Chapter 17 - Arroch's Audience II
Arroch decided he had to do something. He couldn't very well just sit here, well… staring. He had been told not to. Think-think-think… you are a Heyermannen. Wulfgar is your Heyermannen. This is Wulfgar's Heyermannen. Do what you are supposed to do. He stood up. Straight. Thumped his fist on his breastplate. Held it and dipped his head. Lower and longer than he did for Wulfgar. This was the North Star himself, no other man on the face of the earth could possibly command more respect.
Then he stood back up. What now, though.
"My high king. I am Heyermannen Arroch. Your high steward, summoned me."
"Did he now."
"Aye!"
The man just blazed at him. Giving off those weird waves of heat that were warm. You could feel the waves, wash over you. Arroch now knew why lesser men pissed themselves meeting the man for the first time. He was a true giant. He was completely and irrevocably insane. And those… waves of warmth that simply crashed over you, you could actually feel them. It was something very real, and whatever it was… it was far beyond terrifying.
"Well. You didn't piss yer self, that's always… a great start. You can stand. You can speak. Ye obviously be a man of some quality. Come in."
Arroch was about to follow him in, when he remembered the steward saying he had to get things for himself. He wanted the tray of tea and bread and meat and cheese. It would give him something to do lest he might start to fidget, if this scary giant began to examine him in any fashion. Arroch picked up the tray after gathering both earthenware cups as well, and walked slowly behind the big man.
The man stood. Feet wide, hands on his hips. Mercifully with his back to him now. He stopped politely. He was addressed without the king turning around.
"Arroch? Put the tray down. I wouldn't want you to drop it… it's a common thing. I don't keep servants, and I would rather not clean it up or bother my steward with it, if I don't have to. The poor steward has enough to do and worry about."
Arroch saw a small table with two overstuffed leather upholstered chairs. He gently as he might, placed the tray there, in the center of the table.
"Sit down, Arroch. I would rather you didn't fall down, and crack yer head. Again, it happens. I have to wait for a man to regain his feet. I get tired of that game."
Arroch sat down. At least, this indicated he wasn't going to be struck, he had wondered about dropping the tray.
Without turning around, standing still in his pose.
"Arroch? I want to get this out of the way. Then? We can be at our ease."
"Aye…?"
"Arroch. Do not fear me. You have nothing to fear from me. Are we clear? Ye are a good and decent man."
"My king flatters me."
"No flattery. I don't speak that sort of puppy shit. I only speak the truth."
"Aye."
"Arroch? Put the tea down. I am going to frighten you, and I do not mean to do so. There is simply… no… other… way…"
How he knew he had picked up the tea, he didn't know. There was no mirror or bright surface around. It hadn't made a sound. He put it down, though. This giant man of action, had a "battle sense" of what went on behind his back, even greater than Wulfgar's own. Which was of course legendary.
"Arroch… it is me."
"Aye. You are my high king. Who else would you be? You, are my North Star."
Which was hysterically funny and ironic to Arroch, given that he was talking to a complete madman. Did he perhaps mean that he was now the steward again? That would be a blessing.
"Arroch. We have never met… yet, we have spoken. Have we not?"
"My king. I have only had limited matters with yer high steward…"
"Not him… Me!… Arroch… the steward? He is… as any man, an empty cup. I… have chosen to fill that cup. With myself."
Play it off, Arroch told himself. These are the ravings of the mad king. No matter. He will get around to what he wants eventually.
"Aye."
"Arroch? We have spoken to each other. Many times."
"My king. If it please you… I wish the North Star… no… insult. I have only spoken… to your steward. Until now."
"Arroch? That is not true. You spoke to me at the gate. When you arrived."
Arroch began to get the dancing icy fingers up his spine. Bad. The waves of warmth were coming faster, billowing off of the crazy giant now.
"Arroch… you asked me… to guide you through this matter, did you not? Did I not answer you, as I always do. I had the steward tell you 'yes'… is that not how we have been speaking."
The man's voice was booming now. Deeper than a human man's voice should be able to boom. It almost seemed to rattle his bowels, if it wasn't just total fear doing that, although it seemed to be more than simple terror.
