"I- I killed him… He had lived and now 'e jus' ain't livin' anymore Oh Gods. What- what have I done…"
The young teenager stammered his words, gazing upon the still-bleeding body of a poor man. A Northern man, who stood beside the child clasped a hand over his small shoulder. The Northern man spoke gently, kneeling over and muttering silently into the ginger's elongated ear, speaking much like a father would when their child was in turmoil.
"All men have to die. If they don't die, they aren't a human, they aren't a Nelfin, they are no orc nor yanar. And what do we do with people who aren't any of those?"
The child stuttered his words, his welling eyes looking up at the thin-bearded man, "W- we kill 'em… N- no matter how hard… W- we kill 'em… Cause things that don't die gotta' die."
the Northern man nodded, "Right. Now eat up, your soup is getting cold."
The little boy picked his bowl back up with his shaky, bloody hands. The redness of them pronounced passed his pale skin. Much like a canvas' white color to show the painting's true color. In this case, the blood painted the child's true nature. The small Nelfin shoved his wooden spoon full of sludge-like soup into his mouth, his nose and lips recoiling into a scrunch, the taste overwhelmingly terrible. The Northman roughed up the Nelfin's long locks, tangling them, a few strands going astray as they stuck upwards,
"Lighten up. If you want to learn under me, and most of all, survive. You have to do the worst things anyone has to do. And don't forget that. No family, no friend, no leader is too great for your own life. If I am about to die, don't get brave and save me. Run. I have no wife, no children. You're about as close to a son I have, I prefer you make like my almost-son and carry my legacy… What I have of one that is."
The little boy looked up, tilting his head, he spoke with a mouthful of sludge, muffling his words, "Bert, if yer die I carn't survibe."
the Northman bobbed his head, "Yes… If I die you won't survive this wasteland. Thieves will capitalize on a lonely foreign elf. You best learn fast before I die, hm?"
The small elf nodded, swallowing his food, his spine quivering, swallowing what could be the worst thing he has ever tasted.
They looked to the corpse a moment, and back, "Will I get in trouble?"
"Yes." the Northman Ailor replied, "That is why you always move, hide among the innocent. Corrupt men don't hide with goody-two-shoes. They like to hide with their own and commit more corrupt deeds. We aren't corrupt men, we are survivors. We only hide with corrupt men when we work."
The Nelfin tilted his head, speaking another inquiry, "Does that mean all corrupt things have the possibility of bein' good?"
The Northman looked out, nodding with an oddly comical frown-of-thought, "Yes. See, good and evil is something decided by a group of people called law. We don't obey law do we?" the Nelfin shook his head. The man smiled and continued, "If we don't follow the law, we don't follow their man-made morals. If morals are so man-made, we can make our own morals, and what are our own morals, Jully?"
The Nelfin thought a moment. Running through his brain to find exactly when the man told him this. "The Thieve's Moral" he called it. A set of mental rules where one bends to no one but bends to the basic morals of men. It was simple and reasonable, you do what you do to survive, you do what you do to make yourself look good. The boy replied with confidence in his voice, "Anything is good so long we survive in the end." the Northman rolled his eyes,
"No, if you survive in the end. Others don't matter, if you die you're dead. I don't know if you believe in the afterlife or whatnot, but it's pretty buggin' sad if you tell me, not existing n' all." the boy nodded once more in his regularly insecure fashion. The Northman stood, "Finish up your peasant's bile. We won't be able to eat for a day or two. Best eat while you still have skin and muscle left."
The Boy sighed, looking at his meal with derision, bobbing a potato up and down with his wooden spoon. They groaned and started tilting the bowl into their mouth, using the wooden spoon to assist the sludge's travel down to the mouth. The ginger-elf chewed a few times and swallowed, his entire body quivering, letting out a "Eugh." at such taste.
The Northman let out a silent chortle at the sight, with a giggle in his voice he stated, "Kyrios is three day's travel. Next time please don't hesitate for the kill?"
