Weight of Worlds

Ranvir exchanged the water jug lying next to the rime oak for the old one then returned to the blanket.

Both Sansir and Grevor were lying in the shade, their eyes closed. Grev was currently holding one of their four jugs against his forehead. Sansir was waiting for Ranvir to return with the other jug.

“Here you go.” Ranvir forced down a smile, as he handed the stoppered jug to his friend.

“Thanks.” Sansir groaned with relief as he pressed the jug against his temple, the nearly freezing water relieving some of the pain.

He sat down next to Esmund and they surveyed their friends. Ranvir was somewhat familiar with the condition they were currently suffering from. He still remembered the pain in his head from pushing too far with his own powers.

According to Esmund, who was apparently the one with the most experience relating to this condition, there were two factors for the pain. The length and the intensity, both determined by how one over used their power. If you went slow over a longer period of time, you felt the headache over a longer period of time. If one did like Ranvir had, then the pain is intense, but relatively short.

Esmund had called it over-expression, something he experienced quite frequently during his training with Svenar while the others were at weapon class.

The sun was getting low, just in the beginnings of sunset, coloring the sky and clouds in orange and yellow.

“Can we please talk about something?” Grev whimpered, shifting his jug to the other temple. “Anything to distract me from the pain.”

There was a long silence, before Sansir suddenly spoke up. “I was a little out of the loop back then, but do you guys remember the Pissing Bandit?”

Ranvir burst into laughter, the question taking him aback as glowing yellow mirth shone through him. Esmund was noticeably quieter, which only made it more fun.

“The what? Pissing Bandit?” Grev’s voice clearly showed his intrigue. “What’s this about?”

“There was a guy, probably a drunk, who’d pull down clothes and sheets from the wash lines and piss on them in the middle of the night.” Sansir had to stifle a chuckle, or two, as he explained the situation.

Ranvir righted himself, having gained some control over himself. “I remember, don’t you Es?”

His brother did not reply, instead scowling down at his feet.

“Wait? You know something…” Grev immediately jumped on the weakness he perceived. Even in his weakened condition nothing could stop him, once he smelled embarrassment on the air.

Ranvir didn’t try to stop the wide grin that split his face. “Esmund’s intimately familiar with the Pissing Bandit, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.” He pouted shoving Ranvir playfully. “I was a kid.”

“YOU! You’re the Pissing Bandit?” Sansir exclaimed, then winced

Ranvir burst into another fit of laughter. “Yeah, he used to get up in the middle of the night, wander out, and pee on all the cloth he could get his hands on.”

“It’s not funny…” Esmund was definitely pouting as he spoke.

“I assure you, it is very funny.” Ranvir replied, with a grin.

“Why?” Sansir was barely holding back his own laughter, judging from the pained look that occasionally crossed his face. It was more self-preservation that stopped him, than any thought for Esmund.

“I just…” Esmund shrugged, letting out a reluctant chortle of his own. “I don’t know.”

“See it IS funny!” Grev immediately followed the exclamation, by complaining and wincing as he wobbly lifted the jug to his forehead. “Ow, ow, ow.”

“It’s not!” Esmund said, completely failing to hide his own grin. “Look, I don’t know why I did it. Okay? It was a long time ago, we’d just moved to the village. I guess I was angry at mom and dad, or whatever.”

“So you went ahead and pissed on everyone’s laundry…” Ranvir paused, readying himself for the best part. “For three entire weeks!”

“Wait, didn’t anybody catch you? How could you keep going for three weeks!” Grev was once more lifting himself up on shaky arms. “What about the guards? The mayor had to have positioned guards to stop you at some point.”

“There aren’t any real guards back home.” Sansir supplied, balancing his jug sideways on his forehead.

“She posted guards alright, but the only people who had the time were old. Three-finger Gjorn and Benny if I remember correctly.” Ranvir definitely remembered correctly. There was no chance he would ever forget the details of this particular story.

“They were easy to get around.” Esmund had fully stopped hiding his own amusement, at his kid self’s antics. “They were either too distracted in their argument to notice me walking by, or fell asleep as soon as the sun fell out of the sky.”

