OOC:This is set at the lunch break before they get to the docks.

Despite the chill in the air, Aislinn used their small stop for lunch to her advantage and went in search of more herbs for her bag. She had playfully groused about not being able to dry them properly. Though so far she’d done adequately with a makeshift drying rack made from a few sticks from which she hung small bundles of herbs by the campfire over night.

She felt eyes upon her and turned, almost surprised to see Coren watching her. The large man had seemed more than a little concerned for her after the ambush. She couldn’t blame him at all. Now she suspected he had something to say about it but seemed hesitant still to approach her. The priestess wondered if the large man would ever feel comfortable around her.

“Coren,” she said, smiling gently. “You’re much taller than I am. Could you come reach up for these juniper berries? I just need a small handful. They’d make a marvelous seasoning for the stew tonight, I think.” There. She gave him the excuse he needed, now to see whether he’d take it.

Coren gaze wandered over to the berries as he approached Aislinn. He recognized the invitation for what it was – a chance to air his concerns and discuss what needed to be discussed. Reaching up, he pulled roughly at the berries, distracted by what he was going to say to his friend.

“There you go”, he muttered deferentially, handing over the bounty whilst considering his next words. The others had been gently dodging the issue for the last day or two but Coren knew it had to be tackled head on. For Aislinn’s sake.

“Aislinn”, the large Northman started, his steely blue eyes meeting hers, “I’ll not beat around the bush as the folk from Derugar would say. We’re on a quest to save these lands from a great evil. There’ll be many a harsh battle ahead of us and, in my experience, where there’s a battle there’s death. If that causes a problem for your faith in the Moon Mother then p’haps you’d be best reconsidering continuing? Help your uncle back in Freehold maybe?”

His companion took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Battles don’t cause a problem with my faith or Mathern’s tenets,” she began, looking up at him. Her gaze matched his for steel. “I can even participate in them without any fear of straying off my path. My problem came from the fact that that was the first time I ever actually killed anyone. I’ve seen people die, but usually only after I’ve done everything in my power to save them. Not because I caused their death.”

Coren’s eyes softened as he pondered Aislinn’s words for a moment.

“Ah, I see”, he said softly, looking up into the clear sky. “It’s been many years since I killed my first man. I’d forgotten what it was like”.

He scratched at his white beard – a beard that he was fiercely proud of – as his thoughts drifted back to a time when he was 15 or 16 years old. He’d been a mere deckhand working on the Drakkar when he’d been involved in his first skirmish with a cargo ship. Commanded by Ragnar, he’d helped sack the ship, killing some poor northern sailor for whatever goods the vessel carried. He’d thrust his sword into the man’s stomach, through his flimsy leather jerkin, the blade passing just under the man’s ribcage and piercing the vital organs contained within. He remembered the man’s eyes, opening wide, a look of horror, fear and disbelief shining from their depths for a moment until the light went out and the man slid from his sword, dead as the feelings within Coren at that moment. His thoughts continued as he remembered carrying on throughout the ship, swinging his sword, hacking away at another else who came near him, unaware of the trail of destruction he had left behind him.

Coren sniffed and stopped scratching his beard as he turned back towards Aislinn. He placed one of his hands on his mighty battle-axe and regarded the priest of Mathern.

“Still, I did not react like that”. He sighed and continued. “Look, Aislinn. I don’t mean to point out the obvious but we’re on a dangerous quest with vile enemies in front of, and behind, us. The attack the other day is proof enough of that – if yer needed any proof. Against such danger, there’s a good chance you’ll be faced with a similar situation again. You may have to kill to save yerself or the others. Can yer cope being thrust into this bloody battle?”

“Coren, you forget that I’m under strictures that I must heal anyone I can. If a follower of Vyprana,” she nearly spat the name, the first time he’d ever seen her exhibit anything resembling hate, “were to somehow find herself at my feet in need and sincerely wanting healing, I’d have to give it.” Trembling, she tilted her face up to the large man, seeing his concern extend not just to her but to the rest of them if she should falter.

“To answer your question, I’ll have to cope, Coren. Because I’m in this up to my neck just as the rest of you are. My father wants Li-eira for a bride and Traugur likely wants me for the same purpose. You think I’ll be safe in Freehold from that?” she asked, chin firming into a stubborn line. “Besides, you think I’m going to trust the lot of you in knowing how to handle a child once we find him?” she asked, her mouth quirking at one corner as she fought to keep the teasing grin inside.

“Well, there is that”, smiled Coren. “I never did have much time for children”.

Coren turned and reached up to the branch again. He pulled down another small bunch of berries and passed them to Aislinn.

“But it’s not a question of safety”, continued the big man. “If the Lord of Lies is after you then you’re not safe anywhere. But it’s one thing hiding and another actually going out and facing these threats. Facing ‘em means fighting ‘em. And to me, fightin’ em means hurting ‘em enough to stop them fightin’ anymore”.

Coren sighed deeply and bowed his head low. He found it hard to understand Aislinn’s, and Mathern’s, point of view. He was a fighter and his job for all these years required him to stick sharp, edged objects into people to keep himself, or his allies, alive. It was
who he was.

The wonder might be that Aislinn didn’t shrink from that anymore than she shrunk from Yasminna or Tob. She reached out and placed a friendly hand on his bicep and squeezed.