Arroch simply froze with abject fear. He felt as if he were going to forget to breathe. Why, oh why, he thought to himself… could not his audience with the mad king, go as Wulfgar's was said to go. Wulfgar was friends with him. They played dice and had fine-mead, and played other games for idle fun. Why did his audience have to threaten to have him shit himself.
The lunatic giant finally sighed. Turned around and walked over and put his bulk in the chair opposite the little table. Looked directly into his eyes, and frightened the ever loving shit out him. Figuratively, but literally was not going to be far behind, Arroch thought.
The mad giant spoke again. With a much lighter gentle voice. Somehow, the booming vibrations from the voice ceased. The waves of warmth ceased to a minimum. That… sudden feeling of weightlessness came over him, that calming he remembered.
"Arroch. The dice are over there…"
He pointed.
"The fine-mead? It's over there… in that cask on the floor. And? if you must? The chamber pot is through that door."
Arroch sputtered practically nonsense. Flabbergasted.
"Nay… how… what… you… but I… I'm not…"
The giant picked up the other earthenware teacup.
"Go on. Babble a bit. They always do. Get it out of you, then."
He took a sip of the tea. Made a face. Put it down.
"How the steward drinks this goat piss, I'll never know. He loves this. Me? I prefer fine-mead. Would you like a horn of my own private cask, Arroch? Perhaps it will settle your nerves."
And the North Star went over, and picked up the cask of fine-mead. Carried the heavy cask easily in the palm of his hand, that an ordinary size out-land man would lug around with both hands. He was a giant, after all.
"Arroch? There are… well, it is as a man going up a set of stair steps."
"Aye…"
"First? A man might hear me whisper in his ear. He will think, it is his own thoughts, guiding him. Or, even believe it's me whispering, as in the old tales."
"Aye…"
"Second? He comes to believe it's me. Whispering to him. Guiding him. Granting him the wisdom he asks for."
"Aye…"
"Third? The man might ask for something. If it is a worthy request? I might grant it. Usually, if it's not a selfish request. Requests to aid others, is about all I will grant."
"Aye."
"Fourth? If I think a man might be worthy. Might be, mind you. I will attempt to actually speak to him. As I started to do to you. High on the corridor."
"Aye."
"Fifth. The problem be? Speaking to a man, as I do… usually drives them to madness. They lose their helmet. It crushes my heart. I only speak when I feel it is wise to do so. When I imagine a man can take it. You? Have quality. My words, when spoke plain? Did not drive you to madness."
"Nay…"
"Sixth. If a man stay pure of it? And I see he is not going to madness? I will begin to speak to him more. As I did you. Oh… you know how I speak to men now. Don't you, Arroch."
"Aye."
"Seventh. If a man be pure enough. Will not fall to madness. If it's important? I will summon him to me. Arroch… it… is… important. So? Here we be. Now. Go, I imagine you want to use the chamber pot, as I said, it's right through that door. And? Would you toss this goat piss out? I want my fine-mead. You look like you could use a few horns as well. We have matters to discuss. I would have you calm enough to talk. Go on."
"This. This is not happening… I… you… we…"
"Arroch? It's happening. Get over yer shock. My ass does not sprout feathers and wings and I fly around… I work through men. I work through the steward…"
…and he indicated his own body.
"Arroch? You asked me, in the Bear's great-house that night. After my son took the Bear down. You asked me, what did I want you to send him. I told you to send him Eira. You did what I requested. You asked for both Eira, and the men? To know how to speak to him. I told them. Now… off to the chamber… then come back. We will drink this excellent mead… I simply love this smoked meat. Do not worry, there's plenty more food and drink. When a man becomes a vessel, the man eats like a horse. It's always like that."
Arroch just sat there. Stunned.
"Arroch? You are going to water the floor, I'd rather you used the chamber."
"Aye…"
And, Arroch walked slowly to the chamber. Closed the door. Pissed. Came back. Sat down. Slowly and deliberately. As a man in shock will do. Simply because he was in a profound state of shock.
The North Star? Simply handed him the earthenware tea cups. Rather than forgetting to empty what he had been told to empty, his mouth was so dry he simply chugged both and put them down.
