(Authors' note: I not a fan of the theory of Ornstein being an illusion in the Anor Londo cathedral, so I tried to think up a scenario where he survived the fight and how it could play out.)
Why was he still alive...?
He slowly regained his senses. And where was he? It felt like he was lying down in a bed, tucked in some blankets. Wondering how he made it there or who had brought him, he slowly tried to open his eyes, only to regret this instantly. The light was far too bright, making his head hurt and a wave of terrible nausea coming over him. Just now he realized in how much pain he actually was. His chest and legs felt like they were on fire and his head throbbed. He remembered fighting a battle... and losing. Had he actually survived this? It felt strange. It felt like he had should died in this battle, but instead he seemed to have survived it and got hurt so badly that he was in terrible amount of pain.
"Ornstein? Are you awake? How are you feeling?"
That was the voice of Gwyndolin, the Dark Sun. He guessed he was in the Dark Moon Tomb then. He was pretty sure, they would expect an answer. He felt so nauseos that it was hard for him to talk. After what felt like a very long time, he managed to speak a few words with an audible strain in his voice: "Pain..", "Nauseous..." and finally "Not good."
"You've suffered some severe injuries including a head injury.", he was able to hear Gwyndolin say. "Also, you lost quite some blood. Take your time to recover. You will need it."
Head injury? Where did that come from? His memory was fuzzy, but he tried to regain what happened. He remembered... fighting alongside Smough against the Chosen Undead. At first they didn't stood a chance, but after time passed, they seemed to adapt. They learned how to dodge his techniques and used openings for an attack. The benefits of a being who couldn't really die and come back again and again. After a while, the blood loss and exhaustion was so much that he just couldn't go on anymore and had collapsed. He and Smough had agreed that they would draw power of each other if one of them would fall in battle, but... he hadn't expected the executioner to do it in such a... brutal way.
Smough! Ornstein jerked up at that thought. That had been a mistake. The pain in his head exploded at the sudden movement and the nausea got so worse, that he wouldn't be able to hold it in anymore. Luckily Gwyndolin was quick to react and put something that felt like a bucket in front of him. Clasping it with his hands he spent the several next minutes throwing up whatever had been the last thing he had eaten. After it was over, he was left breathing heavily. The question he wanted to ask had to wait until later. At least, he could keep his eyes open now, but the pain, especially in his head and chest, now felt exruciating.
"Do you think it's over?" Gwyndolin asked. Catching his breath, he answered: "D...don't know... Pain...got worse." He looked into the contents of the bucket and added: "Nausea feels a bit better..."
Gwyndolin offered him a jar of water, which he quickly used to get the bad taste out of his mouth. And drinking the rest of it in one gulp, after he realized, how dehydrated he felt. "Slow down.", Gwyndolin said. "You just came back to your senses. Shall I get you some medicine to help you with the pain and the nausea?" They took the bucket from his hands and put it onto the ground. He slowly answered: "That would be for the better..." "Well then, don't try to get up. Although... I don't think you are actually able to do this right now." He watched Gwyndolin wiggle away.
Ornstein flopped carefully back into the pillows to not jostle his injuries too much. Despite the pain, he decided to look around a bit, even though he couldn't see much from his position. As he had expected, Gwyndolin had brought him into the Dark Moon Tomb. He could spot his armour and weapon sitting at the wall. A thought, that he certainly had to clean it from blood, crossed his mind shortly. Maybe he should do a bit of damage control. Carefully and slowly pulling himself up again, he checked under the blankets. First thing, he noticed was, that Gwyndolin had dressed him in some easy to wear robes. His usual clothes he would wear below his armour were probably ruined now. The robes made it easy for him to undress and spot that his chest and both of his thighs were wrapped up into thick bandages. Those must have been the wounds dealed by the Chosen Undead. They had mostly used openings where they could go for his legs and finished it with a swing that would cut open his chest. He laid back into the pillows again. There was a mountain of pillows behind him. Gwyndolin really wanted him to have it comfortable. He slowly lifted his left hand, feeling for the heavily throbbing injury on the left side of his head. He winced immediately at the touch, even though his head too was wrapped into bandages. He could make out a massive swelling under the bandages. Also it felt like there could have been a bleeding wound. He lowered his hand, deciding to leave it be and not upset it anymore. Finally, he noticed the minor detail, that Gwyndolin had braided his long, bright red hair. They probably wanted to keep it out of the way. He usually tied it up into a ponytail, but with the head bandages this wasn't possible. And if not tied, his hair tended to become into the way in any means possible.
