The Man Who Fell Through Time and Space
Preface
Know that this tale is an autobiography of my life on this world. As such I have made sure that this retelling is a true to the facts as possible, but due to the nature of this tale, which is a diary I have written in the form of an autobiography, there will be much rambling, thoughts, and opinions. This is not a history text which should be studied, but rather an attempt at chronicling my own life in a novel fashion.
Special thanks:
To Lord Chrom for taking me in when others might not have.
To Virion, the Archest of archers, for being my teacher.
To Libra, the Monk, who advised me on a great many things.
Finally to my wife, for being the great pillar in my life.
I dedicate this to book to the Shepherds. For without them none of this would be possible.
My life in this world began as such:
"Well that's certainly… strange…"
"I cannot agree more that this is an odd occurrence my lady."
Voices. The first I heard through the haze of unconsciousness. Two voices that brought me into the world. A woman's voice the first. The baritone of a man's the second.
I shifted my eyes open and took in the world before me. Three strangers stood over me. Two men and one woman.
"Does this happen often here in Ylisse?" The second man asked to the first.
The armored man snorted, "Hardly."
The woman crouched down to get a better look at me.
"Hi there! My name's Lissa it's nice to meet you. What's your name?"
At this point I was more awake, and something akin to panic was setting in. Who were these strangers? Where was I? I ignored the girl's greeting in favor of attempting to stand to my feet.
Only when I sat up did I realize my injuries. Something like a dull unnoticeable ache in my side suddenly turned sharp, as if someone had forced a knife through my torso. My head began to pound against my vision and forced me to lay back down lest I pass out from the pain.
"Oh my he's injured. Frederick hand me my staff please," Lissa said.
Immediately without waiting for Frederick, whoever that was, she began her work. I was hardly in a physical state to stop her from removing my shirt, and baring my chest for all the world to see. The horrified gasp from her was all I needed to hear.
"Is it bad?" I asked.
"That's a uh… a lot of bruising," She said.
"Yeah it hurts too," I said.
I attempted to crane my neck upward to better see, but was unable to do so without moving my upper body. Needless to say, moving was not fun in that moment.
"You need to stay still you'll only make it worse. This kind of bruising. You've probably broken several ribs. No worries though! I can patch you up," Lissa said.
I cannot hope to describe my first time being affected by healing magic. Feeling your ribs pull themselves into place before repairing themselves. It is an indescribable feeling.
After she was done she spoke again, "All healed up. Four broken ribs and internal bleeding. A wonder you're still alive. Not much I can do about the bruising though."
I then sat up. It was sore and painful, though no longer entirely unbearable.
"What was it that you just did?" I asked, referring to the miraculous healing.
"Do we have another one?" Lissa asked to neither of the other two in particular.
The third person, the other man, crouched down on my opposite side from where Lissa was kneeled. He held a look of concern on his face. Blue hair?
"Tell me," he asked, "Can you tell us your name? Perhaps where you were before you woke up?"
"Well I-" what?
I fell silent. Why can't I remember. No. it's not blank. It's fuzzy. Names. Places. People. They were all blurred out. I had a burger last night for dinner.
How did I get here?
What was my name?
"No. I can't. I-it feels a bit fuzzy." I said.
Who am I?
"Well nothing to be done about for now," the man said he turned to the blue armored man, "Frederick we should take him back to camp with us. Have Chrom decide what to do."
"Perhaps, Robin. Be wary," Frederick said.
Lissa stood up and offered a hand.
"Here. Think you can stand?" She asked.
I took her hand in my own, "Here's to trying."
Her hand was soft, and smooth. Much smaller than my own. I have to wonder how she was able to pull me up on her own. I certainly didn't help too much. I'm hardly what you would call a small man.
Needless to say. Standing up for the first time in who knows how long was painful. I grunted and groaned but still wordlessly put effort into standing up. I got the feeling that I wasn't used to this kind of pain.
"Here friend. Lean on my shoulder," Robin said, "We've got a bit of a walk ahead of us."
"No I feel alright," I said. It was true.
I was sore and in some level of pain, but I was not weak. At least. I didn't feel weak. To any of them I wouldn't have appeared weak at that time. In fact, I was what one might call a strong-man. Someone who took a lot of stock in the strength of their lifting power.
The gravity of my exhaustion had not been readily apparent, for as soon as we began to walk I nearly fell over. The world began to sway around me, and surely I would have planted my face into the dirt had Lissa not been ready to catch me.
She placed herself under me, and bore my whole weight.
"Careful now. Getting healed can be exhausting," she said, "Can't have keeling over after I went and used my staff you fix you up," she smiled.
"Allow me to take him Lissa," Robin stepped.
"Gladly. Have you lifted this man? He weighs a ton," Lissa said.
