Lost in Midstar, Part 5 - "The Confession Of A Broken Soldier"

It couldn’t have been more than 45 minutes or an hour until we got to Greyshire. There was a sanctuary for their deities where they also treated the sick and injured. When we got the man inside, the priestesses were able to help him into a bed where he could be treated by one of their healers. One of the priestesses came up to us and blessed us in some other language as a sign of gratitude. Because it was getting later in the day, we just decided to rest in this town for the night. The inn had some open rooms, so we stayed their as opposed to camping outside. Nrög and I shared a room. We hadn’t eaten, and my stomach started growling. I wasn’t that hungry after what had happened earlier that day, though. “How’s about us two head down to the tavern, get a bite to eat,” Nrög said. “A growing lad like you needs to eat.” “That sounds fine,” I told him, since he offered. The tavern just next to the inn, near the front. We sat at the long bar table near the kegs of beer and ale. The bartender came up and asked us what we wanted to have. Nrög told him something I didn’t understand. The bartender went to go and get us whatever it was he ordered us. After a while, the bartender came back with two plates with some mutton, potatoes and a small loaf of bread. Then, he filled us each a cup of ale and put it on the table for us.
“Umm, I don’t really drink ale,” I said to Nrög.
“You never had it? This is your first time drinking?”
“I’ve never really thought about having it. My parents only drink wine on special occasions.”
“Well, try it!” I looked into the mug at the dark liquid, and reluctantly drank some of it. The taste was bitter on the back of my tongue. I put it down.
“How is it?”
“Fine,” I lied.
“That a boy.” I moved on to my food, and ate the mutton and potatoes. “You did some good fighting out there today.” I slowed down after he said that. “Got yourself a nice nick there on your cheek to prove it.”
“I don’t want to fight people, really. That was a one time thing,” I said in a quieter voice.
“You have to fight sometimes, lad. You have to protect yourself and the people you love,” Nrög said. “It’s a man’s world. We’re the ones who build nations only to bring them to flames and burn them to ash. Someday it will be us who throw the world to chaos, destroying it. But we have to stay strong.” He took a long drink from his mug and slammed it down. “Another.” The bartender came over to fill his mug.
“Your world can’t be as bad as mine. You have swords and magic. My world has weapons of mass destruction that crazy jackasses could set off whenever they feel like.”
“Magic and swords don’t matter, War is war,” he said. “Doesn’t matter whether your fighting on your feet with a sword or someone’s charging at you with a spear aimed at your throat.” He took another drink. “Being at the mercy of another man will put the fear of divine judgement in your heart.” I had finished my meal. Nrög was on his third mug of ale. We sat and talked a while longer. He just wouldn’t stop talking and wouldn’t stop drinking. The bartender came up to us.
“Your tab is nineteen silver,” he said. Nrög reached for his coin bag. He dumped it out on the table and tried to count the silver, copper and gold coins scattered there.
“Can you count them,” I asked.
“Help me with this, lad,” he said. I counted out the nineteen silver coins and put the rest in the bag. He stumbled as he stood up. He gave out a small hiccup and fumbled forward.
“Wait up, I got you,” I told him. He put his arm around my shoulder, and I walked him out of the tavern. Outside, two loosely clothed women stood. Seeing the state that Nrög was in, they took a step back.
We made it only a few feet when he said, “Stop. Let’s just sit here a while. Sit me down.” I leaned him against the wall on the side of the town road. I sat next to him.
“You're- a good lad, Aaron. I wish I had had a son like you, who I could teach to fight and- take out to drink and all. And I’m sorry if I was rough on you. I understand why you don’t wanna kill people. I never did either. But they sent me out south. Those damn Jeyawahlens started coming in and hurting the people in the countrysides, so they sent us out to kill them.” That's when he started crying. “I was just a lad myself-” and that was the last thing I could really understand him say before he started his drunk rambling. It was hard to interpret since it wasn’t English. I understood certain things he said. He told me how him and his friend were “taken by them” and that his friend “wasn’t lucky”. Than he said he “didn’t want to see blood”, then they “cut it off and left him”. He kicked off his boot, and what I saw disturbed me. This whole time, his left leg was a prosthetic, and I never knew. I never saw him ever take off his boots in front of anyone. It went up to almost his knee, and it was strapped on underneath his pants. It was finely polished, and was the somewhat shaped like an actual leg. At this point, he was sobbing like he was still out on the battlefield. “Sometimes it still hurts like when the cut it off, so I got to drink away the pain,” he cried, hot tears running down his cheeks. “And I got back from the battle, and I told my woman I was going to marry her when I got back, but she wasn’t there anymore. So I went to her father, and he had married her off, telling her I was dead! And I told him he’d burn in Rángthûlcaz!” He was so angry, he grabbed his prosthetic leg and tore it off, and threw it into the road. “Dammit,” he yelled. “Dammit all!” He wept into his hands for a while. I went out to retrieve his wooden leg. “I loved that girl, and if I would’ve married her, I would’ve wanted a boy like you, Aaron.” We sat there for a long moment in silence. “Here, let’s get this leg back on you. Then we’ll head in for the night, alright?”
“Alright,” he sniffed. I helped him restrap his leg back on, and helped him with his boot. I got his arm over my shoulder and got him onto his feet. We made it into the inn (and miraculously up the stairs). He stumbled into his bed and slept like a rock after that. After a couple minutes there was a knock at the door. I opened it up to be greeted by Tircínwen.
“You two heading to bed? I thought I heard some clamor in this room and thought you two were rough-housing,” she said.
“Nrög’s asleep. It’s been a long night. I need to get some shut-eye,” I told her.
“Alright. Yûn vil,” she said in her tongue, and she left. I shut the door and went to bed.