Foreshadowing In The Clouds [Bors]

[Théodred Heavenshield]

"Who says I don't think you are a loony? .. you presume too much", Théo looked over the rim of his tankard as he took another long draft of the mead, "I think the Gods are still debating that one", he could not help a smile. Turning to the keep, he nodded signalling his want for food to be brought to their table and in no time two large bowls of hot stew and bread would be placed before them both, along with a refill of mead.

"Don't get me wrong, I love my uncle and for the most part I have come to accept events for what they are. But there are things in the past I simply can not forgive, and will take to my grave", he pushed his back in the chair, "Don't ask me what they are, only I will know of them". From that day until his last day Théo will never forgive Thyrian for tearing his family apart and taking his sister Mysa.

He mulled over his answer to the last part of the question, a raised brow the only indication that he truly did not agree with Bors' sentiments. Thyrian was a good ruler, not a great one and great rulers are rare. "United the races of Midvinter, battled the Hag alongside the Gods.. all on his own?", Théo looked around the Inn, "You see those men in the corner, they were there that day and fought as well. Sure he was the commander on the field, sent men to their deaths against incredibly odds but they would have gone anyway, not for him but for their families. You, of all people, should know that titles mean nothing on the battlefield and each man stands equal to the next when facing the enemy".

Now Théo leaned forward, his hands resting around the base of the tankard but it did not lift. "My father would choose what was right to do", he said as soundly as the truth could be spoke. "He has done so, many times and no doubt a day will come when he has to choose again", Théo hoped it would never come of course, but the galaxy does not work that way, not even on isolated Midvinter. "So would my mother", he added for good measure. There would be no point in speaking of his father's years as Grandmaster of the Silver Jedi, Bors would not understand them, but how many countless times did Thurion Heavenshield have to make not only decision that would place his family in danger but everyone else's as well.

"The virtues my father possess go far beyond the likes of love, kindness and compassion. He posses a strength within his character the likes of which I have not seen again, nor will I. Not even in me ... do I believe things would be better? maybe. But one thing I do know is that we will never know". But Théo did know ... there was someone else, there was someone better.

The conversation was pure speculation and Théo knew it. "There is no point to this conversation. Besides I am hungry". And the stew was getting cold.

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[member="Bors Greythorne"]​

 

[Bors Greythorne]

Broody, this one.

While no doubt the young man held some cards close to his chest, the way he spoke of his father made it clear he held his father in such high esteem not out of bonds of blood or duty to one's family, but out of love and respect forged over many years. He made a mental note that he would have to take the opportunity to meet with Lord Thurion when it presented itself; he wished to see this man for himself and know what drew such reverence from his peers.

"I am glad to hear you speak so very fondly of your old man," he said, fingertips tapping against the base of his tankard. "I wish I had the same relationship with my father, the stubborn old fool. Us Greythornes are not known to be very clever or wise; 'Resist and Bite' are our words. Stand firm as a mountain and weather the storm, kind of thing, be it in war or in beliefs. Not exactly the warm, loving household you Heavenshields are known for, stag or lion. I doubt my brother even remembers me after all this time, and frankly I don't care. Haven't for over a century." With that he emptied his second tankard of mead, though the taste seemed to have bittered some.

But just as he finished and was about to put it back down, an anonymous onlooker approached and slapped it out of his hand, spilling its last few drops on Bors' ragged coat. The old man at first didn't seem affected by the obvious attempt at baiting him into a fight, instead just producing a napkin to wipe his hands with. "You may offer your apologies now, if you would." That made the brute stop and scratch his head. "Your apology, for spilling such good mead." He raised the napkin to dab his lips, before suddenly shooting out of his chair and shoving it in the surprised brawler's mouth, followed by a tripping of his leg to put him on his back against the floorboards, prompting a cheer from those close enough to see.

"Learn to respect your elders, son," he leaned over him, grabbing him by the collar and knocking him out with a well-placed blow to the head. Bors stood up and adjusted his coat, summoning the innkeep. "Looks like this poor sod had one too many," he gave the unconscious brute a tap of his boot in his side. "Best take him upstairs and let him sleep it off. Hold on," he added, pulling his mouth open to remove the napkin shoved inside. "There. All yours."

