"Can I take that for ya, sir?"
The light, sweet voice stirred the man from his reverie. His massive hand dropped from his brow, where it had been rubbing back and forth, restless and agitated. He turned his eyes upward to the young serving-girl who stood beside him, her slender arm already reaching for the neglected plate sitting before him, covered in half-eaten bits of food.
"Aye, lass, you can take it away," he rumbled in his gravelly voice. Her smile brightened, apparently pleased that she had guessed right. The man was thankful when she didn't linger and flirt, as so many of her kind were prone to do.
No sooner had she swept off in a soft brushing of her skirts, than another figure strode over and plunked down across from the man, with an unceremonious thud.
"She's a pretty one," the newcomer stated.
"Hrmph," replied the other, reaching for his tankard and dragging it roughly across the tabletop.
"Oh, give it a rest, you old lump," came the reply, and a pair of lively brown eyes peered over the table from within a handsome, young face. "You intend to become a monk, then, do you? Besides, I'm sick of watching you sulk around like this." He leaned back, waving a gloved hand towards his companion, before reaching to delicately pull the glove from his fingers and lay it on the table. "You need a woman. I don't care if it's for a night or a year, but you're becoming an even grumpier bastard than you normally are."
“Nay, you give it a rest, Aelfnod!” the other man rumbled while his emerald eyes flashed. “You may not be able to keep your cock in your pants in every town we visit, but don’t push your nonsense ways on me.” His thick fingers squeezed the wooden mug until a quiet crackling sound was heard, and the cup threatened to splinter.
“All right, all right, Aldwyn!” His young companion spread his hands in a placating manner. “No need to turn into a Rohir berserker, either.” A glint of amusement passed over Aelfnod’s face. “No women then. You can just sit there and make love to your ale. I’m sure it’ll be a great bedwarmer tonight.”
“Hrmph,” Aldwyn grunted again. “Don’t you have a delivery to make, pup?”
Aelfnod’s dashing features pursed into a frown. “Don’t call me that. And yes, I do. A town called, ah…” He pulled out a small bit of folded, yellowed parchment from his breast pocket and looked at it. “…Archet. Funny name, eh?” He flicked the paper at his friend before tucking it away. “And you’ve got a wagon to take to the other place. What was it? Tustlebranch?”
“Trestlebridge, ya simpleton,” came the mumbled response. “Don’t use my name in public like an idiot, and I won’t call you a pup, even though that’s what you are.” Aldwyn leaned back in his chair, and the legs groaned softly in complaint at his massive weight. He studied his younger companion for a moment in silence. It was little wonder Aelfnod joked and needled about women constantly. He was slender, his ochre-brown hair was shiny and gently waved around his tanned cheekbones, and he had to do little but walk in the door before the kitchen maids started tittering and blushing. He had no qualms about bedding a woman or two…or three…wherever they stopped, and he couldn’t grasp why Aldwyn didn’t do the same.
Aelfnod sputtered in indignation, though his smirk lingered good-naturedly. He pushed to his feet with a scraping of chair legs. “I’ll return in a few days, then.” He slapped his hand roughly on the older man’s shoulder. “Try to have some fun,” he whispered loudly. “Won’t kill you to offer a drink to a lass and sneak a kiss when you walk her home.” He patted the shoulder again, loudly, several times, until Aldwyn swatted his hand away with an irritable, “Off with ya!”
The older man hunkered over his tankard, glaring ahead as Aelfnod’s laughter faded behind him. The boy would never understand. He’d never loved a woman. Though, Aldwyn reluctantly admitted to himself, I haven’t either. Unrequited hopes weren’t love. Wistful dreams did not count. He’d had thoughts of marriage once. Long ago.
A turn of his bushy-haired head, and he peered across the smoky, candlelit common room. The women here were…uninteresting. Simple farm girls, serving tables and hoping for nothing more than a decent husband and a few children without a life of starving to death. No one he could have a real conversation with. Not even one he could indulge in a night of blissful release with, and not expect them to cling to his neck and beg him to stay the next morning. He’d tried it a few times before, mostly at Aelfnod’s behest. The fleeting sweetness of a woman’s arms was not worth the sad longing in their eyes the next day, when he had to sneak from their beds like a rake and mutter an awkward farewell, knowing he’d never see them again.
A dirt-covered hand rubbed briskly over his eyes, and he sighed heavily. Perhaps the women are more enticing up north. Gods know I’m not going to find anyone in this place.
