No Name for the Free

by Devin Harbison

  "So, if we succeed, if we manage to kill all four giants, we'll all live on long after we have died, like the stories other men tell over a drink and only believe when they've drank too much?"

  Off to my left, Em then stares at me and the smile on my cheeks as she chimes in.

  "Or like the tales a bard spins in his songs."

  Both of our ideas manage to put a smile on Gorm's face as if this is exactly what he dreams of, living on far past this life, far past any of the mistakes we have made in the past, and into the lives and minds of countless generations after his or that of his daughter and mine, so, as quickly as he can let go of Em's hands and leave the mattress where she steals his seat, he moves over to me and puts both of his hands on my shoulders as he speaks.

  "Even if we fail, even if we die tomorrow, I think they'll still remember you especially, Fjord. Think of it. A bunch of idiots, hundreds of years from now, telling a tale about the boy that swung from a giant's arm and plunged his sword into its skull. It puts a smile on my face already."

  It has only taken two days to kill a creature taller than any mountain I have ever seen, and a little more time to find comfort and purpose in what we're doing and the fact that I may die so damn young, but none of that is as strange as what Gorm does next. With both of his arms already on my shoulders, it doesn't take much effort for him to lean down, put his hands around my back, and squeeze me so hard with a hug that I can hear my spine crack in more places than one while he speaks softly.

  "For the time being though, Abraham and Yemi will be happy to see that you are still among the living. You cannot avoid the celebration that comes."

  He holds on for far longer than any embrace I have ever received, maybe more than all of the hugs I have ever gotten put into one, and, after he has finally let go and backed up enough that I stand smiling while I look at both him and Em wearing grins just as large, he has one, final thought to share.

  "Welcome to the family."

  The mention of family brings a single tear to my eye, filled with joy, but, faster than any more can follow, he exits the tent and shouts into the night.

  "THE BOY LIVES!"

  Gorm's screams are then followed by more joyous shouts from outside, like every man in the camp joining in for a chant so loud that it would wake any animal for miles, and I find it surprising that, prior to this, Em worried about waking her father, when every other person left in the camp is still as awake as they are. Yet, the shouting is not done until Gorm cries into the night, from outside, once more before he seems to walk off.

  "God is it good to be free!"

  And, almost in unison, the others repeat it in a manner that is filled with just as much joy, as if all of them truly are happy to be living this way, where we have no home, no friends or family but one another, and could die without as much as a single thought on the morrow.

  "God is it good to be free! "

  I am more than tempted to step out of Em's tent, just to see what exactly is going on, but the ruckus goes back to normal levels before someone else takes that chance away, with something that I enjoy even more. Seeing a few men pass by outside of the tent, looking better for wear as it seems like they are all ready to trip and only have another drunk beside them to keep each other from tipping over, the show they put on is put to an end once I feel another set of arms around me, soft hair running against my neck, and a cold flower against my cheek. To my surprise, Em embraces me too, for, if her father could, why could she not? So, I am more than happy to pull her close for a few moments too, and her words that seep into my ear give away some of her reasoning for the sudden show of affection.

  "No more sad thoughts tonight. They will want you to join them."

  Those words alone, from her, would make me smile if I wasn't already doing so much my flesh strains, and, before either of us let go, I make a request.

  "Only if you come with me."

  The way she pulls away after I say that worries me at first, until I see that she is smiling too under the hair that hides her features, so we both make sure to grab one another's hands while she backs away. And, without another word, we step out and go deep into the night, where there is just the faintest smell of fish in the air, maybe from the dead giant, along with the scent of alcohol. Immediately, it is evident that just about every man around the camp is as drunk as the few men I already saw pass by, and the only reason we did not hear their celebrations earlier is because of where Em's tent is located in the camp, I imagine. Far off in a corner, I can look down the beach, between the row of tents I have walked before, and see enough people talking to one another, or dancing about to songs they slur, that might make it impossible to find Gorm and the others, but that doesn't stop either of us tonight, it seems. For, looking into her eyes, it isn't hard to tell that Em feels just as odd walking around the camp as I do, so I put some extra effort into my smile and my grip on her hand to ease her negative thoughts, that she helped rid from my mind, as I whisk her away between dozens of drunks.

