Stones click beneath the wheels of the carriage as Dyder Dornytter and Ede Myna Heren leave Beorgrud. They had stopped to change the original two black draught horses for two rested ones as they prepare to travel by night.
“Say, Dyder,” Ede starts, as she lies sprawled out on the black, upholstered leather bench closest to the driver; she rests her head on a soft down travel pillow but is unable to sleep: the bumpy road consistently jostles her awake. She is quite comfortable. “Do you know the folklore behind the linshkh?”
“Of course, I would say most men do, because we all secretly dread having to do the five trials. Have you never been told it?” Dyder answers.
“I’m sure my father did when I was younger; he’s very traditional.”
Dyder, well aware of the fondness of tradition belonging to his soon-to-be father-in-law, slides down the seat, groaning.
Ede chuckles. “Would you mind telling it to me?”
“Why? to help you sleep?” Dyder asks.
“No... of course not; I just figured you need that practice telling folktales and stories.” Ede peers out the window, watching the lantern swinging outside, illuminating a small area of the thick blanket of night.
Dyder raises an eyebrow. "I suppose you are right; I will try my best." Dyder clears his throat. “Once upon a time, in the far north of the Grand Northern Forest, the members of a small wooded vill gathered in the town center. The day was bright—a perfect day for testing a man. A foreign man from a distant vill has been sneaking in to visit the chief’s daughter regularly for the past few years; eventually, the two were caught. The chief was having none of it; he wanted to simply execute the man, but the pleas of his daughter made him reconsider—only slightly. He told the man that if he would pass five tests, he would let him marry his daughter. The first task was to clear the downed tree in the river; the foreigner agreed. The villagers followed, wishing to spectate the feat of strength. With all of his strength, he lifted the downed tree and dragged it away. The second task was to hunt and bring back the large bear that lived in a nearby cave. The father knew full well that everyone else, even in parties, never came back, but the foreigner went anyway with his sword in hand. One night passed, then two; by the third night, everyone assumed the worst, until the foreigner returned, dragging the bear behind him."
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“How do you think bear tastes?” Ede asks, sleep looming in her voice.
“Somewhere between beef and pork, but very fatty; I had it once when I was younger, in the summer of 1050. It was surprisingly sweet, but I’ve heard from others that bear can be very fishy in the fall,” Dyder responds.
“I wouldn’t mind eating a spring bear.”
“Well, unfortunately, I feel as though you will be eating a fall bear. May I continue?” Dyder hopes that ber'Heren does not make him hunt a bear (are there bears around Sk?dstan? Probably, but they would not be by the city, further east.), he would much rather simply go on a solo stag-hunt with a bow, as most men do for the linshkh trials.
“Of course.” Ede adjusts her head on the pillow, trying to find a new, more comfortable position.
With a breath, Dyder continues, “The third task was to simply share a drink with the men of the vill; the father wished to see what kind of man the foreigner was when he was drunk. They were all shocked when the man promptly fell asleep, no more than six drinks in. The fourth task was a trial of patience; the father told the foreigner that he had to catch one of the fish in the lake with his bare hands. The man agreed, and the two went to the lake. The man lay on his stomach and stuck his hand in the water, wiggling his thumb. Two minutes quickly passed, and the man pulled his hand from the water with his thumb in the mouth of a large fish. The father was pleased. The final task was to go further north and steal five small gold coins from the gnomes who lived deep in the forest, one for each task. So the foreigner packed and left for the north; two weeks later, he returned. The father asked him why he took so long and if he had the coins. The man reached into his pocket and pulled them out, but he told the father he did not steal them; he got them from the gnomes through honest work. The father smiled, pleased that the man had passed the true test, showing respect to the spirits of the land—and he gave the foreigner permission to marry his daughter. Later that day, the blacksmith melted the coins down and forged them into a linshkh, and they all lived happily ever after.” Dyder sighs, proud of himself for remembering everything. “How was that?” He asks his audience of one.
Ede did not respond—she has fallen asleep.
The slightly ajar front window slides further open, and the driver looks back. “I thought you did a good job; I feel that she would agree.”
“Thank you, I’m glad.” Dyder then rests his head against the wall and tries to let the bumping carriage rock him to sleep.
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