DG-SoH: To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

The one-eyed man quaffed the last dregs of the bitter draft and gingerly put down the empty cup onto the oaken table in front of him, his hand shaking as he did. His fabled strength was, unfortunately, not what it used to be. Oh, his muscles still held some potency but the smaller, slower movements vexed him. Even walking posed a problem or two nowadays.

But he had to come here today. Although some might say that they would have to travel a great distance, they would be here today. He would see his beloved friends again.

He sighed and, after adjusting the white fur cloak around his slumped and bony shoulders, looked across at the nearby fire that crackled in the inn's fireplace. The heat from the burning wood warmed his tired old bones whilst the light from the dancing flames entranced his remaining glassy eye and brought forth cloudy memories. He'd been here before - in this very seat - years ago when it had been full of children pestering him for tales of his early adventures. Now, though, the inn was quiet; only a few patrons hid in the dark corners, keeping their company and secrets to themselves.

The one-eyed man moved his singular gaze from the fireplace towards the rest of the common room and it's shadowy alcoves. Soon, he would see most of his friends again and had secured the best table in the room, right next to the fire, just for the occasion. Nowadays, he could get any table in any of the inns from here to Chamdar's Girdle. He could probably get almost anything he wanted, if he asked. But not because of the gold. Now he was a hero to the free people of the Western kingdoms. Minstrels across the lands sang of his exploits, his battles against Nodruuk and Valgard and his part in the Quest for Daricus the First One. They even called him "Sir" after that overly extravagant ceremony in the newly-built Temple of Sun in Freehold.

The one-eyed man grinned. Sir! It wasn't that long ago that they'd called him barbarian. Of course, it had been a long time since his people had truly been barbarians but old habits died hard, he guessed. Northreach hadn't really been peopled by barbarians since Ifus dan Yaarek had united the various tribes within the city of Freehold and thus brought the first stirrings of civilisation to the frozen north. But still they called them barbarians; rough but proud men and women who lived outside the glorious southern lands of Nordren and Derugar.

The light was beginning to fade now. It seemed to the one-eyed man that the room quietened to a hush as if it held it's breath in anticipation. He smiled to himself. He been waiting for such a long time but knew he would soon be with his companions of old. Some he had not seen in many years and yet others had left him only recently, or so it seemed to his old mind. Perhaps he would see the twins? Or their beautiful mother, one of the many reasons he could never be a true Knight no matter what honours were bestowed upon him.

With a shaking, callused hand, the one-eyed man tiredly scratched at his scraggly beard and gazed down at the empty cup in front of him. He could still taste the bitterness the cup had held on his thin lips. He didn’t drink much now, even back at Balor Keep, and generally when he did it was to mark a special occasion. And today would be special, that he knew. Aye, the man thought to himself as his wispy chin settled upon his chest, they would all talk about this day for years to come.

A cold wind suddenly blew through the room, as if a door had opened. The fire in the hearth spluttered and went out. The one-eyed man did not move but looked up into the fallen twilight and smiled.

They were here.