Gwyndolin came back with a cup of tea and placed it down on the nightstand. Ornstein struggled with pushing himself up to a sitting position this time, so they helped him up, groaning a bit because of his weight. Gwyndolin had never be the physical strongest person. Their strengt was laying in moonlight magic. After they made sure that Ornstein was in a comfortable position, they handed him the medicine: "This blend should help with easing the pain and the nausea. But be careful, it is still hot." They sat down in a chair beside his bed. Ornstein waited a bit for it to cool down, but then slowly took the first sip. He decided it would be the right time to ask some questions now.
"How long was I out?", he started. "About 12 hours, I think..." Gwyndolin considered. "You regained consciousness sooner than I expected. I was expecting you to be out for at least a whole day." They started to inspect his injuries, mostly the head injury cause the others couldn't be seen without lifting the blanket and undressing Ornstein. "The swelling has gotten worse...", they murmured, more to themself. "It didn't look that bad at the start..." Then they continued a bit louder: "I would have liked to apply a cold compress to ease the swelling and the pain, but I don't want to upset the wound... It was bleeding intensely. There may even be a crack in your skull. You should try to lay mostly still."
"At least now I know that a hit with Smough's hammer can be survived.", Ornstein said in a slight sarcastic tone. That brought him back on track: "Did Smough make it too...?" Gwyndolin looked busted, like they wanted to avoid this subject. After a brief moment they regained their composure and answered: "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but... You were the only survivor. I am sorry."
It was a shock and came with a mix of all kind of different feelings. He felt sadness, regret, anger and a small part of him felt like he had already known it. It really had hit him hard. Even though the two of them had started out on a sour note, pretty much starting to fight whenever they only saw each other, after all this time guarding the cathedral together they had become really good friends. He just stared down on the now empty cup in his hands, to shaken up to say something. Gwyndolin took this a cue: "I better leave you alone for the time. Call for me, if you need anything. I will come back later. I also brought a new bucket if you are feeling sick again." They took the cup and left the room, leaving Ornstein alone with his thoughts.
He had to be honest with himself, Ornstein had long expected and also already accepted to fall to the hands of one of the Chosen Undead one time. After all the things that had happened, dying felt like a welcome change. Still, it would have been nice to not have to do it alone. He had expected to die alongside Smough and then hopefully seeing all their friends again. But now Smough was dead and he had survived. Once again had he outlived a friend. He felt sad because he had lost another friend. He felt regret cause he couldn't help Smough. And he felt anger cause he had been the first to fall in this battle, leaving Smough dealing with the Chosen Undead all alone. If he just could turn back time and change the things that happened... but that wasn't the first time he wished for that. Once again, he felt like fate had kicked him into the guts. And there was nothing he could do about it. This thing had happened and he had failed to prevent it. Did he have to regret every thing that happened in his life?
The medicine Gwyndolin gave him seemed to have some side effects, cause he started to feel really drowsy all of a sudden. On top of being hurt and being in an emotional bad place, maybe it would be best to sleep it all away for now...
Ornstein spent the next few days mostly asleep. When he was awake he either had to fight down nausea or was feeling miserable with physical and emotional pain. Gwyndolin made sure to check on him regularly. They brought him more of the pain relieving medicine, talked to him when he was awake and rebraided his hair if it had gotten loose.
