Caerndan had all reasons to feel satisifed. His scouts had peneterated and slayed the few goblins able to spot the incoming raid before they even knew anyone was there. A dead greenskin was a good greenskin. Another repayment for the damage done to fair Yvresse by Grom the Paunch. He looked at his human partner, Mathi Todt. Quite the artist name, Todt. In Tilea he was spoken of as Colonnello Morte, famed and feared for the black banners depicting skull in different styles, combined with hourglasses and other linked paraphernalia.

Caerndan had known the family of Hiedenmund for generations. at least five. But he had not known anyone as troubled as Mathi, not even the father, Isaac.

"I beg you, Lord Caerndan. Keep an eye on my youngest, Mathi. He is dear to me but... I wonder what he thinks of me. He probably see me as a coward deep inside."
"I cannot see why he would think of you as a coward."
"I just wish I had brought him on that convoy. But it seems such a good opportunity to let him start. Olav thought the same. Dear father, he gave his life to stop those norse breaching the cabin and get at Mathi. I just wish I could have gotten that counterattack going sooner than I did..."

The old man had faded for a moment but then returned to his confession.

"It seemed such a safe voyage. Kislevite convoy, our escort forced reinforced with Barak Varr vessels. Only a fool of a norseman would have attacked us head on. But when the dwarves sailed of to settle their old score, well... It was, it was just as if that had been part of a plan. THan information we recived from those "friendly" norse traders. That a specific norse chieftain was anchored further ahead, a chieftain that just happened to be on a dozen dwarf deathlists, or so it seemed. And he would just be sitting there, in ambush for us. But chatted about it to anyone who happened to pass by."

"I..." Isaac coughed hard and Caerndan believed for a moment that he would be passing the threshold at that moment.
"I told the commander of the dwarf that all this was too good to be true. It was simply a ruse to splitt the escort. But they sad it was too good a chance to pass by. They simply had to go and take his head. They would return as soon as they were finished. And of they went."

"At next dawn the norse attacked, having used the night to crep up on us. They came in from several directions, like wolves encircling their prey. They knew what they were doing, forcing us to splitt our gunfire and making it impossible for us to gather our strength. They even came for our flagship. Ballsy move, I give them that. We had sent Mathi, being a mere cabin boy, into the cabin and told him to barricade himself. They had a party that was specifically going for the cabin and the steering hut."

"Old Olav stod tall. He had taken his zweihänder and swung it in arches and the foolhardy norsemens got caught. He held them of long enough, but they felled him with a number of javelins. But he took a few with him. And most of all, he saved his beloved grandson. But I... I failed to save my father..."

There were tears on the mans checks and Caerndan could not help getting moved himself. He could recognize the emotions of guilt, pain and loss.

"When the dwarves returned at dusk, we had managed to drive of the norse, losing some ships of the convoy but all in all, we had saved the majority. But at what cost in life. One escort ship deliberately blew her powder magazine and took three dragonships hooked to her to the bottom. That was what made the norse breaking combat and sailing of with the prizes they had managed to take. A whole crew gave their lives to make sure their foes paid dearly."

"I had cleared our deck from the norse and even taken one of their vessels in return. But at what cost? When the dwarven commander started to come with his condoleances and excuses I just lost myself in rage. I cursed him, cursed his people and his family. Told them to go and drown somewhere useful."

Another attack of coughs came from the man and Caerndan had to hold him so he would not hurt himself. After the attack had settled he continued his tale.

"The dwarf commander obviously did not take kindly to me calling his family names. Picky about that they are, those little buggers. He started talking about re-compensation for me having insulted his familys good name. Re-compensation for words! But they had not offered anything to me but words before I snapped. No amount of condoleances would bring my father back to life or bring the brave crew of Zeeadler back to the surface."

"And Mathi had to see all this. First he had to see the corpse of his beloved Opa lying pierced by javelins, then he had too see me... Man I wish sometimes I would have spatt at the dwarves and told them to do their worst. But what would they have mean? The sea of claws would have run red with the blood of men and dwarves, the convoy would never get through and the norse... The norse would have laughed so loud it was heard all the way to Marienburg!"

"I bit in the sour apple and agreed to pay the compensation. Then I told them to leave, get of my deck. In a polite manner. But firm. And never to speak to me again. It looked as if the commander wanted to say something but I could not bear to hear one more word of their rough voices."

Caerndan nodded and then asked a question he had been pondering for a long time.

