Feagrim?” her voice cracked, panicking.

“Two choices, the dead or the dying, who can be saved?” Asbjorn ripped off Garmer’s tunic and used it to bind over the slash in his side. “I’ll help you get him home, but I won’t waste anymore effort on this fool. It’ll be up to you to decide his fate after that.”

Numbly, Eorrid helped Asbjorn get her brother to his feet and they began the long trek back to town and their house. She spared a look over her shoulder at the fallen Feagrim and whispered, “I failed him after all.” They walked in silence save for Garmer’s whimpering.

When they reached the town, people stopped to stare at the wounded Garmer and turned their backs. Near their house, the neighbors went back inside and slammed their doors. One person remained. A young woman with long sunbleached brown hair held in a tight braid wearing loose-fitting grey trousers and tunic common to those in marital training. Her grey-blue eyes were icy as she glared unrelentingly at Garmer.

“Your luck has run out Garmer,” she paused for emphasis, “Badgernag.” She turned her head to Eorrid. “I know you are his sister, but allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Eadryth Kursk. Right now I’m the only one that will sew this,” she looked him up and down, “creature back together.”

Garmer’s eyes went wide, he moaned, “no, no. . . “

“Sucks to be you, pal,” said Asbjorn. “You’re glad for the help, right?”

“My brother doesn’t seem. . . “ Eorrid tried to say.

“Too bad,” snapped Eadryth. “We know what’s been going on. We’re wasting time. Get in the house.”

Eorrid opened the door and they helped Garmer into his bed. Eadryth asked for water, needles, thread, and clean clothes while she prepared to sew up the slash Asbjorn gave Garmer.

“Pay attention, Eorrid, you’ll have to do this someday,” said Eadryth. She then proceeded to teach Eorrid how to stitch wounds and made her put in a stitch herself. Garmer whined and complained about the pain the entire time. She then dressed the wound in a clean cloth.

“Thanks, Asbjorn, we have it from here,” said Eadryth. “I just wanted you around in case Garmer wasn’t as wounded as he looked and he needed to be restrained.”

Garmer, sweaty and pale asked, “can I . . .”

Eadryth immediately snapped, “No.”

“Ladies,” said Asbjorn, “I’ll take my leave then. I need to collect Feagrim.”

Eorrid’s hand flew to her mouth, she choked, “oh, no I was so wrapped up with my brother I forgot Feagrim!”

“Yeah,” Garmer said weakly, “you really can forget him now.”

“Eorrid, a few words if I may, somewhere away from your brother,” said Eadryth.

“Alright,” Eorrid swallowed, “I guess my bedroom will be private.” She led Eadryth through the house and to her room.

Once the door was shut Eadryth’s demeanor changed. Her eyes softened and despite being in a training uniform suddenly seemed to give off the air of gentle nobility.

Eadryth began, “First, I’d like to apologize for my behavior this afternoon. Your brother has been causing a great deal of anguish to someone I care for and I can no longer overlook it. I am sure you know exactly what I am talking about so we don’t need to discuss that any further.”

“That’s alright,” said Eorrid, “I guess everything’s out in the open now.”

“Not quite,” said Eadryth, “you did something today that I did not have the courage to do. You ran after Feagrim. At first, I thought I had all these family obligations and couldn’t go with him to Stormfort. I looked up to him with his strength and thought I’d just slow him down. They were just excuses I made because I was scared. I got my mother to agree to training so I could get stronger so I could stand at his side because I thought I didn’t deserve to be with him.”

Eorrid waved her hands dismissively, “it wasn’t anything like that. I just felt responsible for my brother’s abuse and wanted to warn him.”

“But look at you.” Eadryth pointed at her bruises. “Those are new. You’re hiding it, but you’re limping. I saw torn clothes on the floor and right there,” she pointed at the dress tossed haphazardly on the bed, “is a dress that looks like it was torn up the front. Your brother did something pretty terrible and you still thought of Feagrim.”