One time when Orstein was about to lose his battle with nausea, Gwyndolin entered the room: "Ornstein. I need to..." They stopped mid sentence. "Oh, you are about to be sick again.", they stated more than asked, sat down beside him and put the things down they had brought with them. Ornstein had the bucket already in place, but so far had been able to hold it back. He heard Gwyndolin murmuring: "I also have to think about what to give you to eat. You haven't eaten in a while now." The thought alone of having to eat something made him lose his battle with nausea instantly. "Feeling better now?", Gwyndolin asked after he had finished, smiling a bit. "It is better if it gets out most of the time." "You did this on purpose, didn't you?", he asked, a bit annoyed. "It really hurts in my chest. I would prefer for it to not happen too often." He laid back down after cleaning his mouth of the bad taste. "Why do I feel nauseos all the time?", he wanted to know. "You clearly show signs of a concussion." Gwyndolin answered. "Your head got hit with an heavy impact, that upsets your brain, making you feel dizzy and nauseos. Unfortunately, there isn't anything we can do about it but trying to ease the symptoms. It needs time to heal on its own. You should try to move as little as possible, that may help a bit." Ornstein had hoped for another answer, but it seemed like he had to deal with it for the time. He remembered that Gwyndolin wanted to say something when they came in, but they had never finished that sentence. "You wanted to say something earlier?" "Oh yes, I need to change your bandages.", Gwyndolin stated. "So would you please undress?" He did as told and pulled the robes off so Gwyndolin could got to work. "I am doing this because...", they started to explain. Ornstein interrupted them: "That it doesn't infect, right?" He had had some injuries before and was familiar with the concept of wound infections. "I see, you are familiar with this.", Gwyndolin said. "You are already in a bad shape, getting an infection on top of it would be really dangerous."
They took off the bandages of his chest completely, readying a new one to apply. He could see that the wound was cleanly stitched together. "Gwyndolin, I am surprised. I didn't know that you were able to stitch together wounds so cleanly.", he said. "I had a lot of time to practice.", they answered. "I often had to patch myself up when I got hurt..." The last sentence sounded a bit pained, like it came with a bad memory. After they were done with bandaging the chest, they removed the bandages from his legs. His legs didn't look too good. He could spot multiple cuts, some of them also stitched together. There seemed to be a particular big cut on his left leg. He remembered, that wound had made him stagger and enabled the Chosen Undead to finish him off. Gwyndolin finished changing the bandages there too and he got a moment to dress himself back up. They started to carefully unwrap the bandages around his head now, grabbing for a new one.
Ornstein stopped them: "Wait a moment..actually... I would like to see how it looks like." Gwyndolin freezed in their movements, then laid the bandages down. "...Are you sure..? It looks...really... bad...", they said, avoiding his gaze. "It can't surely be that bad.", he replied. "Well, alright then." Gwyndolin used their catalyst to conjure up a hand mirror. They had always been great at illusionary magic to a point, that they could conjure up items that felt like they were real. They gave the item to Ornstein so that he could take a look.
They surely hadn't lied. That looked bad. He could make out a wound that had also been stitched up by Gwyndolin, showing how much it probably had bled. The area was still swollen and also heavenly bruised. After seeing this, he wasn't surprised that it hurt so much. He remembered that Gwyndolin had suspected that he could have a crack in his skull. He could probably consider himself lucky that it wasn't worse. "You were right, this looks bad.", he said. He took a closer look: "There appears to be some dried up blood in my hair." Gwyndolin came closer, already having the bandage ready, but took a closer look too: "Ah, I am sorry. That was impossible to see at first. The colour of your hair kinda matches that of blood." "It's alright, I don't blame you.", Ornstein said and gave the illusionary mirror back to Gwyndolin who did let it vanish again. He expected Gwyndolin to apply the new bandage now, but they still looked at his hair: "Maybe we should take care of this now? It will only get worse otherwise. But I doubt that we will be able to comb this out." Ornstein doubted this too. It looked really sticky, besides... "My hair isnt't combable anyway.", he said. "Just cut this parts out. It will grow back." Gwyndolin took this as a hint to conjure up some scissors and carefully cut the crusted parts out. After they had finished, they put it into the bucket and finally were able to apply the bandage once again. "There, it's done.", they said. "You should try to rest some more. I will get a new bucket, your medicine and try to find something for you to eat." And with that, Ornstein was alone again for the moment. He decided to took Gwyndolin's advice and tried to get some more sleep.