"That is one way to get rid of goat piss in a cup. I suppose. I usually throw the steward's piss out, and get what I want. The man has no taste, for all his other quality."
"Arroch. Can you speak normally yet? It usually takes a man a short time. By speak? I mean, beyond aye and nay only. When you regain the power of real speech? I assume I will know. Because you will begin speaking. HAH!!"
Arroch felt the boom and the waves of heat again, but only briefly.
"Sorry, Arroch. Just having some sport with you. I know you prefer my calming voice better. Most do."
"I… I think, I can speak now… if you wish it…"
"And why would I not. I summoned you, did I not? It wasn't to play touch and go."
"How… how am I worthy? If I am not dreaming…"
"You are not dreaming, Arroch. You are not mad."
"Why… why am I here?"
"Arroch. Talking through men? You know how it is. Short words, and that is at best. That speaking? It's… as when the RavinLunden put messages on arrows. They have to be short. This way? We can simply talk. Is this not easier?"
"Perhaps easier for you…"
"You are getting over it. You are calming. I know it. Here, have some of this mead. I swear, it's good drink. My favorite. It's the only thing the Wolf will accept from me, besides commands, nearly."
"Wulfgar… he… he knows… correct?"
"Not really. The Wolf? Too high of a reckoner. They almost always talk themselves out of it. The steward's a madman, the steward's a madman, that's all I hear. It is better than, I am mad… I am mad… but not by much."
"Wulfgar… but, he's your closest friend. Everyone knows that about him… the gossip is, you two play dice…"
"Aye. We are best friends. We are as kin. We are blood brothers. From the early days. Does not mean he believes. As I said, high reckoners? Talk themselves out of it. Eira will barely speak to me. She thinks I am a full madman. I tried… high spirited woman, I just treasure her. She threatens me with a cast iron pot over my head, any time I try to convince her. Poor thing is scared. How sporting is that, really."
"But… you… you are real… you… told me, what I say in my head… who… who would not believe, after all of that?"
The North Star smiled.
"As I said. High reckoners. Too many wits for their own good, are the words for it. Not really, no such thing, yet… it is the best way to say it, I suppose. They convince themselves, that… they are dreaming… that… they are gone mad… Oh, how I wish I could speak freely to high reckoners, then… we could really get somewhere then, if you grasp my words on the matter, aye?"
"Aye. I suppose…"
"Here. I'll show you. My high steward? This man? Watch… he will convince himself. I find it amusing, yet, I try not to have too much sport with the man, mind you. Come. Let's have a wee bit of fun with him. Now… watch… my… eyes… and I mean carefully…"
"Watch…"
Arroch furrowed his brow. What was he to see?
The North star slowly closed his eyes, and his head went down on his chest. His breathing slowed. He appeared to have fallen asleep.
Then? Exactly as a man waking up, having fallen asleep in a chair, he started awake. With a little nap-jerk. His eyes blinked and popped open. He started, and looked around. Saw Arroch sitting there, looking at him.
"Oh. Arroch. I am so embarrassed. I have started walking in my damned sleep again. Kindly? Do not gossip of it. I am embarrassed of it. Oh, this is worse, I am now simply sleep dressing. I am in Northy's clothes… damn it!"
And, he got up and walked around. Sat back down. Confused. He looked at Arroch, furrowing his brow. That was when Arroch saw it… the different colored eyes, had switched. He was sure of it. The blue and the brown eye? Had switched sides. That was impossible, yet… what was really possible about all of this? None of it, but still. Arroch had learned, you just sit there and let the madness just sort of go and happen.
"Oh. Just give me a second, I beg of you. Damn it, where is my tea! I swear, if that damned Wolf has been putting fine-mead in my cup again… Oh! I keep telling him, to quit jesting with my damned cup! I hate that… now, when did that snake eyed bastard sneak in? Did you see him? Did you?"
It was definitely the steward. No mistaking the mannerisms. The voice. The speech. The choice of words. The eyes. Plus? As a fighting man, Arroch had a knowledge to look at things an ordinary man would never notice. The steward? was right handed. The North Star? Was left handed.
