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“Maybe we really should’ve dumped him somewhere,” a quiet mumble reaches Bjorn’s ears.
If he had been distracted or not paying attention at all he would’ve thought that Askeladd was simply thinking out loud, about their next destination, about repairing of the ship, something like that. But no, Bjorn was listening to his surroundings. He turned to where Askeladd was sitting on the ground behind him, leaning against a tree. His cold blue eyes were fixed on something. His motionless expression hid deep thoughtfulness. He followed his gaze. Not far away, men stood in a circle, like village onlookers, watching the hand-to-hand duel. With his usual sharpness and agility, Thorfinn was fighting someone, Bjorn didn’t catch who exactly. It was rare for this boy to train with someone, Bjorn was actually surprised. Viking looked back at Askeladd. It was rare to catch that exact thoughtfulness about that child in his gaze too. Askeladd was a man who was truly hard to understand. Sometimes Bjorn wondered if he himself understands what kind of a person he is. But this all is just a twaddle.
“What, kid finally did or said something that is too much?” he smiles.
Askeladd’s eyes widened slightly for a moment, maybe he didn’t realize he had said it out loud, but then he immediately goes back to normal, a sly smile shows on his face as usual.
“Nah. If I wanted to kick him out of my sight for that attitude, he wouldn’t have lasted even a year with us. Look at him walking around calling me ‘baldie’ sixteen times a day,” he spits, shaking his head almost in disappoint.
Bjorn chuckles and comes closer, leaning his shoulder against a tree. They’re looking at the men’s backs for a while. It seems like everyone joined the initially small crowd.
“Who’s he fighting?” Bjorn asks.
He tried to listen whose names the crowd exactly yelling, but it was just a tiresome and pointless process. Anything that involves Thorfinn as a center figure always gets them all excited. Bjorn gets it, fully. He’s been watching him for years now, kid can be a real surprise sometimes.
“Beats me,” Askeladd answers, shrugging, “Magni or Frode probably, I can’t see shit from here.”
“Wanna go take a look?”
“Nah. I’ll let the lad have some fun of losing to the average man.” He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
He has been thinking about something for quite a while.
He says ‘lad’ fully acknowledging – the kid has grown. Even physically despite his shortness. Askeladd remembers how in the first years, when this wild fox joined them, he always had to look down, Thorfinn could easily slash his knees if he wanted to. Until one day he realized – he’s now looking straight at him, no longer bowing his head to see that little brat brandishing his dagger. Soon enough he’ll become a man, he’ll be fully grown (even despite his small stature, which felt so nice to make fun of).
“That’s actually getting longer than any of your duels,” Bjorn points out.
Yeah.
Perhaps this is what Askeladd had been thinking about?
He’s getting bigger. Slightly, but getting. Growing up. Becoming more skillful. Stronger. A brief thought appears in man’s mind – you, on the other hand, are getting old. That's how life works, so it was only a matter of time before Thorfinn gained a victory over the old man.
He wasn’t afraid of it, no. After all he cannot stop the natural outcome. But perhaps it wasn’t the outcome that bothered him but what would come after it? Clearly it did, even though he tried to brush it off like an annoying insect. Let's say he took his last breath and then what? Where will this foolish and wild child go? Is it too late for him to start, or maybe there’s still a chance?
Not that Askeladd cares, yet he wonders.
After all he somewhat raised this kid, watched him grown. Wouldn’t it be obvious that he was slightly interested what would become of this boy?
The crowd boos as Thorfinn falls, his body rolling across the ground, but he seems to get up immediately, and the men immediately cheer him on, urging to continue.
If he continues on his way - then nothing.
He has strength, skills and guts, Askeladd'll give him that, but that was all. He could’ve ended this fight by going there and yelling something crazy about his father - or anything about his father at all. The boy will be furious - he'll lose his mind and all the progress, and will find himself face down in mud, while his opponent will rejoice in his victory. It'll be a dirty trick, yeah, and what about it? Someday it might cost him his life.
Perhaps when Askeladd gets tired of his bullshit.
He expects filthy dog to sit and obey while all it can do is bark.
He shakes his head slightly. The years go by and the kid’s progress remains low. Subconsciously, he again involuntarily compares him to himself. If only he could learn how to actually use his brain, not only when he needs to bring someone’s head, but when he falls into the same old tricks again and again.
“What’s on your mind then,” Bjorn finally asks, not expecting the answer, the truth.
Maybe Askeladd shouldn’t bother himself with this at all. Maybe this boy is in fact a lost cause. Or maybe he becomes somewhat sentimental, now that'll be just stupid.
