by Kody Boye
“You’ve had a lot on your plate, especially with… well…”
“I know, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir. I’m your father, not your king.”
“Yes suh… I mean father.”
A smile perked Ectris’ lips into fine, twin-tailed hearts as he rose and made his way to the door, where he donned his coat and gestured Odin to rise. “Wear my other pair of boots,” he said. “They may be a little big for you, but at least you won’t have to bother your friend.”
They approached the stables slowly and with deliberate pursuit through the snow that had accumulated over the past few days. The ground stable but pockmarked with holes, much like Odin remembered from his childhood and the days in which he routinely exercised Gainea, he shifted from side to side in an attempt to find solid ground and finally located it directly behind his father, whom, shortly thereafter, stepped forward and pressed a hand to the twin doors that made up the stable’s front entrance.
“Well,” Ectris said, casting a glance over his shoulder to regard Odin with soft yet calm eyes. “Here we are. I just want to warn you before I open the door—she’s been acting real skittish lately and might not recognize you. Hell—she might even try to kick you if her behavior holds true.”
“That’s all right,” Odin said. “Don’t worry. I can handle it.”
“I’m not,” his father said. “I just worry for your safety.”
Of course, Odin thought.
He didn’t need to be told twice.
Reaching forward, Ectris took hold of the wooden block that secured the twin doors and lifted it out of place, careful to drudge a path in the snow so he could open the door.
As they entered, Odin immediately sought out the stall where Gainea was usually held.
He found her no more than a few short moments when he entered after his father.
Age, as it did with all things, had affected her tremendously. In her youth some four, nearly five years ago, she’d been a crowning champion upon which any knights would have been proud to ride. Tall, at almost seven-and-a-half-feet, with a coat of dark fur that marked her as a shadow even in the lightest of places and a dark mane that fell over her neck and rested atop her shoulder—she was, in all respects, a purebred creature, one of whom his father had secured in the months before his own birth from a neighbor whose mare had been pregnant with twins. The first of the pair had died due to complications—a placenta, Ectris had said, that had suffocated it during labor. Gainea herself had been born shortly thereafter and had, despite the fate of her companion, pushed forward, which was a feat Odin had always treasured even as a little boy looking upon her from his place beneath her impressive height. Now, though, he could easily see how the world had changed her—how, over the years, the fur under her eyes had lightened to a dark grey and how, at the root of her skull, the hair had begun to lighten. Even her ribcage, which had once been covered with fat, now lay visible upon her chest, displaying a trait Odin found frightening yet somehow practical due to her age.
“She’s,” Odin said, then stopped before he could continue.
Gainea stepped from the shadows at the sound of his voice.
“Do you remember me?” he asked, extending a hand toward her snout. “Gainea?”
The horse snorted and cast her head to the side, flipping her mane over her neck.
“Careful,” Ectris warned.
“It’s fine,” Odin said, pushing his hand forward. “Don’t worry, Father—she remembers me.”
“You don’t—“
Before Ectris could finish, Gainea pushed her snout into Odin’s hand and grunted.
Smiling, almost unable to believe that they had been reunited after so many long, hard years, Odin leaned forward, wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck, then bowed his head into the side of her face, breathing in her sweet, musky scent and running his fingers through her silky mane.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, drawing away to look into her dark eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
At the thought that he’d left her in Elna for so long, tears sprung from his eyes and created rivers on his face. As if sensing his distress, the horse extended her head and pushed her snout into his shoulder, not only enticing a laugh from Odin, but a slight sob.
“It’s all right,” Ectris said, pressing his hands atop Odin’s shoulders. “She’s doing just fine.”
“I can’t take her with me. Not like this.”
“If you don’t believe she’s able to ride, then so be it. I’ll keep her here with me.”
“I don’t want to leave her behind.”
“Sometimes we have to let things go, Odin. You as well as I should know that.”
Do I? he thought. Or am I just chasing false hopes?
Gainea snorted, almost as if sensing his thoughts.
Laughing, Odin reached up, wiped the tears from his eyes, then turned to face his adoptive father. It took but a moment of looking into his eyes to see the care and compassion they held before he fell into his arms.
“Thank you for taking such good care of her,” Odin said. “Really, Father—you don’t know how much it means to me.”
“I think I do,” Ectris said, clapping Odin’s shoulder blades. “Would you like to ride with me?”
Odin looked up and found his father’s horse standing in the stall opposite e Gainea, chewing on what appeared to be hay.
“I would,” Odin said. “I’d like that.”
“There’s no way I convince you to move to Ornala with me?” Odin asked, allowing his father to lead the way through the forest and along the trail that led to the rocky areas of the forest, those of which Odin couldn’t help but remember were predominantly preoccupied by bears and other wild creatures.
“I’ve already told you, Odin—I’m not leaving.”
“What if they come back?”
“You mean the men from Denyon?”
