Private Tales A Grudge to Bear

[Lorinna Astarel]

Her helm sat in the driver's chair. Lorinna knew it was a bad choice, but she needed to breath. Her armour, usually so light and comfortable was now a heavy weight on her chest with each breath.

She hurt all over, but there was nothing that wouldn't heal quickly. At least she hoped not. The layers of armour had protected her, but the wolf had applied a terrifying force through its bite around her torso.

She dropped down from the wagon as the two approached. Hair plastered to her face, concern in her eyes.

"Come on, up," he said, more business-like than sympathetic as she wrapped an arm under Hector's shoulders and helped him embark.

She didn't know how many of the delicate toys had been crushed as boxes had been thrown around, but at least the barrels of expensive dwarven ale and spirits were in tact.

And, she thought as she looked at Duannin, some measure of revenge had been exacted by the dwarf.

She sat Hector down against a wooden box.

"Stay there unless I tell you that you can move," she said firmly, wagging a finger in front of his face. The arrow would have to come out, but first they needed to get moving again. She turned, wincing and moving awkwardly, as she went to set them off.

 

[Hector]

Propped up against the wooden box. His head was spinning. The world out of focus, as he tried to breath. His hands, clumsy, lifted his visor, and his wide eyes had trouble with the light, trouble with keeping focus. His head still rang, and his sallet helm pinched hard against his ears where the wolf had crushed down with its bite. Even some of his bevor pressed hard against his throat, and made it harder to breath.

He was rattled something fierce. More than a training yard accident, he knew that much, and even thinking about it was a hard task. Still, he smiled dumbly as Lorinna gave him an order.

"Got it," he said as he tried to track the fingers. His brow scrunched and he blinked. Breath hard to steady.

Duannin grunt as he worked off the wolf carcasses. "Shame these pelts'll go to waste," he grunt as one of the big wolves was rolled out the wagon. It thud hard as it hit the ground. "Would make an alright stew, too," he went on. "Too tough for steaks," he rolled s shoulder, and huffed a breath as he went about the cart and found any kit that might prove helpful.

Goblin spears, and a couple stray bolts that had hidden stuck between the supplies.

"How's our lil hero doin?" he asked as he checked on Hector while Lorinna got the cart rolling again.

"I'll live," Hector replied, quick.

Duannin nodded as the cart rattled to start it's roll again. "Aye, that you will," he pat the lad on the shoulder. "And I'll treat ya both to a proper feast in Jopton," gave him a wink. "Got a pretty nice inn there too," he said between them.

Hector blushed, and looked away. But he did smile a stupid smile.

Duannin laughed. And helped peal some of the armor off. The helm, and the sick spattered bevor, laid them to rest besides the elf. "Right then, let's get that arrow out of ye," he said as he took his bayonet off his crossbow.

The wagon bounced. Hector gulped.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

Lorinna listened to the conversation as she set them on the road. She didn't know the area but knew the rough plan. Rather than back through the area, she was looking for a crossroads that the dwarf had described. They would head south and then take a more travelled road that ran parallel to this dirt track.

She ran a hand through her hair. Silently reflecting on what had happened. Her hair was matted with sweat, sticking to her face as soon as her hand went back to the reins.

It all felt like a blur now, even as she tried to do as she was trained. Lorinna tried to think of what changes she could have made to alter the flow of battle. It was difficult when the tone of the dwarf's voice cut right through to memories of the night before.

There was a chance it would offend her father to use a peasant's weapon, but she was starting to think that learning how to use a spear would be useful for field skirmishes with lightly armoured infantry and cavalry.

Right then, lets get that arrow out of ye, he said as he took his bayonet off his crossbow.

"Hold on," Lori called back. She tied the reins once more. She slid off her gauntlets and placed them next to her helm and climbed into the back of the open wagon.

She grabbed a water skin, dashed some over the arrow and then gave him some to drink. Better to have that coming up than him dry wretching.