“I’m sorry Aislinn”, he mumbled. “I realize that your calling is a blessing from Mathern. Healing others no matter who or what they are is a good thing. But we’re also going to have to kill to make sure evil doesn’t stop us and ensure this storm is stopped”.

“I understand that,” she said for what seems like the thousandth time since this journey started. “That doesn’t mean I have to be in the middle of it, killing people, myself.”

He thought for a moment, scratching his beard. Then he looked across at Aislinn’s staff. “The others would do better at sympathizing with you. Li-eira will listen and understand your pain. Or Giacomo. But maybe I can help you in other ways? I’ve been giving the bard some lessons in fighting. Perhaps I could teach you to use that overgrown stick better to incapacitate an opponent whilst not killing ‘em? Or blocking a foe’s weapon so that you can stay alive whilst someone comes to your aid?”

He shrugged. It was the best he could do at the moment.

A spark of fire caught in her blue eyes, but she held it back from her lips. “Coren, I’ve been using this staff for as long as you’ve been using that axe, I wager. Granted, not with the same intent or probably frequency,” she admitted as the anger died in her eyes. She sighed. “But if it makes you and the others feel better, I could probably stand to learn a bit more. I’m also fairly decent with a lasso as well as a flail, just so you know,” she grinned.

Coren looked at her incredulously. “You use a flail? And you don’t want to kill people!?”. He shook his shaggy head, realizing that his axe was equally as lethal but still wanting to state his concern. “Those things are deadly. And damned dangerous to any friends standing nearby. I hope you’re right when you say you’re fairly decent.”

“Janus’s sling is equally deadly and as dangerous to friends standing nearby if he should mess up his swing,” she replied evenly. “Yet, I don’t see you saying this to him.”

Coren opened his mouth for a moment and then shut it and smiled.

“True, true. Hell, a sword or axe is just as deadly if you go around swinging it all over the place. Still, a flail has more reach than a sling and can’t be easily stopped like a sword. But yer right”, he grudgingly admitted, shrugging. It wasn’t much of an apology but it was one nonetheless.

Coren then shuffled his feet for a moment, and nodded as if coming to a decision.

“Aislinn” he said, his eyes meeting hers, “I’m a simple man. I don’t know the ways of the gods. I hope I’m not blaspheming here but I can’t understand how a goddess like Mathern can preach ‘bout healing others no matter who they are whilst allowing her priests to become proficient in wielding weapons that harm others. Which one is it, heal or harm?”

The answer was rhetorical and he didn’t pause to let Aislinn answer. Though it looked as if she’d answer anyway and hotly if the flash in her eyes was any indication. Wisdom won out, though and she closed her mouth, letting him finish.

“Well, I’ll help you protect yerself, Aislinn. I don’t know anything about the lasso and I’m not that skilled with the flail or the staff but I’ll see what advice I can give yer about stopping a man without killin’ him”. Although, he thought to himself, I’m not that skilled in that area either. So he added, “Ah, we can learn together, eh?”

Aislinn closed her eyes and let the anger and irritation slide away from her. He was only trying to help and he was concerned for everyone in their group, including herself. That in mind, when she opened her eyes, she smiled and laid a hand on his arm. “Coren, I’ve come to love you like the brother I never had, growing up. I’ll value what you try and teach me, and maybe you’ll come to value what I can teach you, some day. I can’t ever be as hard as you or Tob or even Minna about taking a life, but I know that I can now if I really, really need to. I just don’t like what taking a life does to people’s hearts and souls, if you can understand that. Even a heart as seemingly crusty as yours is,” she smiled.

Coren eyes had sparkled with honor and perhaps something more at Aislinn’s mention of him being like a brother. But that happy, eager twinkle now disappeared behind a dark cloud. He turned away.

“Aye, I can understand that”, he murmured. For indeed he could fully understand what a lifetime of killing, of raping and pillaging could do to a person. It could turn a heart crusty with fear or anger or lust or greed.

Should he tell Aislinn his heart and soul? She was a priest like Atreus and he had confided in the priest of Verengaard. But then he considered Aislinn. She was more than a priest to him. She, too, was like a sister and so much like his mother. He could not burden her with his dark crimes.

Aislinn’s blue eyes regarded the large man with understanding and sympathy. She suspected there was a lot of grief constricting his heart. He knew, without a doubt, that should he ever want to talk with her about that grief, she’d be there to listen, with no judgements and it would certainly not be a burden to her. At least, she wouldn’t consider it one.

“Talking of crusts”, Coren continued, changing the subject, “I have a heel of crusty bread and a chuck of cheese waiting for me. A soldier needs his food”. He patted his stomach as it rumbled a little. “And perhaps afterwards we can see what we can teach each other about fightin’, about the gods and other things?”

He put his arm around Aislinn’s slender shoulders and gave her a friendly, gentle, but still firm, squeeze. She laughed and it almost seemed to be her earlier, care-free laugh. She swung her arm so that her herb-bag smacked him in the gut.

“You and food,” she replied, slipping her other arm about his back and returning his hug. “Let’s go get you fed, before the trees start looking like good meals to you. And yes, we’ll teach each other lots of things during our days together, Coren. Count on that,” she said with a firm nod.