A few days had passed. Gwyndolin had actually found some easy to digest food for Ornstein to eat, but he still couldn't stomach much. At least, the nausea got slowly better and it stayed down most of the time. A lot of the pain also started to ease down, so it came as a surprise when he awoke with a fresh and new pain in his head, which made him cry out in pain and discomfort. He had probably shifted in his sleep and accidentally laid on it. Bringing a hand up to the wound, he tried to lay still and waited for the pain to go away. But Gwyndolin had been quick to react and appeared of thin air shortly after. "Where does it hurt?", they asked. "Nothing serious.", he replied. "Accidentally upset the head injury. Started to hurt again."
They looked him over. "I am going to get you a cold compress.", Gwyndolin stated. "The wound has healed up enough now, that should help with the pain and the swelling." They vanished and shortly after came back with a wet cloth. They removed the head bandage and handed the compress to Ornstein: "Press it against the injury, but not so much that it hurts." He accepted the cloth and did as told, carefully holding it against the aching spot. "How do you feel in general?", they wanted to know. "Most of the pain isn't so bad anymore. I don't feel that nauseos anymore. Still have trouble to move though. It is the best when I just stay still.", Ornstein replied. "Which is annoying, cause lying in bed all the time is making me sore. I wish I could get up and move around a bit. But I also feel weak and exhausted despite not having done anything." Gwyndolin seemed to consider what to say and then spoke up: "You lost a lot of blood, that makes you anemic. Your body needs a while to recreate the lost blood. And I would appreciate if you would stay in bed. In your state, you could fall down or faint. You don't need to get yourself even more injuries." They stayed silent for a short while. "Besides, with that legs I doubt you can walk without help." They spent another moment in silence. Ornstein stared at the ceiling while trying to keep the compress still and came up with another subject:
"Smough and I had agreed to draw power of each other when one of us would fall in battle. But... why do you think... he did it like this?", he motioned to his head injury. Gwyndolin seemed to think about it for a while. "Maybe... he wanted to spare you the fate of slowly bleeding to death.", they finally concluded. "Having your power taken could also be a reason why you feel weak and exhausted, atop of the anemia. But you don't need to worry, your power should come back in time." Ornstein was pretty sure that Smough had gotten his power of lightning, but he had been clearly unconsious in the second half of the battle, so he couldn't be sure. He also hadn't tried to use his lightning powers since he woke up in the Dark Moon Tomb, not having a need for it. He also had another thing in mind: "A mercy kill?", he said, feeling empty. Even at this point his friend had been thinking about him, wanting him to give a clean and quick death. But he gad gone soft cause Ornstein obviously survived the blast. Thinking about it, he was sure, that his helmet had took the worst impact of the blow. Without, he would have been finished for sure. But still, Smough knew exactly how hard he had to hit. It was strange. Once again Ornstein wished he could just have died alongside his friend. That would have spare him the pain, this thoughts and all the bad emotions that came with it.
"But that is just an assumption.", Gwyndolin's voice brought him out of this thoughts. "I was so surprised when I found you still alive. But you were bleeding so much, I needed to start treatment right away. It could have been to late for you otherwise." They had a pained expression on their face: "I may not be the right one to say this, but I am glad that you made it." What? Did they really said that? Gwyndolin had been the one who had assigned Smough and him to guard the cathedral. But it didn't take Ornstein long to find out, that they pretty much had used him and his friend as an ultimate test of strength for the various Chosen Undead. Ornstein had been fine with dying for this cause, he just wanted to see his friends again after all this time. But he had survived and there was the person that had ordered him to sacrifice himself for this cause and told him they were glad that he made it. "Gwyndolin, please leave me alone.", he said in a cold voice. Gwyndolin cringed. "I am sorry...", they said in a monotonous voice and vanished.