"So anyway," he rejoined Théo at the table, picking up as if nothing happened, and suddenly a fresh tankard of frothy mead was placed before him. "Pa' got himself killed while out hunting boars, believe it or not. The irony was not lost on anyone, and the man had few friends in life - none of whom bothering to show up for the funeral, mind you." He paused, leaning back and stretching his legs. "Nothing you will ever need to worry yourself with, when the day comes..." he alluded to the inevitable and eventual demise of 'Heaven's Shield'. "People will without a doubt journey from every corner of the stars to pay their respects to such a great man."

[member="Théodred Heavenshield"]​

 

[Théodred Heavenshield]

Chatty, this one.

It was hard to get a word in edge ways, but Théo didn't mind so much after all he was learning lots just letting the old man prattle on. Strange for all his protesting about family and lack of wit, Bors seemed proud, held a pride within himself which Théo liked, admired even and he believed it essential to survive out here on Midvinter, only the toughest last the longest. "Strong men grow under a yoke, and strong men grow under a tent. I guess it is the luck of the flip of a coin, you never know which side it will land for you", a grin as he paraphrased some story he had read once.

Before the words had left his mouth, a hulking shadow loomed over their table and the heavy smell of mead reeked from the Valkyri stood swaying bumping into Théo's shoulder as he sat. There was a momentary flash of recognition as the man looked at his face, he turned his attention to Bors instead, Théo leaned back on his chair and took up his tankard once more as the melee started and ended all to quickly for his liking. It would have been nice to blow off some steam.

"Resist and bite huh?", he glanced down at the man now being dragged away to the back rooms. "I think you need to reconsider your house words", Theo doubted that anyone will be killing Bors just yet, the man was too tenacious and stubborn to die.

Once again Théo's face darkened when the talk turned to his father, seriously Bors was simply a barrel of laughs always bringing the mood down with death and endings and maybe he was right? maybe Bors did lack wit after all is it not considered madness to repeat one's self with an obsession? But the fact of the matter was that all of them were not in a safe position, not when you are Jedi or allied to an Order. Anything can happen and anything probably will, and no one is immune from death and with war starting once more in the galaxy, it could just as easily be himself they fly from all points of the stars to farewell.

He stared down into his empty drink, for in two days he will be traveling to the Silver Jedi to fight alongside them once more. "Hold off burning my father's body just yet, the old man has much life in him still".

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[member="Bors Greythorne"]​

 

[Bors Greythorne]

Bors let out a chuckle, grinning cheek to cheek. "Beg your pardon, my lord, but I've been in tavern brawls since before your father was in diapers. Only way of dealing with brutes and bullies is a swift and decisive blow, before they realise what hit them. Otherwise, well... I'd rather avoid another broken nose. Besides, too early for a full-on brawl. The night is still young, but this old boar is not," he pointed to himself, slamming another tankard.

He noted the look on Théo's face when speaking of his father, and part of him felt bad for bringing him up. "Look, I'm sorry for having brought it up. But you should know by now that death is not the end. Do not grieve that someone leaves you; instead be grateful for the times you shared." A barmaid came by offering another drink but Bors declined with a wave of his hand. "At least, that's what Thrand told me a very long time ago..." He leaned back and played with the ring dangling from his neck chain.

For a time he sat there in silence for once, no longer bothering to keep conversation with the young lord. A slow exhale of air took some of his sorrows out of him and he rose from his chair, putting his gloves back on. "Well... We'd best get you home before the missus starts worrying, wouldn't you say, lad?" Just to make sure he raised the empty tankard to his lips and leaned back, hoping to drain every last drop from it but was met with little success.

"Very good mead," he said before they left, stepping back out into the cold. "Nothing like northern air to clear your thoughts, aye?"

[member="Théodred Heavenshield"]​

 

[Théodred Heavenshield]

Quite frankly, Théo was pleased the talk of death had passed and the time for departure had come. But the ring around Bors' neck which he played with in his finger was not lost on him, and death seemed to live in this man's heart resting alongside someone that had been dear to him. As they passed the bar on their way out the door, Théo stopped and spoke to the keep. "The honey should be arriving by long boat on the morn, along with twenty bags of grains and spices. Can you make sure my brewmaster know he is anxious for them".

"And it would want to be good mead, I spend a lot on getting the good ingredients", he added with a proud smile as they walked into the street. "Snow tonight", he said to no one while slapping his hands together before putting on his black gloves.

