Chapter 3. A Wild Road

  Lost in thought, Theodren made his way down the dusty road towards town. He knew that the books in his quarters were laughably inadequate. Perhaps he could write a letter to the conclave?

  Not that much help would be expected in response to a letter from a town as small as the one he found himself in. No, he would simply have to create a solution as he always had. Determination, creativity, and not a small amount of luck.

  His time in the academy had not been an easy one. He struggled with the most basic of weavings that the other acolytes could accomplish with the flick of a wrist.

  Power, he knew, could be exactly tied to the depth of one’s divine thread. And that could not be altered no matter how hard one might try. And while the average priest's thread could be compared to a fine tablecloth, his was more akin to a handkerchief.

  Still, size wasn’t everything he reminded himself. He managed to graduate by the efficiency with which he used his thread. Gaining an understanding of the process through which his goal might be accomplished and ordering it into motion. Unfortunately, no amount of cleverness could gain him a higher posting, not that he wanted one anyhow. He was quite content in this town of humble… Bears…

  He froze. standing in the road before him, not 30 paces, were 2 smallish cubs and one mountain of shaggy red fur. Silently cursing himself for his complacency, he stared at the mother bear who stared right back at the large human. They blinked at each other for a time and Theodren began to hope that she might let him past. Then that hope and the morning quiet were shattered by the mother bears ROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAR!

  “SHIT!” Theodren cursed and readied his mighty shovel. He dropped into a low stance. Drilled into his very bones by his father, in the 18 years before being spirited off to priesthood.

  He held the shovel above his head pointed at the charging bear in a “roof” guard. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, NOW!” He roared at the beast as he drew back with his lead foot. As he moved he was only vaguely aware that the tips of the creature's claws had scored his chest.

  Using every ounce of momentum and downward force from his footwork to his adrenaline fueled hands, he swung with all his might, and was rewarded with a loud CLANG! As the mother bear received the christening blow of his newly made shovel to her tender nose.

  She reared back with a roar and then a whimper as she went to rub her snout into her forearm. Now re-assessing the large human with the painful stick, she retreated to her cubs, urging them into the brush beside the trail. Her large hind quarters disappeared into the foliage.

  The priest shook himself from his cautious silence and shouted and went to brandish his impromptu weapon in victory until he noticed the new and sizable dent in the tool. “Built and destroyed on the same day. That must be some kind of record.” He mused. The adrenaline was wearing off. And with its absence came a blistering new pain in his chest. He looked down at the angry red gouges in his chest beneath what was only minutes ago his last nice smock. “ I suppose it’s a good thing I was going to see Polly anyhow.” he winced. Gathering his resolve, he pressed on towards town.

  Theodren stumbled into town. Doing his best not to draw attention to himself was more easily said than done when the front of his smock and trousers were soaked in red.

  Pieter looked up from his pens, bushy brows shooting to what was left of his hair. “Priest? What happ…” Theodren shoved what was once a shovel into Pieters chest. “I made you a new shovel. Where’s Polly?” Bug eyed, Pieter looked down at the misshapen metal lump on a stick and then back at the bloodied priest.

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  “Inside” he managed. Theodren nodded a Thankyou and pushed into the modest home. “Polly! Do you have a minute?” Pieter stood frozen in his confusion. Looking at the shovel in his hand that looked like it had been bent around the middle.

  Inside the house he shared with his wife the herbalist he heard her squawk, “What in heaven's name did you do???” Putting down the shovel and shuffling past Rosie and Daisy, he made his way to his front door. This was a tale he just had to hear.

  Theodren sat on the humble yet sturdy chair Polly had carefully selected with his bulk in mind. She had cut what remained of his shirt down the middle, revealing the 4 jagged claw marks in his chest.

  He grunted in what he hoped was a stoic manner as she daubed a poultice on the last line. “Oh hush.” She scolded, standing back to inspect her work. “It’s the least you deserve after barging in here. Scared me half to death!”

  Theodren looked sheepish. “I’m sorry Poll, wasn’t thinking straight.” She nodded sagely, “I should say! Running around battling bears in the woods? Seems to me you’ve your head in the clouds boy!”

  There were few who would scold Theodren in such a manner. Polly clearly being one, and her daughter Eleina being the other. The two women used their fiery red hair and sharp tongues to devastating effect. Ruling any space they set themselves in. “I was thinking about Ellie.” Theodren interjected. Polly paused. Her next admonishment dying on her tongue. She looked at him waiting for him to continue.

  “The readings were bad Poll. Real bad. I was trying to read up on childbirth from the old priest’s books but…” Polly snorted. “That man knew as much about midwifery as Evan does about cooking.” Theodren glanced to the blackened hearth where the last of Evan’s culinary fiascos had left its mark. Theodren sat forward resting his elbows on his knees. “I can’t afford the ignorance and neither can Eleina. I have to figure something out.”

  Polly’s stern expression softened. “No you don’t.” Theodren’s brows pushed together as he looked up at the woman. She sighed.

  “You assume too much, priest.” She walked over to a ream of cloth bandages sitting on her work bench. “Do you know how many child births your predecessor attended during his lifetime here?” Theodren paused, “I don’t…”

  She began wrapping his chest tightly eliciting a wince. “None. That man was as helpful as a hole in your shoe.” Finishing up the bandages she continued. “ I’ve brought every child in this village into this world, and I did it without the Weaver’s help.”

  Theodren wanted to interject something akin to “all good things come from Odrain” but he held his tongue. “But this time.” Continued Polly, “I’ll get an honest to goodness priest to assist in my charge. And together.” She looked him in the eye. “We will do right by Eleina.”

  Theodren exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d taken. She was right. The birth wasn’t his responsibility, it never was. He’d gotten so caught up in the problem he hadn’t realized that it wasn’t his to solve. He realized that he was in fact lucky that she would allow him to assist in whatever capacity he could.

  He looked up at her. “Thanks Poll.” She nodded, handing him a jar of ointment and a handful of fresh bandages. “Now get out of my house or I’ll sic Evan on you.”

  He chuckled, rising to his feet. Evan was not much of a town guard but he was the only guard the town had. He was boyish in his charm and appearance. An agreeable fellow to be certain. But of course one had to be to marry Polly’s only child. As Theodren stepped out of the house Pieter was waiting for him with a sack by the gate post. “Quite a morning then, eh priest?”

  Theodren groaned good naturedly. “Between that bear’s claws and Polly’s sharp tongue, I don’t know which whipped me worse.” Pieter chuckled shaking his head. “Both will fade with time I’m sure.” He nudged the sack with his foot. “It’s not much of a meal, but then that wasn’t much of a shovel was it?”

  Despite his words, the sack looked fit to burst with sausage and other cured meats. “It looked a lot better last night” Theodren shot back. Pieter cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve heard that excuse before, lad.” The priest rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the meat Pieter.” Pieter’s smile only broadened. “I've heard that before as well!” He cackled.

  “Pieter Tabin!” The color drained from Pieter’s previously mirthful cheeks. “You’ve been told no such thing! Now quit scandalizing our only priest you wastrel!” Theodren dared not look back at the house, but when he heard the door close he thought it safe to breathe again.

  “You got me in trouble, priest.” Pieter grumbled. He reached in the sack and pulled out a sausage which disappeared behind his bushy mustache. “Hardship fee.” He stated, chewing. Theodren nodded. “Understood.” Taking the bag, he strode off deeper into the town to find some new clothes that might fit.