The next day when Gwyndolin came in to changes his bandages, Ornstein started to talk, having waiting for this: "Why did you save me?"
Gwyndolin reacted surprised: "What do you mean? Should I have just let you die?"
"I would have been fine with it. I accepted this fate a long time ago.", he answered, sounding more bitter than he wanted to.
Now Gwyndolin got upset: "If you see a friend dying and can do something about this, you wouldn't just leave them be."
Ornstein had heard enough. How could he have assumed they would have understand it...
"You can't understand how it is. You have been hiding in here all the time. You weren't actually out there, dealing with fighting the Chosen Undead over and over again!", he claimed.
"It's true that I am hiding, but that is because I am weak. So weak and fragile and disgusting that my father didn't even want to look at me. And my brother and sister have already left. Leaving me all alone here and now I have to pick up the pieces of their...mess!" Gwyndolin normally spoke in a calm and quiet voice, but now they had gotten quite loud. "I thought you would understand that!", they finished.
That last sentence had hit him hard. He knew so well how it felt to be the one who was left over. "Gwyndolin.. I.. I am sorry..", he stuttered. "I shouldn't have lashed out on you like that... It has been too much for me lately." Gwyndolin had done so much to nurse him back to health. And here he was, unleashing all his stress and anger out on them. He pulled the blankets closer attempting to hide his face in shame. He totally expected Gwyndolin to leave now, but they stayed, fresh bandages in hand. "I still need to change your bandages, so please let me get to work.", they said, in a quivering voice. It looked like there were tears in their eyes, but he couldn't made it out exactly. After a short while he pulled the blankets back and undressed, so that Gwyndolin could get to work. Neither of them said anything during the whole process. Once they were done, they sat down on the side of his bed, seeming to search for words for a while.
"Ornstein.", they finally started to say. "Have you thought about... ending it?" Ornstein winced, then quickly started to talk: "I...I couldn't do it. Never. Not after what Ciaran did. Nobody should ever make this experience. Finding a friend like this..."
He could feel tears dwelling up in his eyes and and soon afterwards they started to flow freely, leaving him sobbing. He grabbed one of the pillows to cry into, while Gwyndolin sat there in silence, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. They stayed a good while like this until Ornstein's tears had dried up for the moment, leaving him with this empty feeling and the burning throat that came with crying so much. He used his sleeve to wipe the tears from his face, when Gwyndolin spoke again: "I have something to admit... Actually, I should be the one to apologize. I used everyone. My father hammered into me how important it is that the flame would stay linked." Ornstein winced once again at the wording, fresh tears starting to dwell up, reminded of Smough. Gwyndolin noticed it too: "Ah, sorry... That wasn't intentional." They pulled out a handkerchief and gave it to Ornstein before continuing their story: "To be honest, my father gave this lecture to all of us, not only me." They clearly were talking about their siblings. "I am actually a bit jealous that they don't have to deal wit his." They looked down and pulled their legs a bit higher, so that some of the snakes were resting on the bed, looking around curiously. "And I was left, having to sort everything out. And I used all I had at my disposal. The Undead by spreading the rumor that linking the flame would cure the curse. And you and Smough to test their strength. And now look where we are. Smough is dead, you are badly hurt and I am... I am just scared." They put their head in their hands, now sobbing for real. "I am scared all the time. What if they turn hollow and all was for nothing? What if they refuse to link the flame? What if they find this place and come after me? I am.. scared all the time. But I am not allowed to show it. I shouldn't be scared. I am the last deity here in Anor Londo, I should shine upon it, not sitting here in the dark. I guess the Dark Sun is a fitting title for me over all..."