"The missus is probably out hunting, she prefers the night", but it was time the children saw their father and Thora will be anxious to tell him all about who her mother loved the flowers. "I don't really need a escort home, I know my way. But I could do with the company", he added as they pulled up the slope to New Himmeldal. The smells for the house was great, the scent of stew and roasts and bread made Théo want for another meal, and the yellow lights in the window as welcoming as ever.

Whether it was the mead or the silence of the pair encouraged Théo to ask, "That ring around your neck .. it belonged to someone close to you?". He did not turn to look at Bors for a reaction, not the done thing between men or Valkyri for that matter.

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[member="Bors Greythorne"]​

 

[Bors Greythorne]

"Sounds like you got yourself a very special lady, then," he chuckled, now trying to figure out which of the pair wears the pants in the relationship with a stroke of his beard. "Not that women hunters are uncommon by any means, but can't say I've ever witnessed a lady of such station go off on hunting trips all on her lonesome. Most people, once used to higher living, tend to wanna remain there." Has to be a redhead, he thought to himself.

Then came the question he'd least anticipated, having hoped the young lord wouldn't have noticed. "Oh, this old thing?" He tried to pass it off as just another relic, but the attempt quickly came to a screeching halt as, to him, it was anything but. "I... You know, it's been over 130 years and I've never told anyone, save your grandpapa." Nobody has ever asked before; then again he'd spent a considerably long time trying to avoid people caring enough to ask in the first place. His hands reached behind his back as he tried to find the right words, clearing his throat.

"It belonged to someone... very special, indeed. I mentioned my family earlier, how there was little love between us? Well... Let's just say I found all the love I could ever hope for elsewhere. She was my childhood sweetheart, but of course daddy wouldn't let us marry. She was too low, not important enough - we needed to marry into the bigger clans, score points with the big lords, you see." He grimaced at the thought of his father, that cruel man. "Once the old hog croaked by his own stupidity, I became Lord Greythorne. We immediately made plans to marry, disregarding my father's wishes at every turn. I had this ring made for her," he clutched it to his chest, eyes forward as they walked.

"Before our plans came to fruition however, we received word of the death of the High King and how Beorlund had seized power, declaring himself our new ruler. When I heard what had become of my brother, I confronted the Usurper only to be stripped of land and title. But worst of all, he'd taken a liking to my Freida, and as I was escorted out of the capital she was taken captive, to... serve the new king, at his pleasure." He cast a glance to Théo, indicating the worst things imaginable. "Unable to reach her in the capital, I visited any potential allies I could think of that would support me in declaring the king a usurper. None would speak against him, be they either bought or too afraid to. A month went by..."

"There was a letter, carried by raven in the night. In it she wrote her goodbyes, along with this very ring. I knew immediately what she intended to do, and I knew there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Just like that, I'd lost the two people I ever considered family." He grew bitter, face etched in stone. "But we made the bastard pay for it, in the end. I wanted Beorlund beheaded for his crimes, but your father and grandfather insisted on keeping him prisoner instead. Bloody coward hanged himself in his cell!" He kicked a nearby snowdrift in frustration, only to stop and catch his breath.

"You must forgive me, my lord. I thought less of your father for it, for showing that filth mercy that day. It's why I haven't sought him out all these years, due to a petty matter of pride on my part." For the first time since they two met, Bors got down on one knee. "But I am here now, to place myself under your service. I will serve you and your family with what little strength I have left in me, until these old bones turn to dust."

[member="Théodred Heavenshield"]​

 

[Théodred Heavenshield]

With each step toward New Himmeldal, the mood felt heavy with each word that Bors spoke of his beloved. The history of what had happened to his grandfather known well enough by Théo, and that day in which his Thrand took the throne once more. Although the previous history of Midvinter under the rule of the Usurper was also known, but not the personal accounts of what that rule meant to the people. There had been many women that the Usurper had assaulted, taken for nothing more than to instill fear over Midvinter and the ramifications of it would be felt for generations to come. One of them being his own wife, Ylva, a descendant from that 'bloody' blood line. Aerin Firebrand had been another, and had felt the shame of it through her life.

