Flashback A painful reminder

[Bardolf]

Northern Woods

The treck had not been a short one, but he was used to these little adventures. His grandfather had been gone for a little under a month and wouldn't be expected back for at least a fort night. He had borrowed his elders winter clothes, and snow shoes and set off northwards, it had taken him a total of six days to reach the northern forests. He often came here in search of a decent hunt or some thing interesting. He'd wanted to visit Avanthal but could never muster enough resources to make the trek. And as such ended up on a hunt with his best friend, Roy. Roy was a shaggy dog, with blue and grey fur. He was mellow and relaxed though still quite young. His grandfather gifted him the dog on his thirteenth spring, last year. And thus far had been trained fairly decent. He could lay, sit, fetch, grab kindling, and to top it off he was a decent tracker.

Several leagues back he had donned the snow shoes, he'd asked for years for his own pair but was always turner down "Your still growing! When you stop, I'll show you how to make your own!." He always gave a sarcastic remark to show his disappointment but loved the old man anyway.
He snapped back to reality in time to catch a a white hare standing perfectly still. Roy too saw the rabbit. The dog was perfectly still ready to give chase. Bardolf knocked and arrow pulling back his hand resting near his cheek as he took aim. The rabbit looked ready to run, the tension was growing and before he could escape the arrow slid behind his front leg, piercing his organs with a clean shot.

Roy kept forward grabbing the lifeless, slightly convulsing animal and made his way back to bardolf. "Drop it Roy!" He said in a commanding voice, his eyes locked with the dogs. And for a moment he thought the dog would keep the rabbit. But instead let go. He quickly set his bow down, pulled the arrow and set it down also. He pulled his trusty knife from a leather sheeth that rested against the small of his back and stripped the little critter of its fur. He stuffed the fur into his rucksack, and strung the rabbit up on the outside of the sack, letting it cool in the brisk air.

He hiked for several more hours scoring another rabbit, and a large squirrel. All of them ended up the same way as the first hare. After his day was finished he decided to dig himself a small snow burrow. He packed the top down and began to dig, taking off his snow shoes before hand. And soon he had a small hole in which he could lay down. He strung up his rucksack on a nearby tree, taking out only a small chunk of cheese, and two sausages. He gave one of the sausages to Roy while he gobbled down the cheese and then consumed half of the meat, before giving it to the dog who was now bagging for more.

After a somewhat cold night, bardolf set off for home. He'd made the decision at some point the previous night. Between his shelter collapsing on him, and shivering all night, it wasn't a hard choice. He still had several hours before the sun would rise so he made this part of the trek in the dark. Never really fearing the darkness but always cautious. He covered a great deal and soon was forced to take off the snow shoes. He covered ground much quicker this way and after almost a half day of travel he shed most of his winter gear. He was either already in Sylaria or close. He cared little, as he defended a small hill, which turned out to be a cliff that led into a little valley. It had a creek running through it, and then quickly rose to form the another hill. Regardless of what it looked like or how tall the cliff was he fell from it landing ten feet below, the wind knocked from his lungs and pain near his collarbone.

It was extremely painful to move his arms or his body, he pulled down his wool shirt exposing where his bone was he found an angry black and blue bruise. His ribs hurt fiercly and he couldnt take a deep breath. After checking himself for a moment he began to feel a dull throbbing in his leg, he pulled a pant leg up hoping only for a bruise but was surprised to find what seemed to be a shard of bone protruding.He layer back and let out a deep breath, his mind was racing and he felt the prickles of fear creeping up on him. When he finally talked himself down, he sat up and struggled with what to do nexy. Eventually he came to the conclusion he needs to stop the bleeding. He tried several times to push it back in and on the final attempt managed o get it in. He layed back down letting out a shakey breath. Tears streamed down his cheeks, gettimg back up he ripped a pantleg wrapping the wound he searchrd for near by branches. He grandfather always told him stories about how to treat a broken bone. There were three that would possibly would possibly work. He crawled to them groaning softly his body was filled with pain as he moved. He managed get the sticks. It took another portion of his pant leg to splint his leg. He later back down exhausted, tears still occasionally spilling from his cheek.

At some point he fell asleep and when he woke Roy had found his way down and was nestled by his side. He decided to just let exhaustion continue its course and he slept some more. The second time he woke he had decided to check his fear. His bow managed to survive with several arrows. Though the ones that had been under him were crushed, along with his grandfathers snow shoes. He used to arrows and snow shoes to further secure his splint. He leg was now in excruciating pain so much he forgot about he rest of his body. With the aid of a nearby stick he managed to get up. There wasn't much choice in how he was going to get out. He had to follow the stream. He decided to go up stream working his way limping through he swampy, slightly wooded terrain. The valley eventually narrowed out and became a flat open plain that dissapeared into hills. It would take him twice as long to get to his grandfather's house with a broken leg. He maybe able to beat the old man home.

[Bardolf]

The Wildlands

He had reequipped his cold weather gear, it wasn't as cold as the north but for some reason he couldn't shake the chills. He'd managed to make it three days before his food had run out. He had thrown the hare and squirrel meet away due to it expiring. He mostly used his bow as a crutch as he hobbled over rolling hills. His head felt heavy and his limbs heavier. But he knew he had to keep trekking. His wounds were now a sickly yellow, the puncture on his leg hadn't healed quite right, the scab was spongey and sickly looking. He poured fresh water on it when ever he'd come across a source. But nothing helped it kept getting worse and worse.

