Rick walked with brisk steps, looking back and forth with energy that felt impossible to have. Energy that made him wide awake, clear and levelheaded, energetic and mildly euphoric. A state that, according to Brynjar, came from the medicine he’d been given to alleviate his discomfort, his pain. Medicine that made him able to move freely, with the only caveat being that at night, he’d come crashing down with a fatigue worse than any he'd never felt before. According to Brynjar at least, Rick had a hard time believing him right now.

Rick skipped a step, making a little mini-dance as he and Brynjar walked through the beautiful white forest. A smile on his face that felt impossible to remove. Touching each and every tree they passed, reveling in the fantastically cold sensation that came with it.

He could feel the discomfort in his body, a stinging sensation that he knew should make him unable to move, but now felt only like a mild annoyance. He turned to face Brynjar, his knight in shining armour, walking beside him with easy steps, using his spear like a walking stick. Brynjar noticed him looking and turned his helmeted head to face him.

“Hm?”

He hummed out, Rick humming back soundlessly. The knight facing forward again, slightly shaking his head.

“Hmmhmm… Eehm, are you- ehm, wondering exactly what your supposed to do? That was what your look, er, expression meant… right?”

Rick turned to him, raising one brow as he tried to figure out what he meant, still humming soundlessly.

“I mean, you wonder what your task is? What help I asked from you… Right?”

Rick raised his brows, his mouth opening as if in realization, nodding quickly, very quickly, finding the sensation weirdly relaxing.

“Yeah, yeah, right? Right. So, uhm, ahem, it’s quite simple, really. You know a way of healing while I don’t. So, if we get into a sticky situation, you’ll heal us up good and clean. Easy, right?”

Rick still nodded, glancing back to look at Bob in his pack. Brynjar nodding back, a little hesitantly.

“Right. Hmmhmm.”

And the two went back to silence. A silence Rick really didn’t care for, too entranced in his own brain. Feelings and energies he’d never felt before floated around like the comfiest cloud. Reveling in the feeling, embracing it, practically jumping around in joy.

Having done so for several hours already, daytime loosening in the sky, walking in a direction Rick didn’t know nor care for. Rick trusted Brynjar with his life. He’d after all, saved him and given him such a miraculous medicine.

The cold didn’t even feel cold. The snow looked even more beautiful. Crunches of snow felt even more satisfying. His world was just pure wonder.

“Toymaker, I’m gonna ask you a few questions if you don’t mind. There are a few things that are, ehm, bothering me.”

Rick nodded again, nodding faster and faster, wondering why he ever stopped nodding, looking at the looming big white trees surrounding him with white lumps of packed snow instead of leaves hanging off of each branch.

“Where’s your weapon?”

Rick turned to Brynjar and took out his knife in one swift motion, waving it back and forth, getting transfixed in the motion himself as he stared awe-struck at it. Brynjar taking a step away, watching, tilting his head slightly and asking.

“Seriusly?”

Rick nodded, still transfixed on moving the knife in front of his face.

“Okay… Uhm, soooo, eer… did you use that to kill those monsters?”

Rick shook his head from side to side eagerly, looking around then walking up to a tree, motioning as if he was cutting it down.

“Uuuh, uhm… yoooou, used an axe?”

Rick nodded, still motioning as if he was cutting the tree, stopping when Brynjar gently pushed him forward.

“Oookay, sooo, where is it?”

Rick stopped moving, looking up into the grey skies above, going thoughtful. Seconds turning to minutes. Then turning down and shaking his shoulders, not knowing.

Brynjar breathed out and muttered under his breath, “I might have given him too much.” Then speaking a little louder. “Toymaker, I’ll give you some more, uhm, medicine. But this medicine will calm you down a little, okay?”

Rick nodded, eyes widening with the prospect for more medicine.

A short wait later, Rick held what looked like a brown mush in his hands, smaller and different looking than the medicine he’d been given earlier. He looked up quizzically at Brynjar, grabbing the waterskin that was handed to him.

“This… medicine, is more bitter than the one I gave you earlier, but just as, um, potent.”

Rick nodded and shoveled the whole thing into his mouth. Immediately almost vomiting from the foul taste, taking a chug of water to rinse it down.

A few minutes later, Rick felt his emotions coming down, down into a controllable state. He still felt as if foreign in his own body, but felt that he could control his thoughts better. Realising that he’d been acting, very strange.