"Don't worry if you pass out," she said, ignoring the presence of the dwarf as she affectionately touched his cheek and gripped his hand. She placed her free hand against his shoulder near the wound and pressed Hector back firmly.

"It might come straight out with a sharp yank, but if it's stuck don't leave the arrowhead in there."

Duannin scoffed at being told how to deal with an arrow wound by someone so young. He wrapped a stretch of leather around the shaft, tightening it for group.

"Now Hector, you're going to..."

He surprised the young elf by pulling back suddenly and without warning.

 

[Hector]

The elf sucked in breath and growled through clenched teeth, whole body stiff as he squeezed Lorinna's hand. It had come out quick, enough, with some luck.

Still hurt like hell though. Still tore out some meat with it.

"Little past a full finger nail," Duannin grinned, holding up the bloody bodkin head. "Yer armor did most of its job," he said with a huff. "Keep it as a souvenir?" he waved the gruesome thing between the pair.

Hector sweat, and focused on his breath. His body cooled as each lungful turned from frantic, to steady. A slow progression. "You can, if you'd like," he smiled.

Duannin made a low grunt, amused. "Just might," the ranger said. And moved off to the front of the Wagon.

Eyes half lidded, and fighting to stay open, Hector looked at Lorinna. Her fine features fuzzed and bluured at the edges. "Should, probably practice my spearwork more," he said dreamily. His head lulled. "Maybe, we practice together?" he squeezed her hand. "Magicked," he muttered, and dozed off.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

She let it hit her. Lorinna had been acting from moment to moment, relying on her strength and her training to see her through. Her concern for him had been kept at bay, but now that barrier came down and it crashed over her like a wave.

It made her realise that they were going to see a lot of one another putting themselves on the line. She had cared about Hector for some time. What had happened the night before shouldn't have changed how she felt, but it did.

Lorinna took a slow, steadying breath. She let her hand slip from Hector's and brushed it against his cheek. He was warm to the touch. She placed a hand on his chest; he was breathing clearly.

The arrow hadn't been deep, but it could still get infected. Such a shallow wound had little chance of threatening someone as strong as Hector, but it would make the recovery worse.

"Which of these barrels has something strong for washing a wound?" She asked over her shoulder.

"Lass, you touch the forty two for washing a wound and I'll kill ye myself. Barrel with two X's on it is cheap grain whisky fit only for humans use a bit of that."

They were halfway to the village before she muttered an apology to the sleeping Hector before pressing a spirit-soaked cloth to the wound and held it there.

 

[Hector]

Rest came fitful. Hector's hearing, in and out as the rumble of the cart kept him from falling too far into any sleep he found as his head lolled about. When come the gentle press of fiery spirit to clean out his wound, he sucked sharp breath through his teeth, twitched and his eye blinked open after having squeezed shut. Saw the matted licks of a familiar gold. A fair face, even sweat sticky and disheveled. Blue eyes full of concern. And he closed his eyes again.

It wasn't long after that they arrived to Jopton, the townsolk wide eyed at the blood smeared and skirmish torn wagon.

"Hoy!" Duannin called out with a weird grin. "We got a barrel of forty two and in the back, and maybe a few toys still at that!"

The adults cheered, and the children looked confused. Some of the dwarven rangers who had survived the first ambuscade grinned and joined in he cheer, though one of their arms were in slings, and one hobbled on a crutch.

"Someone help these little acorn knights get good and washed up!" Duannin called out. Already helping heave a barrel off the back end of the wagon to the stout armed pickle vendor, who just heaved the thing onto his broad shoulder. "Oh and uh, mind the elf," he said almost soft, as Hector worked off the back of the cart with Lorinna's help. "Took a nasty rattle off the helm, I think,"

"What about the toys?!" One little boy called out as an elder man pushed off a puddle of wolf's blood with his wide broom. It splat onto the cobble road.

