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hwango847 words
Note to returning readers: Substantially less whimsy this week than usual for me.
The road to Redemption was long and difficult, which was probably supposed to be a metaphor. Gunnar suspected it was also a convenient excuse for the monks not to bother maintaining the road. Gunnar was not feeling well-disposed towards the monks regardless of whether the miserable conditions were by design or due to negligence. At least he only had one more day to go to reach the temple. Probably. Maps of the area were seldom reliable.
When it became too dark to continue without stumbling even more often than he already was, Gunnar set up camp. He found a place just off the road next to a large rock that blocked a little of the wind. He made a small fire and started to cook himself a miserable supper.
"I have some bread."
Gunnar leapt to his feet, knife in hand. The speaker turned out to be a woman standing about twenty feet back down the road. She was the first human being he'd seen in days.
"What did you say?" he asked.
"I have some bread. I can share if you'll let me share your fire," she said.
"You want to share a fire with a man walking The Murderer's Road?" Gunnar asked, not lowering the knife.
"We're both walking it," she pointed out.
"So I should want to share my fire with someone walking The Murderer's Road?" he asked. The woman shrugged.
"Only if you want some bread," she said.
Gunnar contemplated his supper of watery soup. He lowered the knife. The woman took that as an invitation, and stepped closer.
"You know, the monks don't like people calling it that," she said. Gunnar snorted contemptuously.
"There's a better name? The only people using it are all killers, and calling it something flowery and nice won't change that." Gunnar said. "Speaking of names, I'm Gunnar."
"And here I thought people walking this road liked to remain anonymous," she said. "Still, it would be rude of me not to reciprocate, and as a rule I'm not rude to killers. I'm Sighild." She sat by the fire and reached into her pack for the bread. She handed him a small loaf and took out another for herself.
"You talk like a schoolteacher," Gunnar said as he took the bread.
"Perhaps I am a schoolteacher. Or maybe I just listened to mine," Sighild said. Gunnar frowned at the insult.
"What happened to not being rude to killers?" he asked.
"A fair point. I apologize," Sighild said. Gunnar grunted, which she interpreted to mean that he accepted her apology.
They ate in silence for several minutes. Gunnar did not offer to share his soup, which was fine with Sighild. It looked dreadful, and the meal would have been even more awkward if he had offered some and she had refused.
"The man I killed was a schoolteacher," Gunnar said suddenly. Sighild said nothing. "I mean, that's not why I killed him, but..." he trailed off, suddenly uncertain. He'd never talked to anyone about it before. He'd need to confess everything to the monks in Redemption if he wanted his forgiveness, of course, but he'd never really thought about what it would be like to actually tell someone what he'd done. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to practice.
"He slept with my wife," he said. Then he was quiet for some time, just staring into the fire. Sighild wasn't sure if that was the end of the story, or if she was supposed to say something.
"That must have made you angry," she said, finally.
"Yeah. Yeah, it did," Gunnar said. "I was furious."
"So you lost your temper and killed him?" Sighild said.
"No," he admitted. "I shouted and I threw stuff, but I didn't hurt anybody. After a while I calmed down. But it just kept nagging at me, and I couldn't stop thinking about it, and so eventually I..." He seemed unable to continue.
"Killed him in cold blood?" Sighild said, and Gunnar flinched a little.
"Yeah, I guess I did."
"But now you're sorry?"
"I guess so. I mean, yes. I hated him for it, but I guess he didn't deserve to die. Or even if he did, killing him lost me my wife and my home when I had to run, so it wasn't worth it."
"I'm not sure if that will be good enough for the monks," Sighild said. "I think you're supposed to feel genuine remorse in order to be forgiven and save your soul from suffering in the afterlife and all that. If you believe in that sort of thing," she said. Gunnar frowned at this.
"I wouldn't be going to the temple if I didn't believe it would matter. Don't you believe it will help you? Or why else are you here? I mean, you did...uh..."
"Kill somebody?" she said.
"Yeah," Gunnar said. Sighild shrugged.
"There was a man. He killed my brother," she said. Gunnar waited to see if she was going to supply any more details.
"So you..."
"It took me a while, but eventually I tracked him down," Sighild said.
"And?" Gunnar said. Sighild looked him right in the eyes.
"And I gave him some poisoned bread."