“Better?”

Brynjar asked, and Rick nodded a little slowly, holding a hand to his head. Brynjar using his gauntlet hand to smack his tender back, laughing as he did.

“Aaahahahaha. Oh boy, you looked like a girl who’d just found a fairy. Sorry bout that, but I didn’t know any other drugs that’d help you in your, er, condition. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to mix it with what you just ate to keep you functioning next time.”

Rick nodded, a bit unsure, glancing at the shining knight beside him.

“Anyway, I’m assuming you lost your weap-uhm-axe in the battle with the monsters?”

Rick nodded, breathing out, feeling weirdly shameful. Knowing how much a weapon means to a warrior, knowing how shamefull it was to lose one, especially for a warrior as shining as Brynjar. Brynjar didn’t seem to care though as he just plowed on.

“Okay then, do you remember how many of those bastards you took down before you lost your weapon?”

Thinking back, Rick focused, then quickly raised one finger. Brynjar quickly retorting.

“Really? Damn, those buggers really must have overwhelmed you, huh? Not surprising though, those where devil hounds, they only hunt in packs.”

He went quiet for a second, bringing one gauntlet hand up to his armoured chin, walking with heavy steps into the freezing ground.

“But uhm, do you, remember if you ever went unconscious?”

Rick thought back, quickly nodding.

“Uhu, hmmhmm. Then, uhm, do you remember how many you killed before your, uhm, unconscious-ness?”

Again, Rick thought back, remembering that he managed to kill two before the little beast helped him. Remembering throwing Bob, then blacking out.

Rick started raising his arm- but stopped himself. He blinked, then pushed it back down, shrugging his shoulders instead and shaking his head.

“Uh-Huh? You don’t.. know?”

Rick shook-nodded his head.

“Then, did that toy of yours kill them?”

Rick glanced back on Bob, almost immediately shaking his head upon seeing Bobs smiling face. But stopped himself, shrugging his shoulders instead. Brynjar slowing down to a stop, putting his armoured arms onto his armoured hips, looking slightly down on Rick. Rick stopping a step after, turning back to see why he’d stopped, gulping when Brynjar started speaking.

“Toymaker, I understand that you’ve got secrets. Everyone does. But I’m trying to paint a picture of your combat capabilities here. Considering the amount of dead devil hounds, I’d assume you where one hell of a fighter. But now, I’m getting nervous.”

Rick looked up at him, feeling shameful, feeling as if he was about to be scolded by a strict father, wondering why he was lying to him. Cheeks reddening, Rick turned away from Brynjar. Silence following, feeling uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable until he heard metal clacking against metal. Turning back, he noticed Brynjar unfastening his gauntlet hand meticulously. Speaking up as he did.

“Toymaker, when I get nervous, I like to get un-nervous. And as I said earlier, I only need you for your healing. But a thought suddenly occurred to me. What if, what if this man isn’t the toymaker? And he doesn’t actually have the power to heal?”

He said calmly, grabbing a knife and dragging it over his hand. Blood starting to immediately bubble and float out, a wound that looked deep and painfull, yet Brynjar calmly lifted his hand towards Rick, saying.

“Heal.”

The sudden firmness in his voice took Rick off-guard, taking a step back, feeling like a child caught in a lie, shame welling up like lava from the earth. Quickly grabbing Bob, Rick pushed him towards Brynjar’s hand, noticing Bob looking around in confusion, stopping upon seeing the wound, reaching forward and touching it. Green light glowed mildly, encasing the hand. Then Bob stopped, shook his head and looked up at Brynjar. Rick did too.

Brynjar flexed his healed hand, turning it this way and that, looking for, something.

“Huh, explains the green light.”

He said in an almost whisper, turning up to face Rick.

“I’m sorry for doubting you. Can’t be too diligent about these things though, so I’m not that sorry.”

Reaching his hand up, Brynjar grabbed one of the many spears on his back and motioned it forward, holding it as if a gift to Rick.

“But! As a token of my apology, and a sign of trust, I’ll give you one of my Sprengispjót.”

He pushed the spear- the Sprengispjót, to Rick, a weird name for what appeared to be just a spear. Rick took it and inspected it. Looking like any normal spear, made of wood with a tip of iron. The only thing different being the piece of thick cloth wrapped close to the top and bottom of the spear. As if noticing Rick’s unasked question, Brynjar supplied an answer.