  The sight of them all is good enough for a story alone, but that is only truer whenever they see Em and I, or just the sight of this boy who has lived, and shout, joke, or pester us both.

  "Fjord!"

  A name I hear so many times, said proudly, the feeling that the name is not mine wears off more and more each time it is said between the smell of bad breath and alcohol, and the same liquid that is in the contents of their cups splashes towards us, whenever someone decides to toast the air, where Em and I try to walk, without getting drenched in the shit. As funny and welcoming as it is at first, it does grow old, especially when neither of us would want to ruin our clothes with beer, mead, and backwash, so we move on and on, growing closer to the tents of Yemi and Abraham, until we hear one, final comment before I drag Em between the two men's tents and just hope I can find them near the beach that they found me upon.

  "If I kill a giant, will I get a lass to follow me like that too? "

  It's hard to say if that comment bothers Em, or whether she hears it or not among every other noise when it was only whispered from one solemn drunk to another, but I try not to give it anymore more thought as I push between several men gathered by those tents and make sure I don't lose her or her hand as they dance around us. Thankfully, air that smells less of sweat awaits us on the other side. With the beach in view, I am able to make out the sounds of the gentle waves breaking on the sand, and, among the campfires that are set up as far down the beach as my eyes let me see, a familiar voice can be heard, so drunk he struggles to part a single word from his lips.

  "Boy!"

  From my right, Yemi throws his arms around me too, if only briefly while I stare at Em off to my left, and, when he has finished his embrace, he grabs me by the arm and starts dragging me off. Behind us, I still drag Em wherever Yemi decides to take us, and that leads the three of us towards one of the fires closer to the beach, where only two other men sit. Abraham, quiet as he stares into the fire and drinks, and Gorm, slumped over as best as he can to embrace the warmth of the orange heat, sit together a bit too quietly, but that all changes with the arrival, or re-arrival, of the loudest and drunkest mouth, while Ham and Gorm smile up at us.

  "You two best sit!"

  With so few at this fire, there is more than enough room for the two of us to stretch our feet out into the sand in front of us, ever so heated by the flames, and relax with the others. Yemi, myself, Em, Gorm, and Abraham sit in a circle with enough room between us all, even Em and I do not get anymore comments about being together, and all is quiet, besides the sound of Yemi sipping from a bottle, until he grows tired of that and moves towards another object to his right. Between him and Ham, two wooden crates sit out on the sand, and, were it not for some of the tiny growls I hear as he reaches into the open top of the one closest to him, I would assume the boxes are just filled with more booze. But, almost as fast as he finishes his bottle off and tosses it into the sand, he is handing me a bundle of fluff that, as I embrace it in
both arms, the eyes on its face open wide, and shine blue in the light of the fire. Yemi then partially explains what it is and why he has just handed it to me, for, with all that has happened, I already forgot.

  "I must thank you, my friend, for stopping me from hurting them the other day."

  As the animal uncurls, woken from its slumber, I can make out all the features of those wolf pups we saved, and, while I look to Yemi, I see him snuggling with one of them, as manly as he seems, only for both of the pups we hold to let out a cry and howl into the wind once Yemi starts to say more.

  "They are so precious I could just cry."

  Everyone in attendance lets out at least a chuckle at how much the alcohol has changed Yemi's demeanor, and Gorm seems to lose some of his bottle contents in the sand as he gets caught mid-drink, and spits up whatever was filling his gums and throat already between a few coughs. The rest of the young wolves then let out a howl too, in response to that of their siblings doing the same and waking up the rest, and, hearing them all, I can't help but feel sad, sad we disturbed their lives as we did. Yet, Yemi, still the only person around our fire speaking, has more drunken rambling that lightens the mood and gives me hope for them despite their parents being gone.

