Paths of Green and Gold

Thoris - sword

The gardener stopped screaming and clamped his mouth. He was pale, his furious gaze focused on the boy. A tall man standing behind des Esseintes looked dizzy.

"How dare you, you wretched brat!" the gardener shrieked pointing his accusing finger at surprised Dekares. "I'm gonna tear you to shreds, you bastard!"  

The companion of the screaming man grabbed his shoulders and held him in place. Des Esseintes flailed his arms, screeching. His voice could probably break glass.

"You come here seeking help and then do such things? I let you in my garden as a guest, and you profane it with your presence and your barbarity! Murderer! Criminal! Monster!" The small man shouting curses and profanities tried to wriggle out from the steel grasp of the young man in a grey robe. After a while, his face was already purple from the effort and his mouth covered in drool. His eyes cast lightning bolts and his fists clenched as if he really wanted to beat up the confused boy.

Thorn shook off the first shock and glanced at the boy. A spark of understanding appeared in his mind. He smiled slightly.  

[Who would think that a man filled with love for all creatures can hide so much murderous fury inside him? This garden is a wonderful place to rest and recover... for people with steel nerves...]

'What is going on here?" A screeching voice cut the gardener's screams. Another robe-clad figure appeared in the garden. The stern gaze of bright eyes observed the situation, narrow lips clamped in disapproval. 

Des Esseintes wilted under doctor Tregarth’s stare – this time his face seemed to redden due to embarrassment. Although his body still shook with the burning out fury, he didn't dare to raise his head and face his superior. The young man standing next to him was the epitome of humility and obedience - his eyes on the ground and muscular arms hanging by his sides.

Thorn went back to the bench, paying only slight attention to the spectacle.

The doctor's gaze stopped on the dusty boots of the boy still standing in the grass, and then scrutinized his shabby outfit, fresh bruises, and cuts on his face.  

"My dear Jan," Tregarth started with the same screeching voice. "You know very well that such outbursts are not good for your health. Especially in this heatwave..." He paused for more effect, and then continued. "Our hospital would suffer an irreparable loss if a sudden fit of apoplexy forced our outstanding botanist into a long convalescence. I'm afraid our beautiful garden would fall into ruin without your caring hands, my friend." The doctor's words calmed the gardener down and he finally decided to raise his gaze - first at his senior and then - in a silent accusation - at Dekares.

The eyes of the speaker followed the same direction. Before des Esseintes managed to say anything, the doctor's voice filled the air again.   

"This boy just arrived in the city, and the state of his clothing indicates that his journey led through wild places, devoid of care and creative genius of an experienced gardener. He hasn't had a chance to learn the difference between a wild meadow and a lovingly groomed lawn. How could he know he was committing a crime?" The doctor's face was still serious, but there was a note of amusement in his voice.   

Tregarth focused his gaze on the boy's feet yet again. Dekares glanced down and blushed - his dirty boots were crushing lusciously green blades of grass and small blue flowers hidden in the greenery. He quickly jumped to the stone path.  

"Don't forget about your heart, Jan," the doctor continued his speech. "You should finally start taking care of it just like you do with your plants... Forgive the boy his lack of knowledge. I'm sure he won't damage your lawns ever again." The questioning gaze met the boy's eyes. "For now I'll make sure he doesn't annoy you with his presence anymore as I'm the person he came to see. Adrian will take care of the garden barbarian's weapons, and you, Jan, will be able to look after your plants in peace. I hope your afternoon will be more peaceful.” The last sentence accompanied by a dry smile was clearly directed at Thorn.

The doctor walked to the exit and gestured for the boy to follow him.

"If you came to see a doctor, boy, please come with me. My name is Tregarth and I'll be happy to take care of your injuries.”

Thorn was full of admiration for the way the medic tamed the chaos surrounding him. He looked at the bruised youth again - his posture showed that he decided to meekly submit to the leader of the herd.

While handing his sword to the hospital helper, the boy hesitated. That moment of doubt didn't escape the warrior, and immediately erased the smile from his face.

+++

[He was sitting on the bed, looking around the unfamiliar room, his vision still blurry. His heart was thumping with the echoes of the nightmare that tore him out of the heavy unhealthy sleep. A drop of cold sweat lazily made its way down his temple. Foggy memories of the forest road and four grim thugs mixed with the scenes created by his imagination. The returning reality brought with it the pain, making the memory of the bolts that reached the target all the more vivid. However, everything was dominated by the burning image of his only heritage - did he lose it on that forest road?

The rustling of the bedsheets got the attention of the figure standing by the window. She turned to him and walked to the bed.

"How are you feeling, brother?" Her voice was full of worry. 

With some effort he managed to focus his eyes on her, trying to control the chaos raging in his thoughts.

"The sword...?" his voice raspy, he didn't even try to hide his desperation.

"It's here..." his sister said, walking to the corner of the room. "You don't need to worry. Just rest."

Before she finished speaking, he sprang out of bed and hurried after her, not minding his body's weakness or the explosion of pain. He didn't even know why he did that. He reached her the moment she was trying to get the weapon and pushed her hand away, picking up the long blade by himself.  He froze in the middle of the movement, surprised with his own actions. 

He looked at his twin.   

"Don't touch it," he said firmly.  

His sister c****d her head and laughed.

"And since when we don't share everything we have?" she said teasingly, reaching out to take the weapon again.

The hard slap sounded like a thunder in the quiet room. They looked at each other in shock. His hand fell limply to his side. His sister's eyes filled with tears. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the words. She turned around and ran out of the room. 

The slammed door echoed the previous sound.]

+++

Thorn shook off the memory. His fingers were gripping the edge of the bench. He made an effort to relax his muscles and looked around. Getting up, he walked towards the helper who came with des Esseintes and bowed in greeting.

"Sir, if it's possible I'd like to get access to my luggage," he said without unnecessary introductions, not wanting to waste the young man's time.

"Of course," the man smiled shyly and gestured for the warrior to follow him.

He was a little taller than Thorn and his loose robe couldn't hide his muscular arms and chest – with such body Adrian could be a blacksmith's apprentice and not a helper at the hospital, but his smooth face emanated peace, and his eyes shone with gentleness. The young man was strong and level-headed, which made him perfect support for the doctor. Especially in case of difficult patients... or mad gardeners...   

Going down to the basement made Thorn uneasy. He never liked dungeons - they suffocated him; partly because there was usually not enough space to fight comfortably, but mostly because he felt overwhelmed with the weight of stones over his head and being underground - it wasn't natural for someone raised in the forest… 

The basement was as clean as the corridors above, and there were oil lamps standing at intervals. But now, during the day, the light came from small windows placed regularly near the ceiling.

"It's here," Adrian stopped and opened the door. He put the key back into his pocket and lit a lamp.

The shivering flame revealed a contour of square shelves stacked in the shape of a honeycomb. They filled all the walls of the room. In a few of them, Thorn could see some items, but most remained empty.

"Your backpack is here. The sword is too big, I'm afraid," the young man looked embarrassed. "So I had to put it in the corner. I hope the protection is adequate and your weapon wasn't damaged..."  

The warrior noticed the sword standing in the corner, carefully wrapped in a sheet and bound with bandages. He walked to the weapon hidden in an unusual sheathe and gently caressed the fabric, checking if there really was hard metal underneath. Forgetting about the young man standing at the entrance, he started to peel off the bandages, revealing first the hilt and then the long blade. He smiled.

Turning to Adrian, he stared at the young man for a while, looking for the right words.

"I... I wouldn't like to cause any trouble, but..." he started shyly. "Is there a place where I could take care of my blade?"