“And then you started pissing?” Grev asked.

“Yeah…” Esmund covered his face in his hands, hiding his smile, as his friends burst into another bout of laughter.

“On the note of embarrassing stories.” Sansir said. “You guys have known each other for a long time, you must have something on him.” He was speaking to Esmund, but nodded towards Ranvir.

Ranvir shook his head. “Nope. Not a one.”

“He used to really like sweeping.”

“That’s not… I mean we don’t-“

“Sweeping?” Grev asking, looking like a bloodhound.

“Fuck…” Ranvir groaned quietly.

“Well you see. A few years ago, the mayor started having this problem.” Esmund shifted forwards, closer to the two downed tethered. “This huge, and I mean enormous, pile of dirt was appearing within her living room. At the start of the week, for like four or five weeks.”

“This is gonna be good.” Grev smiled widely, as he slapped Sansir on the shoulder.

Sansir shot a glance towards Ranvir’s reddened face, before he chuckled out a reply. “I can tell.”

“At first, she didn’t realize how bad it was going to be. After the second week of having to deal with the dirt pile, she started locking her door.” Es looked around his audience, before glancing back at Ranvir. “So imagine her surprise, when at the beginning of the third week. She came down to a massive pile of dirt in her living room, and the door hanging wide open.

“Someone had crawled up to the second story of her house, in through the open window, into her hallway, down the stairs, unlocked the door, and swept dirt into her living room.”

At this point, Ranvir could no longer suppress the bright red shimmers of embarrassment rising to the surface, his cheeks and the tips of his ears going red.

“Of course, she simply closed all her windows for the fourth week.” He paused for dramatic effect looking over his audience. “So when she came down to living room the next morning, she was rightfully pleased that it was clean. It was only when she fired up under the fireplace, and unblocked the stopper that she found out, what the miscreant-“ He really hammed up the word. “Had been up to. When she opened the latch, dirt fell down from the chimney, smashing into the fireplace, smothering the embers and sending a cloud of ash, dirt, and coal in every direction.”

“I remember that!” Sansir exclaimed, sitting up slightly. “There was an outright manhunt going through the entire village, searching for… You? I guess.”

A chuckle unintentionally slipped past Ranvir’s mouth, as Sansir looked at him.

“It was him, alright.” Esmund spoke up, before Ranvir could gather his wits enough to control his tongue. “But she wouldn’t find out for another week. And I wouldn’t find out, until a drunken dinner night between our parents some year and a half later. You see, the Mayor searched far and wide, unbeknownst to her she even recruited the criminal’s own parents. But she never found the culprit, no one knows how they managed to hide, all we know, was that they were good at it.”

“Hey, bitch! I’m right here. You don’t have to talk about me, like we don’t all know who did it.”

“Many people stepped forwards, trying to claim the glory of such a terrifyingly well done prank.”

“Thaaat’s not true.”

“But no, the Mayor knew better. She would not be fooled by such feeble attempts at stealing glory. She would find the miscreant, herself! She staked out, ready for the fifth week and the last night of our intrepid bandit’s life…”

“You make it sound like I fucking died…”

“But! It was nay to be!” Esmund jumped to his feet, splaying arms wide. “For the criminal would not be caught by the mayor, but by his own father! T’was he!” Both arms swept towards Ranvir, who groaned and covered his head in his hands. “Who’d done it. The adventurous and angry Ranvir stole out through his room in the middle of the night. Only this time, he would be caught. For his father was still awake. We know not why! But can only assume he feared the worst, about his very own child.”

“He was changing mom’s bandages.”

“We may very well never know the answer… That is a burden that you listeners, as much as I, must suffer through! Now, young Ranvir’s father would not stand for such behavior from his son. Gunnor, the lumberjack, dragged his son by the scruff of his neck to the mayor’s home, and her inevitable revenge!”

“That’s a little much.”

“She forced Ranvir to suffer through labor for a month. For thirty days and thirty nights, he labored in the sun. Replacing the fence around one of the village gates.”

There was a long bead of silence.

“Wait? That’s it? For all the dirt, and shit, you smeared through her house?” Grev sounded incredulous.