"Nothing I could possibly say could remove any of the pain felt then and now", he said and would never ask any further questions that would cause pain further. It was loud and clear what the Usurper had done to his beloved, and because of it their relationship would have been changed forever not through any fault of their own. It was a sad story he told and Théo doubted he would feel any different if the same had happened to him and his family. Save for the fact that Théo would have died trying.

"I can understand why you did not seek out my father, but .. it was not his decision. It was Thrand's if I remember correctly. I think ... I think my grandfather wanted the Usurper to suffer, to remember all the wrong he had done to Midvinter and all the people he harmed. It would have been a fitting punishment had he had the guts to live". He really knows what is in the mind of a mad man.

"But have some joy in knowing where he is now. The gates of Beornskald closed to him for eternity and he now resides in the depths of Hell tortured by the Crone". Théo finally turned to Bors, returning that knowing look .. they all exist every single one of the Gods. "Remember, the Gods punish bad deeds, that is what the Crone is .. she is the punisher". An evil horrible entity but a necessary one, it was her reason for being.

"Tonight you will spend under my roof, and I will not take no for an answer". Théo bounded up the steps to the front door opened it to find Thora sitting by the heart playing.

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[member="Bors Greythorne"]​

 

[Bors Greythorne]

"Aye, you speak the truth, my lord," Bors rose to his feet, briefly grabbing hold of Théo for support. "Losing his head would be a too swift an ending for the likes of him. There is no honour in ending one's own life, and now he gets to suffer for it eternally. I suppose there is that." He had not participated in what they call the "Great Invasion of Ruin"; word did reach his whereabouts at the time and while many able men and women made for the capital, the old man felt he had little to add at that point to such a grand army. Were it not for his oath-brother coming to see him, he likely would have never bothered to seek out Théodred.

"I dare not reject my lord's gracious offer," he smiled and followed him into his home. And what a home it was, all warmth and familial joy. Something he'd never experienced before, leaving him breathless and filled with wonder as he looked around. And he hadn't even left the entrance hall.

Before taking another step he bent over to remove his boots, neatly putting them in the corner to not risk dirtying their floors. Then he stepped into the main hall where there raged a hearth, along with the little girl sat on the floor playing. Another sight he'd never gotten to witness. "So this is a Heavenshield home," he said to himself as he looked at every little thing on display. No doubt the Lion's den in Fridheim was just as homely and welcoming. You could tell just from how they lived that these were good and decent people, fully worthy of the admiration showered upon them.

To his great shame upon looking down at his feet he found that his ragged socks had made a hole for his big toe to poke out of, and of course he made the usual attempt to cover it up with the rest of his sock. Hopefully nobody would notice.

"My lord, I could never have imagined such a glorious place to live. I can't help but feel out of place..." Bors circled around the room until standing by the fireplace, getting down on one knee to warm himself. Right beside him sat Thora, looking more like a proper little lady without her rider gear on. "Hello, little lady," his wrinkled face pulled back to form a smile. He then leaned back until his bum hit the floor, sitting beside her. "What do you have there?"

[member="Théodred Heavenshield"]​

 

[Thora Heavenshield]

She turned with a smile as her papa and Bors entered the hall, and while papa put away his sword, bag and cloak, Bors joined her on the floor and she could hear all his bones creaking and popping as he did. "How old are you?", she suddenly asked wanting to know at what age one's bones do that. Papa was not in the room for now, so he did not hear her rude question to chastise her for.

Thora laid the small wooden figure in Bors' hand, "My grandpapa made this for me when I was little. I want a stag to go with her". She sat leaning her elbows on her knees and watched Bors to the side. "You staying with us? I do hope so", she added, she liked Bors even though he seemed to have a talent for annoying her papa. "We have plenty of room", she continued on trying to convince him to stay. There were noises coming from the kitchen, and soon the smell of her dinner wafted through to the hall, she liked her papa's cooking, he would cook all her favourites while her mama would cook what she though was good for her which did not always taste nice.

But dinner time is always followed by bed time, which Thora did not relish, not tonight, she wanted to stay up late and listen to what her papa and Bors would talk about. Maybe she still can, if she is quite enough and sneak along the upper level in earshot.

"Do you have children?", she stifled a yawn, which she blamed the heat of the hearth for.

