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Another moment in time…
It is late one night, Hrothgar whirls round and round, eyes closed, stripped to the waist, sweat flying from him with every move. The wooden floor of his large borrowed room creaks only slightly as the big man spins around again, with the balance of a dancer, his twin swords leaving a silvery trail in the hearth lit room, as he practices again and again. Moving through the dance of a master swordsman.
Corded muscles bunching and flowing smoothly as he transitions from a double forward cross, his mammoth blades flying perpendicular to each other out before him and into low double swipe to his left the razor sharp swords now parallel each other barely a hands breadth apart. Around he goes again muscles straining, gritting his teeth, as he pulls against the movement of the spin to bring himself back upright and the large blades screaming up over and down towards the ground with all his considerable might. At the last moment before they would cleave into the floor, he pulls them apart one to each side and begins another step in his dance.
Repetition, muscle memory and extreme focus claim the mighty warrior as he ends his practice routine and immediately steps into the same routine again, over and over he fights through imaginary foes, weaving his way through complex routines, lost in the dance.
His muscles burning now with the strain, Hrothgar growls along with his work out pushing past the pain as he shifts again from a double forward cross, yards of fast flying deadly steel once more positioned perpendicular to each other out before him. He moves into the low double swipe to his left the razor sharp swords now parallel each other barely a hands breadth apart.
“Thunk!” The sound of mighty blades cleaving into wood, Hrothgar’s eyes fly open, his swords jarred in his hands by the sudden and unexpected obstacle before him. An oversized steel banded wooden tankard, its golden contents leaking swiftly from the dual rents in its side, filling the room with the mouthwatering scent of fresh ale. Holding the large stein in one hand with a bemused expression upon his aquiline face is a disheveled looking Grey.
Swiftly retracting his blades Hrothgar, blinks sweat from his eyes and examines the unusual state of his colleague. As Grey is without his trademark jacket, hat and even his gauntlets are gone. His clothes usually in such good order are disheveled, his hair normally pulled back and well-groomed falls forward over his eyes and sticks up in different directions.
Raising one arched eyebrow, Grey glances as the oversized tankard in his hand left hand slowly dribbling its aromatic contents to the hard wood floor. In his other hand a normal sized stein sloshes slightly as Grey shrugs his narrow shoulders
‘Guess it’s good that there is more where that came from.” He says with a grin motioning with the damaged tankard towards the two large kegs that had appeared before the hearth of Hrothgar’s room. A silvery light glows along the damaged tankard and when it fades the rents are gone leaving the cup whole as Grey passes it to his large friend before sauntering over to one of the chairs before the hearth and half falling half slouching into it.
“Come, come Warrior, let us drink!! And tell tales great and good! Let us relive the glories of our adventures together!!!” Grey cries out exuberantly to the now roaring fire.
Leaning his swords against the wall within easy reach Hrothgar whips his head back scattering sweat everywhere and laughs aloud at his eccentric friend and his seemingly endless surprises. Hrothgar fills his tankard and the two of them crash their cups together and roar out as they begin their personal beerfest…….
Much later, the fire has grown low in the stone hearth, most of the ale is gone, Grey and Hrothgar are slumped in their seats, tankards dangling from near slack fingers. It is that point where they have not spoken in a while but are still awake contemplative….or drunk. The room is silent save the occasional crackle of the dying fire.
Grey’s head rolls nonchalantly over on his right shoulder to peer out between his disheveled midnight bangs at Hrothgar, Grey’s cold steel eyes clear and sober. For Grey the time is right, feigning a drunken slur he calls out softly to get Hrothgar’s attention. Hrothgar after a moment lets his head lol over onto his own left shoulder to drunkenly observe his strange elven companion.
Grey whispers across “What do you want Warrior? What is it you strive for in this world of ours? What do you desire out of your life now?”