Hector had some trouble standing up straight, his head swimming. But he could walk. The noise of the crowd though, rang between his ears. "I need to lay down, I think," He said to Lori.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

"Of course," replied Lorinna. She took as much of his weight as she could.

She spared a glance over her shoulder. The children didn't care about the danger they had faced or what happened to the dwarves. That was fine, they were children, but them seeing the blood and gore across the wagon probably wasn't.

Duannin and the villagers could deal with that, she had Hector to tend to. One of the townsfolk came to help her. It turned out to be one of the daughters of the innkeeper. They got Hector to a room on the ground floor and sat him down.

There was no cost, she was told. Not for the room and not for the food. The story travelled fast.

"Sit up for a while, so I can get your armour off," she told him.

She leaned him against a wooden headboard, threw her gloves down and worked on the straps.

Word travelled quickly. As she slipped off Hector's boots she could hear two people at the bar recounting a tale of a tide of goblin riders.

 

[Hector]

Duannin, hearty old dwarf that he was, worked through the swollen hand and banged up arm, helped direct the villagers in getting the things off the cart. The cheaper cask that Lorinna had cracked open was being poured around as the tale of the Wolf Riders and the Acorns spread. Wings of fire, bolts of lightning, and a handsome dwarf with the strength of ten men.

Laughs. Cheer. And some poor sod who mopped up the blood while the kids were lead away and those toys that did survive were passed out. Siblings had to share. A toy per household. A toy per child who had no toys to their name. A toy for whoever had the good fortune to get one.

Hector sat up, straight and tall as he could. Thought it was a small challenge to keep his head up. His boots came loose and he flet a blush creep across his face.

"Must smell somethin awful," he said with a laugh. "Sorry," he said through the swimming feeling.

He couldn't really hold a thought in his head. "You ok?" he managed. "Hurt?" he asked, his fingers reached out to brush the side of her head. Clumsy. Lacked the deftness he knew they had. He grit his teeth, as his fingers clenched. Frustrated.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

"Yes and yes," she said plainly.

"You don't need to worry about..."

Lorinna had started to brush aside his concerns, part of her still in the mindset required for battle. She stopped when she realised he was concentrating so hard on reaching for her.

She grasped his shaking hand and held it firm to the side of her head. Her visage softened and she sighed quietly.

"I am alright Hector," she said. She looked at him and realised she'd slowly been building that barrier back up. They were alone now, she could accept those feelings.

"Just a bit bruised. You're going to get some rest and I'll get some food. Do you feel like eating yet?"

 

[Hector]

A sigh of relief, mixed with the strange frustration. His body still hot. His temper, strange amidst the feeling, like a hazy drunkenness. Her hand was over his, his hand against her sweat sticky hair. His eyes were hard to focus. His thoughts hard to form. He let his eyes come shut. Gave a nod, and even that seemed to cause him to stir.

The warm darkness behind his eyelids helped ease him some. Lorinna, more so. Steady and firm. He needn't worry. She was alright.

"Rest, right, yes, rest is good." he stopped to think. Realization came slowly through the soup. "Food," he repeated.

His stomach felt tight. Knotted. There was an acrid quality to the air about him. He could smell it with each deep and tired lungful.

"No," he said, his face scrunched. "I... don't really feel, hungry," he confessed, and nodded down to his gambeson. "Help me out of it?" he asked. "It reeks," blood, sweat and sick.

A knock came hard at the door, and Hector winced.

"Oy, you acorns in there?" it was Duannin. "Folks out here want to meet the heroes!" he laughed, his voice hot with the haze of drink. "Plenty of food for ya!" he called out. Another set of hard knocks.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

Lorinna grimaced. She raised a hand and took a breath.

"Wait here for just a moment," she said to Hector. She stood sharply and turned for the door.

Lorinna lifted the latch and opened it barely an inch.

"We may come out for food later. Hector is hurt. I am tending to him," she said. She was trying not to sound rude, but was certainly curt.

"I would be grateful if you could check if there is a local healer."