“Yes.”
“There’s more than enough able-bodied hands to defend our village.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do.”
Rather than say anything, Odin quickened Gainea’s pace and drew closer to his father—whom, upon noticing their distance, slowed his horse. It took only a few moments for them to regain their pace.
You’re as stubborn as ever, Odin thought, sighing, reaching as the overhead sun peeked out from behind a series of grey-white clouds.
While he knew in his heart that he could do nothing to force an opinion within his father’s mind, he couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he would come with enough ample convincing. It seemed any man could be forced to do anything once badgered and forced enough, and for that it seemed his adoptive father might very well come. That, however, seemed completely out of the realm of possibility, as he’d always known his father to be an arrogant if somewhat-ignorant man.
Instead of voicing his thoughts for fear of causing a fight, he reached out to brace his hand along his father’s shoulder and frowned when the older man tensed upon the touch.
“Father?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m not used to being touched, Odin.”
“Haven’t you found a woman?”
“There are no single women in Felnon. What’re you getting at?”
“That’s not true.”
“All the women I could court are either much too young or widowed. Besides—I don’t need anyone.”
“Everyone needs someone, Father.”
Ectris didn’t respond.
All right. That wasn’t the best idea.
Growing up, he’d never really questioned the idea of whether or not his father was lonely. He had always assumed that because of his presence, his father had not a shroud of loneliness in his heart, as their time spent together seemed unlike anything else in the world. It could not, he once thought, compare to having a mother, or perhaps even just a simple tryst in which there was no affairs of the heart, as the bond between a father and his son was
so strong that nothing in the world could possibly break it, save death. To think that now, after such a long time, that he’d had such thoughts made him realize just how childish he’d been while growing up.
“We were one in the same,” Odin decided to say, only looking up when his father turned his head to look at him.
“Sorry?”
“You never had anyone. I never had any friends. We’re not that different from each other when you really think about it.”
“I’m glad you found Virgin, Odin. It makes me happy to see that you have someone who cares about you.”
“You mean you don’t care?”
“I could care less whether you’re queer or not.”
“I’m not necessarily sure if I’m just queer, if you want the truth.”
“You’ve considered women?”
“Sometimes, yes, but only when I’ve thought about having a family.”
“Ah,” Ectris smiled. “The joys of being a knight and only ever having men around you.”
After a smile spread across his face, Odin reached up, set a hand to his chest, then pushed Gainea forward.
They continued along the rocky path in silence.
Virgin was seated at the table and sipping cold tea when the two of them returned from their hour-long excursion. His hair pulled into ponytail, his Elven ears all but revealed, he raised his eyes to examine them with his sharp green eyes, then turned his attention back to his tea, offering a mute smile as the door closed behind them.
“I didn’t know you were an Elf,” Ectris finally said.
“I’m not,” Virgin replied. “I’m a Halfling. Just like Odin is.”
Frowning, Odin bent down, kicked the snow off his boots, then undid his shoelaces before advancing toward the table, careful to set his arms around his companion’s shoulder as Virgin raised his cup to sip from it.
“Either way,” Ectris said, removing his boots. “I still don’t understand the whole Halfling thing.”
“It’s genetic. Passed on from my mother.”
“I don’t understand something though. You have long ears and facial hair. Odin barely has any and shorter ears.”
“As I understand, Odin’s facial hair—what little he has, anyway—was a gift given to him by his biological father. I inherited my body hair from my father and my ears from my mother.”
“It’s a bit confusing.”
“Do you think it could have anything to do with whose parent was the Elf?” Odin asked.
“Your problem could lie in the fact that you’re technically not really a Halfling, since your father was part Drow and all.”
“So that would make him,” Ectris began, then paused before he could continue. “Well, I’m not sure what that would make him.”
“Very special for sure.” Virgin gave Odin a slight nod, then sipped his tea some more. “Do you have anything you can serve for breakfast?”
“I can make something if you’d like me to. I’d just planned on making some soup.”
“That works,” Odin said. “You don’t have to do anything too fancy, Father. We plan on leaving tomorrow morning—don’t we, Virgin?”
“I suppose,” the Halfling said.
Odin released his hold on his companion’s shoulders and took a seat next to him.
Ectris, likely unsure what to do, stepped into the kitchen and began to gather the necessary vegetables to make a stew.
“Could one of you bring a pail of snow in?” Ectris asked.
Virgin rose without a word.
Odin progressed through the day becoming more and more anxious. His chest a pit of fire in which propellant was constantly spewed—his ribs the kindling, his blood the alcohol, his heart the spark—it seemed that any time he tried to consider what was going to happen his heart would begin to pound. Why he couldn’t be sure, as there weren’t any pressing matters at hand, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was because they would be leaving tomorrow morning.
Calm down.
In his room, done-up to the best of his ability and assuming the position that it had not been slept in for years, he paced back and forth and occasionally allowed his eyes to fall to the pack on the floor.