“But I couldn’t get to him in time!” Eorrid burst into fresh tears. “He’s laying in the woods with an arrow in the back because my brother shot him!”

“I’m sure he isn’t dead,” said Eadryth, “I’d want to see the body before I believed it. Feagrim is too tough for something that simple to kill him.”

“How can you be so sure?” Eorrid rubbed at tears.

“Because I love him! I have for a very long time since he saved me from your brother when we were little. He’s my hero and he’s not dead.” Eadryth glared at Eorrid. “And I have to ask you how you feel about that. I saw you at the wake talking with him. I know everything he’s been through and I know a lot of what you might have been through, but there was something I could not do for him. Both of my parents are alive and well and they clearly care about me. Feagrim isn’t so lucky. You met up with him before I could and tried to reach out to him because you too had lost your parents. I want to see him healed and whole from his hurts and I saw you managed to reach that part I couldn’t. You stepped up and tried. Of course, I left you two to talk it out. Just try and deny that you don’t feel a connection to him from that!”

“He was kind. I didn’t know he’d been left alone like that, it made me feel so bad for him.”

“How do you think I feel right now when you came back with your brother and not Feagrim. Do you feel so little about him, to come back with your brother? That you would abandon the very person you just told me you felt bad about him being alone? And that person also refused to fight back against your brother because he was afraid he’d go too far and kill him, leaving you alone without any family. I know he told you that.”

Eorrid hung her head. Feagrim’s words rang in her head again. She felt her chest tighten. “I’ve made a big mistake.” She looked up at Eadryth, composed, her face full of kindness. “How can I make this right?”

“I’m so happy to see someone else care about him.” Eadryth sighed. “You’ll finish what you started. You’ll chase after him, you’ll stay with him, you won’t let him be alone. You’ll be that little ray of hope that keeps him going and reminds him of home.”

“He must be far down the road by now,” Eorrid despaired. “How can I catch up to him now?”

Eadryth said, “After the events of today, and knowing Garmer won’t be coming for him, he’ll take his time. If you hurry you’ll find him just after dark.” She took an ampule of dark liquid out of a pouch and took a satchel off her shoulder. “You won’t make it in that condition, drink this potion.”

“Is that a healing potion? I thought that was just a silly thing in stories!”

“It’s quite real. You’re going to Stormfort after all, you’ll see them regularly there. The satchel has a few things in it I could have added to Feagrim’s kit, except he probably wouldn’t be bothered to use them. Take it, it’ll be useful. Now go. I’ll look after your brother with all the attention he deserves.”

Eorrid pulled the stopper from the small ampule and took the draught. It was bitter and made her mouth pucker. Rapidly, the swelling on her cheek disappeared, the pain in her side faded, and the raw skin between her thighs where her brother had chafed her faded into nothing but a memory. In a word, she felt renewed.

Shouldering the satchel she headed straight out of the house without looking back. After a few minutes, she was retracing her steps. She heard Heored calling her name.

“Eorrid! Just a minute, my father has something important for you!”

“I’m in a hurry! What is it?”

“Come into the shop!” Heored held open the wicket for her to come in.

She stepped in and Derntor set his hammer down. He picked up a bundle that had been tucked between some tongs and tossed it to her.

“This was set aside for you half a year ago. I was asked to keep it ready in case there should ever be a need. Take it and may they serve you well.”

She unwrapped the bundle which seemed to be a thin wool cape and two slender objects. She realized she had run from the house without grabbing anything like spare clothes. The two other items were blades. One dagger with a smallish hilt and one a fair bit longer.

“That one is called a dirk,” said Derntor, “he wanted you to have something with more reach.” He picked his hammer back up and started to take something out of the forge.

“He?” she asked.

Derntor swung the hot iron onto the anvil and said one word as he brought the hammer down. “Feagrim.”

She rocked back on her heels. “Thanks,” she stammered, backing quickly to the door.

Heored let her out and gave her a wink before he shut the door.

Her mind whirled as she hurried down the road to Stormfort and left the town behind.