“The cloth is to make it rattle less, one needs to keep quiet when adventuring, who knows what dangers lurks in the dead of night.”

Rick nodded at the explanation and unwrapped the cloth. Exposing a row of runes wrapped around the shaft of the spear. Rick looked back at Brynjar, presumably looking confused as Brynjar reacted by supplying yet another answer.

“Of course I’d hide the runes, I don’t want to expose that it is a Sprengispjót to any possible assassins sent out to kill me, now would I?”

An answer that didn’t answer Rick’s unanswered question. Actually wondering what the Sprengispjót did, and what would happen if he infused life into it. But Brynjar wouldn’t supply an answer no matter how confused Rick looked, instead seeming content with what he had already supplied. Rick breathing out soundlessly, telling himself that if worst came to worst, he could still use it as a normal spear and avoid seeping life into it.

After that, the two continued walking, sunless sky shining down on them. Grey clouds overhead raining down pebbles of powdered snow like hail on a warm summer day.

Rick feeling comfortable, feeling safe, refreshed and mildly calm. Brynjar’s own calm and aura of absolute confidence like a blanket that rubbed off on Rick, giving him a taste of Brynjar’s finer qualities. Feeling like the recruit walking beside the veteran, wondering what adventures he’d managed to get himself into. Adventures that surely no mere mortal could ever imagine. A champion was, after all, a being above any normal man, recruited by the gods themselves.

Lost in thought, Rick did not notice Brynjar stopping, walking into his armoured back and hurting his already tender nose. Rubbing at it, Brynjar turned back to speak.

“We are stopping here for tonight, I’ll let you start the fire while I’ll set up a perimeter.”

He said, and Rick raised a brow in confusion, looking up into the grey sky above, barely seeing the sun’s rays peeking out from a single spot in the blanket of grey. A spot that was almost straight above them, indicating mid-day, or close to it.

Rick didn’t dwell or question it though, nodding as he and Brynjar set out on their respective task. A task that would take little time for Rick to complete, but wondered how long it’d take for Brynjar, considering that Rick didn’t know what “setting up a perimeter” meant.

But as the hour went by and a fire was roaring, Rick sat down on a nearby dead tree with Bob by his side, idling with his thumbs and staring into the fire. A pile of deadwood by his side, ready to supply the small inferno.

Looking around, Rick noticed Brynjar walking awfully slowly around their fire, using what appeared to be some white thing to draw on the ground. Being slow and meticulous, being very boring to look at.

Rick sighed, turning to look at Bob instead, seeing him waddling with his chunky legs, bouncing back and forth on the dead wood beneath his rump. Hands resting on his wooden knees as he seemed deep in thought, staring into the red inferno in front of them.

An idea flickered to life in Rick, remembering a mission he’d given himself. Remembering a bird he’d given life, a bird that might have proven a power he could have. A proof he’d need more proof for to feel confident in, proof that if correct, could turn into safety, that in turn could turn into actual fighting prowess that he could use to impress, and more importantly, help Brynjar.

Nodding to himself, Rick set out to find proper wood. Finding it hard to find. Having to clump around in the deep snow, shoveling around with cold-but-not-cold hands, the medicine being a powerful thing.

It took longer for Rick to find wood than it took for him to start the fire, but eventually, he found a good piece, and immediately went back to the deadwood for seating, throwing a few pieces to keep the fire burning, taking out his knife to start carving.

Pausing.

Staring a little lost at the block of wood in his hand, wondering what he should carve.

He wanted something strong, something that could fight. But, what?

He thought back, remembering the strongest statue he had ever made. Being the warrior, a man made out of an entire tree rather than a small block of wood. But he couldn’t use him for inspiration though, for obvious reasons.

He didn't have an axe.

Rick then wondered, how would he make something so small, into something powerful?

The robed man flashed in his mind, having powers that could not be explained.

But how did one make something unexplainable?

He pondered the problem, tapping at his block of wood with energetic fingers, knife flexing around those same fingers, nible and dextrous. Lost in thought.

Bob wandered into his vision, jumping into his lap and reaching for the block of wood. Rick felt his thoughts drift away, a distraction. Looking at said distraction, the distraction still managed to bring a smile to his face. Pulling the block of wood close, he let Bob finger it with his overtly big hands, trying to mimic Rick’s quick pace.