She knew there wasn't much to be done for a blow to the head, but the arrow wound probably wanted cleaning and stitching nearly.

 

[Hector]

Duannin gave her a foolhardy grin, a stout little cup full of amber drink in his good hand. He nodded. "Right right, knocked in the head," he laughed a weird laugh. "Then he went and crashed off the cart like crazed stag!" he thwumped his hand into the palm of the other. Made a face like it hurt, and it likely did. At somepoint, the bruised appendage had been wrapped up.

"Ayy, alright, I'll go and, ask around for a healer," he thrust the cup forward. "Don't chu two go hiding around for too long tho!" he laughed louder. Then stopped, tried to peek in to the doorway. "Less you want ol' Duannin to take most of the songs they'll sing for himself!" he smiled, a near greasy thing, peeled his eye away and made off, humming some diddy that could be heard plucked on strings down the hall.

An acorn and acorn did rattle and roll, and the stout armed ranger did fire and dole
Sharp pinions and bolts, flied straight and true!
For the goblins felled Jopton, hoarding the brew!

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

Lori took a breath when the dwarf walked away. She was glad that he could follow a direct instruction, even if he couldn't take a hint.


She wondered if he would even find a healer or if he get distracted by the crowd and the ale.

She turned back towards Hector and offered a small smile. There was a lot to get done. She needed to get Hector tidied up, get his wound properly cleaned and stitched, to clean up her own armour and sword.

A few long strides took her back to Hector's side. There was too much on her mind, she knew. One thing at a time.

Lorinna placed a hand to his cheek and gave a slow nod.

"Can you sit at the edge of the bed? Let's get these off you and then I'll find someone who can stitch you."

 

[Hector]

Hector had managed, brutishly, to undo the cords of his gambeson, the padded shell of wool and linen cracked open, his undershirt stuck with sweat to his body beneath. The smell, dank and funky, but nothing more alarming than old sweat and scabbing blood. And the lingering sourness from his earlier bout of nausea.

Brow knit and downpointed, made heavy with his frustration, Hector glowered at his hands. His mood hot. The knocks of long strides brought his eyes up, and Lorinna's cool gaze found him. Her touch helped sooth him. She made a request, he nod and took in a breath.

Got up, felt things, lurch and shift. He plopped down onto the bed, a little off. He felt his temper rise again. His eyes narrowed and sharp as his lips pulled down.

He'd been hit before. He had fought before. Killed before. "I feel fucking useless," he hissed. And all it took was a bad hit to the head.

Part of him knew the reasons why. Recalled the lectures in the training yard, and the healer's hut. But that part of him was set to swirl just as much as the rest of him. He couldn't grab that part of himself right now.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

"You kept a pack of wolf riders at bay with a wave of fire magic," she said firmly. "You will be fine, but you will need rest."

Lorinna was used to following others around. When Hector needed her to, she took on a commanding demeanour.

She finished helping him undress. That was certainly harder to do whilst keeping the same attitude. A few weeks ago it would have been much easier to remain solely concerned for his health and not indulging in recent memories.

"The fight is done," she said, laying him back. "We'll get you patched up, we'll eat and then rest. Can get you washed up in the morning but we'll..."

There was a knock on the door. To her surprise the dwarf had come through. A young man carried a wooden box into the room. Knowing these small towns, he probably had a mix of pretend cures and effective medicines.

Lorinna explained the arrow wound and watched as he retrieved metal tweezers and thread.

 

[Hector]

Careful, steady hands pulled the hooked needle through with the fine nosed tweezers. Wolton, as he had introduced himself, had learned a thing or two from a knight some years back, who'd ranged across the spine with his counterpart. "Odd dwarf, Syr Gwyn, I think her name was," he shared. But that was before he had set to the work.

Said he owed her for the trade he practiced, and least he could do was tend to squires of the same order. Heroes of a new day or not. "Owe her my trade," he had said as he boiled the thread he now pulled through Hector's wound with gentle tugs. Another pass of the hook, in through the swollen red flesh, and out the other side. Hector winced, but remembered to keep his breathing steady.

