11 His path

Sunrises and sunsets merge into a blurry haze as Gawain remains lost in his own mind. The world did not stop turning, the villagers returned to their chores since work is never scarce in spring, and so did his family.

Gareth went back to work in the fields, Galahad and the twins now live most of the time with Gertha and Ralof, which felt both like someone putting a cold cloth on a burn and pouring boiling water over it.

Gawain missed his little brothers at the same time that he feared their presence.

In the week that they lived apart, Galahad came to better understand the concept of death, with much pain and tears he realized that Marian is gone. The twins, on the contrary, still have many problems to understand, at three years old the concept of death is still something very alien, and no matter how much they are told that Marian is gone, they keep asking when she will return home.

Gawain feels like someone is reaching into his chest and squeezing his heart every time he hears the twins ask about their mother.

The pain and guilt that he feels every time he sees his brothers hasn't lessened in the last week and he resorted to hiding in the woods most of the time. As the days passed the adults seemed to think that Gawain had isolated himself long enough and it was time to accept reality and move on.

The first to try was Gertha, her tough love was going to get him out of his depression, or at least that's what she hoped.

"Gawain, it has been a fortnight since the funeral. It's time you stop hiding and accept reality, Marian is gone. She is dead and there is nothing we can do to change it, not even the Stranger has the power to bring her back. I know your mother would not want you to lose yourself in your pain and misery, Marian would have wanted you to keep living."

Gawain continued to sit on the tree trunk that he himself cut down a few years ago to create the training equipment that he has been using to strengthen his body.

Gertha hardened her expression and spoke firmly when she got no response:

"A long time ago I said that duty is never easy, that most times it is difficult and painful. Well now is that time, you have to overcome your pain and fulfill your duties as a son and brother. Your family needs you!"

"I know," Gawain replied in a soft tone, barely a whisper that could be lost among the trees more easily than a needle in a haystack. "I know what I have to do but I'm not ready, not yet."

The redhead's words are sincere, they are a declaration and a plea at the same time. Gawain is telling her to give him time to mourn, time for his heart to harden and prepare for what is to come.

Gertha looks at him uneasily, his words and the look in his eyes say more than she is capable of understanding and she knows it.

`What torments you so much, child?`

The second to try was Willem, the blacksmith looked at him for a few moments before sitting down next to him.

"When I lost my parents I was older than you, much older. They died of a winter flu when I was Balor's age." Willem runs a hand through his hair and looks at the sky hidden behind the branches of the trees. "I can't say I understand the pain you're going through, boy. Right now you're like a broken horseshoe, you're useless but as a blacksmith you know that everything has its fix. You need to dive into the embers and be reborn more tenacious than before, when you're ready, come back to the forge. I'll be waiting, boy."

Gawain looked at him with slight curiosity.

`Your metaphor almost hit the nail on the head. I don't need to plunge into the embers to mend my cracks, no- I'm already plunged into the hottest, most merciless fire of all, and when I come out I won't be who I once was, I'll be who I need to be. I just need a little time to plan and mentalize myself.`

His family and friends assumed that Gawain was broken, that he needed to be fixed, and they were wrong. The redhead has not been lost in his own misery for the last few days, he is building castles in the air and then destroying them. From each construction he learns something to improve the design of the next one.

After Willem, several neighbors tried to cheer him up without much success, Balor did not dare to say anything when he came, instead the bard played some songs next to him.

`...bards, music.` As he listened to a song about a girl who mourned the loss of her sailor lover, the redhead's eyes sparkled and a new castle in the air was built.

By the time Gareth came to see him, Gawain was no longer angry with him, as he had time to accept that the person he was most angry with was himself.

"I miss her all the time. I know in my heart that this pain will never really leave me, she is gone and that won't ever change. But I am slowly, very slowly, getting used to this pain. Is like discovering a great hole in the ground, at the beginning you forget it's there and keep falling in. That hole will never disappear but after a while you learn to walk round it." Gareth sighs and places a hand over his heart. "I still stumble over that hole every day but little by little I'm learning to walk around it, and I know you will too."

"Will you learn to walk around that hole and live on?" Gawain looks up at him with shadowed eyes. "One day it will be easy -even instinctive- for you to avoid that hole, the sorrow will be gone and the sweet memories will remain."

