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Eisen was familiar with both the lives of humans and elves. Having lived well over 100 years—it was hard to keep track—he’d had his fair share of experiences with both races. As a warrior who fought to save said races from harm, he came to know about a different side of them. As such, it was only natural he’d come to conclusions about both races.
The elves, in his experience, were wise and often powerful, using their surplus of years as valuable experience. Meanwhile, humans used their limited years to their advantage, making the most out of their lives with what little time they had. There was good and bad with both races, as to be expected, but that only made the concept of relationships all the more beautiful.
As a dwarf, he didn’t quite fit in with the eternally journeying elves, nor with the fast paced humans. To be a dwarf meant to be something in the middle. He understood the concept of living one’s life to the fullest. Even he often desired to be of use in his life. On the other hand, he could also understand the apathy of the elves. Living a longer life naturally meant his connection to feelings of urgency and loss was weaker than a human’s.
This is what he’d observed in his years, both from his interactions with others and his own self reflection. It hadn’t been long after the parting of the Hero party that his introspection truly began. Then, not long after Himmel’s death, he’d come to terms with life, most specifically his own. Then, just when he thought he’d reached some type of enlightenment, he found himself looking into the eyes of a tearful human child in need of a home.
It wasn’t odd for him to think of his family from so long ago or the companions he felt he’d traveled with so recently. What was odd, was the feeling of loss he felt a few weeks after Stark had joined Frieren.
He was making a short journey through a nearby village—he’d taken on a small request as a favor that needed turning in—when he overheard a conversation between a mother and her child. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, in fact he’d argue he hadn’t, it was simply hard to ignore the excitedly loud speaking of a young boy.
“Are we really going to have hamburg steak tonight?”
A small, happy laugh left the child's mother. “Of course. I promised we’d have it when father returned, didn’t I?”
Eisen heard the child’s shouts of glee, but he was too distracted to process what the shouts said. Hamburg steak. The food of all, but the tradition of only some. As his legs carried him across the path—never once hesitating despite the state of his mind—he felt his thoughts wander to a place they did not often visit. His memories.
—
He placed the plate of steaming meat and sauce in front of the young boy eagerly waiting at their kitchen table. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t right to refer to him as a young boy anymore. He was still rather young, yes, but it had been a number of years since Stark had grown far taller than him. It had been a number of years since he first began training the boy he was now witnessing turn quickly into a man. He was rather familiar with the human lifespan, but it always stumped him a little when he personally witnessed it.
All things considered, it only felt right to call Stark a young boy. It had nothing to do with his age, or even a comparison of their ages, but rather that Stark hadn’t changed. He’d grown taller and stronger and more talkative, but that didn’t matter. His mannerisms, his tendency to cry, the smile he always gave Eisen when receiving his annual birthday hamburg steak, none of that had changed. That was all that mattered.
“Happy Birthday, Stark.” His smile could not be seen through his thick beard, but it was carried in his tone.
Stark shot the man a warm smile. “Thank you! I always look forward to this.”
Eisen felt his own eyes crinkle as his smile widened. Stark had always been a caring and sweet boy, and Eisen had once thought finding the lost boy might have been the most important moment of his life thus far. He simply stood next to the table, watching his adoptive son slice into the meat patty and take his first bite. He was a little messy, having let some sauce drip onto the table as the forkful made its way to his mouth, but Eisen didn’t mind that or the bits of sauce that remained on the corner of Stark’s lips. All that mattered to him, especially on a day such as this, was Stark’s happiness.
After receiving a thumbs up of approval and a chubby cheeked smile, Eisen finally sat down. He was sitting across from the young man—he supposed that was the more accurate term—watching him eat while picking at his own plate of food.
“I need to make it bigger every year,” Stark looked at him, chewing with cheeks full of the special meal, “I think your stomach doubles in size each year.”
“I’m still growing.” It was a matter of fact statement, spoken after gulping down a large mouthful of food.
Eisen nodded. “I know. I’d imagine you’ll get at least another head taller before you stop.”
“Yeah?” Stark seemed excited at the prospect of growing even taller than his mentor.
The dwarf nodded again, taking the moment to swallow his own bite of food. “I have known a number of tall humans. With your most recent growth spurt, I hardly see you differing.”
Stark’s only response was a happy grin. The two then settled into a comfortable silence, the only disturbance being the occasional scratch of their forks. Upon finishing, Stark leaned his weight back as if trying to lean against something and rest. Eisen—who had also finished his dinner—stood up to grab their plates and clean them. Normally Stark would help, but seeing as it was his birthday, Eisen planned to let him relax. As he retreated to the small kitchen, he felt the boy’s gaze on his back.
