As both boys exited the tavern, an eerie atmosphere greeted them as they saw pile of butchered bodies—they were men, women, and children they used to know and played with; even babes from their cradle were taken and killed without mercy. The village of Wyrie¹ became an open slaughter house. Not long after, a cascading downpour cleanse the blood from the village as both boys were taken to a carriage by the royal soldier.
"Mr. Myers, whose kids these?" asked by a young quiet voice. "Tavern workers." he replied gloomily. "Oh. . Glad they didn't get off." Myers looked at him, his eyebrows wrinkled and gaze agressive. The two boys both looked at Myers teary eyed. "Hey, it's gonna be okay." His voice sounded gentle and soft, filled with assurance that Haldan swiftly wiped his tears, "Right. . Of course it will." He smiled softly with damped cheeks.
As they venture towards the kingdom, they passed through many villages near Wyrie. All of them were burned down and destroyed by the same raiders. In an angry tone a man spoke, "Seven Mercies look at what those mongrels did to 'em! Damn bastards got nothing to do with their worthless lives." A soldier exclaimed. Then another soldier cried in response, "May the Seven Faith helped them." "Are you out of your mind?! You praying for them? They don't deserve the faiths mercy you idiot!." he uttered in frustration. "None of them does!" He added in a shout. "Are you mad? I'm praying those who might've survived, stupid halfwit." The soldier replied in annoyance.
Haldan saw these villages and wonders if there were survivors just like them. He looked at Gryden and spoke, "Do you think some of them are alive?" But, instead of an answer, he got greeted by an emotionless face that suddenly turned to a horrified expression that overwhelmed Gryden's facade as he reminiscence the grotesque picturesqueness he witnessed at the Wyrie; he started sobbing. Haldan embraced him to show concern and provide comfort to his sworn brother of nine while he sobs on his chest.
On their way North, while entering the passage to the Valley of Pike², one of the wagoners was shot with an arrow that pierce its head like a stick stabs a meat. The commotion stopped the carriage, then suddenly a screams of men covered the valley. "Savages!!" An old and husky voice shouted. Noise of blades being drawn out followed by the sound of clashing of swords and flesh of man being cut into pieces. Unless it truly is a matter of life or death, The Soldier told them not to get out of the carriage. Recalling the mass of corpses from their time at the Wyrie, Gryden grew nervous. He let out a loud shout sounding like he almost collapse from fright. Haldan saw it coming and quickly covered his lips with his hands. With his sword drawn, Bryson exited the vehicle, carrying a buckler around his right arm.
The moment he turned back to leave—Haldan rapidly took a knife from his pocket without him realizing it. As the fighting continued outside, Haldan thought that going outside to hide would be safer than staying. He proceeded to cut a cloth from his clothes and made his brother bit it like a dog so he'd make no sound. He then carried him onto his back and went outside the carriage.
Halden ran to the left side of the nearest hill to climb at its peak. As he was soaring, he saw his savior fighting some men with dirty cloths covering their faces. "They must be this valley's bandits!" he thought to himself. Not long after he reached the top of the mountain, a bandit suddenly appeared behind him.
He was pushed to the ground, while Gryden fell from his back. "I'll carve your guts out, boy," said the bandit menacingly while licking his unsheathed blade. "Argh," he uttered, "fuck, you'll pay for that!" His voiced went up an octave; he got up and immediately pulled out his pocket knife. "Wut an the sevent fuck is dat?! He exclaimed laughingly. "Hoss aye damn fockin' needle ganna help ya?, he said mockingly. Haldan felt provoked; he stupidly attacked the bandit like a wild stray dog.
The bandit easily sidestepped Haldan's clumsy charge, sending him sprawling into the dirt with a swift kick. "Pathetic," the bandit sneered, looming over him. Haldan gritted his teeth, tasting blood from a cut on his lip, but his grip on the pocket knife tightened. Gryden, screeched out of pain from where he had fallen.
Haldan knew he stood no chance in a fair fight, but his mind raced for an idea. Suddenly, he remembered the pouch he put in his pocket—the pouch filled with the dust from the crimson fellow had given him at the Wyrie.
He reached into his left pocket with his free hand, fingers grasping the small leather pouch. The bandit's eyes narrowed as he watched Haldan's movements. "Got some tricks up your sleeve e?" he growled, raising his sword to strike.
Haldan didn't answer. With a swift motion, he flung the pouch's contents toward the bandit's face. A cloud of shimmering dust exploded into the air, swirling with an eerie, purple light. The bandit stumbled back, coughing and clawing at his eyes. "Fuck, w-wut did ye do to me?!" he screamed, dropping his sword as he staggered, blinded by the magical powder.
Haldan pushed himself up, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through him. He didn't hesitate this time. Leaping forward, he drove his pocket knife into the bandit's side, gritting his teeth at the feeling of resistance as the blade sank in. The bandit let out a guttural cry, falling to his knees.