It helped that Lori was nearby. A cool comfort that staved off his odd temper. Head still aching with a dull hot pounding.

"Well," Wolton said with some finality. "That should do it," he gave a nod, and put his bloody tools in a tin bowl. Washed his hands in a separate water basin, and pulled a small clay pot, sealed with waxed linen, and hemp twine.

"Put this o'er the wound, and it should keep from gettin infection," he gave another reassuring nod. "Witchazel oil worked in some beeswax," the look in his eye said what he didn't. Stuff didn't come cheap. But the proud smile said on the house. "Left some clean linen bandages on the table for ya aswell, figured," he tilt his head down toward the strewn form of Hector. "Might be easier if a familiar hand gave the care," he smiled, as he collected his things and made to go.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

She watched carefully, placing a hand over his. She knew, objectively, that his health was what mattered right now. It still caused a swell of feelings to hold him gently, even as he was gritting his teeth as he was stitched.

Lorinna washed her hands after seeing Woolton out. She looked over what Woolton had left for them. Even she had picked up a few lessons around medical treatment with the order.

"Do you want to rest for a while and let it air before we do this?" She asked.

 

[Hector]

"Rest sounds nice," he added. Worked himself back some. "Heads still all... a mess," his breathing came easier though. The sounds of the festivities outside still thrummed through the old wood and stone of the room's walls. Distant, but never quite gone.

His long sensitive ears seemed to hug his head closer, and his face never quite lost all the strain and tension that came with constant pains.

"You're tough as iron, Astarel," he said with half-stupid smile. "But you're over here beein so sweet," he pat the cot. "Rest with me?" he offered. But fatigue came quick, what reprieve had been found with the healing and the care was salve enough to put him to rest. Whether it came after seconds, or minutes, Hector couldn't say.

---

Come morning, Hector would awake to find himself bandaged. Arrow wound hurt some, but it felt, put together enough. His head still ached, with a thin veil of fog and pressure about the sides of his thoughts. But it wasn't the soup he was in the night before. His muscles felt heavy, still wanting more rest. But he also felt hungry.

The elf's eyes looked about, saw Lori slumped over in a chair. A candle on the end table beside her, burned low, near fully spent in its pan.

He moved quiet as he could, kept his groans and pained hitches behind his lips, and got himself up. In his small clothes, he looked around for his pack. Felt his head was still abit swimmy if he moved too fast. Breathed deep. He was hurt. No shame in remembering that.

He sat at the edge of the cot, fingers gripped about the ledge of the frame. They were alright. They had won the day, and he would recover. His eyes looked to Lorinna, and he allowed himself to smile.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

One long breath in was louder than the ones that had come before. Lorinna blinked her eyes open slowly, before suddenly lifting her head as she remembered the situation Hector was in.

Her eyes went straight to him. Her expression softened when she saw him sat on the edge of the bed.

"Morning," she mumbled, sitting up straighter. She looked around herself, becoming reacquainted with their surroundings.

She had been exhausted in battle and then stayed up late watching over Hector to check that he didn't become feverish. Lori was certain she could have closed her eyes and slept another half a day in the chair.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, sitting forwards in the chair.

 

[Hector]

"Like I got lucky," Hector admitted his eyes down on the floor. "Head still hurts and... my mood is foul," he took in a long breath. Let it out slow. "But better," his eyes came up to see her, smiled faintly. "Sorry for the grumblin," he looked down at his legs, felt them a bit heavy as he wiggled his toes and eased his weight onto their planted pads.

He felt a pit in his stomach. A rumble. "Feelin hungry at least, that's a good sign, right?"

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

"It's probably a good sign," she said.

Lorinna smiled and nodded slowly.

She placed her hands on her knees and stood up. Everything ached, but she reminded herself that Hector was in far worse condition and pushed it deep down.