Arroch decided he just had to have the sack to test it. He knew of one way to prove it. Again, only a fighting man would know of it. People tried to fake being both-handed, trying to impress their friends, when all they did was practice a lot with the other hand. There was one way to bust them. Instant reactions out of nowhere? Were unable to be faked.
"Steward?"
"Yes, Arroch?"
"The Wolf just left. He said he dropped something, he went and picked it up. Then he just walked out."
"Oh. So you were in on the cup jest, aye? It's not funny. I hate that."
"Nay, I went to the chamber. He came in and out as I came out the chamber."
"Oh. Sorry for accusing you, then. It's always the Wolf that does it, I swear. I… am done sleep walking. At least I hope so. I… am off to bed. Again. Enjoy your audience, Arroch. The North Star? He spoke highly of you. Good night, then…"
And he was walking off.
Arroch decided it was time to pop the test.
"Steward!"
And when the steward turned around to see what he wanted? Arroch was ready. He fired a little square of the smoked cheese at him. Threw it at him, as a young kid will do to another. The steward jerked, and thrust out his right hand, instinctively. Caught it. In his right hand.
He sniffed it. Took a nibble.
"It's good, not even dried out. What matter of it, then?"
"Oh, the king mentioned he wanted some more meat and cheese. I would get it? I have no idea where the pantry is."
"I thought you were still waiting, Arroch. Then… where is Northy at?"
"He said he had to use the chamber. Said he would be a little while."
The steward popped the rest of the smoked cheese square into his mouth, and walked off.
"The king knows where the pantry is… ask him. I'm so tired… I'm going back to bed. Would you kindly not tell everyone in the kingdom, that the high steward sleepwalks, as a child does? I embarrass easily."
After a little while, Arroch had a cup of fine-mead, it was really good. Had some of the smoked meat on a slice of bread, with a few more cheese squares in between bites. In a short while? The North Star was back.
He sat down across the table from him once again. Smiling.
Arroch leaned forwards. Looked at his eyes, to make sure he wasn't remembering incorrectly. Nope. The colors were back on the opposite sides yet again. No one, could fake that.
Sitting there with a Cheshire cat's grin. He tossed a morsel of the cheese to the North Star. He caught it with his left hand, and popped it into his mouth. Smiling ear to ear.
"You saw the eyes, did you not?"
"Aye. I saw more than that, as well."
"And yer talking well again. Haven't pissed your trousers, either. That's always a good omen."
"Is it then? Glad you approve."
Arroch just leaned back. Took a drink of the excellent fine-mead, and a slice of the smoked meat. Smiled.
"Well. The ox is braver now, I see. You are taking this awfully well, I must say."
"My king? I gave up, a while ago. About… all of this. I am either as mad as you are? Or, this is real. Either path I decide, leads to the same village."
"And… which village is that?"
"If this… you… are real? I get the chance to save my man Ryeamund's people. They are starving thralls down there."
"And, if it's not real?"
"Well then. We are both… goat-fucking mad."
"And, that is the same village?"
"Aye."
"How so?"
"Who can stop a true madman. As I say… either path I take on the matter? Same village I end up at… Ryeamund's farmers? Are being worked and starved to death. The south-lands need goat-fucking cleansed. The will of the gods… the works of complete madmen… does not matter, the same works get done."
"I took an oath to become a big-man. I took an oath to become a Heyermannen. My father always said he would rather kill me, than live to see a son that would swear a false oath. I serve my mad king. His works… are true."
"I mean you no insult, Arroch, when I say this… you are no great high reckoner, that is the truth."
"Aye, I never was. Wulfgar? Taught me to simply seek the counsel of my reckoner. Seek the counsel of my truth man. Now, may I ask you something?"
"Are we not here talking. Over what I consider simply the finest mead anywhere? Ask away."
"You… what do you need me for. Send Ryeamund down. He can smash… whoever."
"I can't do that. That's your job, Arroch. What in the goat-fucking blazes do you think you are a Heyermannen for, anyways. Heyermannen… leads the men. There are men… you… lead them. This is not high reckoning, Arroch. Barely could be even called wisdom."
"My new man, Ryeamund… you called him your son."
"Aye. And, what of it? Does me nothing if he is not led to where he needs to be… commanded to do what needs to be done."