By day six he had little to no strength, he was completely relying on the bow which was bending with effort. His vision was blurred and his mouth dry. He'd run out of water the day before, and his last meal was two days ago. He was famished and sick. Bit struggled on. He managed to find a road which he limped down. There didn't seem to be Amy signs of traffic. The only mercy was that snow had yet fallen and winter had not yet fully grasped the land as they experienced a nice warm spell in this location.

Roy followed him faithfully, and had actually on one occasion brought him a small ground squirm though it wasn't edible. On the seventh day and only two more days travel he collapsed his body too weak to continue and sickness's firm grasp had him defeated. He despratly reached out to try and pull himself forward but found no strength. His eyes slowly closed, at some point he awoken to dog barks and the jumbled sounds of words. The next time. A familer face, finally he awoke in his small bed. His leg freshly bandaged, along with a cold,wet cloth on his for head. An old man sat in front of the fireplace stiring a large pot of what smelled to be potato stew. "Grandpapa?" Am old name he called his grandfather when he was much younger. The man looked over, at first worried then a huge smile spread across his face. "You've come too finally! Good to see you back amongst the living!" The boy was shaken to the point tears began to form. "How'd you find me?" The man laughed and came to sit by him. "The hunting party was returning and we found you on the road. Roy showed us where you had collapsed. Any longer and you'd be in the next world! What were you doing out there? Why'd you go out on your own like that? You could have died!" He at this point began to sound a little angry but bardolf couldn't help but cry as he hugged the man. Ignoring the intense throb in his leg. "I thought I was dead, I'm so glad you found me." He sobbed into the mans shoulder. "You've been asleep for almost a week I didn't think you were going to make it. The doctor with us reset your leg and even the rebreaking didn't disturb you much. He said you wouldn't last the night." The old mans voice was shakey but he managed to hold together.

The next month he was confined to his bed, where he could only listen to his grandfather talk of stories of old and lessons of life. Eventually he promised to teach to use a longbow.

[Bardolf]

Home

The sun was creeping towards its peak, its rays shining lazily down upon Bardolf as he moved to pick up the arrows he'd shorten earlier. His leg still pained him but it was getting better. As promised his grandfather had been teaching him to use a longbow but was having him focus on regular archery with his short bow. It wasn't nearly as nice as the longbow he had planned on making but was still motivated by his grandfather.

He stood back, now pulling the arrow towards his cheek. He tilted the shaft upwards as he angled for distance. And released. The arrow wizzed high in the sky then landed next to the straw bale. He gave a small Humph before knocking another. This continued for several shots each one getting closer and close until he managed to hit the edge of the target. With that he got a pat on the back and a small push to go retrieve the arrows.

He plucked them from the ground and walked back, leaving the one on the. Target for encouragement. He closed his eyes, drew the arrow backwards open his eyes. Saw his target and angled for distance he viewed the previous success in his mind, he remeberd the feel, and released. It spring forward and closed the distance quickly, only to over shoot and land behind the target. He fired the rest of his arrows with no success.

After a long lunch his grandfather brought him out. He helped line his body up and his shoulders, helped set the angle and had him dry fire several times. Soon he was practicing the stance no bow. It all seemed silly to him, but did as his elder said. Finally after much practice he was given a single arrow. He leaned back and fired the arrow it sailed beautifully and landed near the center of the bale, little low and to the left but much improvement. He practiced six more shots before they decided to call it a day. He had gotten four in a row and they quit on the final one.

[Bardolf]

Home: A forever pain

It didn't seem to matter how much he walked or how little he moved. His leg always throbbed. Every morning started off the same, he sat up and rubbed his leg muscles trying to sooth them. He regretted that journey every moment he was awake. The cut had finally healed and the last of the Infection died away. And now a jagged scar was all that remained. The healer had said that the pain would become more tolerable as he grew older but the youth was impatient.

Regardless he walked out of the small house refusing to allow the wound to hinder him. He met up with Roy who was lounging in the sun soaking up its warm rays. The ground was covered in snow. And the air was certainly chilly . Upon seeing bardolf woy excitedly jumped to his feet and began to snuggle his legs. "There there Roy, I'm up now. You can calm down." He spoke in a light voice. Pulling out a sausage he fed it to his hound and walked out to the shooting range. He kneeled, by the wooden post that was driven into the ground and pulled up a long package wrapped in furs.

Unwrapping it he strung his grandfathers longbow, and then placed the arrows into the snow for quick retrieval. He had gotten slightly better at the weapon in recent days having moved on to the actual thing in the last week. He pulled the arrow back and fired, it flew high and straight and struck the target, high the left. He knocked another and aimed, and released. It stuck just shy of the center. He repeated a eight more times only missing once. His aim was getting better and better everyday. Soon he'd take the chance and go hunt with it.

He picked his arrows up and spent the rest of the morning honing his target practice. Afterwards he picked up the house and prepared to smoke some meat. His grandfather left instructions on how to create jerky which would help them store the food for the winter. His days were boring with out another soul to talk too. So he decided to practice making snares on the house floor using spare rope, though they couldn't spring. He worked the gentle loops, creating small basic snares. After that he layer in bed with nothing better to do but stare at the ceiling and ponder his existence.