"Excuse her," Robin said.
I transferred myself onto Robin's shoulder, "I take no offense."
Robin huffed under my weight. I understood why. I got the sense, in that moment, that I frequently mentioned to others the extent of my weight. You see- I'm a muscular person, but I like to eat. That's something that I didn't forget.
Though I cannot recall their faces, I remember that both my mother and grandmother showed their love with large quantities of good food. And I mean quality and quantity. A thanksgiving in my house includes (included) a whole turkey, a tray of sweet potatoes, a bag of hand-mashed potatoes, a bowl of canned corn, a bowl of canned peas, a bowl of from-scratch poultry gray, a pan of stuffing, and that's just the dinner. Sometimes my mother makes (made) green bean casserole, but she's the only one in the house who will eat it.
Ah man. I'm thinking about Thanksgiving. Lissa was right. I am exhausted, and hungry. I feel as if I could eat an entire bear. (I would soon regret this sentiment. Just my feelings at the time).
As we walked the dirt path I observed my saviors. Frederick seemed incredibly wary around me. He kept looking back at Robin and I. Lissa seemed the carefree type. Like literally carefree. She didn't currently have a single thing in the entire world to worry about.
Is Ylisse the name of the world, or the country? I wondered.
No matter. At the moment anyway.
First order of business is securing my own safety. These people are armed. One is mounted, and in full plate armor, the man who is clearly the leader seems to be more outfitted for travel. As a smart man should be, though he still seemed to be wearing protection. I think I heard his name as Chrom.
I couldn't get a good look at Robin, but he appeared to be unarmored.
Lissaa didn't carry what looked like a weapon, she had already handed the staff back to Frederick to strap it to his horse. They said it was a healing staff. So there was magic.
I don't think the place I came from has any magic. Lots of science though. None of these people are carrying a gun. I see two good self-defense weapons in the swords strapped to Robin's and the leader's side, but Frederick was going all out.
Strapped to his horse was a sword, poleaxe, and- was that a lance or a spear? What an impractically prepared man. Even as I though this, Frederick dismounted and walked ahead of the group. Even as he looked back to watch me, he picked up? Pebbles? Rocks, small and large tree branches. Everything in the way. He either kicked it out of the way or tossed it off the path.
What convinced me that he did not do this under orders was the three rocks I saw him slip into a small pouch. Collecting pebbles? What a strange man. Frederick did this for the entire trip to the camp. He took it very seriously.
The longer we traveled, the more accustomed to myself I became, until Robin was mostly there for my balance, though I still think I needed him in order to avoided crumpling like a crushed can.
We walked for something like an hour before we finally reached their camp, and my sore feet told me that I was not used to walking so much. I got the sense that, at one point, when I did survival training, that I had hiked a lot, but that was something like six years ago.
The leader, Chrom, pulled them in front of the camp, where I saw many unfamiliar faces. Seven to be precise. Eleven people there if you counted my little group that just walked in. Though that included my head, which, well I guess my own face was technically unfamiliar to me.
"You've got another one Chrom?" Someone called out.
"Maybe," he shouted back, "We'll see."
Did this man have a habit of rescuing strangers on the road? Wait. Maybe? What was he talking about maybe? Did the stranger mean something else?
"Tell me," Chrom turned to me, "You seem to be in a bit better shape, so I feel a bit better about asking, but can you remember your name? I understand that you are in a confusing situation. It would be good to have something to call you by."
"I can't- huh? Gavin," I said, surprising myself.
"Gavin?" Chrom asked, "Would that be your name then."
I reached up to my chin and pulled at my beard, "I believe so. Hearing you call me that rings familiar."
"I see…" Chrom said, "Our group is somewhat militant, if you haven't already noticed. We are currently on a small campaign traveling north. Tell me Gavin, do you think you can fight? If not, can you at least defend yourself?"
"I… the only weapon I think I've ever had serious training with is a bow," Well, that and guns. I've fired a lot of guns. Used to live out in the country I think.
"However," I Continued. I remembered something from an enthusiast I watched, "I'd prefer a sword for self-defense."
I'd mention my interest in whatever magic there was here, but I highly doubted my talent for such an endeavor. Plus, anyone can swing a sword, but as far as I know casting any sort of magic takes lots of practice. There's no way I could up and tell these people that I like magic when I'm not sure if I can use it.
It was at this point, as Chrom is asking me about my choice of weapon, that I truly realize the gravity of my situation. I have some selective amnesia while in a place which seems completely unfamiliar to me.
As a matter of fact. I'm fairly convinced that whoever, or whatever, it is that sent me here purposely tampered with my mind. I can't remember the names of any people or places, but some locations stick out in my memory. It physically hurts to think about it so I stop. Makes my head ache and my pulse rise.
