In a Weary World

Chapter XI: Decisions, Decisions

I am not afraid to fall
You can watch me lose it all
I'll get it wrong till I get it right
At least I'm making scenes in the meantime
-- Icon for Hire, Watch Me

"WHAT?"

This appeared to be "Give Hjalmar a Heart Attack" Day. He wished someone had thought to warn him beforehand.

"Well, naturally." Solvej had the audacity to look surprised. "Didn't you know? These magicians are all alike. The most reliable way to break a curse they cast is to fall in love with the victim. It was the same with that unpleasantness with the princess turned into a snake, and of course there was the prince who had his hands cut off."

Hjalmar hadn't a clue what she was chattering about, and he didn't feel up to questioning her. "I can't fall in love with Rigmor. I don't know anything about her!"

"You know who she is, and you know she's cursed."

"Neither of which is likely to make me fall in love with her! Besides, I can't get married yet. I couldn't support a wife."

Solvej's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "Aren't you forgetting your future wife is the princess? She'll be the one supporting you, not the other way round."

"Stop talking as if we're already engaged! You can't just... plan out our lives like this! Rigmor deserves a say in it, and if she's any sense she'll be as against it as I am."

"Unfortunately, the majority of princesses do not have any sense, or so it seems to me. If they had sense they wouldn't go around kissing toads or taking apples from strangers. I think Rigmor will be so happy to have a chance of breaking her curse she won't mind marrying you."

Hjalmar wasn't sure if he should be offended or not at the implication that if there was no curse, Rigmor would mind marrying him.

"You," he said instead, jabbing a finger in Solvej's direction, "have no right to decide who I marry. Or who Rigmor marries, for that matter. I will do my best to forget we ever had this conversation, and I won't even mention the curse and the goblin unless she brings it up."

~~~~

Circumstances have a nasty way of making a mess of even the best plans. Hjalmar's plan was not one of the best plans. It should not be surprising, then, that the next day Rigmor was waiting outside the shop when he arrived.

Before he could say a word, she grabbed his arm, pulled him down the side of the shop, and said with no preamble, "Will you help me kill a goblin?"

It said a great deal for what Hjalmar's life had become that his immediate reaction was to sigh wearily.

"Why me?" he asked the world in general.

Rigmor's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Because you're the only person who knows the truth about me?"

Hmm. There was that.

"Why do you want to kill it?" he said.

"Because I can't trust it not to run to the Magician and tell him where I am."

"I suppose that's true," he said doubtfully, "but killing it seems very... drastic."

Rigmor did an uncanny impression of Solvej's raised-eyebrow, "are you serious?" look. "It could get me killed. I just want to protect myself, and this seems the best way."

Hjalmar tried to collect his thoughts. Rigmor was holding a goblin prisoner. Rigmor wanted to kill said goblin. Rigmor wanted him to help her kill said goblin. Now, what should he do?