Epilogue: Home
The trip back home was a serene, quiet march, free of bumps and interruptions, a much welcome change for the weary group. They stopped little for rest or hunting for food, for the sight of buds and growth in the formerly dry ground and the warming breeze that swept across the land strengthened their steps and spirits, and animals ran aplenty for their bellies.
The sun shone brightly in what had been a forsaken wasteland, caressing all below with its nurturing light. It prompted life to rise again, against all odds, as it had countless times before, and that alone, was more powerful than any magic.
The village of Fitcherdorf welcomed them just as well. Cheers erupted as soon as they were within view, but quickly quieted when Aalik ran towards the inn. There, Norna received him sitting by the doorstep, wearing the kindest smile Aalik had ever seen from her, one that told him everything.
However, something else caught Aalik's attention, putting a stop to his frantic sprint, and that was Norna herself. She had grown older, far beyond what he remembered, and though her kind presence shone through, her weakness and difficulty to move did not fall far behind, creating a sharp contrast that panged heavily at Aalik's chest.
Before he could have voiced his worry, Norna eased his thoughts, telling him not to fret in the slightest, never once losing the warmth that exuded off her being. Norna then slowly opened the door and Aalik walked inside, but not before giving her a careful hug, which she happily returned with as much strength as she could muster.
Aalik went up to Aama's room and stood there, frozen, his stomach a bottomless pit as a moment became eternity, but he had crossed the same pit many times before, and he would do it again. He opened the door and the pit was no more.
There she was, sitting in her bed, face filled with color as the daylight beamed over from her window. He slowly made his way to her, stuttering along the way as he tried to explain the why and the how of his departure, fumbling his scrambled words and apologies. He knew not where to start. Nothing came to him, nothing but blubbers and hiccups. He tightened his lips and gathered strength, but before he could have gone on with whatever he planned to say, his mother pulled him in and embraced him.
They held one another, as if the other had disappeared off the face of earth without warning. Aalik buried his face deep in Aama's shoulder, letting his tears flow while she caressed his head, and there they remained for a while, even as Inigo, Gudmand and Norna walked in to witness the heartfelt reunion.
There was, of course, a bit of a scolding shortly after, but luckily for Aalik and Inigo, Norna managed to temper it beforehand, as soon as Aama began to plan for it. Not to say she had fully doused Aama's fire, for even Gudmand found himself dragged into the monumental diatribe, much to his surprise and slight fear.
Once Aama had finally calmed down, she stood up and asked everyone to go help her at the kitchen. After all, what is a celebration without a feast?
The village joined in to help of course, even the incompetent town guard found themselves cooperating as well, much to everyone's surprise. Though to be fair, Gudmand's commands motivated them rather easily.
They ate, celebrated and sang. Each of the villagers gave their own share of their preserved goods, along with the spoils born from the recent upswing in fishing, harvest and wild catch, making for a meal of contrasts, remembering the hardships and welcoming the future.
Tales of the group's travels where told and cemented as legends that night, even one occurred during the feast itself. Inigo demonstrated not only his awe-inspiring dexterity, under the effects of several bottles of wine, but also his raw determination, when he finally convinced Aama to join him for a dance.
Aalik on the other hand, found himself in the dire situation of having an excess of dance proposals from the village girls. Luckily, his mother came in just in time and gave much needed order to the whole ruckus. Unluckily for Aalik, it involved taking turns with every single one of them.
Time flew by. The people were entranced by a moment of happiness they so longed for and had almost forgotten could be possible, and they cherished it dearly, for that day and many a years to come.
Weeks passed and the news of the King's demise quickly spread throughout the land, much to everyone's unanimous joy. It did come with some initial struggles, as most power sinks tend to be, but in the end, everything was set and the people chose a sensible, if originally reluctant, regent. One that focused not on the lofty ideas of world conquer, but on furthering the land's rebirth and its relationships with the outside.
Gudmand never took a mantle or a crown however, much to his councilor's initial chagrin. He much rather preferred working the fields with the rest of the men and attending meetings with his comfortable farming clothes. Outrageous perhaps, but Gudmand's hard working nature and equal treatment of his peers soon gained the approval and praise of the court, even if they still protested against his sporadic and more often than not, unwarned visits to Fitcherdorf.
With the country's years of peace and growth, the Reus inn returned to its former glory, along with the rest of Fitcherdorf. Inigo stayed without giving it a second thought, retiring both from his pirate life and legacy namesake in order to become a permanent helper at the inn. Never did he pick up a sword, ever again.
Together with Aalik and Aama, the three not only recovered the establishment's original luster, but they also cared for Norna during the winter of her years. It was the least they could do for her help, even if she insisted otherwise.
Many tears where shed when she passed, but she left in peace and with a smile on her face. She told her friends that she was glad to have lived long enough to see the dawn of a new era, and more importantly, the turning point of their lives.
The day after, with his mother's obligatory blessing, Aalik went out on one of his fishing trips to clear his head. The now young man had not lost his touch whatsoever, earning prizes and songs to his name for his exploits, but he caught not a single minnow that day, nor the stolen goods from a shady looking ship sailing about.
Aalik glanced towards to the hidden scabbard and mask in his boat's secret compartment. He gained both over time with Inigo's tutelage. Gudmand himself was quick to voice his immediate approval of the idea, during one of his visits to the village, as well as giving Aalik his own pointers regarding sword fighting. Naturally, Aama feigned complete ignorance of the matter and expected Aalik to make no mention of it either, her blessing was enough of an approval as it was.
But, as much as Aalik relished on protecting the waters, from ruffians who tried to take advantage of the prosperity of his homeland, and the occasional hunt for treasure, now was not the time. He simply sat on his boat, staring at the wide blue horizon, listening to the seagulls, the waves and the wind.
The song of the sea always brought him peace, a calm to be lost in, and today was no different.
"Well, that's it," The father folded the recently printed page, placed it over the kitchen table and gained a pensive look. "Whole thing was kind of short now that I think about it."
"Dad."
"I should have given it a couple of more re-reads, see if I could have squeezed in more chapters…I don't know, maybe even explain some of the magic more while I'm at it."
"Dad."
"Bet my grand dad would have cut off half of it anyway, he would have told it way better too that's for sure-"
"Dad!"
"Yes?" the father asked, broken out of his self-critical trance.
"Your pizza's getting get cold," the son responded pointing at the now rigid pepperoni slice.
"He doesn't mind cold pizza dear," the boy's mother commented absently, before taking a sip of her sugar less coffee and flipping through the pages of her neatly folded newspaper.
"That's disgusting," the son gagged.
"I have to agree, I never got him to quit on it. My life's greatest regret," the mother replied dryly, if with a hint of a playful jab to it.
"I can get it with you, but how can my own son say something so horrible?" the father mockingly lamented, before taking a big, exaggerated bite out of the cold, pepperoni slice.
"I enjoyed your story, didn't I?" the son shot back.
The father nearly choked on the pizza and the mother almost spat out her coffee. They laughed profusely after composing themselves, and began to playfully lay blame on one another, for the origins of their son's sharp wit.
"Dad?" the son asked, breaking his parent's ongoing, non-discussion.
"Yeah?" the father responded as he wiped the remaining breadcrumbs off his face.
"Thank you."
The boy's parents looked at one another, and smiled at the heartfelt nature of his words.
The father ate the rest of the slice in one go and downed it with his extra sweetened coffee.
"No son, thank you."