Grimbauld the Foolhardy and the Chieftains Daughter

A short story

“Where is your father, girl? The barbarians approach.”

Weary soldiers sat slumped in their saddles as the town gates swung shut behind them. The one at the front, who seemed covered in the most amount of dust, was leaning down and shouting in an annoyingly familiar way.

The chieftains daughter stared at this young warrior, barely old enough to grow whiskers on his face, and who stank of sweat and horse, in disbelief.

“Strumgali is dead. Ten days now.”

Grimbauld was shocked into silence.

He had led his regiment into the south lands to put an end to bands of raiders that had been marauding through the countryside, attacking towns and villages, burning as they went.

However, he had soon realised his mistake. These were not an unorganised gaggle of hungry brigands, but rather a well armed invading force.

They had stumbled upon the barbarians when they were setting up camp a few days back and had been forced to retreat before fighting running skirmishes whilst Grimbauld desperately led his men towards Magdela, what had once been his old village and was now a prosperous town, where he could rely on the support of Strumgali and his garrison.

Grimbauld had known the old soldier since he was a boy. He had been a surrogate father to him, with his wife and daughters becoming the family he had cruelly lost years before.

It was Strumgali that had convinced him to join the city guard where he had served for decades himself before retiring back to Magdela. The young man’s exploits were already infamous throughout the land, but his old friend could tell he wanted more. It was clear fate had other plans for him.

Under Strumgali’s careful watch, not only had Grimbauld risen through the ranks of the guards, but Magdela had also flourished and become a successful trading centre. No doubt that was what had drawn these raiders.

The lieutenant cursed, wishing the old man was still here, not only to guide him in this dangerous time, but to be his best friend and mentor as he always had been. His destiny was turning out to be full of the cruelties that had been foretold.

And now, with the enemy closing in, could this really be his childhood friend, Faye with whom he had played and run through the village with, causing havoc with all those years ago? But where was the dirty nosed girl he had grubbed about with? Now, a beautiful young woman stood before him, telling the grimmest news. Yet, he had to keep calm and show her the man he had become, not the headstrong boy he once was, and that he was in complete control of this situation, despite the fear that was twisting his guts.

“Are you an idiot, Grimbauld?”

Her words brought him back to himself just in time to realise he had been staring.

“What? I … What?” he spluttered as calmly as he could.

“Well, I suppose your plans always were terrible. Just like when we were children, and you blundered us into old woman Perofire’s orchard and nearly lost me my pony tail, you have hugely miscalculated again.”

Grimbauld felt his anger rise, and yet he couldn’t help but notice how blue Faye’s eyes were. Even with the battle paint on her face. Wait. Had she been wearing that this whole time?

“We have been under constant attacks for weeks now. Surely you noticed the ditches and stockades when you came riding in. The only reason you never got an arrow in the chest is I recognised you. Even from a distance.”

He wasn’t sure what to do with that last sentence so instead blustered, “And the fact we’re the city guard.”

A distracted, “Hmm,” was the only response he got to that statement.

“Finally, a few days ago, we defeated the last of them but our losses were heavy. As his eldest, my fathers death put me in charge of the garrison.”

If she noticed Grimbauld’s eyebrows shoot up at this then Faye kept her own council, and the lieutenant felt it wise he do the same.

“However, as tired and grieving as we all were, we knew more could come at any time so we stayed prepared. We are weary and malnourished and could have used a few more days rest, yet it appears you have led them right to our front door.”

“We were trying to save you!”

“Well, you could have doomed us all. How many guardsmen do you have, and how many of the enemy approach?”

“Forty of my men remain. I count at least five times that chasing us.”

Faye shook her head. “Those are heavy odds.”

There was a brief second pause. A thousand questions and thoughts raced through Grimbauld’s mind, but remembering where he was, what had happened and who stood in front of him, he tentatively held out his hand.

“I am sorry for the loss of your father. He was great man and a good friend.”

His voice cracked on the last word and he ducked his head in shame, but Faye took his hand and briefly squeezed it.

“We have all seen too much loss,” she whispered kindly. “I would rather we went back to happier times.” Then her eyes hardened once more and she raised her sword. “But, for now, let us seek vengeance.”

Grimbauld nodded and turned to rally his men when Faye touched his arm again and said with a sly, amused smile. “And, if we survive this, I’ll maybe show you happier times later,” leaving the fearsome warrior, about whom tales and songs were already being told and sung throughout the land in the most grandiose terms, gaping like a stunned fish cast onto dry land.

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So, another little excerpt about our hero. I thought this was going to be a longer tale, but I like just giving little vignettes of his adventures. There are no rules how long or short a story should be. The tale is in the telling and each of us are the storytellers. You tell it until there’s nothing more to tell. No one should try and convince us otherwise.

Of course, we have already met Faye, but many years later, in much sadder circumstances :-

A Warriors Rest

I thought it would be nice to show how these two met and bring a little romance into Grimbauld’s life. It goes to show that young love, even with fearsome warriors, always seems to leave us completely befuddled. As I’ve said before, with a story, as with life, it is not the destination that we look forward to, but the journey of how we get there. Grimbauld has many more journey’s to take and I’m looking forward to sharing them with you.