Chrom seems unfazed by my own inner turmoil, and turns to Frederick, "Go and grab him a bow, quiver, and sword. Virion might not be too happy about the loss of his arrow stock."
"You're arming me just like that?" asked, "What if it was my intent to harm you or one of your fellows."
Chrom laughs as if he hears this question every day. It's a joke.
"Nay friend I make it a habit to extend a hand to those around me in need. I can't in good conscience leave you confused on the side of the road days from any human settlement. Naga I don't think there'll be anymore contact with a town until we get passed the Longfort."
"Still doesn't explain arming me," I say, though I have a pretty good idea of why Chrom wants me to have a weapon.
He asked me to defend myself.
"Aye it doesn't. We're a dangerous bunch, and we attract bandits and thugs like flies to a pile of rotting meat. You could all it unlucky, but I've rarely gone anywhere recently without there being some sort of mortal trouble. That is why I arm you."
"I see," I mutter.
"I'm not heartless. If you don't want to stay with our group, I can leave you on your way, albeit with a few supplies. You seem to have nothing. If you are going to stay though, I won't ask you to fight. I'll ask you to protect yourself though. I don't think we can spare a man to watch over you during a battle."
"Laying it on a little thick there aren't you Chrom? Never asked me if I wanted to fight…" Robin says.
"That's right I didn't. You came running after me, and killed a few brigands along the way." Chrom responds.
"I feel like Chrom has the right of it though. I can't ask you to invest resources in me, and the fact that you are offering me transport, and the protection of a group is enough."
"I suppose your right," Robin says.
Frederick returned with his weapons from the wagon. An unstrung bow, a sheathed sword, and the quiver of arrows. He handed them to Chrom, who in turn, handed them to me one at a time.
He handed me the belted quiver first, which I attached to my trousers, but I left the belt unbuckled, so when Chrom handed me the sword I strapped it on beside the quiver. It felt incredibly alien to have something so long strapped to my waist.
"We'll get you a pack we can strap the bow to, but until then I'll ask you to just hold it. We're camped for the day, so after we've all settled in and introduced you, we can get someone to show you a little with the sword."
"That sounds like a good idea to me."
I was not prepared for the hailstorm of questions being peppered at me. Where am I from? What's my name? Do I like to read? All these and more.
The Shepherds are a friendly group of people. If a little curious when they meet someone new. Which was what Chrom introduced me as. A new recruit for the Shepherds. He really manipulated me into joining. I had no other choice.
Even when we make it to the next town, supposedly after we pass a Long Fort, I won't have anywhere to go. My memory is fuzzy at best, and at worst nonexistent. These Shepherds are the only people in the whole world that I know now. This makes me all the more grateful for the company, though I don't fancy myself as an extrovert.
I caught myself playing with the hairs in my beard several times. It seems like my body hasn't forgotten the habits I've picked up over the years. Not sure how old I am though. At least the age of majority, but beyond that I'm not sure.
Just when I thought that the talking was done for the day, Robin came over and sat down in the grass next to me by the fire. He's been keeping an I on me all day, of which I am thankful for. Earlier, just when I thought getting asked so many questions by strangers was becoming to much, he stepped in and helped to calm everyone down.
"You seem to be handling this pretty well. I was in a similar position as you just over a month ago. Chrom took me in, and gave me a purpose. It makes me feel lucky to have lost all of my memories. You've got it pretty hard," Robin says to me.
"It is tough. Terrifying," I'm not some manly-man's-man. I'm not scared to talk about my feelings, "I'm not sure what I would have done if I would've been woken up by less savory people, or even been completely alone."
"You're surrounded by strangers. They gave you weapons and now you're on a campaign," Robin said. I nodded at him, "There's not much you can do about it either," he laughed an ironic laugh.
"Not much at all," I comment.
"I know you were pressured into our group, but don't feel like you need to stay. Once our diplomatic mission is over, we'll be returning home, and if you ask, I'm sure Chrom will be willing to find you a job somewhere. Who knows? He might even land you a job in the castle!" Robin finished.
"I'm not so sure about the whole castle thing. I'll think about the job though. I'm not an experienced fighter. I have no qualms about fighting other people, but I'm not sure I have to talent."
It's the truth that I've never killed person, but I feel like, if I had to, I would be able to. The thought of manually stabbing someone with my sword disgusts me, but dissociating with a bow will be easy. I won't hesitate to swing my sword if I'm in trouble though. I don't think I ever was, nor will I ever be, a man who hesitates.
"You'll do fine. At least for now. Unless you decide to officially join the Shepherds back in Ylisstol after this is over, Chrom probably isn't going to force you to fight unless you need to."'