After their rant was over, Ornstein couldn't help but feel even worse for having lashed out at them like that. Now he at least wanted to try and reassure Gwyndolin a bit, laying a hand on their shoulder: "Gwyndolin. I am still a knight. I won't let anything bad happen to you." Gwyndolin turned to him with a concerned look: "Ornstein, have you forgotten how badly you are hurt? You can barely walk, let alone fight. Besides, they already took you down in your prime. Fighting them now wouldn't be big trouble for them."
Gwyndolin was brutally honest, but they were wasn't in any fighting condition at all. The wounds still hurt, he could only walk with a heavy limp and felt dizzy and nauseous quick. He laid back down and murmured: "I just wanted to make sure that you are not alone with this."
"I really appreciate the thought.", Gwyndolin said, looking a bit less sad.
Ornstein continued: "Besides, you are wrong in one point. I wasn't on my prime. I haven't been since I found out about everything. I have been unable to bring up my full potential since then..."
That took Gwyndolin by surprise: "Wait, you were holding back the whole time...?"
"Unintentional.", Ornstein responded. "Maybe I just wanted to give Smough a chance to shine or maybe it felt all so pointless... but most probably, I just wanted it to be over already..."
Gwyndolin ignored the last sentence for now, seeming to have fall in thought: "So... you were not even fighting full force and managed to kill the Chosen Undead over a dozen times nonetheless? Fascinating..."
Ornstein sighed: "I don't want to talk about this."
Gwyndolin withdrew the subject at once: "Of course, I am sorry."
They both stayed silent for a moment, then Gwyndolin started to talk in a resolute tone: "I shouldn't see things so negatively. Who says the Chosen Undead ever finds this place? And if they do, I can offer them to join the blades of the Dark Moon. And even if they would come after me, I still know how to fight!"
They looked over him: "So promise me to not get involved and stay in bed. You need all the rest you can get. Also, your nausea seems to have gotten better lately, but I have seen getting you sick after you tried to get up yesterday."
"You have seen that? How embarassing...", he murmured, that hadn't been one of his proudest moment.
He sighed again: "I think I, too, have something to admit. I have been fine with dying on the hands of another. And not only my own life, I was fine with Smough dying too. I always wished for us to die together at this place... How could I see our lifes as something so worthless to just throw away...? That isn't exactly different from what Ciaran did..."
Now Gwyndolin took a turn at sighing: "You can blame me for it if you want. At first I didn't tell you my plan, but you caught up on it eventually and even called me out for it. But then you were fine with it. Even though I practically asked you to sacrifice yourself for this. Did you ever tell Smough about it?"
He shook his head, feeling a little regret cause the motion hurt: "No. I thought it was enough that I had this knowledge. But it wouldn't surprise me if he had caught on and just decided to never tell me cause I wanted to keep it a secret. I really feel like I failed him. Like I failed everyone."
"You need to stop blaming yourself for everything bad that happened. None of this was your fault. Not my brother being banished, not Artorias' and Ciaran's death and not Gough leaving., ", they said, then sighed again. "I just wished I had found another way..."
Ornstein got curious: "What could you have done different?" Gwyndolin perked up: "I could have conjured up illusions of you to fight them instead." Ornstein couldn't believe his ears: "Gwyndolin! That would have never worked!" They seemed to get a bit smaller: "Sadly.. it is true. It is one thing to conjure up some sentinels and silver knights with basic movements but conjuring up two warriors with such a diverse moveset? I would have needed all my concentration to pull it off and even then, they would have been vanquished in a single hit probably..."
They stood up from the bed: "We can't do anything to change what happening, but we can learn from our mistakes. Now let us hope that the Chosen Undead makes it. Then at least Smough's sacrifice wasn't for nothing." They looked down the door, to the hallway which ended in the illusionary entrace to the tomb. "And let's hope they never find out about this place..."
