As Brynjar slowly regained consciousness the first thing he noticed was the cold and the wet. He was lying in the grass and his clothes were soaked with dew. He slowly remembered collapsing in the grass after running from Ivarstead, from the inn, from his mother, from the blood. He cried out in anguish as the memories cleared in his mind. Gradually he opened his eyes, got to his feet and found his bearings. He slowly started making his way back home the grief at the death of his mother and the fear of what he would face when he returned twisted inside him like a great worm.
He crossed the bridge and made his way through the town slowly becoming aware of everybody staring at him. He looked around, taking in their stares, some grim, some sad, some filled with pity for the poor grief stricken boy they saw before them. He saw Alfvar and Fulka sadly watching him, when they saw him meet their gaze Fulka gave him a wave that Brynjar didn’t return. He looked at his feet as he continued on past the inn and on towards his home.
As he got closer, he saw his father standing outside their house with Leif and Frigga. Frigga was holding Balgruuf’s hand, clearly trying to comfort him and Leif was saying something but Balgruuf barely seemed to be aware of either of them. Balgruuf looked looked up and saw his son and immediately ran towards him. Snatching Brynjar up in his arms he held him tightly almost crushing the air from his lungs.
“My Boy, thank the Gods,” he set Brynjar back down and they made their way back to Leif and Frigga.
Frigga hugged Brynjar tightly telling him it would be alright and Leif placed his hand on Brynjar’s shoulder trying telling him to be brave for his mother.
As the day continued various friends of the family came by to say how sorry they were and ask if there was anything they could do. Some of the women would bring food they would kneel down by the corner where Brynjar was sitting on the floor and tell him it would be alright and that lots of people were there for him and his father. Brynjar would nod and mumble thanks while trying to remember his mother’s face without the memory of the blood rising up in his mind.
After a few hours of this a priest of Arkay arrived and sat with Balgruuf. He took him through the arrangements for Hilde’s funeral and discussed what hilde would have wanted. Brynjar had been trying not to think of this and to hear his mother’s funeral discussed in the same room was more than he could bear. He got up from the floor and headed out to try to get some air. He found his friends Alfvar and Fulka sitting by the river. He sat with them and they watched the water flowing by in silence.
When Brynjar returned to the house the priest was leaving but the guard captain was just arriving. He nodded to Brynjar and gave a friendly smile and then knocked on the door. Balgruuf welcomed him in and Brynjar sat beside his father. The captain sat down facing them both and after spending a while looking carefully at the pair of them he finally spoke.
“Balgruuf, Brynjar first let me say how very sorry I am for your loss, we have been investigating the events in the inn last night and believe we have learned what happened. A group of mercenaries from Eastmarch were heading back home from Riften and chose to stay at the inn. It seems that they started insulting the locals and were clearly spoiling for a fight. The brawl began and during that time someone hit Hilde on the back of the head with a heavy clay jug.”
Balgruuf looked at the captain, his face not betraying any emotion”Who did it, who killed my wife?”
“I’m sorry, we’ve questioned everyone who was there and no-one seems to know who did it. We will continue to investigate but if no-one comes forward as a witness we can’t try anyone for her murder.”
“So what will happen?” Balgruuf asked his face turning dark.
“We have locked up the mercenaries and charged them with disturbing the peace they will cool their heels in the cells for the next week, face a hefty fine and then be escorted to the northern border of the hold.”
Balgruuf was on his feet in a moment looking down at the captain ”What are you saying? What about justice for Hilde? Someone comes to town kills my wife and is allowed to leave after a week in the cells?”
The captain stood up looking sorrowfully at Balgruuf “I’m sorry but without a witness we cannot prove any of them did it. It could just as easily been someone from this village.”
Balgruuf clenched his fist and spoke very calmly “Thank your for your efforts captain. As you know I have a contract to make new swords for the guards of the hold. I will not be completing it. Please come back tomorrow and I will return the gold already paid.”
