Roggi Knot-Beard's Tale
Roggi thoughtfully combed out his beard with his fingers in preparation to re-tie the knot. Doing so made him think of his father, his grandfather, his uncles and especially his younger brother Hrolund. Memories of him came unbidden as he stared at his reflection in the piece of polished steel he'd propped up on his dresser.
It was the day before Rolli's tenth birthday. It had dawned bright, clear and as beautiful a day the Rift had ever seen. As a special treat, Roggi had promised to take his brother hunting. The boy had already been gifted a sturdy new hunting bow from one of his uncles and he was busting out of his boots to try it out.
At 16 Roggi stood tall, fair and blue-eyed, the very spit of his father; in fact there was little to make between the three of them as Rolli was growing faster than a Dragon's Tongue, and nearly reached Roggi's own shoulder. That day their father had taken him aside, advising him to be careful and not let his young brother hunt anything larger than a skeever.
Roggi had laughed, he knew his brother was only just 10 but he had seen the boy use his long bow (they often practised by throwing cabbages in the air) and he knew how quick and confident he was. Roggi knew Rolli was capable of hunting much bigger prey, a forest wolf at the very least.
And just as Roggi predicted Rolli did just that.
They'd barely entered a sunny little Rift glade when they'd heard a howl. Rolli had spied the creature, taken aim and fired so swiftly the sound came to an abrupt halt. And all at a distance even Roggi would have been proud. They'd laughed and before his brother could stop him, Rolli was off running towards the dead wolf planning to strip it of its valuable skin.
Roggi called to him to wait and started to run after him. Wolves travelled in packs. He'd told his brother so many times and he called out again, bringing up his bow and scanning the glade. He'd almost reached the running boy, Rolli turned smiling joyfully back at his brother, when there was a blur of brown fur, a wift of acrid animal musk and Rolli fell.
In an instant Roggi had notched an arrow and let it fly, straight and true through the animals head, the force knocking the animal off his brother's body. In a moment he slid to a stop in the damp dew laden grass and brought down the last, lone wolf that had hung back.
He dropped his bow and pulled his brother to his chest, Rolli's large blue eyes wide with shock. His young face was clean of the blood that was pouring from the gaping wound at his throat. He tried to speak. Roggi held him tighter as his kin's blood soaked his tunic, warm and sticky against his chest.
He bent his blonde head down to his brother's and pressed his hand against his neck, desperate to staunch the flow.
"Did... I ... get it...?" a faint whisper came from Rolli, as blood stained his pale lips.
"Yes, brother," Roggi said softly, "Yes, you got it."
He hugged the boy tightly, brushing away his own tears that fell onto Rolli's face. He felt the boy's body become still and all of his brother's young life slip away.
Roggi stared at himself and his unknotted beard in the shiny steel. His fingers shook slightly as he fashioned the rough knot in his family's name.
Rolli would never do this, he would never be teased by Roggi on that first special day where he finally had enough beard for the smallest knot. He would never see the pride in the faces of all his family as he became old enough to bear his namesake proud.
Roggi wiped the tears from his face and smoothed his beard. He turned the steel over and took a deep breath. He looked from his room to the tavern, Iddra was smiling and laughing, talking to someone he couldn't see.
'Mead,' he thought, 'Just one. Iddra will let me put it on the tab. I'll pay her later.' He shook the memories from his head, applied a wide smile to his face and walked out of his room.