A Story of Swords, Part 5

Currently in Earphones: The Ususal Suspects soundtrack by John Ottman

Wow, big burst of creativity has got me through the initial drafts of the next two chapters of my Story of Swords. You will only get to see the first of them for the time being, as I wrote the second one (and am writing this) through a haze of fatigue. As such, here's chapter 5.


Chapter 5: Conflict

Touchstone’s gaze wandered toward the Keep, from which he saw a lone figure emerge in the distance. It wouldn’t be long until it and the sword it wore would confront him on the small hillock. The young Fool began to recall the past few weeks that had led up to this coming moment…

Touchstone and Esther were sitting side by side on the hearth of the great hall, their backs to the warmth of the dying fire. The winter was moving away from its most bitter, and they both had a large blanket thrown about them. They had been talking quietly about many things, their hands intertwined with each other under the warmth of the cloth. During lulls in the conversation, Esther would lean her head against Touchstone’s shoulder and he would rest his scruffy chin on the top of her head. Lady Ginndem bustled about the hall, making sure that every speck of dust was removed from the various tapestries, her watchful glances toward the young couple belying her real reason for lingering in the great room. Touchstone, catching her watchful gaze, was relieved to see the Lady smile approvingly every now and then, and he continued to talk without fear of reprobation.

The young man and woman had finished a spirited talk concerning the properties of medicinal herbs when Esther quieted and adopted a look of worry.

“What is it?” asked Touchstone.

“Well, it’s both you and Helmrune. I’m so glad we have become good friends over the last month, and I enjoy spending time with you and him. It’s flattering to have two young men vying for your attention," she paused, adopting a more pensive look, "but you both confuse me.”

“I know I have been less than straightforward with you,” admitted the young Fool, “But Helmrune’s intentions are easily seen. He’s quite taken with you.”

“I suppose, but he goes back and forth. I start to talk with him about this subject and that subject, to learn what he thinks and who he is, but I don’t learn very much. Other times he writes me poems and proclaims his love for me, but all I can do is to tell him that I need to know him better if I am to give him a similarly straight response.”

“A solid rock, that one,” Touchstone wryly commented. Esther smiled briefly, and then continued.

“With you, it’s the other way. I know so much about you, you’re almost like a brother to me. I feel comfortable talking of anything and everything with you. I do admit,” and she blushed slightly, squeezing his hand, “I enjoy being with you. But with you, I don’t really know what you want. You did finally tell me about your ring, and that much I know.”

“Oh, yes. That dramatic tale,” the young Fool said dryly, and felt the silver band encircling his finger, something he’d of late grown so used to as to forget about.

“But what do you want for the future?” she continued. “You like me well enough, but we don’t talk much of such things beyond that.”

Touchstone became more serious and sighed quietly. “I still am not too sure myself. As you say, I like you very much, and you fill a hole in me that has been empty for too long. I am content as I haven’t been in a long while, but I don’t think this is the end of my journey. I still have more things to do, things I need to return to and resolve. It will be a long while yet before my story has ended.”

They were quiet for a moment, the crackling of the fire the only noise, and the occasional soft footstep of Lady Ginndem. He then continued, “But, until then, I would desire to stay with you, as it were: if you would have me and know that, eventually, I would go.”

Esther’s hand loosened in his. “I would, for the most part,” she replied “But I wonder if the pain of your eventual leaving would be lessened if we parted sooner.”

Her words echoed in Touchstone’s mind, stirring old memories. He let go of her hand and fingered his silver ring. “Perhaps it would be better,” he said, “I’ve not had such things go well before.” He turned to look at her and found her eyes full of concern.

“Her?” she said simply, and he understood who Esther was referring to.

“Yes” he replied, and started to look away, but found her hand cradling his cheek. He looked back into her eyes as she turned his face back towards her own. He drank deep of her green eyes as she drew his face towards hers, and for the moment let all care fall away as they shared a kiss. He could have spent eternity in such a comfort, but they were both startled by approaching footsteps.

They sheepishly broke away from each other and turned toward the noise. Touchstone was surprised to see not Lady Ginndem striding forward, as he expected, but the young Lord, carrying a sword and scabbard in his hand. The young Fool stared at the black hilt, wondering at first if Helmrune had taken Doomgiver from his room, but upon catching sight of the twin white dice upon the handle realized that Coinspinner had found its way to the Keep.

Helmrune’s eyes betrayed an undercurrent of jealousy as he approached, and Touchstone realized that the young Lord had seen more than simple conversation go on between Esther and himself.

“It came to me,” said Helmrune, his voice half filled with wonder and half with approving, “The Sword of Chance.”

“It could not have found a better recipient,” said Touchstone, “But a sword such Coinspinner…I would still argue caution in its use.”

Helmrune’s face became less animate, scorn mixing with the jealousy behind his eyes. “I believe I know enough about this sword too keep myself from harm, Master Fool,” he replied, and then shifted his gaze to Esther, his expression softening, and spoke to her, “With this blade, I could become someone. I could find a place to settle into, perhaps become a metal smith, and start a good life.” His eyes betrayed the final, unsaid phrase, with you.

Esther, catching what wasn’t said, glanced at Touchstone and then looked back at Helmrune, “Perhaps so, but I agree that you should consider its abilities further before acting. Touchstone is not wrong in urging caution.”

Surprise and hurt flickered across Helmrune’s face, quickly replaced by unmistakable anger. He narrowed his eyes at Touchstone and said “Perhaps if things were a little more…simpler, things would be for the better.” With that, he whirled about and stalked off.

After the young Lord had left, Esther turned to Touchstone, saying “I’ll talk with him after he calms down. I hope he doesn’t do anything rash on account of Coinspinner, and me.” The two said their goodbyes for the time being and retreated to the comfort of their own rooms.

Later, Touchstone encountered Esther in a hallway on his way to the kitchens. She had been to Helmrune’s room in order to talk with him, but found his door locked and he unresponsive to her attempts to enter. Upon visiting the kitchens, the young Fool learned from the head cook that Helmrune had entered earlier and taken food to his room in place of joining the Ginndems for dinner. Touchstone returned to his room full of unease at the continuation of events, and felt his worry deepen at the sight of a small, handwritten note on his bed.

Picking it up, he noticed that it was in Helmrune’s hand, and stated, simply, “Meet me on the drumlin hills outside of the Keep an hour after midday meal tomorrow. Come armed. Tell nothing to Esther. All will be settled.”

The young Fool heaved a sigh, it looked to be that this would be finished the way most conflicts are finished by foolish men; by the sword. While combat was not the solution that he would have liked, Touchstone had confidence in his ability to keep both himself and Helmrune out of most harm and subdue his opponent without bloodshed. Things would be settled in one way or another, and though he would not admit it to himself, the young Fool secretly relished the thought of ending the conflict quickly with steel; avoiding the long, tedious and uncomfortable process of bandying words, accustomed to such a thing as he was.

He slept.

To Be Continued in Chapter 6

Enough, More Later.
- James