Orgadesh had a lot to think about. He was always a strong man, until he lost one of his arms to a great hunter. He was frustrated because the other farmers took pity on him, since he was raising Grimden by himself. They helped him wherever they could, and even out in the fields when he’d raise a sickle to cut a heft of wheat, someone would grab the top so that it wouldn’t fall to the ground. He was really lucky to have friends like them. It wasn’t any of his concern really, but he felt somewhat bad for the Shariz family.

They’d lived outside of the village for as long as twelve years, but not once did the villagers go out to their residence in good spirits; no crops to share, nor meals to give. They had only insults to spew. Orgadesh’s demeanor was because of his friends, he thought, but what really started the conflict?

He couldn’t say, but for as long as he could remember, he’d hated the Fey. He despised every ounce of the forest, and anything that resembled Fey-magic was on his list. Salahkah had come into town stating that he was a Master Hunter who had to give up his rank to come live out here away from the guild, but the townsfolk took that to mean he was just a deserter. That he’d let love overcome duty, and Orgadesh didn’t like that.

Orgadesh’s own wife, Ulten, had passed away shortly after their son’s birth. He never had a father figure to depend on, so he never knew how to parent. Eventually, it seemed as if Grimden was self-sufficient enough that he could learn from the others in the village. Orgadesh had a hard time to begin with, but with one hand it made it even more difficult. He wasn’t an easy child to discipline, probably because of the same stubbornness that he had himself. They didn’t have anything in common either, aside from picking on the Shariz gentlemen.

Orgadesh hardly slept the night after they’d visited him at the tavern. He had sat at his table with his friends, remaining quiet, and feeling indifferent to their cheer and other stories that they shared. He got home and laid, stirring restlessly. In the morning, just before Grimden was to leave and play with his friends, Orgadesh stopped his son.

“Grim,” Orgadesh started, standing by the door. “I need to talk to you about something.”

He tried to search for the parental words of wisdom that he may have been able to bestow upon his son.

“Can this wait, dad? Oscar and them are really waiting for me.” Grimden said in an impatient manner. Orgadesh was taken aback, and stood there for a moment silent. Orgadesh nodded, and his son opened the door, leaving into the village air. The door closed.

Orgadesh fell to the floor, his back against the door. He felt a whir of emotions inside of his chest. He swelled and swelled, thinking about what a horrible job he’d done at raising his child. He could imagine Akahsha’s apology that he received the night before, and even though his son had beat him over the head with a rock, he still apologized to Orgadesh. Grimden wasn’t a great son, but what son would be great without an equally great father?

He sat there for some time, his face resting in his palm. He didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t have anyone else who would know. For a time, he imagined the things he could say to his son, but each one fell flat. Would it be too cruel to yell at him for abusing a village boy who was mutually disliked by all of the village? Would he even listen to words? He never imagined hitting his son, no. That was something Orgadesh’s father had done, for the short while he existed in his life.

He relaxed his head against the door, with is eyes closed. He thought of the people in the town who would be able to help him. But who would want to help him? He’d been a sad, sorry excuse for a farmer, let alone a father. He couldn’t ask anymore of his friends, as he knew that he was already in too deep of a debt with them. Besides, their children were all well-behaved. They had women in their lives for that.

Orgadesh opened his eyes and forced himself to his feet. He put on his jacket to the best of his abilities. He grabbed some bread rolls that were from midweek’s wheat harvest, some fruit from Hellanie’s stand, and some salted meat from the butcher. He placed it all in a basket, and he took it with him. He left his home, looking out on the town before him. He passed by neighbors and townsfolk who he greeted and they greeted back. He walked out of the village limits, pass the wheat fields, and on the path to the woods.

He hadn’t taken this path for about six years. The last time he had, Salahkah had cut off his forearm. There were a myriad of men who were ready to cut the Master Hunter’s throat because of the crime that he committed, but why did he do that again? Oh, Orgadesh remembered. He stopped after a few minutes into the woods and sighed deeply. He wouldn’t discipline Grimden. He took a deep breath and continued walking. He passed the basic wildlife that he never took notice of before. Deer were prancing along through the woods. Rabbits ran amok between the trees. Birds built their homes in the trees above. Ahead, Orgadesh could hear the sound of wood chopping.

Salahkah wore his leather coat and familiar red leather pants from the night before. He swung a red-handled axe with a black axeblade. There was a pile of firewood next to him, and a few remaining logs. He was sweating, and his hair was tied up into a bun. Orgadesh approached from behind and stood there for a moment, his heart pounding. When Salahkah finished, he turned around. He was unnerved, his eyes staring coldly into Orgadesh’s. He noticed the basket in his hand. Salahkah set the axe on the chopping block and turned back to Orgadesh.

“I brought you these,” Orgadesh bowed slightly and handed the basket to Salahkah. His eyebrows raised out of confusion, and when he opened the basket to see the food, he looked back to the visitor.

