Love and Bounty

Chapter Four: More Than Meets The Eye

Young Hrolf had found a particularly interesting stick. It was perfectly straight with a couple of nubs serving as a hilt. Every good warrior needed their blade—the Wuuthrad to their Ysgramor—and he found an excellent one. He gave a bone-thin tree next to him a harsh whack, and the force of the blow rippled through his arms and shoulders nicely, so he struck again. And again. And again. Before he knew it, his little child arms were worn out from all of the swinging.

Pinecones crunched on the ground behind him, and when he turned, his pa was there.

"What's my boy up to?" he asked, smiling bright through his thick, blond beard.

Hrolf beamed up at him and presented his prize. "I found a sword! See?"

Pa chuckled and ruffled the boy's bright blond hair. "I see that," he said. "Looks like you did some good damage with it."

A scratch or two had been left on the immature tree-trunk. Pride swelled in the young Nord's chest, but he knew a real blade could do more.

"Papa," Hrolf began, "can I start training with real swords soon?"

He gave it some thought, stroking his bearded chin. "Maybe not a sword yet," he said, "but a dagger should suit you. We'll see if ma can whip one up for you, alright?"

The boy jumped for joy at the mere thought of having a blade of his own. "Yes! I'll be just like Ysmir one day, pa! I promise!"

Pa's expression sank, his rugged features hardening as he shook his head. "I like the enthusiasm, Hrolf, but you don't need to be like Ysmir."

The boy's enthusiasm slowly began to fade, and confusion set in.

"Ysmir didn't say he would become who he was," he explained, crouching down to his level. He smiled warmly and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, the folds under his eyes creasing dark. "He just did. That's who he was. So if you do become like Ysmir, son, do it because it's who you are." His affectionate grip tightened. "But regardless of what happens, you'll always be my and your mama's little warrior."

Young Hrolf gazed up at his father with wonder, even as he was crouched before him.

"Even when you have nothing, you always have yourself," Pa continued. "Don't sacrifice that for anything, Hrolf—even if it would mean becoming Ysmir."

Hrolf furrowed his brow, and he gave a resolute nod to his father. "I won't, papa."

The corners of the man's smile were shrouded by his beard, but the happiness on his face was plain to see. "Good. You really do make me proud."

. . .

The wind murmured in Hrolf's ears as he found himself laying under the gaping entrance of a cave, and just beyond it, a sky full of stars. The auroras, alight with peridot and sapphire hues amongst the winking stars, wavered before the awesome glow of the twin moons, bright and looming in all of their glory. He hadn't seen a night this clear in a long time, but... how did he get here?

A campfire blazed mere feet away. A few women were huddled around it, one of which he instantly recognized: his employer's sister, Deeja.

The two women he didn't recognize spoke in hushed tones, but he couldn't make out any words amidst the whistling wind. The Argonian, however, eyed the flames with a vacant stare, as if her mind were elsewhere. The firelight glittered in her eyes and danced against her scales, firewood cracking and embers swirling as she inched ever so closer to the ravenous source of warmth.

That was, until her slitted gaze turned to Hrolf.

Deeja's eyes shot wide open, her slitted pupils dilating in an instant as if she'd been startled. "Don't do that!" she growled, her reptilian features contorting into a venomous scowl.