---White Mountains, Rohan. Many months earlier---
No sooner had Ryheric made a day long journey to return to Winnie's village, than he was approached by Tarsorel and Winnie's father.
Cenryc announced Ryheric would be dueling Eastmunde, and without thought, Ryheric stepped forward. He was still drenched in blood from the fight on the bridge that morning, and heavily fatigued. However, he had waited too long for this.
...
Brutal. Tarsorel could explain the fight no other way. It had been brutal and vicious and... necessary. The way Ryheric had rushed Eastmunde, with no regard for his own safety or any other thought than making the kill. The fight itself was over rather quickly. Ryheric bested Eastmunde with his combination of strength and ferocity that Tarsorel has seen so many times before.
The young warrior had left Eastmunde with a souvenir of the fight, or what would have been a souvenir had Ryheric not killed Winnie's brother shortly after. A carven tribute, red and dripping. Barbaric justice wrought by a gifted kukri, and letters he'd been taught to form.
W I N N I E
Two years ago - even six months ago this would have greatly disturbed Tarsorel.
Things had changed. Tarsorel had changed, and he did not flinch as the brutality was inflicted Eastmunde as the doomed Eorling fell at Ryheric's feet.
In the aftermath of the duel, Ryheric stepped away from the scene. Tarsorel stood among the crowd of mountain outpost men who had witnessed the duel. He looked at Ryheric as he passed, Tarsorel's jaw clenched.
"You weren't supposed to see that. Sorry Tars." said Ryheric, surprisingly abashed.
Tarsorel was taken aback. Did Ryheric think he was... but no, he couldn't. Not after all they had been through. The understanding they had reached.
"It is not what you did, Ryheric," Tarsorel responded. "I am worried about you." And he was, truly.
Tarsorel had realized what had always bothered him about Ryheric's fighting style. It was not the demonic ferocity. It was not the lack of planning. It was not even the gory results. Tarsorel had barely registered that Ryheric was currently covered in the blood of Eastmunde and Valar knows who or what else. What bothered Tarsorel, what had always bothered him, was Ryheric's disregard for his own life.
He fought like a man who expected to die and did not care if he did. This concerned Tarsorel. Ryheric was just beginning to realize his worth. To grow into the man he was meant to become. To have that future, that potential snuffed out because of Ryheric's nature appalled the older man. Yet he knew he could not, and would not, try to change Ryheric. Instead, another path needed to be forged.
Ryheric was a sword. Tarsorel was a shield. That had always been his nature, and he supposed it always would be. He would stand guard by Ryheric, to let the man be who he was both in and out of battle.
(( Huge thanks to Winnie's player for putting me on the spot to challenge my roleplay with this event, and Tarsorel's player for his heavy contributions. I have combined several roleplay posts from the three of us to form this post so cannot take sole credit for this entry. ))