Gareth senses an underlying tension in his son's words and his jaw clenches, recognizing the look in Gawain's eyes.

"... but that won't be your case." Father and son share a look, eyes almost identical in color looking at each other with very different expressions. One pair of blue eyes is filled with sadness and sorrow, while the other pair begins to glow with a determination darker than the moonless night and hotter than the sun.

Gareth leaves without saying anything else and Gawain returns to his reflections.

In the third week after the funeral, the redhead got up from that trunk and went to the place where he had hidden his practice swords, he took one in each hand and after testing their weight, he began to make several coordinated blows.

"You have made a decision." Ralof comes out from behind a tree and looks at him seriously.

"How long have you been there?" Gawain asks, surprised.

"Today your look was different from yesterday, and from the day before. Looking into your eyes during the last moon was like seeing the night change to day extremely slowly. Today your eyes are almost as bright as before but the light in them is another- This light is neither warm nor welcoming." Ralof picks up one of the swords that Gawain was holding and examines it. "I have seen those eyes with that look before in another man, today you remind me so much of him that I shudder with fear. I really hoped that this day would never come, that you and your brothers would have a quiet life in this small village without knowing the cruelty and injustice of the world."

Ralof lets out a bitter laugh.

"It was naive of me, I know."

"Who is that man you speak of?"

"My brother, your grandfather." Ralof smiles weakly. "He was like you, he lived and died chasing impossible dreams."

"Impossible dreams? No, uncle." Gawain's expression hardens and he looks at him with certainty. "They're not impossible, just very hard to achieve."

Ralof laughs again, but this time his laugh is lighter.

"Those were his words," The old man ruffled his hair. "This world is harsh and cruel, it neither forgives nor forgets."

"I know."

"...Very well then." Ralof takes a defensive position and gestures for him to attack.

`My grandfather pursued a more just world for the smallfolk, he rebelled against the nobility and died. I am very curious about his story but now is not the time to ask, Ralof wants to test my resolve.`

The two fought for an hour, Ralof proving to be a highly skilled and experienced swordsman. Gawain only used a very basic style, not wanting to give away the extent of his knowledge and skill in swordsmanship.

"I don't know who taught you to use that sword, boy." Ralof wipes the sweat from his forehead. "But he was a good teacher, your style is very basic but solid. Sword art is like a house, the first thing it needs is a solid base and from there you can build a thousand rooms if you want."

Gawain nods.

"But swords aren't everything, there are a wide variety of weapons that you have to learn to use if you want to chase that crazy dream of yours." Ralof sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't believe I'm rooting for another crazy dreamer… We'll start tomorrow at dawn, I won't be a soft teacher, boy."

"Where did you learn to fight, uncle?"

"Wars, Gawain, fighting in wars that had nothing to do with me. I wasn't much older than you when the Blackfyres started another of their cursed wars, me and all the boys in my village were recruited. Until then I'd only used an ax to chop wood, but it turns out that chopping people with an ax isn't that different. After having a taste of glory I didn't want to go home so I traveled around Essos for a few years as a sellsword, I was good at that, damn good."

"Why did you leave that life?" From mercenary to sawmill owner, there's a big leap there and the redhead feels there's a big story behind that change.

"My brother, your grandfather asked me to take in his child while he embarked on a crazy venture."

"My grandfather tried to rebel against the nobility." Affirms Gawain.

"Aye, the crazy bastard tried."

"How? What were his plans?"

"Killing noblemen, a pretty dumb idea if you ask me. That stupid brother of mine thought he could unite the smallfolk against the nobility and kill them all. I asked him what would happen next if he were to succeed: how will the world he was chasing be." His uncle smiles bitterly and frustrated. "A world ruled by the people, he said, a world where we would govern ourselves. The imbecile talked and talked, he was very good at it; he had a sharper tongue than a Valyrian blade. He attracted many with his glibness, like flies to amber, people believed in him and his ambition but my stupid brother wasn't half as smart as he thought. Well, at least he was smart enough to keep Gareth away from his nonsense."

`That is the problem that had many rebellions on Earth, the rebels fought and died for great ideals but did not stop to think what would happen next. Destroying a system of government is one thing but building a new one... Killing all the nobles would not be that difficult but then what will be left will be anarchy.`

"That's enough small talk for today, let's keep training."

***

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