Ranvir sighed, rubbing a hand across his face in order to give him more time to hide his reluctant smile. “It’s not as extreme as he made it sound. The house sits at the base of a hill. If you climb onto the hill, you can basically reach both the roof, or the window he mentioned.”

“It’s true.” Sansir added, forcing himself to sit up. “The entire village’s kids used to play a game, where we were trying to sneak through the house without getting noticed.”

Ranvir nodded in agreement. “And I didn’t just have to build the fence. I also had to clean her floors to the grain with a hand brush too.”

“So, okay… That’s fine, I guess. But why the fence, then?”

Purple and black clouds roiled up from the bottom taking over most of the embarrassment and joy that percolated through him. He shot a glance at Esmund, who paused for a long while. “It’s up to you.”

“Well. When traveling into the village from the east, there’s a pretty steep decline that can make the path a little treacherous. Mostly, it was to help keep some better management on it, when hauling goods down that path. It makes it easier to judge how far from the edge of the road you are, and gives a good bit of buffer.”

Ranvir took a long shaky breath and ran another hand over his face. This time it was both to have something to do, and to make sure his face was somewhat under control. Sitting on the blanket, the sun setting, and shadows settling, he felt vulnerable and exposed.

“About a month before the first ‘incident’, my mother was hit by a carriage. One of the wheels tipped over the side and the horses freaked out…” His voice broke and he had to stop to clear his throat. His eyes burned, as the black and purple clouds, parted revealing a deep red wound bleeding into the clouds. Still after three years.

Looking up, he saw the others were looking at him somberly. Technically, he was aware that Esmund had told them about what had happened to his mother, but as he sat there, he realized he’d never actually said it to anyone, himself.

“I-“ He ran a hand over his face, aggressively wiping the tears away. “Fuck. I was there with her. A step behind her. It just sheared right through. Knocked her to the ground and almost cut through her leg. The… sound was… I can’t describe it, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget the fucking silence afterwards…”

He didn’t know what more to say. He didn’t know if there was anymore to say, or even if he could. His eyes weren’t burning with unshed tears anymore, they flowed freely. Quiet, like he’d learned in the weeks after. His dad had already been strained trying to provide, while taking care of his mom. He couldn’t make his father worry about him, too.

He startled as Esmund pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, Ranvir. I didn’t realize you were there, even when dad told me what happened.”

Ranvir hesitated, before he could move two more sets of distinctly more floppy arms settled around him.

“Thank you for telling us.” Sansir said, more hanging off of Ranvir than actually hugging him. It was still comforting, though.

“Seriously, this shit can be harder than any of the practice down in the academy.” Grev said.

Ranvir sniffled and wrapped his arms as far around them as he could. “Thank you.”

“No problem, fuckhead.” Esmund’s tone of voice suggested the smile, Ranvir couldn’t currently see on his face.

He let out a snort of laughter, before replying. “Don’t make me laugh, I’m already too emotionally unstable as it is.”

“I always knew you were an emotional wreck.” Es commented, squeezing a little tighter.

"I know it’s not as big a thing as what you told, but… I still sleep with my childhood blanket…” Grev’s voice sounded odd. It wasn’t the no nonsense tone that came out during class, nor what is the flippant one they were all used to. It held a serious note, with a hint of embarrassment.

“I knew it! I knew I saw something under your covers that one time!” Esmund cried out, dislodging from the pile to point fingers.

“Yeah.” Grev pulled back too, rubbing at one eye. Both him and Sansir were looking remarkably better than just ten minutes earlier. “Back when I was five, or six, something like that. My dad officially retired from the army with honors. That night he gave me his first army cloak, so I could play soldier. It was worn, torn, and tattered. Not even half the length of a proper cloak, so it fit me perfectly.”

He let out a choked laughter. “They couldn’t get me to take off the cloak, even for bedtime. I wore it around all day and slept with it at night. Even as it grew more ruined from my constant use, I got my father’s seamstress to fix it up as best she could and made it into a blanket for me.”

“You sleep with it at the academy?” Sansir asked.

“Under the covers we’re supplied… I hid it.”