"So… I might as well wallow in my madness and enjoy it… I… I will just say it plain. Ryeamund… he is Thor… correct?"
"Goat fucking aye!"
"So… command yer son then, and get it over with. I do not understand…"
"I thought I just showed you, you dim ox. The steward? He doesn't even know! The vessel? They never know!"
"But… he talks to you. He told me himself. He talks to you every morning, and every night."
The North Star guffawed heartily. It gave off the waves of heat. The booming laugh, rattled his insides. Arroch was getting used to it. Slowly, but used to it.
"He's a high reckoner. He is convinced that he has gone completely mad. He barely believes he is even the steward. He mutters to himself in the bath house. I feel a little bad for him. Honestly, when we… talk? He is looking in a pool of water. He thinks… that he speaks to his own reflection. He honestly thinks, that as a high reckoner? That he is mad, and serves the high king. He honestly and truly believes, that he has to hide his madness, or, risk losing his important job. I need him… how else can I get a high reckoner, as I require."
"What the--- Oh come now! You are… oh, I can't even say it… you are… you, I am not saying it… but, you are YOU… what do you need with a reckoner?"
"Arroch. I am made of wisdom. WISDOM! Not high reckoning. I don't count much better than you do. How in the goat-fucking world am I expected to run this bigger kingdom, without a high reckoner for a steward? Hmm? I am a fighting man. Just like you are."
"But… but… ye…"
"Arroch. Does no one read the scrolls? Or listen to the tales? I am a man. I was first born a MAN. I grew WISE. I helped my fellow men."
"But… you are…"
"Arroch! Listen to me. Hear my words. I speak plain, do I not? I was born a man. What happened? It… happened. I do not know how or why. I came to understand… who or what I am. Which is, pure wisdom. Wisdom come to a fighting man. That is all, and nothing more."
"But… you…"
"Yes. As I was dying? What you would call my first life. The one written in the scrolls. Something… just happened. I do not know from where or from why. It just… is. And? That is all there is to the matter."
"Valhalla. It is real?"
"Aye. I live somewhere, do I not? My great-house there? This is actually, one of the best imitations of it I have had yet, coming back. I truly like this one, I tell you."
"And the rest?"
"The rest of what."
"Rainbow bridge, the eight legged steed, magical goats you can eat and are reborn…"
"Oh, that puppy shit. I honestly, do not know where all that shit came from, I tell you. I am who I am? And even I can not figure that all out. Tall tales are one thing, but that nonsense? You pickles, you are all truly amazing. The stories you all come up with, to explain the unexplained."
"I… I just can not begin to…"
"Arroch? Do not spend much time trying to puzzle it all out. I tried that, trust me, there is no answering it. Maybe, that is why the high reckoners tend to go MAD when I convince them. I went… where I went, when I died. We all call it Valhalla. Whatever we call it, its there. What else would I do, but continue to do what I did when alive the first time. I am still helping my people. It is… all I know."
"Arroch. There is no understanding it all. There is no reckoning it all. It… just is. Wisdom? You said it yourself… it all leads to the same village. Am I to sit up there, where I sit? Watch my people goat-fuck it all up? Watch other men goat-fuck them their whole lives? In a PIG'S ASS!! I WILL NOT TOLERATE IT!! I WILL NOT HAVE MY PEOPLE USED FOR SLAVES. STARVED. TORTURED. WHAT KIND OF MAN WOULD I BE TO WATCH THAT AND DO NOTHING !!"
Arroch's jaw was hanging open. He was shrinking in his chair. Shaking. The waves of warmth were getting hot. Uncomfortable.
The giant sat back down.
"I am… sorry. It… it makes me lose my temper. No, not you Arroch. You? Are as I am, trying to help the same people. Arroch, I can do little by myself. I am but a man. Many hands make for light work. Will you aid me?"
"Am I to put the steward, into armor, hand him a sword? Point him on a war horse towards the south lands? You have met the man… he will cut his own cock off with it, and fall on the damned thing. Who in the goat-fucking blazes do you think led the Great Forging? Hello…"
"So… lead all the big-men again…?"
