Flight of Reason
I took a couple of days off and flew down to New Ardlord to talk to my Mom and Fiola about Starg.
"Starg is a bully. He is rotten through and through. And he nearly got me killed. Why did you ever bring him back?" said Fiola after I asked her for advice, after our exchanging pleasantries.
"Fiola, he has had a hard time of it. I think I can bring him back if I can figure out how to reach him. Me just not too good with the mind stuff."
"Look. I am not saying I agree with you, but if you must help him, it sounds like his death experience may have touched him in some way. Get him to talk more about that. Maybe even get him to talk about what he has been doing, how his actions have made him feel."
"Maybe more ale?"
"Mord, get over the ale. Yes, you like to drink. But some of us think it is disgusting. You know how I feel about your drinking. And will you please take a bath before coming here? You smell nice with sweat and all, but I can also smell dried ale which just makes me sick to my stomach."
And so it went with Fiola. She was kind of in a foul mood. The temple asked her to stay and help with some local troubles. I could tell she wanted to get back out there. At least I think she is giving my mother some nice company.
"Hi Mom. How are you?"
"Mord, how nice of you to drop in. I presume you want something? I can't recall the last time you came just for a nice visit. I miss you, my only son. My only link to..."
I looked around sheepishly. So I stayed for a meal and chatted. My mother went on about temple life, how this year's crop of athletes just did not seem up to the way they used to be in her day, how if she was in charge she would give each of them some good lashings and work them to the bone, and so on.
Then I asked her about Starg. "Do you remember my friend, Starg? He left a few years ago."
"Do I remember Starg? Of course I do. That little scoundrel. I had good money riding on him taking the medal in wrestling. Yes, dear, over you. But no. He goes and does that stupid stunt and is thrown out. Oh, yes, I remember. He almost caused your expulsion, that no good bum."
"Ah, yes. Well, you see, he tried to kill me a little while ago and I killed him by mistake. I brought him back to life, but now he is hanging out in a dwarf cell. I am hoping that I can get him to repent, to come back to being a Kordian. Or at least, not to try to kill me anymore. But I am not sure how to do this."
"Mord, the evil in one's heart is not easily erased. If his heart beats out the blood of Gruumsh, little can be done. Let him go."
"Mom, I can't. You don't understand. He was my friend, and I was, was somewhat responsible for what happened to him. I can't just give up on him."
"I see son. Well, if you must, you must. The best thing you can do is to get him to talk and you to listen. Find out what he thinks happened. Get him to hear why you did what you did. Try to get him to walk in your shoes."
"I wear boots. Me like my boots. Me not want to give boots to him. But I will listen to him. I good at listening if not understanding. This is hard. Can't we just drink and wrestle?"
"No, Mord. Drinking and wrestling, while fine things, cannot solve such problems. Now go, my son. Make your mess as I see that no words of mine will dissuade you from this course. "
And so I left, taking a long walk in the dark of the grounds. I came across the hideout Starg and I used to use. Not much was left, but I found this rusty dagger that we used once to become blood brothers.
Pocketing it, I took flight back to the dwarves. A long night in the cold and wind, memories and thoughts rushing by me, wondering as I wandered.
Mords of Wisdom: Forgiveness is rare.