"We can get some food, get you cleaned up. Rest the day and night and then get a wagon back home," she said.

"And get you better armour with less gaps in it."

 

[Hector]

Hector gulped, his heart quickened some as Lori stood Infront of him.

"Be some months before I can afford the materials, but, you'e right," he smiled, and shook his head. Felt it swim some. Let a moment pass before he went on. "Need better articulation in the pauldrons," he took in a deep breath, and was met with the low scent of dried sweat.

"I don't have to eat right away," he added. Thought of the little thimble berries he had found betwixt the brambles and leaves, pink and dew kissed in the morning before the ambush.

Gulped again as he thought about the night that came before. All they had given and all they had shared.

He stood, felt his balance lilt, but reached out to grab her gently by the wrist, let his hand go easy up her arm. A bit heavy, a little clumsy in the way it rasped across the fabric.

"I kinda just want to hold ya, to be honest," he wrapped his arms around her, would hold her tighter if she allowed. Leaned back to look in her eyes, "I mean, if that's alright," he smirked. "Maybe kill two birds with one stone if we, I don't know, take a nice bath?" He blushed, but didn't look away. Let his wide hands press into her muscles that he was sure felt strained and tired.

"Do us both some good I think," he let go, and his step strayed from the sure straight stride he normally walked with, but he managed to get to where his trousers and tunic had been placed. Clumsily, near falling over, he managed to get his trousers on. "Maybe we can even find some nice oils or soaps," he said absently, and started slipping on his tunic. Got stuck with his arms raised up and his ears poking at the fabric.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

Be some months before I can afford the materials, but, youe right,

A look of shame crossed her face. She could easily forget that not everyone had a land owning father could could afford cortosi manufactured steel plate.

She couldn't just tell someone to get better armour. Her suit had probably cost...

Lorinna realised she actually didn't know how much it had cost. Was it the annual wage of one peasant or a thousand?

Lorinna took part of his weight before embracing him gently. She actually let some relief wash over. It surprised her how it washed away her walls, leaving her feeling raw and exposed.

Do us both some good I think,

It wasn't what she had expected. It caught her off guard. A fierce blush crawled up her neck.

"Oh," she went.

As he stepped away she swallowed. She realised that her silence might have been taken for rejection.

"If you're feeling a little better," she said, trying to draw a line that made her feel responsible. She watched him redress.

"I'll get a little food," she said, stepping up behind him and helping to get his tunic over his head. She placed a hand against his hip. "And ask them to draw up a bath."

 

[Hector]

"I am, I think," He laughed. Smiled, a bit sheepish. Funny, how intimate everything felt between them now. How the sound of her voice against his ear had him feelin all kinds of better. Her hand on his hip.

"That sounds nice," he said, felt a bit like goo with her so close behind him. He craned his neck to find those cool blue eyes of hers. Twist about and turned his feet. Bumped against her, hip to hip, steadied himself with his hands against her hips. Felt the sturdiness of her frame. "Think maybe a kiss would make me feel a little better though," he let his head rest gently against hers.

He wanted her to want him too. Wounded or not. Hungry or not. They had won together.

 

[Lorinna Astarel]

"Would it now?" She asked after a silence that stretched out a little too long. She swallowed.

"You need to rest," she said. It sounded far more like an observation than an attempt to chastise him.

It was deeply endearing when he focused on her despite all he had been through. Remembering that he wasn't just any fellow squire that had been hurt, but Hector and remember what had happened for the very first time the night before had her stomach doing small flips.

What had he said again? Like this, like animals in the wilds. Something to that effect. Lorinna had been so dutiful in her studies and training. It had all been put aside for a few hours of admitting and taking what she had wanted.

She buried her growing nerves in the kiss.

Im kissing Hector again, rang out the small voice despite her attempts to silence it. One hand held him firmly, ensuring he couldn't fall. The other meandered around on its own accord. Remapping contours and shortening the space between then and now.