“I don’t know when your birthday is.” There was a short pause. “You’ll have to tell me so I can make hamburg steak for you on your birthday next year.”
—
In that moment, Eisen had felt a great warmth surge from his heart. It had been a touching and meaningful sentence and even though it had never had the chance to happen, the thought alone made him happy enough. He had long since left the small village behind and was now closing in on the area his acquaintance lived in.
He took a moment to shift his axe into a more comfortable position at his side. He didn’t believe that had been the source of tension he felt in his body, seeing as the new position resulted in no changes. It wasn’t concerning. He could move fine, hadn’t sustained any injuries recently, and was not in any pain. It was simply a bit uncomfortable. He just didn’t understand it. He wasn’t the type to ignore his problems, nor was he really the type to automatically analyze them, so he instead tucked this knowledge aside for later contemplation. If it was not urgent, there was no need to think about it currently.
As he entered the town—it was significantly larger than the small village although far from the size of a citadel—he noticed the figures he passed by. There was a variety of people, both humble citizens and curious adventurers. It was always fascinating to watch humans live their lives, even if he didn’t always understand it, so he rather enjoyed visiting populated areas when he could.
Soon, he had found himself past the more commercial area of town where people peddle their wares to housewives and weary travelers alike. Now, small houses framed his path. The afternoon sun, still rather high in the sky, made it easy for all the children to play outside as their parents and guardians completed their chores. In particular, the fluttering of off-white in the corner of Eisen’s eye caught his attention.
A young woman chased after the piece of cloth blowing in the wind, her small giggling children following close behind. Unfortunately for the woman, it had just recently rained. Eisen did not stop walking, but his pace had slowed as he watched the cloth fall to the ground. When the woman finally picked it up, even between the figures of running children, Eisen could see the mud clinging to her laundry. His head turned away, catching only a glimpse of the frown on the mother’s face. He continued walking.
—
The loud groan of his pupil caused him to turn his head from the wood he’d been chopping. Stark was sitting on the ground, clearly having fallen during his latest round of training. At his side was the wooden stick they used for practice and on his face was an uncharacteristic scowl.
“It can be washed.”
“I know.” Stark grunted out as he pushed himself to his feet.
It was a recent occurrence for his pupil to get so upset during training. That was not to say Stark had never gotten upset prior, he had simply expressed it in a different way. The boy was prone to worrying and crying about his mistakes, but his recent improvements had left him sniffling less and less. Now, frustration seemed to have taken its place. Eisen didn’t understand.
There was a wrinkle between Stark’s brows as he tried to once again perform the training routine his mentor set for him. Eisen stayed watching Stark this time. The wood could wait. The boy had improved by leaps and bounds recently and Eisen couldn’t be prouder of how far he’d come in such a short time. Sure, there was still plenty of area for improvement, but he didn’t understand why the boy felt anger, not pride.
His strikes were a little sloppy, but his stance was strong. He put a little too much weight into his swings, but they were rather accurate. Overall, he was performing rather well. Just as Eisen had decided he could go back to his own task, he heard another frustrated groan leave Stark.
He watched as the boy looked down at the small puddle he’d stepped into. The muddy water had reached just past the top of his boots, lightly coloring his dark pants. Despite the obstacle, he had not slipped and his stance remained firm. Eisen didn’t understand.
“What’s wrong?”
Stark glanced Eisen’s way, the frustration on his face quickly melting into shame. His hands with the stick lowered as he hung his head.
“I got dirty.”
“That happens.” Eisen really didn’t understand, for the boy had never been this concerned with his level of cleanliness before.
“I thought I’d gotten better. I guess I’m still far from being a good warrior.”
“You do have a ways to go, but you have improved. You are a mighty fine warrior in your own right.” He didn’t understand how this correlated with Stark getting dirty.
“But—” the boy sighed, letting his sentence trail off.
It appeared as though he didn’t wish to discuss the topic and usually Eisen would honor that. In this case, he was too confused—and concerned—to leave it be.
“But what?”
Stark’s eyes moved in his direction, his head still hung in shame. As if embarrassed by the moment their eyes met, Stark’s gaze once again retreated to familiar territory: his feet.
“I just mean—” Eisen would wait as long as he needed for Stark to continue. “My brother was a great warrior.”