Dancing fingers playing a song for no one but them to hear. Fleshy and wooden. Rhytmic and uneven.

Then Rick realised something, looking up at Brynjar who was still walking slow circles around their fire. A realisation that Brynjar had accepted Rick even though he lacked any fighting prowess. Accepted him as someone who could help heal rather than kill.

A sobering thought, a thought that made Rick realise that he didn’t need power anymore, he had it with Brynjar. Brynjar was Rick's safety, Rick's sword. What he needed, what he could do, was to help Brynjar. What he needed, was to support him, be his shield.

With the new trail of thoughts, Rick felt himself engrossed, falling deep into thought. An image came to him, an image of, ice. Ice so crystal clear and strong that nothing could penetrate it. Ice that protected rather than killed, protected whoever stood behind it. Made by a being of snow and ice.

Opening his eyes, Rick felt compelled, pushed and pulled. He didn’t know what he wanted to carve, but he had to carve it, make it, birth it. The image felt so strong in his mind that he felt a tingling in his fingers, whispering movements into his mind. His body taking control, flowing like water as he started carving. Mind detached from his body, but body knowing what to do.

His eyes saw, but didn’t see. Hands carving, but not feeling. Mind focused, but wandering. Rick couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing. The only thing he knew for a fact, was what drove him, compelled him, being that image of crystal clear ice. Ice so strong that nothing could pass it.

Winters could have passed, and Rick wouldn’t be able to tell. Chunks of wood flew like pebbles down a sloped hill, carving with such precision and fines that a god would be envious.

Rick carved, until he wasn’t.

His hand moved through air, and Rick felt his eyes come back to reality. His inner mind’s eye that stared at the perfect image of ice had been replaced, replaced by reality. Staring down at his calloused hands that held his carving, his statue.

Rick stared, wondering what he was staring at. For he stared at what he could only be explained-

As a blob.

A rounded blob of, nothing. Nothing special, no wrinkles, nothing sticking out, no details, no, nothing. It was just a rounded oval blob of carved wood.

Rick wondered what had come over him, wondered what had happened to him. Shaking his head in confusion, putting it down as the medicine having some hand in it.

Turning to look up, he shrugged back slightly in surprise, finding the darkness of night, their small camp barely lit up by a small fire.

Brynjar sat beyond the fire, barely illuminated, bent down and resting his armoured elbows on armoured knees, armoured chin resting on armoured gauntlets, staring at either the fire or Rick.

Rick turned back to the blob of wood in his hands, turning it around to see if he’d missed anything. Finding that, no, it really was just a rounded blob of wood.

He sighed, wondering what had come over him again, then remembering the crystal clear image of ice in his mind. He sighed, slight annoyance mixed with acceptance, realising that his sudden fixation would be wasted if he did not at least try to give life to this, blob.

Rick carved the three swift motions necessary to make the uruz rune into the blob, not really caring where the rune was placed, it was to uniform to have a perfect place. And as he finished, he placed his entire hand on the blob, sighing, hoping that he’d learn at least something from this.

Like usual, when he reached within to give life to the blob, his ocean of life rose, rose as if a god was pulling the water like a thick rope. It rose until it came to his arm, up and down to his hand. Everything was like usual, usual for his bizarre amount of life. But then, as the first flicker of life touched the blob, everything went to hell.

As if on cue, his entire ocean of life started rising, rising as if several gods had started to pull the mass of ocean. The sight alarmed Rick, staring in slack jawed wonder and horror. What once looked endless, now seemed finite.

The ocean rose, rose until it met the bottleneck of his arm, pushing, hard. As it pushed, Rick felt uncomfortable, felt as if his being was being torn, pulled and pushed. The ocean of life rushed like the fastest arrow up his arm, through it and into the blob he held. His entire arm feeling like an overripe bottle, ready to explode at any second.

Rick felt alarm, fright. He tried removing his hand from the blob, unable, trapped in his own body, starring in horror as his ocean pushed and strained in his body. His endless ocean being tapped dry as it flowed horrifying fast into the blob.

What once was an ocean turned to a lake, turned to a river, turned to a creak. Rick desperately fighting the blob during this whole endeavour, trying in vain to remove his hand.

The creak turned to a puddle, Rick fought, trapped as he was.

The puddle became a drop.

Rick pulled with all his might.

The drop was greedily drunk by the blob.

Rick’s world went dark.