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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Long Road To... - 7. A Fish Tale

“Did you know I am an orphan?”

Joachim had been talkative all morning.

“I never knew my family. I was told that I was brought across the river as an refugee. I grew up passed between one orphanage or another. Some crowded, some cruel. No one cared. Sometimes we would even be let out to steal our own food because there was none otherwise.” He shrugged.

Fishing was supposed to be peaceful and quiet. Somehow it was not to be.

“When they thought I was old enough, I was turned out to fend for myself. For a while I earned enough for food by cleaning up after one bar or another. Some of the owners let me sleep in the back and eat for exchange of all my money. At some point, it started to become less fashionable to have someone of my growing size as the “errand boy” so the work became less. I got into more brawls over the jobs but would get turned out in the end. I found work on the docks.”

He looked around himself and the pier we were sitting on and smiled at the crates nearby.

“Lugging cargo on and off ships was good honest work. I was even able to pay my share on a room that a bunch of us shared. Then I got into a fight with one of my “friends” and got tossed out. From that time on, everything that I did seemed to be judged differently and eventually I was “requested” to leave my job.”

He looked down for a moment before going on.

“From there, the only work I could find was as a gravedigger. It was easy work for me because I had turned out to be fairly strong. You know, loading and unloading on the docks. Work was peaceful and quiet but it was about this time when I began to realize how alone I really was. I began to go to drink at taverns more often to not feel so lonely. It worked for a time, I did not have real friends but there were always people around.”

The sun was high and he handed me some bread and a skin. I nodded.

“Finally, a place hired me fulltime as a enforcer. My whole world became filled with people and I began to lose myself even more. The fights became more frequent and even encouraged to a certain extent to create my bar’s and my reputation. During this time I became friendly with another hired thug named Bran and his brother Geothor. Bran was enormous, bigger then me.”

He stopped and looked at me and blushed.

“Well, not as big as you.” He chuckled.

“Bran worked for two taverns at the same time. Even the threat of him coming would quiet the place down. Geothor, on the other hand, was smaller and quieter than us. He worked for one of the blacksmiths. They had come to the city to earn enough money for Geothor to get married. Bran was too much of a brute to find a respectable wife so Geothor was the one who got betrothed to carry on the family name. They figured that between the two of them, they could raise the money in a year or two. We roomed together and would have fun at each other’s expense all the time. With Bran occupied with two bosses, Geothor and I would carouse together often and became close friends. He was always very good to me and even offered to see if his Master would apprentice me as another blacksmith in training.”

“One night when coming home, I could hear the two of then arguing, not just mildly, but full out. I could hear only some of it including my name but not the specifics. You can always seem to hear your name even when you can’t make out the rest of the words, right? Basically, Bran was throwing Geothor out saying that they were no longer brothers. My first instinct was to rush in, but I didn’t. I retreated back to my bar and slept in the rear like I was a kid again. The next night when I went home, neither was there.”

He leaned forward and shook his head at the memory.

“When I woke up, Bran was. I asked after Geothor. All Bran did was grunt, nothing but a dark stare at me. Before work, I went to the Blacksmith’s. He said that Geothor took his tools and left. All he knew was that he said he was going to catch a ship out. He did not know where. Bran was waiting when I got back after work. He told me that he knew everything: the engagement was off, the hopes and dreams to raise his family’s name were gone, and Geothor was “too close” to me. When I asked more, he became enraged. He was on me even before I knew it. It was terrible. I did not want to hurt him, I just wanted to know what the hell was going on. I think that I was thrown through a window. Kjartanei said he found me busted up on the street.”

“I woke up in a ward feeling like hell. Kjartanei sat there, eyes closed, meditating. You know how he does that sometimes. Finally, he opened his eyes. We spoke for just a few moments before he left promising to come back. I had a lot of time to think about my life and how meaningless it all was. The next day Kjartanei returned. I told him a little about what had happened. He told me about him leaving soon to keep a promise to new friends.”

He nodded to me.

“He was settling his affairs in the city and would come back again tomorrow before leaving. I was jealous and disappointed. I was losing what was now my only friend, or at least a potential one. I was back where I started in the orphanage.”

“That night I snuck out. I wandered in the dark for a long time before I found myself standing on a bridge over one of the canals near the hospital where I had just come from. I looked at the darkness of the fast water below and wondered if this was it. I should have been left to die in the street. I should have starved in the orphanage. I looked out over the black water and climbed up on the side of the bridge.”

He looked away and down to recompose himself.

“All I heard was the simple: “Don’t.”

He looked off towards the rocks, his eyes glassy.

“I turned to see Kjartanei standing in the shadow. He said that he was leaving at dawn and asked me to come. It was pointless to me and I began to decline. He crossed into the light of the moon. He glowed blue from his tattoos, looking like some spirit. Like a sign from the gods. He guided me off that ledge.”

He smiled faintly to himself and sat back.

“Then we heard a commotion down the lane. I saw Bran being helped by two men into the ward where I had been. He was cursing about how he had not even seen the guy who shot him in the arm and how he would lose a week’s wages. I could see the bright blue on the arrow’s tail still hanging out of his arm. I turned to look at Kjartanei but he had backed into the shadows waiting, motionless, silent. That was when I noticed, in his hands, his loaded crossbow complete with an arrow finished with bright blue feathers.”

He chuckled to himself.

“Well, you can guess the rest right? Here I am.”

He laughed out loud.

“Are the fish biting?” Thorn seemed more cheerful than I had seen him in days. Joachim held up our catches. “Kjartanei is awake and asked for Joachim.”

Joachim handed his pole to Thorn, nodded to me, and walked back towards to square.

“You doing ok?”

I nodded.

“I am sure you are really enjoying the talking.” Thorn laughed at me.

I sighed.

“Tomorrow, we’ll let Joachim sit with him. Mach asked if I wanted to make some rounds in the next village, might be good to see if I can learn anything. You can get some free time. Alone, just like you like.”

I nodded. He knew me too well.

Copyright © 2017 Randomness; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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