Kveldulf rested in his bed, feeling the heat of the fire warm his bed from a short distance away. He stretched his neck, and his arms and legs, as much as he could before he aggravated the wounds. As his muscles relaxed his thoughts wandered to no one particular matter. He sometimes felt his leg jerk suddenly, before he let himself be at ease.

He kept his eyes closed as he heard his door open and a soft shuffle of footsteps move towards his bed. Only when he felt someone climb into the other side of his bed did he look out of the corner of his eye to Jeanne looking back at him. “Hi,” she said, with a big smile on her face.

“What do you want?” Kveldulf asked, letting out a small groan.

“I’m bored. Entertain me,” she said, poking his cheek with a finger.

“Jeanne, I am not here for your entertainment.”

“Yes, you are,” she said in a sing-song tune, poking his shoulder repeatedly.

“Jeanne,” he said looking back up at the ceiling, “I’m going to need you to swat at yourself for a moment, or five, or something.”

Jeanne rolled onto her back. “What happened to your sense of adventure?”

“It’s recovering from having two arrows being pulled out of me Jeanne.”

“Well, if you’re going to apply logic and reasoning to everything, I don’t know where our friendship is going to lead to.”

“For Rett’s justice, why are you doing this?”

“I told you, I’m bored.”

“Isn’t there some stray animal you could play with in the meantime.”

“Oh, they’re horrible company. Always giving me that look like I haven’t fed them in years not even before they finished the bit of bread I gave them. Damned ingrates.”

Kveldulf began pressing his hand on Jeanne’s shoulder.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Trying to push you off the bed.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not ready for this level of madness.”

“You should’ve know this when you signed on for a friendship with me.”

“I didn’t!” he cried out. “We were forced into the same squad.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Gods, why are you doing this?”

“I told you, I’m bored. And Doc isn’t around to annoy.”

“Do you have to annoy people on a constant basis, Jeanne?”

“If I don’t maintain my personable skills, they’ll start to dull.”

“Personable?” Kveldulf asked, “is that what you’re calling it?”

“Oh, shut up,” she replied, grabbing a pillow and smacking his head.

“I’m surprised he showed up when he did.”

“We were lucky he was in the area,” she said, clasping her hands together.

“You didn’t think he would?”

She shrugged as she laid in bed. “There was a moment when I didn’t think he would. Our last parting was … tense.”

“Should I ask?”

“I might’ve brought up a sore subject and he cursed me out. Cursed me out a lot, actually.”

Kveldulf turned to back to her. “The fuck did you say?”

“I can’t remember the exact wording. But I know I made some joke at someone’s expense. Some one who died and he was good friends with. And he did not find the joke amusing.”

“How bad was it?”

“You know how I can get the word fuck as every other word?”

“Oh yeah.”

“He was getting them in between words, as verbs, adjectives, and gerunds.”

“The hell is a gerund?”

“Fuck if I know, but he was pulling them out of the woodworks left and right.”

“I can’t say I know the man well, but he didn’t to be of that type of foul mouthed.”

“I didn’t either, and then … well, I saw it firsthand.”

“Well, good thing he doesn’t hold grudges.”

“Mine wasn’t the greater offense,” Jeanne replied, twiddling her thumbs.

“Should I ask?”

“It’s a long story, and I don’t know all the details, honestly.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Fair,” Kveldulf said, stretching his neck out. “How are your ribs feeling?”

“Hurts like a proper motherfucker. How about your new blowholes?”

“Is that what you’re calling them?”

“I mean, they’re too small for proper fornication.”

Kveldulf looked down and pondered the thought. “Probably not deep enough either.”

“By the Shepherd!” Jeanne exclaimed. “You’re worse than me, sometimes.”

“You’re the one who brought it up!”

“Doesn’t mean I want to hear that, Kel.”

“Then don’t open the door.”

“I’m starting to think I’ve had a bad influence on you.”

“Now you’re starting to recognize this.”

Both began laughing, Kveldulf wincing in pain and gripping his torso tightly.

“Everything all right?” Jeanne asked.

Kveldulf nodded quickly. “Yeah, sometimes it hurts to laugh. But I’m fine.

“You should still rest, let your body recover.”

“It’s been a week and a half,” Kveldulf grunted. “How much longer do I have to wait?”

“Doc said a few more days and you shouldn’t need to be stuck in the bed anymore.”

