4 - Another normal day - 3

Such ended the tale of the hero. The Dagfrid had many times told of his exploits. But it always ended with him dying at the end. It was a story of love and terror. A story of pride and honour. It was a tale of a kingdom. The Hero had seen all of his friends perish before him, some even in his arms. But while he was a Hero, he was not a saviour. He couldn't grant eternal life, much less youth. All of his attempts had led to failure.

What he could do instead was fight. When he was a kid, he would always be fighting the others on the farm. Such was the story she had been told as a child, and had never once doubted it. The story came from her parents, and had been passed down to them by theirs. It was the best story she had ever been told, and she would be asked to start over the day after.

***

As the story ended, Njal thought about his grandfather. He had died a few years ago after being forced to harvest the Duke's fields together with the rest of the boys and men in the family. It had been the last day they shared. He even saw him lie on the ground in the scorching summer heat. All around him lied down their tools to help him. But it was too little too late. He lay there, still sweating, dirty beneath the straws he was holding, not letting go even in death.

This last moment of his only lasted a short amount of time. A guard kicked him away, and forced the rest onto the fields again and dragging the body away as not to have it distract.

One day Njal and his brothers might suffer the same fate. The greatest fear of his was seeing his kin die in front of him again. His disdain for the Knight and his followers only grew bigger and stronger every time he would think back, or think forward.

His newly born brother, Eigil, only months old could suffer the same fate as his grandfather, and he likely wouldn't even know. Njal was sure that he would never mention the experience to such a pure and young mind.

***

It was his oldest sister, Ingrid, who was sixteen that cooked their food. She was strong enough to carry water and beer for long distances, yet still the most gentle of the family. She was soon to be married so she made sure to carry herself beautifully. Such has she agreed to.

"Perfect timing", she said slightly annoyed as she carefully closed the clay pot once again. "The food will be finished shortly, so you will just have time to get over his death again."

The hero had died twice this month already, and it seemed his demise was on its way again soon enough.

But once she poured the soup in their bowls, the atmosphere quickly became dominated by hunger, happiness and small talk. The Hero's journey was temporary but food would stay forever.