"Arroch. Use wisdom. If fighting accomplished all goals? Why did we have to reforge the nation, the great troubles. Why are we getting ready to, most likely, go through it yet again. Fighting… it needs done, yes. Yet… it is not the final answer to this puzzle. Why do you suppose I am so keen on high reckoners?"
"I don't know. You said, they don't… even listen, or, believe in you."
"I do not care. Their works are true! Do you not enjoy the steward? All do! A fighting man, can not lead the kingdom, you dim ox. It takes a high reckoner to do that. Have you not seen what the RavinLunden villages are like? No one killing each other. No one beating the piss out of each other, drunk. The strongest and bravest men? Are the quietest and most polite men there. THAT is what I want… that… throughout the entire kingdom."
"Use yer helmet man! Honestly, Arroch. Every time I come back? I keep trying. Wisdom tells me I must keep trying. I can not give up on my people. Now, I finally have started to get it right… do you not see it? Men, and women and children. Strong fighters. Quiet and polite to each other. They protect one another. They do not want to kill each other over gold."
"Pah! The goat fucking good is damned gold anyways. It can't warm you in a cold forest. It can't feed you when you are hungry. You can't drink it, when thirsty. It can't teach your son to follow the true ways. It's all but useless! Gold? Will lure your sons to kill each other, as the twats in the out-lands do. Brothers, killing brothers. All over who gets to put the stupid gold hat on next… honestly, I don't want that shit for my people."
Arroch was stunned. This… giant, which is what he was, really. This giant, had a tear running down his cheek. He was starting to cry a little bit. His voice had softened unimaginably. No waves of heat, the waves had grown… cold. A few tears ran down his cheeks as he spoke…
"Arroch. I am simply a MAN. I was born. I came from my mother's belly. I still remember her. I loved her. Yes, she was tall and hairy, as all my people were back then. Dressed in but furs. Yet… I remember it, as if it were but yesterday. Her smile. How warm and comfortable I felt as she would hold me. Hum to me. By the fire at night. A mother's love? Is what is good in this world."
"Good food. Good drink. A big fire. Men, sharing in their work. How good does it feel, when the men gather and perform their labors they enjoy doing? Arroch, THAT… is what is important in the world. Not the damned gold. It's… practically useless. It is just… a better way to barter, I suppose. A necessary evil. Yet, that is all it is."
"How can a man, love gold itself? I can't imagine it, but they do, oh, they DO. It's heavy. You need to protect it. Someone is always after it, one way or another. I tell you, I wish gold were never invented. No, Arroch… all there should be? A mother and her children. A strong and wise father. Many hands, all helping one another."
"Just LOOK at the RavinLunden, man! What do they hold highest? I will tell you. Honor. Respect. Abilities. Good food and drink. A little land. To keep what they can make. To buy, sell, trade. Their fondest wish in life? To get immortalized, on a scroll. To be remembered, for being great."
"But… the RavinLunden? They… they are almost all of them, high reckoners. High reckoners, do not even really believe in you."
"So? They believe, in some fashion. They know the gods exist. They… for some reason, high reckoners… oh, as you said, Arroch… the… same… village. If I could just get the RavinLunden villages, to become the whole kingdom? My… my work would be done, I think. Then? I would no longer be… needed I suppose. Which suits me fine. I would rather go hunting, in the first damned place. I was never a fighting man, I was a hunter. It's what I enjoy. if I didn't have to go through all of this shit? I could just come back, see everything was doing great, and just spend a lifetime hunting. As my people started out. Hunters."
"And… you expect me to believe, that you do not even know where you come from?"
"What? I told you, I came from my mother's belly, my first life. As did you. Where does any man come from, but his own mother's belly. Honestly Arroch, you do own a small farm…"
"But, I don't understand…"
"Arroch? I don't know either. I was born. I grew wise. I began helping my people. When I died? I don't know why, or even how. I suppose there is something, or someone. Out there… somewhere… even I do not know who or what put me to this task. I just know, that after I died? I built my great-house. Wherever it was I woke up after my death. To me? It appears as if I look down, and see things. My people. I know I can come back, into… a vessel. Like this steward."