"Ya... lil'shit!" he gasped, blood trickling from his wound. Haldan stepped back, chest heaving. "I warned you," he muttered, though his hands were shaking. Gryden, was shocked after seeing his brother covered in blood, "Are you okay, Haldan?" cried the boy holding Haldan's hand sitting one the ground, his damp eyes fixed on him. "You're such a crybaby", he sighed, "of course I'm fine, I am a warrior ya know" he spoke with a quick wink.
The mysterious dust had done its work well. The bandit, now disoriented and weakened, collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. Haldan knew he couldn't stay here. More bandits could be nearby, and he had to reach the other side of the mountain before nightfall. The weight of what he had just done pressed heavily on his shoulders showing an bewildered expression while his hands shakes. But he knew there was no turning back now.
"Come on, Gryden," he said, sheathing his bloodied knife and helping his brother stand. "We need to hide quickly." With one last glance at the fallen bandit, Haldan turned and began his descent down the other side of the mountain, the shadows lengthening around him as the sun slowly sets.
While descending from the other side of the hill, a thick fog welcomed them both. Gryden then asked him a question. "How did it feel?" "What do you mean?" His face covered in confusion, "How did it felt— stabbing man's flesh?" A sudden force of uneasiness embraced him, but as his eyes took a glimpse of Gryden's face, the uneasiness turned into a horrific feeling, for it was the first time seeing his brother grinned; that evoke the monstrosity he witnessed two years ago.
**Flashback**
Thunder roars echoed through a burning town; rain never fell harder than this before. A grotesque atmosphere emerges from the sight of a boy of ten.
"Help me!, Haldan!" A feminine scream calling for its protector. Her naked body full of wounds being drag by another being of the realm. A leg ripped off its mud hugged porcelain body.
His shouts of plea struck louder than the roars from the sky, as he saw the being's face—a hideous beast of deformity. "Herynna!—NO!... No, please—oh faiths I beg..."
"Haldan! Wake up! Haldan!", Gryden cried. "Seven Graces! Are you okay?! You passed out." He said in a worried voice.
A face of utter confusion welcomed Gryden right after Haldan opened his lids.
"W-What happened?" "Did you hit your head in a rock or something?!", Gryden asked still looking worried he continued, "I said you passed out."
He helped his brother to lean on a tree nearby, his eyes struck with anxiety as he asked him.
"What are you feeling right now? Does your head hurt? 'bout your wounds?" "My wounds stings a little, but to no lethality, I am truly okay, your knee?" Haldan replied in genuine assurance and concern, his left hand placed on his hurting head. Listening to his brother speak he replied gazing at him with exhausted sad eyes, and a weary soft voice.
"I doubt you are!" he said almost crying. "I assure you, I am. And if your heart is filled with doubt still, look at me." Haldan tried to forced himself to stand but failed indubitably.
"Don't push yourself, Haldan! Please stay down, I will call for help."
"No don't, you might lure death here. If that happens things won't be pretty."
"But you will die if I don't call for help and I can't bare to see you slowly waste away!"
In a instant, Haldan held his brother's shoulders and spoke in a gentle voice. "Gryden, look at me, we must be patient if we ought to see the sun rise. We must rest for now, you need it. You don't have to worry, a good night sleep will be enough for me," he paused for a moment. "So, please trust me when I say I am okay." Gryden proceeded to nod his head as a sign of compliance to his brother's argument. Haldan instructed him to get some leaves from the nearby shadowy woods. "Be careful okay? Don't know much 'bout this forest, but heard stories of some lurking others here" cried the concerned brother. Nervous, Gryden then picked up a small stick from his left, and held it shaking. "You okay?" asked Haldan with a smile, almost laughing. "I hear your laughing" cried Gryden from a distance. He picked up some worn out leaves which he thought, that some to be irregularly large. "Hmm.. Maybe I pick leaves from the tree than these on ground, Haldan will love fresh big ones." He then endeavoured to climb the tree in which, he successfully did without ease.
While sitting on a thick branch he took the large leaves but stop from the creaking sound of wood; the branch cracked and he fell down from an eight feet high tree. But interestingly Gryden didn't hit the ground, he was floating. "I'm floating!!" he thought, "Am I magic now?!" A mysterious creature suddenly appeared from behind a tree in front of him. A dark greenish gray long, and fuzzy hair that flowed through its entire medium-sized, rounded body, like it was being hugged. Two big glowing yellow pupils, irregular shaped hands of two with four fingers each. Skin that looks rough like a rough tree log, funny looking large nose, and wears a necklace of different glowing crystals. And tattered dirty robes that appears to be human made.
"What are you?" he intoned with no hesitation, but with clear disturbance lingering upon his voice. "Uzik aru um myrhatar?" replied the odd looking, small creature. "Woah! it talks weird!"
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Ps; I based the Trollesh (troll language) from the sounds of Dothraki (ASOIAF).
¹ A small village within the territory of the Land of Lake.
² A road between the Mountains of Pike. It is full of wooden and iron spikes that came from weapons such as swords and spears of passerbys (knights, soliders, mercenaries) who might've died while traveling.
Uzik = Who - pronounced as osik
aru = are - pronounced as ahru
um = you - pronounced as om (stressed on the "m")
myrhatar = human - pronounced as mirhatar (stress on the "y")