“Nothing.”
There’s silence between them, birds chirping on the trees around, the wind rustling the grass, the men are yelling and shouting in front.
“Sometimes you look like you don’t regret it though.”
Askeladd looked up at berserker, trying to interpretate his words. He can be very insightful from time to time.
“Him being around. Not just as a tool.”
Askeladd smirks, feeling somewhat caught. Well, could this be true? He watched as this feral creature’s grasp on a dagger became less shaky, more and more steady, understanding. He was there to witness his first murder. He was the one who turned a blind eye to the little brat stealing some food to keep himself standing, surviving. Just to mock him and call him a little rat. He was the one who witnessed the child's last tooth change. And even if Thorfinn himself didn't care, such a small thing as changing teeth reminded Askeladd once again that he had unintentionally brought a completely ordinary child to the battlefield. And about what kind of will to survive at any cost this child had. Almost a year has passed, the boy's last baby tooth has fallen out, and he’s is still alive, following them like a wild animal after its prey! He was the one to toss him a warm fur because it was ‘too small’ for Askeladd. He and his band were the ones who persuaded him to take his first drink. And Askeladd was the one who made sure the kid won’t end up chocking on his own vomit that night. He only did it because he wanted to see his first hangover, that’s what he told himself. In reality – who knows why.
Askeladd could sit here, remembering all these little interactions that honestly surprised him as well. There were more of them than he expected. Huh.
“Well, it can be fun having him around, don’t you think?”
It was a complete bullshit of excuse.
“While he’s sleeping?” Bjorn chuckles, “maybe.”
“Bah, don’t be that oblivious!” Askeladd teasing, “I was thinking about him being drunk and wobbly and something like that. Besides, you probably tolerate the little bastard better than anyone out there, so what’s with these complaints?”
“Ha! That’s exactly why I’m telling you he’s fine only while sleeping. Do you have any idea how many times he tried to bite me when he was this little?” Bjorn leans over and slaps his knee, playfully demonstrating.
Askeladd raises his bushy eyebrow, his gaze seems to silently ask ‘are you being serious now’.
“Do I?” he adds, lazily pointing his palm at his face.
Even if the boy always demands a fair fight, accusing Askeladd in cowardice or cheating, he never said that in their everyday life everything would be simple and fair with him. And considering the boy’s hatred towards him – yes, yes he tried to bite him, several times even.
This is an empty conversation, one of dozens and hundreds that have passed over the years. Nothing said will have any weight or be remembered. It wasn't like they'd never discussed this boy, who was so aggressive and savage that sometimes it seemed he could kill just by throwing a furious glance at someone - people knew he was not to be trifled with. He did not shy away from throwing sharp objects - for example, his dagger. What jokes could there be with this unkempt disaster, holding someone's severed head in a death grip with his little fists?
The men are screaming in fascination, enjoying the show, when something exciting happens. Someone bends down and Bjorn finally sees that Thorfinn is fighting Magni - he's a big man, good opponent for sparring too. Thorfinn uses his agility (or pure luck) and takes advantage of the moment when Magni slightly stumbles to lightly pull him by the arm, tilting him even further to the ground. The man staggers back, trying to stand up straight, but the boy immediately jumps, literally climbing onto the man's neck. And he’s still holding his arm, as if he wants to put it behind his head. Wrapping his legs around his arm and neck, Thorfinn tilts them to one side, and Magni, losing his balance, falls. The boy immediately jumps up, victoriously placing his foot on the fallen opponent. The crowd cheers in shock.
Thorfinn always claims that he only needs his daggers, his physical appearance doesn’t help either, so it’s useless for him to fight just with his fists, considering that he always fights men twice his size. So, is he just showing off right now?
He straightens up, completely ignoring the crowd, his shock of blond hair shaking as he turns his head searchingly. He seeks for the one and only figure here, he feels his gaze on his back. The boy turns his head and looks straight in Askeladd’s cold as ice eyes. Feral. He seems victorious, behind his shoulder might be a wicked grin. Oh yes, Askeladd actually catches a glimpse of it, he’s grinning. There’s a hidden message in his brown eyes, for Askeladd only, and he reads it clearly. Not that the boy could be ambiguous, enigmatic in the first place – he always says and does things directly, and it’s always the same.
“That cocky bastard,” Askeladd smirks, “can I take back my words about having him around?”
Bjorn laughs sincerely at it, shaking his head.
“Nah, that won’t work.”