“Come with me,” Salahkah beckoned the half-orc. Orgadesh followed behind as they walked further towards the house, and then pass it to another building down the hill. Salahkah unlocked the door and let the man inside. Orgadesh saw the furs that decorated the walls, and the leathers that were still being processed. Salahkah placed the basket on the work table, and he placed two stools next to each other. On another table, there was a small stove. Salahkah sparked a flame and began to make a pot of tea.

“I didn’t think you’d ever make your way out here,” Salahkah admitted. “In fact, I thought you hated me.”

Orgadesh didn’t know what to say, so he remained quiet for a moment. Then he swallowed hard and nodded to himself, knowing that he was going to have to say something eventually.

“I don’t hate you, I just think we’re different. I actually think I’m jealous of what you have.” Orgadesh finally said. It was a large weight that had been on him for a long time. Finally he might have the courage to say something. “I am jealous that you have such a well-behaved son, and a wife who knows right and wrong. I’ve been hateful for a long time, and I can’t do what I have done for a long time anymore. I want to be able to grow and learn. I want to have a son who is worth a piss. I want to be a father who his son can be proud of, not..” He gestured to himself. “This.”

Salahkah smiled, not out of humor but out of respect for the man whose arm he had to cut off all those years ago. When the tea was finished brewing, he poured a cup for the man and for himself. He sat down next to him.

“I was actually a lot like you when I was much younger. You see, I was sold at an early age. I was a gladiator. Not against people, but against monsters. It took me a few years, but I learned so much about my folly that I was able to fight for my freedom. The Monster Hunting Guild took me in, and I fought so many monsters that I lost feeling for most, if not all living things. It got to a point where I had nightmares of the monsters I hunted, and that they were still coming. I couldn’t sleep any longer, and I couldn’t stop killing the monsters, either. The Guild needed my expertise. You see, I’m lucky that I met Gelmana, because without her, I’d be lost. Do you remember why you had Grimden?”

Orgadesh took a drink of his tea. It was warm, and he felt no shiver from the outside cold. He took a moment to process Salahkah’s story, and to ponder his question. He could think of meeting Ulten, and her beauty brought him back to their first moonlit night under the stars. Her pointed chin was so perfect, and her curvy figure made him lose his mind. He recalled the love that they shared for one another, and how ready they were to bring life into the world. It was difficult for her, because she had complications during the pregnancy. He remembered that he had to be strong for her, because she couldn’t do anything on her own. When Grimden was born, they were both happy, and one moment Ulten smiled and the world was right. The next moment, Ulten’s eyes were closed, and they wouldn’t open. Orgadesh was left alone with Grimden.

“Yeah, I remember why.” Orgadesh’s expression turned grim, but Salahkah patted his shoulder.

“Remember, Orgadesh. You’re not alone in this world. You may be the father of your boy, but you’re not the only one who can help. A family is a structured team, bound by communication and trust.” Salahkah took a sip of his tea. “If you’re not happy with something, speak your mind. Otherwise, trust that person. Do you trust Grimden?”

The half-orc lowered his head, looking towards the floor. He never thought that much about Grimden’s actions. Hell, he’d never paid much attention to his own. He was sure that he could trust Grimden, but maybe not now.

“I have to say something to him, but what do I say?” Orgadesh looked up to Salahkah. Salahkah grinned wide, in fact, the first time that Orgadesh had ever seen him grin before.

“You have to say something that reminds him that you’re his father.” Salahkah laughed. “He’s a boy who thinks he knows everything, and you’re a man who still doesn’t know everything. Remind him his place, and put your foot down on his actions. You must curb his bad behavior by stopping it when it starts. Akahsha used to talk to everyone - now he doesn’t. I stopped that shit, quick. Does he get himself in trouble sometimes? Oh yeah, but I always straighten his act up. You can’t be afraid of your children, but you can’t have them be afraid of you. It’s based on respect.

“You’ll just know what to say, but you mustn't be too hard on the boy, either. It’s hard to gain trust back once you lose it.” Salahkah’s grin faded back into a smile. “But I believe in you, Orgadesh. I didn’t know what to do either at the start. I just taught him everything I know. I told him how I would do stuff, and correct him when he needed it. He’s still needing correcting. I made him apologize to you last night, but that was genuine on his part. He did feel bad about everything.”

Salahkah looked at Orgadesh in the eyes.

“And so do I. I’m sorry about chopping your arm off. That wasn’t adult of me to do. I was acting like a ruthless monster hunter.” Salahkah said.

“I’m sorry my son bashed yours over the head with a brick. I can’t imagine the rage that would fill me with. I’m glad you didn’t kill me.” Orgadesh replied.

Salahkah looked away and exhaled. “In my mind I did. I hadn’t felt so angry in such a long time. I had to do horrible things a long time ago. I haven’t always been a great person, but I have been strong. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

“I already have. I’ll talk to my son,” Orgadesh stood. “I’ll be by tomorrow, Salahkah. Thank you for everything.” He walked to the door. He looked back at Salahkah, who was still sitting, looking back at the half-orc who once was not his friend. Now they were both sure that they were each other’s friends.