Gwyndolin was really satisfied with his healing process lately. Ornstein actually felt well enough to stay out of bed most of the time now. He had took up some research and was sitting at a table with quite a few books, sometimes scribbling some notes on a piece of paper. His pain had also gotten a lot better now, making him able to move around much more freely. Gwyndolin had been able to remove the stitches from his head wound, having been content with it being closed up enough. They also had removed the bandages, which Ornstein was incredibly grateful for, cause his hair had been in dire need of some washing. He also had put it back from the braid into his usualy ponytail, feeling far more comfortable with his hair being this way. Finally, he had gained his appetite back. Because he hadn't been able to eat much at first, he was pretty sure he had lost some weight in the last few weeks.
Ornstein looked up when he heard a noise. Gwyndolin had come into the room, looking pretty happy for once. They looked at the books at the table: "Ornstein? Have you been to the archives? Aren't you still limping? And you better tell me that you haven't carried all these books at once."
"Don't worry, I did several travels.", he answered. "And I rested up after I got them."
That seemed to calm Gwyndolin down. They took a closer look at the books: "These are about dragons? And dragon worshipping cultures? That is quite an odd lecture for the dragon slayer. Do you plan to walk the path of the dragon or something?"
"No. I am just doing some... research", Ornstein said, then quickly changed the subject. "You look happy today. Did something good happen?" Gwyndolin smiled: "Yes, indeed. They linked the flame."
Now that took Ornstein by surprise: "They really did it?" Both he and Gwyndolin knew that the Chosen Undead could have chose to bring the Age of Dark instead. Lighting the flame and keeping the Age of Fire going was a really great sacrifice. Ornstein couldn't help but wonder if they knew what would happen to them...
"So...", he started. "I guess I am not needed here anymore." Gwyndolin sighed: "Your task here is done. Of course I would appreciate if you stayed and help me out with everything, but... you have already done so much for me. I won't stop you if you want to leave."
"I was thinking...", Ornstein said. "To search for Master Gw.., I mean, your brother." Even though it had been ages that the name of Gwyn's firstborn had been erased from history, he still didn't felt comfortable speaking it aloud in Anor Londo. Even with only Gwyndolin to hear it, who gasped in surprise: "He was banished centuries ago. We don't even know if he is still alive."
He looked down at the books and his notes: "I know, but... we also don't know if he is dead. I have to start somewhere. I had time to think a lot about this and I want to do this. I want to at least try finding him."
"So that is why you got these books.", Gwyndolin said, coming closer to take a look at his notes. "Can you even read this? This looks like lightning has struck paper. How oddly fitting..."
"You are not the first one to mention this.", Ornstein said, knowing perfectly how messy his handwriting was. Gwyndolin sat down at the table. "Please promise me something. Don't leave until you are fully healed up." "Of course.", he reassured them. "At the moment I wouldn't come really far. I will stay here until you are fine with me leaving." They looked relieved: "Good. I don't want to worry about you to collapse and not have the right medical care." They picked up one of the books. "Let me help you with your research then. He is still my brother. I may be able to find something out."
Ornstein smiled at them: "Thanks a lot. That will make things certainly easier."
Gwyndolin took a closer look at the book they had picked up: "This is about the Abyss? You don't plan on going there, right? After all what happened the last time..."
"I probably grabbed this by accident.", he quickly said, trying to avoid the subject.
Gwyndolin didn't seem convinced: "Well, all right. I am just warning you." They both then took up the research mostly in silence for a while, only talking whenever one of them had come over something interesting. After about an hour, Gwyndolin stated that they should take a break and got some tea and snacks for them.
Over the break, Ornstein broke the silence and asked: "Gwyndolin? Can you promise me something too?"
"What is it?", they wanted to know.
"If someone asks... please tell them, that Smough was the last knight to stand in defense of the cathedral.", he said.
They looked a bit astonished, but then answered with a smile: "I promise."