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[member="Bors Greythorne"]​

 

[Bors Greythorne]

Thora's first question came as no surprise, and even prompted a chuckle from the old boar. He had to think for a bit, for he had in earnest forgotten the exact number. "A hundred and fifty-seven," he arrived at with some brief maths. He wondered whether the girl could even imagine such a number, let alone count that high. "I've lived long enough to see three centuries, if you can believe that."

He was about to ask her the same question, only to be handed the wooden deer no doubt meant to resemble the sigil of their House. Wooden toys were found aplenty on Midvinter, but knowing this one was carved by the hand of the Lion himself had him treat it with the utmost care while examining it. "Aw, she is beautiful. You know, I met your grandpapa, a long time ago when he was no older than your father is now. And your great-grandpapa and I were best friends, we grew up together."

Not wanting to hog the toy to himself, he gently placed it on the floor between them. To her second question, Bors looked over his shoulder towards what he assumed was the kitchen where Théo disappeared to, then back to Thora. "At least for tonight, I will," he spoke the truth, offering a soft smile. "Until your father says otherwise, let's say."

Then came her third, and likely not final, question. This one gave him pause; a subject he'd of course given thought to numerous times over the years, but one which mostly would just leave him in a bad mood for even considering it. Even now he struggled to maintain his composure in front of the child asking an innocent question. "No, I don't..." he told her, debating whether to tell her more or leave it at that. "I wanted to, when I was a young man in love. But it never came to pass, sadly..."

He was quick to change the subject however, tucking his legs underneath him as he turned to fully face her. "Now how about you answer me some questions, hm? How old are you, Thora?" He plucked the little deer off the floor and placed it atop her head of unkempt hair. "And what do you call this little fellow? Seems like an adventurous sort to have climbed so high!"

[member="Thora Heavenshield"]​

 

[Thora Heavenshield]

She looked at him sceptically when he told her his age, "You don't look that old". But her look turned to a smile when she discovered Bors would be staying with them, "I am sorry you don't have kids", she added not fully understanding why he didn't especially if one lived as long as Bors. Thora looked up from her hands as Bors mentioned her great grandfather, only once had she seen the statue at great capital and even then that was some time ago that she could barely remember it. She did remember that it was very big and loomed over everything, but he had had a kind face and even in the statue she could see the eyes of her grandfather and papa.

Her eyes raised as he sat the small toy on her head, and even though she rolled her eyes Thora could not help but giggle at his silliness. "Okay, that sounds fair", she said sweeping her legs under each other as she turned to face him.

"I am five years old. I am not as old as my brother Boo and my cousins, they are all boys and they are all very silly", she said proudly and to inform Bors she had lived a good many years although she had a lot of catching up to do to match him. "Her name is Pagall, it's Runian .. it means swift".

"What was he like?", she asked softly just in case Papa heard them speaking. It seemed to upset him when speaking of great grandpapa for some reason. Or at least it did today. "Was he handsome like my Papa?".

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[member="Bors Greythorne"]​

 

[Bors Greythorne]

"Five years old..." The old man had to smile and shake his head. So very young and filled with nothing but hopes and dreams, and an abundance of curiosity of what lies beyond. All things he had long since abandoned. "I didn't know you have a brother, but then again I didn't know about you either before today."

Bors let out a scoff as this little girl had the audacity to actually explain her use of Runian language to him, someone who had used it all his life. "Very good, I am pleased you are being schooled in the old tongue. Used to be the only tongue, back in ancient days. Did you know it was the Beorni who taught it to us?" He wasn't about to go into a lengthy history lesson this late in the evening, but perhaps one day.

"Oh, was he ever," he spoke with fondness of his brother, rubbing his chin. "Countless girls flocked to him wherever we'd go, all yearning for the chance to steal his heart and become the next queen. I was not so lucky, but then I already had the only girl that mattered..." he played with the ring around his neck. "Your great-grandfather was... the best kind of person you could ever imagine. Strong and brave, but that is to be expected of course. Above all he was humble, and fair. As far as he was concerned he was just another man of the people, no different from you and me." Got pretty damn frustrating just how good he was, made everyone else seem like dirt in comparison.

"But he had also inherited his father's grim mood. Whenever left alone he would fall into these long moments of heavy thoughts, very hard to snap him out of it. Not the best at telling jokes or being the life of the party." He turned his head to find Théo leaning against the doorway, listening in on their conversation. Bors made no attempt to change topics but instead carried on with what he was going to say. "I hear your great-uncle Thyrian is much the same in that regard." He lingered like that a bit, then turned back to Thora, reaching over to fix one of her socks having slid down her ankle. "And not unlike your papa either," he whispered.