  "Now I know what it is like to have children! Though, do you think I'll make a good father to them all?"

  Staring at Yemi while I pet the pup in my lap and make my room so that Em can scoot closer and do the same, the man truly does seem ready to cry, and that isn't helped when Gorm, the only father here as far as I know, answers for us all.

  "Aye. I figure you'll do just fine if ya' don't drink too much more."

  There is truth to Gorm's loose praise, but how much alcohol he downs after he says that lessens the meaning of his words. And, when Yemi stands up, takes the pup from my lap and his, puts them back into their crate, and pulls out one of his swords, all I do is worry. In another set of motions, he takes the blade and slides it through a crack in the other crate, and, as I tense up and fear he is going to gut the pups sitting in the other crate too, I shudder when he starts to bend his blade up and down until the top of the wooden crate comes loose, where all my fears are proven wrong.

  From beneath the lid, Yemi grabs a second bottle, or third or fourth since I really have no idea how much he has drunk already, but the number matters little when, as drunk as he already is, he is only about to get worse. But, better he be free with his words and thoughts than be like I, either having forgotten how many pups there were in that brush back in the forest or just so anxious still from all the people Em and I passed, or a combination of both so strong I truly thought he would be so careless with his sword. Yet, all of those thoughts prove to be worth nothing as soon as Yemi sits, opens the bottle, and spills a few more words from his teeth.

  "So, who wants to hear a tale?"

  Silent, all of us sit. Nobody makes a peep, and, with the way Yemi looks down into his bottle, you'd think he might be looking for an answer from the alcohol, as if the booze hasn't said enough. So, before he ends up looking so deep in the bottle that he ends up getting the liquid all over himself, Abraham is kind enough to make a remark.

  "You've never needed permission to speak before."

  Ham says what he does with so little emotion it is hard to know if he is just being straight with him, or making fun of the fact that Yemi is the only one that keeps talking tonight, yet Yemi doesn't seem to pick up on that negative possibility, or is too drunk to care as he stands up again and speaks, wobbling so much that I sit ready to grab his clothes and pull him back, lest he tips over into the fire.

  "Right. So, you know I love you like a brother, Gorm, and how you wear your scars with so little care, but I'm sure the rest of you want to know where he got them from."

  Abraham lets out a laugh right away, like he knows the tale Yemi is about to tell even though one of them makes it seem like the knowledge belongs to Yemi and Gorm, alone, but he is not the only one to react. Em leans forward to get a better look at Yemi as he tries to stand straight, and even Gorm has a smile as his friend continues.

  "If it were not for all of the alcohol the three of us drank on the night we met, in some shitty tavern, I would remember more of the night Gorm, Abraham, and I met, but I am not so lucky, except for a few details. The number of drinks all of us had is lost to me, but I remember well all of us losing count, and one truth Gorm shared. All these scars he bears, you would think they are from many a fight. Mindless monsters, stupider men, all thought they could best the mighty GORM in battle, but no. Only so many of his scars are from others, you see. The rest, far too many, well..."

  Faster than he can finish or I can react, he finally does lose his balance. Though, thankfully, his sway sends him backwards and onto his ass, where he cracks the back of his skull against the crate with the wolf pups and only then manages to spill his drink on himself, but, rather than that ending his tale, Yemi's mind is still sharp enough to add his drunkenness into the tale of even drunker adventures.

  "They are a result of him swinging his axe about as well as I can stand right now whenever he gets drunk!"

  Once spoken, Yemi lets his upper body fall down into the sand and the box once more, surely upsetting the pups some more if they can even sleep with the sound of his rambling, but I'm sure some of the laughter afterwards doesn't help either. All said and done, everyone else is quiet until Gorm starts to stand and almost tumbles too when you'd think someone so large could take more beer, but, as he spills his own a bit and wipes some of the sand off of his pants, he offers a joking threat while walking behind Em and I.

