Arngeirr pats Mary on the head and smile warmly down at her. “Of course, dear little Mary.” He sighs; he would have preferred Mary not be present for the story. But, it was clear to him now that she understood the nature of the demons as best she could, and he believed she was a little pinnacle of justice, and could bear the simple details of his story. He stood up to his great, huge height, and rolled his huge shoulders, taking in a huge breath to prepare his story.
“As you all know, I am Arngeirr. I am huge, and I like to believe that I am a gentleman.”
“The reason for my nature,” he explains, “It tied directly to the start of my tale. I was born more than thirty summers ago in a land to the far north. My father, Anvindr, who was also huge, raised me alone. His wife, Nadia, was certainly a huge and powerful woman on her own.”
Arngeirr takes a deep breath to steady himself. “But the rigors of childbirth are huge. I never knew my mother, as she gave her life to bring me into this world. And so my father raised me on his own. I like to believe he raised a good son, a gentleman son. I have done many great things, or so I have been told. I have been a gentleman as best I can, and I have fought for my honor and the honor of others many times before against man and beast alike. I have done extraordinary things in the name of honor and justice, huge feats that would leave lesser men breathless! And I have done it all for my father, the hugest gentleman of all, for he is the one who set me on this path.”
“And,” he says, his voice falling low, “He is the reason for my coming here. For you see, my father knew the price of honor. He knew that a gentleman must always do the best he can, no matter how futile. It does not matter if he fails; so long as he tried his very best and did not falter, there is no shame in failure.”
“Just before my birth, my father was visited by a man who came from the far East. I do not know his name, but my father knew him well, having marched beside him in battle many years before. He entrusted my father with a sacred relic. My father Anvindr was a gentle man, and he did not want to expose his son to whatever darkness lurked within his past. Much like young Mary here, I did not truly understand what danger my father guarded. All I knew was that he must guard it with his life, and that it was a great and evil thing.”
Arngeirr pauses for a moment, smiling down at dear sweet Mary. “And he told me what a demon was and how they lie to us, appear as pretty things and try to hurt us. He taught me not to listen to them, and I did my best to help him guard this dark treasure.”
“Some time ago,” Arngeirr continues, “My father lost the relic. I do not know if it was stolen or if he gave it away; all he would tell his son was that it had been disposed of by another, and that it was far better to never think of it again. Never being one to question my father, I took his words to heart and pushed the trinket from my mind, for it was simply that; a meaningless trinket, a relic of my childhood as much as of the past. I thought perhaps it had never really been anything, and that my father had simply invented the story to teach his son of honor.”
“But…” the mighty man trails off for a second, his huge shoulders heaving beneath the weight of his words, “Ten years ago, when I had finally claimed the title of gentlemanhood amongst my people, my father left our home. He told me, ‘Arngeirr, you have become everything I had ever hoped you would be. I know that your mother is proud of you, as am I. Stay here; guard the village while I am gone. If I do not return in ten years time, it means that either my work is done, or enough time has passed that nothing can be changed.’ When I pressed him on the matter, he said he had made a terrible mistake in ever letting the relic go, and that he had lost our family’s honor. I begged to go with him, to help him restore our honor, but he said that as a gentleman it was something he must do alone. I could not help him with the task, he said, for he simply would not feel right about it, and would never be able to call himself a gentleman again. For you see, he believed he had not done his very best. And my father taught me that if you did not try your very best, then you did not truly try at all.”
“My friends, it has been ten years since I have seen my father. I believe I may never see him again. Though I wish to see Anvindr once more, the yearning in my heart tells me he is gone from this world. And so, having lived to see a new generation of young and huge gentleman raised in my home, I have left as well. There are many things I search for now, dear monks. I search for some mention of my father, to find his final resting place, and to bury him if need be. I come to find the relic he lost so long ago, or if it has been destroyed to learn of its nature and what finally became of it. And I come to find my family’s honor. Everything he did was for me and my mother, and as his son, I could not live with myself if I did not see his journey through if he could not complete it on his own.”
“I have travelled far and wide, friends, and heard very little of my father or the relic. What little I have heard has pointed me here, to this forbidden temple, where the monks gather and protect dangerous pieces of our history. I believe you may have the relic deep within your vaults; it likely came here long before many of you, and my father would not be one to make a show of it, and so you may not even know you have it. At any rate, sometime later, preferably tomorrow, I would like for you to take me to you reliquary, so that I may search out my father’s relic. I beseech thee as a huge gentleman – and as a brave man’s son – to help me see my family’s journey through.”
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