"I was working slowly… then? The RavinLunden arrived. Warned of the next invasion. Had numbers on the enemy. Their movements. Their new fighting tactics. Everything. I saw something… great. Their RECKONING! I had to have them. I HAD to have them mix with my people. And? Look where we are AT, man!! We are on the BRINK of getting there. We are so close this time, I can see it, I can feel it."
"Wulfgar said it, as you did. The damned GOLD is the problem, this time."
"Yes. Its him. He has a new weapon this time… he has found a way to use the gold as a weapon. It's… I admit it. It's a mightier weapon, in some ways, than the sword. When you use it that way. The gold is being stolen. Mixed with lesser metals. Used to fund the enemies. Which is bringing him more gold… it continues. THAT… is what needs put a stop to. Sending my son, to smash the other son, behind it all? Won't solve a damn thing this time around… no, the outlanders are learning how to use gold as a weapon. What I can't figure out? Is where this is all coming from."
"But… you… you are a…"
"Oh. That. Go on then, say it… get it over with… I'm a what?"
"Well… you are a GOD."
"Arroch? That is just what you pickles have named me. Am I? I don't feel it. I am not all powerful. All I am? In plain speech? I was born a regular, everyday, ordinary MAN. When I died? I just know I went somewhere, and I know I can come back, into a… let's call it I come back into a steward. And, I can come back again and again as another steward. THAT… is ALL that I know."
"And yes, there are others. As I am. None of us? Know why, or how."
"All right then. Can I at least call Ryeamund, by his real name? Will that… wake him up?"
"Arroch. My own steward… honestly thinks he… is completely insane, and is hiding it from the world. Ryeamund? Is the steward… for my son. Thor. And yes, every damned time I bring him down? I have learned, I simply must have him raised like that, so he knows humility. Only then does he excel and do what is right. The steward… knows nothing. You have seen my steward. If you try to convince Ryeamund, of what he is? He will, I would wager… simply run from you, thinking he is being commanded by a raving madman. I do not suggest you try it."
"I was… going to ask, if I have to keep this all under my helmet…"
"No. Tell the whole kingdom. Who will believe you? Who would then listen to anything you suggested. Do you see the problem there? Welcome to my world, Arroch. All I can get, is that the 'steward' hits a certain age? They get an… itch. An itch to come up here. It's a natural thing. Other than that? I have to do the rest through other men. Which is where you come into the plan, Arroch. Will… you… help… me…?"
"As I said. I took two separate oaths. I will not forsake my own father. And, either path leads to the same village. I am fulfilling my oath. I am helping the people that need helped. Now then. How do we fight… gold?"
"Loki does not care about gold. Not the way men do. To him? It is just a new toy, a new weapon he has found. Just as a sword can be used for good or evil? So too, can gold be used either way. I just can't figure out… where he got this from. This… is coming from somewhere. From… someone. Some people. THAT is what needs a stop put to it. Or we will go through this again and again. As I said, battles are all but useless, without finding the head of the snake and cutting it off. Then? We can go about the rest."
"Well. Believe me or not? Theyer and Sooth… they… believe. They believe enough, if you follow my words."
"Aye. It is something. I wish Eira were not so damned high of a reckoner."
"That is why you told me to send Eira to Ryeamund that night, then. So he had a high reckoner, as I have my Theyer."
"What? Oh. It is his wife, man."
"Coin wench. The eyes they make at each other? It will be his wife before long, I believe."
"No. Eira is a vessel, Arroch. Think, ox… Ryeamund. You have seen how he fights. And, how people want to follow him. Those are his gifts. Eira… is she not the same, as a woman? Does she not fight like any ten women at once? Does she not attract followers? Just like Ryeamund."
"So… Eira is…"
"Yes. In a steward. Like me. As you saw, the steward? Knows nothing of it."
"So… you mean… Eira is… or has, however you word it…"
"How hard of a concept is it? It's my son's wife. How could they not get together as soon as they laid eyes on one another. Just as Ryeamund had an itch to come up here? Eira has an itch to find him. Easy wisdom to follow, Arroch."
"How… you do not like the word gods… what do I call you?"
"You pickles are so silly, most of you. Where do they get this goat shit from. I do not know, but it's true. I swear to you Arroch, I do not feel like a god. You honestly want to know what I feel like?"