  "Bet 'cha I could still make you fall on my axe faster than I could hurt myself right now, you fool."

  Anyone else who hasn't seen these men interact already might think he was being serious, but it is evident how much of what he says is nothing but a joke when Gorm leans down to give Yemi a hand, rather than cut him in two. And, at the same time, Gorm uses his other hand to take the bottle from Yemi's other hand, with what looks to be more sand than liquor in it, and pushes him in the direction of the tents enough that he gets the hint and says his farewell, so drunkenly.

  "I wish you all sweet dreams."

  He then gets a few feet away and suddenly turns back towards us, passing by Gorm, and stopping at the first of the crates. Had Yemi gone any farther, Gorm probably would have grabbed hold of him and dragged him back to the tent he belongs in, but his intention seems to involve the wolves, rather than another bottle of alcohol. As best as he can, Yemi gets one hand down into the sand to lift the box, while the other holds it against his chest from the far side, only for him to then wobble off, and, with how drunk he is, I fear for the pups audibly once I ask everyone else a question.

  "Should we help him carry them back to his tent?"

  Abraham is the first to respond.

  "I do not wish to hear him talk anymore tonight."

  Gorm is the second.

  "I'm just as drunk as he is."

  And, with that, none of us move a muscle until Yemi has walked off so far, mumbling and whispering to himself and the animals the whole way, until he turns the corner where his tent is and hopefully puts the crate down before he falls over onto the closest spot of flat ground he can find. Gorm then offers his own goodnight before walking off, as many of the other men around the beach start to do the same at the sight and sound of the rest of the camp dying down.

  "We leave tomorrow for the road, so make sure you all get some rest."

  Soon after, Ham is gone too, just as the flames start to die, and, after some awkward silence, the death of the fire, and the invitation of the cold, Em and I get up too, only for my feet to find themselves following her no matter what my brain says to my heart. Eventually, walking between all of the tents, she looks back at me just as the last few men seem to disappear towards their beds, and, though I feel anxiety in each of my steps, it all fades after she grabs my hand and drags me along. In front of her tent, the two of us then stop, and, sooner
than I can think about what I should do next, I feel her lips against mine and two words from between as I am the one to pull back in surprise.

  "Goodnight, Aedan."

  She moves quickly afterwards, for fear that we both stay standing quietly, to get into her tent and let the flap at the front fall down, and, like the closing of a book, I take that as the end of the night and start walking off, thinking about how much I like the story so far. As sluggishly as I walk off back towards the tent Abraham and I share, I find the strength to form a smile from cheek to cheek, and spend so much time thinking about what her lips taste like, too much time, that I don't realize I never stopped to see if Gorm was watching us until I lay down on the ground, on my side, and embrace the night as much as these people have embraced me in their lives. Without a blanket, the pride and love they have shared, foreign feelings, keep me warm, and the following morning comes almost as fast as I can blink my eyes, unfortunately.

  One minute, I am ready to cry, not because I feel down inside, but because I have never felt happiness and purpose like this in my life, and the next moment I am waking up to so much noise I might think the camp was under attack, were it not for how calm Abraham looks down at me. He says something, staring at me as he squats beside my bed roll on the ground, and, rather than listen, my mind focuses on how quick those emotions in the night came and went, just as the night did, and how that could just be the first sign of the hardships to come. Thankfully, I have Ham's hand to pull me from that state of loss and into a better frame of mind with his words.

  "It is time to go."

  For whatever reason, I take comfort in the fact that he does not specifically say to get up and that I'm able to gather myself as much as I have, so quickly, without being ripped from sleep in a way that I am left grumpy or tired, or both when there seems to be so much going on. So, once I have stood up with his help, I wipe away whatever crud may have gathered in the corner of my eyes and listen to him once more.

  "We move in the direction of the next beast. Gather your belongings."