“It’s all right,” Odin mumbled, tangling his fingers through his hair.
No matter how hard he tried, he could not dispel he notion from his head.
Come tomorrow morning, they would embark for Ornala and that would be that.
If only he could get his father to come with him.
Not wanting to think about his stubborn parent or the fact that he refused to leave his little home, Odin collapsed on the bed and closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep, but knowing that was unlikely.
You should be out there with your father.
Then again, who was he to dismiss his father and Virgin’s conversion just like that, without so much as a passing thought? He could have a moment to himself. There was no harm in that.
As he closed his eyes, he attempted to force his thoughts to grind to a halt and instead received nothing but rows of Elvish text scrolling across his vision.
Lenna Arda, the first line read. The Book of the Dead.
Odin’s eyes snapped open.
The rafters seemed larger, ready to bear down at any moment. Crack, snap, bow, contort—flex it would form the woods it was so nailed to and groan as it tried to break away, to collapse upon the one who wished to do the wrong of all wrongs. He half-expected one of them to break off and spear him to the bed as if he were some great, vampiric creature who need be bound to the grave in order to not rise from it. Such was his fear that, in his dazed state, his fingers curled around the quilts and his breath ceased to come.
A knock came at the door.
Odin gasped. “Come in,” he said.
The door opened to reveal Ectris, eyes unsure and mouth painted in a frown. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m just worried about leaving you here, that’s all.”
“You shouldn’t be worrying about me, Odin. Hell—I’ve been here for the past five years on my own.”
“I should’ve tried to come back more often.”
“Your life is much more important than mine. You are the king’s champion, after all.”
“But it would be so much simpler if we lived closer together.”
“I know,” Ectris said. He rounded the mattress and seated himself beside Odin. “There comes a time when every parent has to let his or her child go. Besides—it’s much better for you if there’s more distance between the two of us anyway. It gives me less bearing on your life and whatever it is you do with it.”
“I value your opinion.”
“Yes, but sometime my opinion’s just a load of horseshit.”
Odin snorted. Ectris smiled and clapped his thigh. “God, Odin. I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up in five short years.”
“I’ve tried.”
“You have. I’m proud to call you my son.”
“And I’m proud to call you my father,” Odin said.
After pushing himself forward, he wrapped his arms around his father’s shoulders, then bowed his head into the man’s neck.
Your last day, his conscience whispered, running a single finger from the base of his skull to the end of his tailbone.
He would make the most of it.
Come time the sun rose the following morning, Odin’s nerves were all but wrecked.
Standing outside the house with his hands jabbed in his pockets and his eyes set toward the stable, Odin watched as Virgin, assisted by Ectris, led the single horse they would be riding into Ornala out into the open air. The horse, obviously distraught from not having enough physical activity the past few days, tossed its head and let out a slight bay of frustration as Virgin tugged its reins down.
“Odin,” Ectris said, gesturing him forward. “Calm this thing down.”
“What makes you think I can do it?”
“You’re the one that’s good with animals.”
<
br /> With that thought firmly implanted within everyone’s conscience, Odin stepped forward, raised his hand above the horse’s head, then pressed it onto its snout, where he then applied a slow, steady pressure until it stopped its frustrations and locked its eyes directly on him.
“It’s all right,” Odin said, bowing his head until their brows touched. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Grunting, the stallion pushed his head against Odin’s chest.
“See?” Ectris asked.
“I wish I had a way with animals,” Virgin said, stumbling back when the horse turned to glower at him. “Easy, friend.”
“I guess this is where I say goodbye for now,” Odin sighed, stepping into his father’s arms. “Thank you for putting us up for the past few days.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” Ectris said, accepting the kiss to the cheek Odin had to offer before opening his arms to give Virgin a hug. “It was nice meeting you. Take good care of my boy, you hear?”
“I will, sir. Don’t worry.”
“Will you say goodbye to Karma for us?” Odin asked.
“You don’t plan on going yourself?” Ectris frowned.
“It’s much too early to bother her.”
“I’ll be sure to give her your regards.”
After Virgin mounted the horse, Odin reached up, accepted his companion’s hand, then vaulted onto the stallion’s back before settling back against Virgin’s chest. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” he decided to ask one last time.
“I’ll write to you if I do,” Ectris said, raising a hand as Virgin gestured the horse toward the road. “Write to me anyway. Let me know what’s going on!”
“I will,” Odin said, raising his hand in return. “Goodbye!”
“Goodbye,” Virgin said.
Ectris offered one slight wave, then turned and took a few steps toward the stable.
“Will you be all right?” Virgin asked, pressing a hand against Odin’s upper arm.
“I’ll be fine,” Odin said, reaching up to rub his eyes. “I’m just a big baby lately.”
“Don’t say that. You’re much stronger than you think.”