"What, then."
"I am a very, very, tired old man. I have two of my sons, that are at each other's throats, for ages now. They haven't worked together, in I cant tell you HOW long that's been. I can't separate them anymore. This new… gold weapon? This is the last stalk of straw, I tell you. My son and his wife? Sent down here. There's more of us. Almost all of us, this time. We have all had our legs pissed on for far too long."
"All… all of us? What?"
"Me. My son. His wife. All their sons, as well. You pickles call us gods? Whatever, I suppose. Same village, right? All of us… 'gods'… are here this time."
"You… can not control them?"
"I forgot, you do not have children, do you."
"Well, no. Not yet…"
"Oh. Well, go on and raise, what say you… six, twelve children? Then… THEN… you come back to me? And you look me in my crazy eyes, and you tell ME. How every one of them, does exactly what you command, each and every time. All the sons have wives, the daughters have husbands. All their children… if you think I can just snap my fingers, and all of them leap to fulfill my every wish as a command? Oh, Arroch… you have a better chance of seeing goats fly out of your ass."
"Aye, then… I always sort of imagined, that your great-house, was…"
"What, a quiet and orderly affair? I am the father, to among others, the god of thunder and battle, and the god of mischief and evil. Tell me, have you ever been to an unruly tavern in the more high spirited parts of the southern lowlands?"
"Actually? Aye, I have."
"Well then. I could get more peace and quiet there, than in my own great-house when those two are going at it. Which is about constantly. My great-house? Looks like a goat-fucking tornado went through it twice. All I want to do? Is go hunting again. What manner of 'god' am I, if I can not go hunting when I wish. Hmm?"
"In all honesty? I am not as wise as everyone would believe, I tell you. I will TELL you who was wise… the one you pickles call the god of the hunt? HE knew what he was doing. He stepped aside, from running everything. Everyone elected me. Him? He gets to go out hunting! Me? Look at what I go through, lifetime after lifetime."
"You… you sound as if… you didn't want to…"
"I never once asked to be what I am! Then? They all made me take charge! I did not want this! I was farst!"
"But… you… are the wise old father. The best leader…"
"Aye. I suppose I am. But did I ask for it? Never once. I tell you, Arroch… the only good leader? Is one who does not want to lead. Anyone who wants to lead? Probably, should not. That's all I can tell you."
"Sounds familiar…"
The giant smiled at him, grinning ear to ear.
"Why do you think I picked you to lead men? You quit trying to become a leader. That's how I knew you were the man for the job!"
"Oh. Well I tell you, there is yer big problem with this whole world, right there, then…"
"And then, Arroch's eyes were finally pried open. We do not have a pickle problem. Pickles… are pickles. They float, they bump one another. We do not really have a gold problem. What we have? Is a goat-fucking leader problem. We need leaders, who do not want to lead."
"The RavinLunden… they take oaths…"
"Aye! Yer starting to get it, Arroch! The RavinLunden… take oaths… to never seek kingship, nor high office. NOW… can you finally see, why I want to have all RavinLunden villages, throughout the whole entire kingdom. Aye?"
"Well… aye."
"GOOD! Now. Let us take a break, man. Let us go and raid this steward's pantry. The bastard keeps hiding the figs from me. Help me find them, would you? You can have anything you find in there. I don't care. Arroch, have you ever seen a drunkard, make sport for the other men by taking a burning stick, and lighting his fart on fire?"
"Aye, I have… The Bear's great-house, actually… truth be told of it…"
"How could I have guessed. Well, I have a wonderful kingdom. That is going to look like a lit fart soon, if we can't put a stop to it. Yet? We have a pantry like no other. Let us go and raid it, like the drunken raiders of old, man! THEN, we come back and try to hammer out a plan that might actually get us somewhere. All is well?"
"It is yer great-house. Lead me…"
"AYE! The North Star? Does not lead men in error! Well, at least not on the way to the pantry, HA-A-A…"
The gentle waves of heat that now felt good were back, and the slight vibrations of the booming voice? Were calming, somewhat. Somehow, some way… like a good shoulder massage.
Arroch thought to himself…
So. This is what complete madness feels like.
Strangely comfortable, once you got used to it.