Brynjar looked up at his father in shock but Balgruuf saw this and raised a hand to silence him.
The captain was clearly frustrated “Balgruuf I know this is a very hard time and I know this is not what you wanted to hear but you promised to make us those swords and we need them.”
“And when you put on that uniform you promised to protect the people of this hold and catch criminals so it seems to me we are both breaking our word. Now get out of my home.”
The captain walked to the door but before leaving turned to try one more time to reason with Balgruuf “Please take some time and...”
“GET OUT!!!”
When the captain was gone Balgruuf grabbed a bottle of mead and a cup and sat down by the fire and began to drink.
Two days had gone by since the argument with the captain. A guard had come by and Balgruuf had wordlessly handed the bag of gold payed for the sword contract. Apart form that he had barely moved from his seat by the fire except to relieve himself or get fresh bottles of mead or ale. Brynjar brought wood for the fire and occasionally brought his father some food or tried to talk to him. Balgruuf remained silent and the food went uneaten. Finally relief came with the return of the priest of Arkay. The priest sat by the fire opposite Balgruuf. Brynjar brought him some ale and honeyed cakes for which the priest thanked him.
He took a sip of the ale and spoke to Balgruuf “The arrangements for Hilde's funeral are progressing. She has been tended to at the Hall of the Dead but you have not been to see her before she begins her final rest. I am concerned for you Balgruuf.”
Balgruuf looked up at this priest as if seeing him for the first time “Thank you Father but you need not concern yourself on my account. I have been contemplating the Divines.”
The priest looked reassured by this as felt he was on familiar ground “Balgruuf it only natural at a time like this to consider the Divines and what awaits us all beyond the veil of death. Arkay can be a great comfort at such a time but you must not turn away from the world of the living.”
“You misunderstand me Father. When I lost my parents Arkay was indeed a comfort but it is not him I think of now. I am thinking of Stendarr.”
“Stendarr, I am not sure I understand.”
“It is simple enough Father we expect others to give us justice, jarls and guards and executioners. When they fail us we feel wronged and helpless. But the fault is not theirs, it is ours for thinking we can pass our duty to Stendarr to another. If we are truly to honor him each man must find his own justice.”
“Balgruuf, what are you going to do?”
“Thank you for this visit Father, I will clean myself up and visit the Hall of the Dead to look on my sweet Hilde one more time before her funeral.”
In the days that followed it seemed to Brynjar that a change had come over his father. Balgruuf kept the house tidy and kept himself busy at the forge. But he was more stern and less patient with his son than he had ever been in his life. He also seemed short with friends who stopped by the house to see how they were doing as well as customers at the forge. Their friends were being patient and understanding but visitors to the house and the forge were getting less.
The funeral came and Brynjar stood beside his father and watched and listened in silence as the priest spoke of how loved Hilde and been, how she had brought joy to those around her and how Arkay in his mercy had conveyed her to the afterlife and assured her eternal rest.. Then with rain drumming on the lid the coffin was lowered into the grave, earth was shoveled on top and it was over. Brynjar walked beside the river with Alvar and Fulka, Alfvar was tossing stones into the river and planning out their next fishing trip. Brynjar was just glad to spend some time with them and escape from what had become his world since the night his mother had died. The afternoon slowly turned to evening before Brynjar could face returning home. When he walked through the front door he saw his father and their oldest friend Leif. Balgruuf was holding Leif’s head to the wall be his hair and had a knife pressed to his throat...
“WHO KILLED MY WIFE?!”
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Comments
Balgruuf is fuming and rightly so. Loved the part where the captain called him up on his promise just to have his own thrown in his face.
So curiouse as to where this all leads and for how long you inten... more
I proably have to take some responsibility for the formatting errors.
Thankfully Meli has kindly helped with some corrections.
What do you think of the chapter otherwise?
Hello Minophis.
I'm afraid to say you have some formatting issues here. It's not something you have done, it's Ning. See if you can sort out the spacing for the paragraphs. If you can't, give me a yell and I will fix them for you.