Note to returning readers: Substantially less whimsy this week than usual for me.
The road to Redemption was long and difficult, which was probably supposed to be a metaphor. Gunnar suspected it was also a convenient excuse for the monks not to bother maintaining the road. Gunnar was not feeling well-disposed towards the monks regardless of whether the miserable conditions were by design or due to negligence. At least he only had one more day to go to reach the temple. Probably. Maps of the area were seldom reliable.
When it became too dark to continue without stumbling even more often than he already was, Gunnar set up camp. He found a place just off the road next to a large rock that blocked a little of the wind. He made a small fire and started to cook himself a miserable supper.
"I have some bread."
Gunnar leapt to his feet, knife in hand. The speaker turned out to be a woman standing about twenty feet back down the road. She was the first human being he'd seen in days.
"What did you say?" he asked.
"I have some bread. I can share if you'll let me share your fire," she said.
"You want to share a fire with a man walking The Murderer's Road?" Gunnar asked, not lowering the knife.
"We're both walking it," she pointed out.
"So I should want to share my fire with someone walking The Murderer's Road?" he asked. The woman shrugged.
"Only if you want some bread," she said.
Gunnar contemplated his supper of watery soup. He lowered the knife. The woman took that as an invitation, and stepped closer.
"You know, the monks don't like people calling it that," she said. Gunnar snorted contemptuously.
"There's a better name? The only people using it are all killers, and calling it something flowery and nice won't change that." Gunnar said. "Speaking of names, I'm Gunnar."
"And here I thought people walking this road liked to remain anonymous," she said. "Still, it would be rude of me not to reciprocate, and as a rule I'm not rude to killers. I'm Sighild." She sat by the fire and reached into her pack for the bread. She handed him a small loaf and took out another for herself.
"You talk like a schoolteacher," Gunnar said as he took the bread.
"Perhaps I am a schoolteacher. Or maybe I just listened to mine," Sighild said. Gunnar frowned at the insult.
"What happened to not being rude to killers?" he asked.
"A fair point. I apologize," Sighild said. Gunnar grunted, which she interpreted to mean that he accepted her apology.
They ate in silence for several minutes. Gunnar did not offer to share his soup, which was fine with Sighild. It looked dreadful, and the meal would have been even more awkward if he had offered some and she had refused.
"The man I killed was a schoolteacher," Gunnar said suddenly. Sighild said nothing. "I mean, that's not why I killed him, but..." he trailed off, suddenly uncertain. He'd never talked to anyone about it before. He'd need to confess everything to the monks in Redemption if he wanted his forgiveness, of course, but he'd never really thought about what it would be like to actually tell someone what he'd done. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to practice.
"He slept with my wife," he said. Then he was quiet for some time, just staring into the fire. Sighild wasn't sure if that was the end of the story, or if she was supposed to say something.
"That must have made you angry," she said, finally.
"Yeah. Yeah, it did," Gunnar said. "I was furious."
"So you lost your temper and killed him?" Sighild said.
"No," he admitted. "I shouted and I threw stuff, but I didn't hurt anybody. After a while I calmed down. But it just kept nagging at me, and I couldn't stop thinking about it, and so eventually I..." He seemed unable to continue.
"Killed him in cold blood?" Sighild said, and Gunnar flinched a little.
"Yeah, I guess I did."
"But now you're sorry?"
"I guess so. I mean, yes. I hated him for it, but I guess he didn't deserve to die. Or even if he did, killing him lost me my wife and my home when I had to run, so it wasn't worth it."
"I'm not sure if that will be good enough for the monks," Sighild said. "I think you're supposed to feel genuine remorse in order to be forgiven and save your soul from suffering in the afterlife and all that. If you believe in that sort of thing," she said. Gunnar frowned at this.
"I wouldn't be going to the temple if I didn't believe it would matter. Don't you believe it will help you? Or why else are you here? I mean, you did...uh..."
"Kill somebody?" she said.
"Yeah," Gunnar said. Sighild shrugged.
"There was a man. He killed my brother," she said. Gunnar waited to see if she was going to supply any more details.
"So you..."
"It took me a while, but eventually I tracked him down," Sighild said.
"And?" Gunnar said. Sighild looked him right in the eyes.
"And I gave him some poisoned bread."
