The sun was sweltering, truly blistering, as Alder and Helda rode on. At first he had loved the experience of riding a horse through the countryside, but as time went on the irritation in his legs and the scorching rays from above did nothing but make the rolling plains and glistening green fields seem more irritating than beautiful.
Helda shocked him though, he looked up at her golden hair and how she seemed so unfazed by the mid summer heat or the lack of cloud cover. Surely the armor would make her all the worse for wear. But she never complained once. To be fair she never really spoke at all.
She would occasionally point out a landmark or note their pace, "that is old Beramor's Mill, twice burned down, twice rebuilt. Point of contention that place is really. Site of an elvish massacre they say. Too many elves live nearby for them to want to keep it up, but you know the old people want to see it standing so that's that..."
Hours passed, and they stopped only once to give the horse a break and refill their water canisters at a small stream. Alder felt so rejuvenated as he splashed some cool water on his face, taking a moment to look off at a field of poppy and a young girl running around in it with her brother, their family farmhouse not too far behind them. They seemed happy and it made him smile.
The rest wasn't long and they were soon on their way. He wouldn't get another break like that for the rest of the day. Helda told him at one point that the area was a lot safer than where his village was. The lack of forests made it hard for monsters to hide and grow their populations. Along with the nearby large city and constant traffic in and out the adventurers guild and the knights of the realm patrolled regularly.
All the talk of adventuring and what not made Alder dream that maybe he, too, could be like Helda someday. He wanted to be able to kill more monsters and save people. He couldn't save his village. His friends. His family. But maybe he could save others.
The sight of the hobgoblin head strapped to the saddlebags of the horse filled him with rage when he saw it. He was glad Helda had killed it but wished more that he could have been there or could have done it in himself. The foul beast was the reason he was alone, for no other reason than it wanted to kill people. That it wanted to seed destruction and chaos, to run on instinct and desire. No better than an animal. disgusting.
He avoided it though, and tried to keep his mind off the whole ordeal. It was all too easy to get lost in his grief and anger. Helda has mentioned this and told him at one point as they were passing a potato farm, "Boy... I'll tell you what my master told me: Anger is good. It spurs you on. Keeps you going. But too much of it and you won't be able to control yourself anymore. You will either drive yourself mad or put yourself in an early grave. Neither of which will help to honor the memory of your dead family."
It resonated with him, and made him like her a little more. She still was cold and aloof, and he wasn't quite sure how she felt about him. Or really how he felt about her. But she cared somewhat, in her own way. That was evident enough in that she was feeding him and taking him along with her.
An extra mouth to feed was nothing to scoff at. He remembered the people in his village would try hard to avoid having more than one or two kids at a time. Anymore and they would risk starving in winter. It was why Alder had been an only child, they could not afford to have another so his father paid for a sterility potion a couple seasons back, using up a large portion of their savings.
He wasn't sure whether he was glad then that he didn't have a brother or sister. Maybe if he did have one they would have died to the goblins. Then he would have one more person to grieve over.
Eventually the sun began to set, and he was sure they would continue on but Helda abruptly stopped the horse. He looked past her and saw they were at the foot of a large stone bridge. "Right... here we are..." She said, hopping down from the tall stallion.
Alder clumsily got down himself, having to drop to the ground a few feet to which he stumbled and landed on his behind. He stood up and stretched, a deep comfortable stretch that made his sore joints and muscles happy.
Helda moves the horse off the path and tied it to a young oak. The river under the bridge was narrow and made slight babbling sounds as it flowed past. The lack of sunlight made it hard to see but the occasional twinkle off the surface made it clear that it was moving at a decent speed, and was too wide to simply wade. Hence the need for the bridge.
Helda beckoned Alder over to where she stood off the road and he nodded and approached her. She was holding the small dagger in one hand and her sword in its sheath in the other. She had a colder than usual look in her eye and an intensity he had not seen before. It made him shiver.
She dropped the dagger at his feet when he got close then looked him hard in the face before saying, "This is Calder's Bridge.. And that.." she gestured with one finger, "is a path to a Farm House. Good folk live there, Decent Folk. I sent word that I have an orphan boy who needs a home. They can't have anymore kids but they wanted another and they have a son around your age. They would be happy to have you and you would never hurt with them, they trade fine spice to the city so they have more than most. You'd live a simple but happy life, maybe get married or become a trader yourself..." she paused, and Alder opened his mouth to protest but she interrupted him, "or... You can pick up that dagger. The one you killed the goblin with, and attack me. If you do not yield of your own volition I will take you with me and train you. You can become an adventurer or a swordsman. But it takes determination...
I saw that in you, a spark.. But you have to show me now..."
Alder was stunned. He strongly wanted to go to the farmhouse, to live a good comfortable life. To recover from the pain and suffering. Have a family. But then he looked over and saw the hobgoblin's head and a fire burned in his heart. He knew it would never fade.
Alder stopped down and picked up the dagger with trembling hands. Helda was massive, and skilled, and he was small and weak. He avoided her gaze, as sharp as knives, out of fear and embarrassment. The dagger was just as uncomfortable then as it was when he first held it and he tried hard to stop his hands from shaking. It didn't seem to work though.
The air whipped by, bringing a cool evening breeze as the two stood near the bridge and the river. Crickets were beginning to chirp as Alder stood petrified, unsure of how to start. Helda was waiting. Waiting for him to go and attack her.
His heart beat faster and faster as he tried to work up the courage, but knowing he would get immediately pummeled stopped him in his tracks. Another half minute passed before Helda put her sword back in her sheath. "You've made your decision, whether you meant to or not..." Her voice carried an air of disappointment.
She strode past him and stopped to place a hand on his shoulder, "Go have a good life. Your new family is waiting."
Alder called out then, "No, wait! I want to be an adventurer! I was going to fight! I swear I was!" His high pitched voice carried all the frustration and fear across the plains.
She paused at the horse, her back to him. The air calmed down and grew still as she began talking, "Kid... What you need more than anything to make it as a swordsman, or an adventurer, is not to have determination only, or to be the strongest person, it's to not hesitate. To take the initiative no matter the situation. You can't do that. It's not something easily fixed and certainly not when you would be tagging along with me, going into dangerous situations. Maybe someday you can have the wherewithal to never hesitate but that is not now. So goodbye young Alder, best of luck to you"
Without another word she mounted her horse and took off at a fast trot down the road and over the bridge.
Alder watched her go, her figure fading further and further into the dim evening. He boiled with rage, at hatred not just for Helda but moreso for himself. "Why... why..." he cried, a tear falling down his face. He turned the dagger in his hands on the nearby tree, slashing and slashing over and over at it's trunk. He ended the barrage by plunging it deep into the tree and leaving it there. He stepped away and sat down.
All the fanciful dreams he had of being like Helda, being an adventurer, getting revenge and helping others was gone. He had only himself to blame for it.
After a few minutes he stood and wiped away a final tear before turning to look off down the small, almost imperceptible dirt path that led to the farmhouse Helda had mentioned. Having nowhere else to turn to and feeling awfully hungry he sauntered towards the house, a rather large estate with multiple plumes of smoke coming from different Chimneys.
He took one last look over his shoulder to see if he could see her, but she was gone. All that remained was the road, the fields, the setting sun and Calder's Bridge... Which stood stalwart over the small river below.