“Yes, you’ve told me about him.” Eisen tried to encourage Stark’s explanation.
“Then have I told you why he was great?”
Eisen thought back on their conversations. When he first took in the young boy, it had been difficult to approach these subjects, but eventually they’d helped the young traumatized child open up to him.
“He was strong and kind and protected you and your village from a demon attack.”
“Yes.” Despite his words, Stark’s expression confirmed Eisen’s words were not the answer he’d been looking for.
“I cannot recall anything else. Why don’t you tell me?”
It took the boy a minute, shifting his weight from foot to foot in contemplation, but he finally spoke up again.
“He wore a white cloak.” Eizen still did not follow. “It never got dirty. That’s why.”
Eisen understood Stark’s concerns a little more now, but it was mostly still beyond his grasp. “And why did that make him a good warrior?”
“Because it never got dirty! My father even said so.”
Eisen looked thoughtful for a moment, recalling memories of stories Stark had once told him. He’d once heard of this tale.
“Did your brother’s cape not get dirtied by you?”
Stark’s head hung even lower. This was not the response he’d been trying to get. He’d wanted Stark to come to his own realization, but how could he have expected that of the boy? He was still young and still traumatized. It would be better if Eisen walked him through it. The dwarf took a step forward, resting his hand on Stark’s bicep—he’d started to grow more recently.
“I did not mean that as a source of shame, rather I believe you should think of it as a source of pride.”
“But I dirtied it.” Stark emphasized that it was him as he sniffled once.
“Look at me.'' It took a moment, but Stark eventually looked at his mentor with tear-ridden eyes. “Dirt on your hem is nothing to be ashamed of. Your brother knew that. What makes a great warrior is not the cleanliness of their garments nor the lack of difficulty they face in their fights, rather it's the effort they put into their work. It’s near impossible to try your hardest and come out unscathed. No matter the strength—or lack of strength—in your enemy, you should always fight with your all. Fight like it's your last battle. That’s what it truly means to be a great warrior.”
“Really?” Stark’s eyes remained watery as the pout on his lips quivered.
Eisen nodded, his hands raising to cup the slouching Stark’s cheeks as best as he could. “I’ve always told you. You just need to keep getting back up. Again and again. The mud on your shoes, the dust on your pants, and the sweat on your brow is all proof that you’ve fallen and haven’t stayed down. They’re signs of your progress, Stark, not signs of your inability. I’m sure your brother wanted you to know that as well.”
Stark’s hands moved on top of his own, holding onto them for comfort as the tears fell from their eyes. It wasn’t all that hard to teach a student how to wield an axe, but it was hard to build up the drive to once again stand in them. He knew Stark would be great, he already was.
When he felt the tension course through his chest once again, he now knew it to be no physical ailment. He was used to reminiscing, but he was not used to missing. Stark had been gone for some time now, off to help Frieren and become even stronger, but Eisen felt his heart wavering more than it had in the three years they’d been separated prior. The boy, his son, truly did mean a lot to him. He knew that, but only now just felt it. He took a deep breath and continued on his path.
—
As he left his acquaintance’s house, waving goodbye as he headed back to the path out of the city, he felt refreshed. He was not lonely, nor was he alone. He’d long since recognized the importance of bonds in one’s fulfillment in life. His experiences thus far helped to solidify that.
He smiled as he passed by a clothesline with freshly cleaned garments flapping in the wind. He continued walking. He smiled as he saw groups of adventurers boisterously laughing as they entered the tavern. He smiled as he walked along the empty path as the sun slowly set. He smiled as he walked through the small village, seeing houses lit up with the warm candlelight from inside. He kept walking. He passed by a pair of merchants, traveling to the nearest village to take a break on their voyage.
“—and if it hadn’t been for that group of adventurers I would have been finished!” One spoke animatedly.
“Thank goodness they were nearby!” The other replied. “Did you need to pay them compensation?”
The first one shook his head. “Yes, but I gladly would if it meant repaying them for saving my life. Honestly, I don’t think I gave them enough, but they insisted it was enough.”
“I suppose adventurers aren’t really the type for the leisure of luxury.” They both laughed.
Eisen felt himself smile again, that now familiar tension called warmth spreading through his chest. There was no way of knowing just who those adventurers were, but he couldn’t help himself from imagining it was his old comrade and his adopted son. He couldn’t help but grin at the thought of them doing well and helping others so that everyone could know just how good they were. He always knew. It was about time the rest of the world did as well. He kept walking, this time with a slight pep in his step.