"How did young Mathi react? He was but 7 years at that time if my memory serves me right."

"I told him never to forget what happened. Never! And I do think he never have. His sword, one of the few things I could give him before he went south, my grandfathers sidesword, was a fine blade of dwarf manufacture. I could not bare too see it, but he seemed strangely content with it. But in a manner I found troubling. He blame the gods and the dwarfs for his beloved opa who died protecting him. His heart got shattered that day, shattered. He refused to ever visit the Temple of Sigmar as soon as he became fiftheen. He could not bear to see images of Ghal Maraz and he hated the tales of Sigmars friendship with the dwarves."

The coughs came back, rougher than ever. The old man then grabbed the elfs hand with a speed that suprised Caerndan. And the grip was strong, as if the dying man put all his effort into it.

"Lord Caerndan. I ask you, no I BEG you. Please look after Mathi. Our family have worked with your house for generations but I feel embarassed to ask this. Yet I must. Guide him!"

The man chock and lay still. Caerndan tried to shake him and shouted for the doctor but then realized that old Isaac had wandered of. He was on his ways to Morrs halls to meet with his father and ancestors.

"I will do all that stands in my powers..."

Caerndan flinched realizing he had whispered the words from his memory. Mathi also heard them. Mathi was by no means fluent in Tar-eltharin and probably only grasped a word or too of what was a very symbolic phrasing in the cothiqian dialect. "I will hold back the Sundering if possible."

"Getting melancolic, Caerndan? Not like you."

"Much of my familys hold drowned then. But even today it is said you can hear the sound of their feasts underneath the waves. Sometimes you can enter part of the halls when the tide is really low. Takes a certain kind of person to do it, walking alongside the spirits of the dead."

"It must be unbearably hard. Living as long as your people do, all the time gathering memories and remembering the tales of your ancestors. All the tragedies, all the wrongs suffered..."

"It is hard to say. After all, my people are used to it. Sometimes I wonder if your people must have it worse. We seem to have ways to encapsulate our memories, remembering them yet not letting them get too close to you. Not all at once. It seems harder for you humans. For us your lives are almost just as a single season of a year. You burn like bright flares but only for a short time. You live hard and die fast. We elves have time to reflect on our lives, what we have done and what we should do. And sometimes we can adjust things we did wrong or failed to do."

Caerndan looked at Mathi directly.

"Your people, however, live so fast that sometimes you cannot amend wrongs or make right because you do not get the time to reflect on past deeds. Your burning passion do not have time to fade until you lie before Deaths door."

"Yeah, it is about how we live our lives."

"Your grandfather was a great man. Well, he had flaws, like the rest of you. He was one mean warrior in his youth. Terrible to behold when gripped by Ulrics fury. But when he got older he found a much more gentle part of himself. He loved his grandchildren, he spoiled you all and taught you important things at the same time. I wonder what he would have wanted to say too all of you had he been able to die calmly in bed, as he had really deserved."

Mathi stared back, as if to try and see behind the elfs word. Few but Caerndan dared stare him down like that.

"I do not know, maybe to be brave... He said, "Mathi, block the door and whatever happen my dear little boy, be brave. BRAVE!"

"He did die bravely. Probably knew he would be overwhelmed by the norsemen before the crew could form a strong counterattack, but he held them long enough. It was a great death. It had purpose."

"But he died."

"Everyone dies. It is how we live our lives and how we die that matters. He died having the honour of protecting his grandchild. I know that for you humans that is very important. Your lives are so short that in a way, it is as if your families are your real beings. And he won! Even though the enemy finally laid him low he won the important battle. He saved you! That is what matters. He died bravely, knowing he would die. But also that his death would save your life. I wish I could have seen that fight."

Mathi looked away. A shadow had come over him and his mind had become troubled.

"Am I brave, Caerndan. Answer truthfully. Am I brave?"

"Sometimes. And sometimes you are monster."

A fun read. Good to have a bit more insight into Mathi, not that it will stop my boyz from giving him the pointy end of their choppas.

Hey, there is no point in that!

The wise old elf says he's sometimes a monster. So is Dularg. They could be chums.

Probably. But Mathi will not touch mushroom brew nor dwarf ale. But hey, come to Tilea, were war is no hard fellings. Just buisness and Tilean wine!

Just now getting around to reading this. Excellent writing and a nice vignette into Mathi's character.

That said, Brask could probably get along with Mathi. It's Caerndan he'd have problems with.