The clouds had retreated from Ranvir during the hug, and while the wound was still bleeding it, too, was pulling back. Hiding away from the surface, allowing other emotions to spring free. The first was green flowering empathy for Grev, as he listened to his friend talking.

“Anyway, yeah, I still sleep with my childhood blanket.”

“It was something your father gave you and it’s clearly very important to you.” Sansir grabbed his forearm briefly, before flopping back on the picnic blanket.

“What about you?” Esmund was eagerly leaning towards Sansir. “What’s something important to you, then?”

“There’s nothing, really. Just you know, the usual.”

“You did something weird. Something really weird.” Grev forced himself to sit straighter, with a groan.

“No, I’m not. That’s- most people are completely normal. We don-“

While he was talking Grev pulled loose the stopper for his clay jug and grabbed his leg.

“What are you-“

“Spill, or I am!”

“I don’t know wh-“ Sansir’s words cut out with a shriek, as Grev upturned the jug onto his belly. “Cold!”

“That’s the point!” Grev was ready when Sansir lurched for him.

They were, for once, moving slowly enough that Ranvir could easily follow their movements and tactics, as they tried to pin each other. Their exhaustion from over-expressing their abilities slowing them down.

It only took half a minute, before they both flopped over going still as they heaved for air. Sansir had been trying to pin Grev into a neck lock, which he’d stubbornly refused to take part in. Now he was lying underneath Grev, who’s head was resting on his stomach.

“I collect wood figures…” Sansir said after catching his breath. “Specifically horses.”

“That’s not too bad.” Ranvir didn’t want his friend to feel bad about it, so he was quick with the support.

Grev, however, was more suspicious. “How many…?”

“A few here and there.”

The blond noble stabbed him in the side with a sharp finger, eliciting a yelp.

“So I have a bunch.”

Multiple stabbing fingers attacked. “How many was that?”

“Two-hundred and thirty-eight!” Sansir yelped as he tried to fend off the aggressive fingering.

“That’s kind of a lot…” Esmund said. During their wrestling, he’d sat back down next to Ranvir.

“How many did you whittle?” Grev continued his attacked.

“How did y- I mean no! I didn’t! I mean none!”

One of the clawed fingers attacking Sansir’s side, turned to loose and supple tickling fingers.

“No!” Sansir cried, jerking violently and slapping Grev hard across the top of his head and jerking away from him. “Do not tickle me!” His tone made no secret of how much he disliked it.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry.” Grev sounded genuinely apologetic.

Sansir sighed, “I whittled a few. Some took more attempts to recreate than others, but I only kept one.”

“So you have five-hundred horse figures standing in the Tore’s carpenter shop?”

Ranvir noticed Grev immediately jumped from ‘whittling a few’, to making a copy of each.

“Four-hundred and seventy-six actually, and no. He wouldn’t let me keep them in shop if they weren’t for sale. They’re all in my room.”

“That’s a lot of horses.” Esmund muttered.

“I hope he doesn’t throw them away…” Sansir muttered.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, as night settled on them. The dark descending like a mantle covering their eyes under the canopy of the trees.

“We should probably start moving back soon.” Ranvir felt a shiver run down his back, just before he spoke.

“What about your exercise? Shouldn’t you try it now that it’s nighttime?” Esmund asked.

He let out a reluctant groan. He was exhausted, the desire, a need almost, to just go back and lay in bed nearly overwhelmed him. Even if it wasn’t an extremely taxing day under normal terms, Ranvir still felt more exhausted than he usually did after a long day of training.

It lay over him like a smothering blanket of gray. He couldn’t find it himself to give it a proper try, and even if he could, he had no desire to end the day feeling like Sansir and Grev probably did.

“I’m not feeling up for it. Honestly, I’m really exhausted and I doubt I would even make a fair go of it, even if I did try.”

“That’s fair.” Grev groaned, like a dad, as he got to his feet. “We should probably get back, before it gets any darker.”

The three village boys shared a pointed look, behind the noble’s back as they took in his words. It was clear to them in that moment, that Grevor had grown up in a city. This time of year, it didn’t get much darker than this.

“Let move fast, then.” Sansir said, grabbing the back of Grev’s tunic and pulling himself up.