The Paladin: a story of Faith

Winter

By the time the paladin was ready to quit her bed for more than her personal needs, snow had fallen outside the cabin to such a depth that it was impossible for the paladin to return home or even consider making such a trip. Despite her pride, the paladin had to admit that her own clothing and boots were inadequate protection from the cold, winter mountain weather. That same pride prevented her from accepting beyond temporary wear, the warm clothing that Teech offered.

Though made for a slightly taller woman of greater heft, the paladin found the clothing Teech offered to be comfortable. Still though, she was determined, when she returned home, to be dressed in her own clothing and armored besides, as a paladin should. According to Teech, her own armor and weapon had been looted after the honor guard had fallen and the paladin was willing to accept that as fact.

Since every paladin began training by making his own armor after being knighted, the paladin had no doubt that she could make more before returning home, lest she arrive in disgrace. Unfortunately, it meant that she was forced to rely on the hospitality of her enemy until that task could be completed.

At first, the paladin held herself aloof from her host, speaking only to ask questions or answer them. She'd been born of a noble household and raised as a warrior, served by others and no man's servant. Thus, she had never learned to do any of the mundane chores necessary to the keeping of a home, nor did she care to learn, but expected to be waited on as a matter of course. She viewed these chores in the same light as the work of the many servants in her father's home.

As the winter wore on, sheer boredom pulled the paladin into seeking to assist her host at his routine tasks until, as the months wore on, they carried out almost every task side-by-side. They split and carried firewood, drew water from the spring for cooking, drinking, washing and cleaning. They hunted, then butchered what they brought home. The paladin learned to cure leather, to dry down 'jerked' meat, to cook, wash laundry and dishes, even to boil sap into a sweet syrup.

Despite all of this, the paladin held herself emotionally aloof from her host, allowing him to refer to her simply as 'paladin', rather than offering her name for him to call her by. He was a ridge runner, after all, an enemy to her people. To give any enemy her name was to give him power over her.

He'd only nodded evenly when she'd explained it to him one evening, early in winter when he'd told her the tale of how he'd earned his own name. With a somber expression, he'd taken a sip of his cider. "I know that; why do you think I never asked?"

"They why did you give me yours?" she'd challenged. "You even gave me the origin. Do you not think that gives me an advantage?"

He chuckled. "Sure, it gives you an advantage; you know how to get my attention when you need it. Knowing what a gift is called don't mean you can steal it from me though. It ain't something you can just pick up and walk off with- it's who I am in the presence of my God, not what I have."

He paused but the paladin didn't reply, trying to understand the concept. "I pray you'll understand it fer yourself, one day," he finally finished in a quiet voice, as if he feared overstepping his bounds.

Despite the gentle quality of his voice, Teech's piercing expression made the paladin want to squirm. Instead, she dropped her gaze to her own, clay mug of cider, thinking about how to respond. "Having your name gives me the power of curse or blessing," she reminded him. "Have you no fear of any curse I could lay on your head?"

"Nope." His answer was immediate and confident.

The paladin looked up at him in surprise. "Why not?"

"Because my God is my shield, my glory and He who raises my head," (1) Teech explained mildly. "Curses are like little birds in flight (2); they don't come and rest on the undeserving, and since I don't deserve your curse, my God will return good to me in place of your curse (3)."