"I'd like to think I'm something of an honorable man Robin. You are my saviors. It would bring me no great sense of relief and shame to have to sit on the sides while you risk your lives in combat. In this instant, I feel like the shame would win out over my sense of safety. I have no way to repay these kindnesses."
"You are a selfless man Gavin, at least to some degree. If you are going to fight, then why don't I show you something of the sword? I understand you are unfamiliar with bearing arms."
I hoisted myself up from the ground. It made me somewhat self-conscious of the ease at which Robin stood up. I have a lot of weight I can throw around. There's a lot of muscle there too. My memory tells me of hours spent lifting weights with a man whose face I can no longer recall.
As I understand it, having weight for leverage is important in melee combat. I'm sure my large body size can offer me ample killing power with a strong swing.
We stepped to the side of the camp, to a spot that would allow me to swing my blade with room to spar, and space for Robin to leap away, should some dire mistake happen.
"Alright Gavin. Pull your sword from its sheathe, and take a fighting stance."
It was a shorter sword, I could definitely two-hand with it, but I could definitely get some more reach out of it using only one hand. There was also the matter of the weight. I had always heard that swords were incredibly light weight, but the sheer practicality of the matter of its mass shocked me.
I believe I've always wanted to try a sort of low-guard stance, where retaliating means swinging the sword up, but I feel that it would be a bit impractical for someone of my experience. Instead I settle for gripping it away from myself with two hands. I held it at an angle just below forty-five degrees, so that the tip was pointed at whatever invisible opponent was in front of me.
"That's something," Robin chuckled, "It looks like you at least know where to put your hands on the hilt. The same can't be said for one of our newest recruits, who grew up as a farmer. I'd say the boy's almost too young for this kind of life, but he's determined."
"Uh-huh." I grunted.
"The point is, you're already in a better place than he was a week ago when he joined up," Robin said.
"You'll make a fighter out of me yet, though I can't say I don't prefer to deal my death from a distance."
"I suppose there are some serious tactical merits to having a much greater range than your enemy."
"Yeah and the best one is that you don't die."
"Indeed, Gavin well spoken," one of the shepherds came up.
What was his name again? I'm not great with names. I hope that Robin mentions this fellow's name.
He seems the noble sort, maybe royalty like Chrom and Lissa, though he is much more interested in showing off his noble bearing.
"Ah Virion, just in time." Robin grinned, and turned to me, "I'll go now. I only wanted to make sure you could swing that sword without hurting yourself. For now at least, but you seem to understand the very basics of holding your weapon."
"Yes, and- Sir Robin- that's where I come into the fray," Virion flourished, "Chrom has asked me to check your potential with the bow. I understand that you have at least some experience with mine own weapon of choice."
"See you around then Robin," I waved at him as he left, before turning to Virion to continue the conversation, "Indeed. I competed in archery for sport at one point, though that was a long time ago. I was much younger. Beyond that, much of my childhood included using a bow and arrow, though much of it was play. Even so, the bows I used were very real, and I have confidence that I can, at least, hit the target."
"Well then, string up you bow, and we can check your form and aim!" Virion clapped.
Check my form and aim, he did. I was tired. If I wasn't utterly exhausted before, I was now running on literal fumes.
I'm right handed, so it really doesn't help my aim when my dominant eye is my left eye.
Virion drilled me until it got dark, but I was no less glad for is insight. His demonstrations were excellent. The man has a good brain for teaching, and he really knows how to hold a man's attention. It made me feel like I learned a lot despite how tired I was.
Nonetheless, my brain starts to dump out on me when I get tired. Like it really shuts down quick. My speech slurs, my vision sometimes gets blurry, and I can barely keep my eyes open. So once Virion releases me I got find my tent.
Robin had been sleeping alone in his own tent, but volunteered the extra space give me somewhere to sleep. Really the man had been nothing but hospitable and understanding. Even more so than Chrom, who seemed well acquainted with situations like mine. At least, it felt as if he was no stranger to giving out help to those in great need of it.
For some odd reason, Chrom had extra cots and blankets, so I was sleeping far better than I expected to be. I mean I understood the blankets, and being prepared with extra cots, but it almost seemed as if he was planning on picking up strangers from the side of the road.
I am no less grateful to him though.
As I look up at the brown cloth of the tent I'm sharing with a white haired tactician, a thought comes to me. Now I am not a man for vulgarity, and in fact, I abhor use of curse words and other vulgar phrases. At least when spoken.
That said, there was one lingering set of thoughts I had before finally passing out for the night.
Where the Hell am I?
A/N: Well hello folks, here I am starting a third active story. I can't seem to make my muse go away, and alas she tells me what to be writing, so here I am, doing a Self-Insert. Thank the lord I'm starting this story in the summer, because that means I have plenty of time to dedicate to writing all three at once, in between working my job.