“I feel like a newborn babe, being stuck in this damned bed.”

“At least you’re not being swaddled or having your diapers changed.”

“As much as I’d joke about both, I’ll count my blessings.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Kveldulf looked back up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath.

“Everything all right?” Jeanne asked.

“Yeah,” he said somberly, “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“A lot of things, honestly. But mostly I’ve been thinking about my parents.”

“Oh,” Jeanne said, “we don’t have to talk about that, Kel.”

“Well, I don’t even know where to start. Even now, back here of all places, I feel cut off. Divorced from all sense of identity. As if shackled to a cold-hearted sea, unable to find warmth or refuge no matter how hard I tried. Forced down an exile’s path despite how much I wish to change my fate. And in the last few days, as I’ve been laying here, stuck in this bed with only my spirit-coffers to count in my mind.”

“S-spirit coffers?” Jeanne interjected.

“Thoughts, Jeanne, I meant thoughts.”

“Well just say thoughts.”

“I was trying to be poetic.”

“We are not poets, Kel.”

“I will put you in the pit!”

“You haven’t even dug a pit!”

“I will dig a pit and put you in it. And that’s not even the point!”

Jeanne lifted an eyebrow. “What was your point?”

“There’s a good chance that I’m the last of my line. If I didn’t make it through,” he waved his hand over where he had been hit, “this, there’d be no one else to speak for my kin. To try and remove this stain on our house. We’d be forever known as curs and villains, without a shred of valor and honor to our name. How many before were exiled from the Golden Hall, for crimes committed after their passing? How many robbed of their rightly earned place, because of actions they had no power to influence sentences them to eternal damnation.

“And if I died before anything could be done, then that’s it. Nothing could be done to change any of this. I’d be another failure,” Kveldulf said, his mood growing dark and despondent. “My parents raised me better than that, they wouldn’t stand for me to find my end from some random brigand on the road.”

Jeanne put her and on his shoulder. “Kel, you shouldn’t be putting this much responsibility on your shoulders.”

“Someone has to, Jeanne,” Kveldulf replied. “There’s no one else out there. As far as I know, I’m the last one. Who can do this.”

“But is this what you want?”

Kveldulf rubbed his eyes, his stomach felt as if it was churning and his innards quivering. “I just don’t want my parents to suffer for something they never did. And for people who never knew them to stop cursing their names when they took no time to understand them as people. I’m just tired of everything we’ve done, and still do, being demeaned and mocked and hated by the people who used to drink to our names and sing songs of our accomplishments. I just … I just want us to be treated fairly again.”

“Well,” Jeanne said, patting him on the shoulder and slowly crawling out of bed, “perhaps those of your house kept watch over you to make sure you’re still in the fight.”

“Maybe,” Kveldulf said. “Maybe.”

As Jeanne made her way out of the room, Kveldulf looked out of the opened shutters, seeing the stars slowly moving by his window. He remembered when as a child, his father telling the old legend of his ancestor, Arnulf Whitehorse, facing the dreaded lord Nikatas defending the city of Orumus:

Battle was joined in brutal carnage

Death became the master this day

Arnulf gave his all, honored thane

Song singing blade shook the sky

Terrible was the foe, true in spirit

Cursed fiend, Niketas, killing all

Valiant defenders falling before him

His vile blade, horrible its effect

Woe touched Arnulf’s wild heart

Seeing friends sundered in full

Harsh winters bowed to his wrath

Letting loose his war cry

Arnulf unleashed his warsong

Becoming more beast than man

Strikes from his sword shook the earth

Niketas kept himself, never yielding

Til’ both tore flesh from bone

When both were worn from terrible war

Arnulf hewed his for in two

Terror taking the foe’s heart

City save, honor won, still unconquered

Kveldulf remembered the energy his father had when reciting those words. How Kveldulf imagined himself standing next to his legendary ancestor. Defending the city from complete destruction, proving his skill and honor beyond all doubt. He found it troubling how what he found pride in the most caused him the greatest pain in his heart.

All he wanted was to know he had made his parents proud. That he had proven to his ancestors that all their pain, all their sacrifices were not in vain. But he felt as if this was not a destiny of his choosing, but one given without a thought to what he wanted. Only want was demanded, and now for the first time in a long time, he wished he was truly free of any relation to something which afforded him more pain than pride.

And it broke his heart to even fathom the thought.