“You know,” said Otkel, on a fine day that spring, “I really do need to visit Runolf at some point. Why not today?”
Skammkel* and Audolf stared at him for a moment, then exchanged a genuine smile.
“We’ll all go with you,” promised Audolf, and Hallkel and Hallbjorn agreed.
It was a gleeful party that set out. Otkel was on Otkel (horse), and no one was on Skammkel (man or horse). The Skammkels (man and horse) were coming along as plus ones, and Skammkel (horse) was so excited by the trip and the fine weather that he started galloping ahead. Otkel (horse), who like his namesake followed wherever Skammkel went, neighed and bolted. Otkel (man) pulled the reins and tried to get him under control, but Otkel (horse) wasn’t having any of it. He hadn’t been out for weeks! This was freedom!
Otkel started to panic. This road ran by Gunnar’s property, and they were practically trespassing.
No, they were trespassing – Otkel veered off and ran towards the bushes, carrying Otkel with him… just as Gunnar stood up.
That morning, he’d gone out on his own to trim the hedge by the road – he preferred the bushes to be shaped like dragon heads. He’d elected to wear his best cloak while doing this; you never know who might be passing by. Aside from the hedge clippers and a small hatchet, Gunnar was unarmed.
Hearing hoofbeats, he stood up to see what the commotion was all about – just as the Otkels careened by. Otkel managed to swerve at the last second, but his spur just barely clipped Gunnar’s ear. Blood spurted everywhere. It could have been much worse, of course, but blood was blood and the stains would never come out. **
“Wow. Just wow.” Gunnar shook his head, flicking an improbable amount of blood in a semi-circular splash zone. “First you sue me, then you attack me on my own property.”
“I didn’t attack you,” protested Otkel, finally managing to reign Otkel in. By this time, the other riders had managed to catch up, and gathered protectively around their friend.
“I’m not impressed,” said Gunnar, wrapping the edge of his cloak around his ear. “You said you’d stay out of my way.”
“Big talk for a man who isn’t even holding his halberd,” scoffed Skammkel.
“Shut up, Skammkel,” snapped Hallbjorn. “These lines about Gunnar’s halberd aren’t nearly as devastating as you seem to think.”
“I’ll have the halberd next time.” Gunnar was still calm. “Get off my property.”
“We were just going,” said Otkel hastily.
“Off we go,” agreed Skammkel. “That was nice riding, buddy. Perfect aim.”
Every single member of the party facepalmed. Gunnar just raised his eyebrows and made for the farmhouse.
Everyone at Hlidarendi assumed that he’d cut his own ear with the hedge clippers by mistake. It was a farm, after all – minor injuries were so common that people barely noticed. However, a few days later, he fessed up to Kolskegg, who was horrified.
“You need to tell people,” he insisted. “Otherwise, either Otkel will tell his version first, and that version will make you look bad, or he won’t tell anyone, and then it’ll look like you attacked him for no reason when you inevitably kill him. And you’ll look bad.”
So, one by one, Gunnar reluctantly dropped by each neighbour’s house and explained how he cut his ear.
Sure enough, Otkel told the entire story to Runolf as soon as he arrived, and Runolf shook his head. “That’s not going to end well. How did Gunnar react?”
“If it wasn’t Gunnar, I’d say he cried like a little baby,” butted in Skammkel. “But you can’t say such a thing about Gunnar of Hlidarendi, so I won’t.”
“That was mean,” frowned Runolf. “And obviously not true. I wish decent people didn’t have to pay for your bullshit, Skammkel.”
“He’s my friend!” said Otkel indignantly.
“You’re a fool.” Runolf shook his head wearily. “I’ll walk you home, since Gunnar won’t kill you if I’m there. That’s all I can do.”
“It’ll be fine,” said Otkel. “I promise. We’ll steer clear of Gunnar’s farm.”
“See my previous statement,” sighed Runolf. “I guess this is it, Otkel. We won’t see each other again.”
Otkel digested that. “If you’re right,” he asked carefully, “Will you take care of my kids?”
* He’d popped up again when things quieted down, armed with compliments and a smile that had several industrial powers eyeing him and debating the benefits of an invasion.
** He should have invested in one of Svan’s Patent Hemophobic Robes, now available from Troll Mountain for only 99 ells.
Saxo Dramaticus 