"He meant a lot to your daddy, you know. It's hard for him to think about when he died - he was just a boy at the time." His head tilted to the side to catch her gaze. "I won't tell you to imagine losing your own grandpapa, that would be too cruel a thing to do to a child. Instead I will say, cherish the time you have together, Thora. And when the inevitable does happen, take care of your dad." Such an immense loss would no doubt destroy the yound lord.

[member="Thora Heavenshield"]​

 

[Théodred Heavenshield]

Thora gave Bors a knowing look, realising that her Papa was listening, but he did not look upset this time. In fact, Théo was listening just as intently as his daughter, listening to a side of his grandpapa none of them would ever know. "I didn't get the girls flocking to me, so can't been that handsome", not quiet the truth however, he had had his fair share before he met Ylva.

For once, Théo could agree with Bors, his uncles was grim, in fact far more grim that he remembered his grandpapa to be. Thrand had been nothing but loving around him, and even smiled and told him jokes and his colourful use of language legendary, but it was true enough that when it came to matters of the crown all that side of him vanished. Thyrian was grim all the time, no matter the situation at least to those other than his immediately family and behind closed doors who knew. But to the rest of the family he always held them at a distance, even his own brother at times and the reason why, Théo was not privy to.

Théo pushed off the door frame, carrying a tray of light supper for Thora with a glass of blue milk, and some bread and cheese for Bors and himself, if they both felt peckish. All of it to be washed down with a hot brew of caf and as he placed it on the table Thora tucked in immediately.

But as is Bors' way it seemed he was back on the morbid talk, the idea of his father's death was something he did not wish to entertain, if he doesn't going running off on some mission or invasion that will put him in danger that is, he could live to be as old as his father before him. One hundred and fifty sounds like a nice round figure. The only problem was, mother would not have that capacity, she does not have the Valkyri genes and would pass well before him. Théo thought about how that would destroy his father, and son would have to take care of him.

As if fueled by the thought, "In a week from today I need to leave Midvinter and I will be taking Thora with me. While I am away, I want you to lead the Northmark in my absence", if Bors wants to be his second in command now is his first duty.

And Théo's face looked as grim as his uncle's.

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[member="Bors Greythorne"]​

 

[Bors Greythorne]

As Théo entered the room Bors made his best effort to rise to his feet, but it was a slow and painful process and he had to support himself on the mantelpiece. In stark contrast little Thora was quick on her feet, running over to her papa and the late evening meal he provided. Bors was not so quick on the draw, as sitting down and dining with the lord he served seemed awfully inconvenient. But then he kicked himself mentally for falling back into the ways in which he was raised, where he was instructed time and again how the great lords were our betters in every conceivable way - a notion he directly challenged, first by befriending the future High King and later by becoming engaged to someone without lands or titles to call her own. Old ways die hard, he supposed, and promptly took a seat.

His first instinct was to check out this strange brew of Théo's, the fumes suggested it was hot to the touch and he couldn't help but wonder how one would drink liquid fire. And the cups were so small! But he watched his lord and tried mimicking him, pouring some into his cup and smelling it. While hesitant at first, he found the smell quite pleasing. Clearly this was not ale or mead to be consumed without second thought, but rather some higher form of drinks reserved for the distinguished? As he lifted the cup to his lips and took his first sip, again mimicking Théo, at first he recoiled at the sheer heat of the drink. But he was nothing if not persistent and so he did better with his second attempt.

"This black drink of yours... I suppose it has an aquired taste, my lord. Can't say I've ever seen its like before, in all my years." Another sip followed, and this time he figured there was so little left that he might as well just down the rest while at it. He tried to appear unaffected by it but soon he reached for the kettle once more for seconds. Almost dropped the damn thing as he listened to Théo's request.

"My lord, are you..." He looked him in the eye and realised he needed not complete his question. There, in the face of [member="Théodred Heavenshield"], he saw now the remnants of his old friend, two generations later. "Thrand," he uttered barely audible before bowing his head. "As you say, my lord. May the Gods strike me down should I fail you!"