The Quiet and the Boisterous

Fynrir let out a breath, watching the small puff of air as it faded in the chill. Light footsteps fell on snow, his boots sinking slightly as he shifted. Things had been stressful- managing the troops and finances, dealing with the demands of the court, in addition to the events going on- and he was tired, his nerves set on end. As a result, he'd taken the short moment off, escaping the suffocating camp to find some sense of liberty in the frosty forest before he had yet another conference.

Quietly, he nudged aside a fallen branch of pine with his foot, the still-green needles scraping through the snow and leaving behind a messy groove across the white sheet. Some of the snow snagged in the tangle of needles, glittering like crystals in the gale of wind. Absentmindedly, he tugged the collar of his cloak a bit higher to chase out some of the biting cold, although he didn’t really mind. He was used to it, after all. The still silence was a welcoming change from the endless bustle of work and activity back at camp, but Fynrir soon realized he wasn't quite alone in the frozen woods.

"Hello?" he called out, pausing as he listened carefully to the wind. For a moment, he could only hear the rustle of the pines, but then he sensed quick movement, dashing away from where he stood.

Shaking his head a little, Fynrir turned back around. It couldn't have been an enemy, Fynrir knew. The camp was very close, too close for someone to be snooping around without being spotted by the sentry. Most likely it was a soldier who had accidentally intruded on Fynrir's quiet retreat and then ran off upon realizing who was there.

The foreign sound startled Fynrir again, this time coming from the opposite side of the clearing. Cautiously, Fynrir peered through the thick of the trees, but he couldn't sense who- or what- there. Brushing past a low juniper, Fynrir quietly started toward the sound-

Pphlat!

Fynrir let out a short gasp, stumbling forward slightly as something hit him from behind. It was cold and sudden, rough but also soft at the same time as the object crumbled apart and fell to the ground.

Zhuryi- snow. Fynrir turned around. There, a fair distance away, Raiwen stood with a wide grin plastered across his face. Fynrir couldn't bring himself to be surprised by who it was.

"Caren's party returned from the scout mission. She wants to know your orders," Raiwen told him, voice muffled from behind his scarf as he strolled toward Fynrir in a long, unhurried gait.

Internally, Fynrir rolled his eyes. He sighed, shaking his head as he let his friend approach. "She can do whatever she wants to do. She's an officer in the Royal Army. She doesn't need to take orders from me."

"Point," Raiwen agreed, lazily kicking at a small rock sticking out from above the snow. He tilted his head back, staring up at the sky. "Looks like the snow fall’s not gonna be back for awhile. The snow's good this year, though- might as well enjoy it while it lasts."

Fynrir dipped his head in agreement, noting how the sky had temporarily cleared. He hadn't noticed it earlier, too engrossed with observing the snowfall in the trees. "Is that why...?"

"Yep." Raiwen turned to him with a grin. "First time I snuck up on you without getting caught."

"Did you get someone else to distract me?" Fynrir questioned, referring to the shuffling he'd heard on the opposite side. Allowing himself a little smile- the fool could go to such extreme lengths sometimes- Fynrir turned his attention toward the cypress beside him, brushing off the snow from its boughs.

"Nah. Must've been an animal," Raiwen shrugged casually. He grinned at Fynrir. "Why? Don't like that I beat you on- mmft!"

Fynrir stifled a laugh as Raiwen glared at him fiercely. "You-! Meathead!" Furiously, Raiwen wiped his face, trying to get the snow out of his mouth. "How'd you even get a snowball?!"

"What?" Fynrir asked innocently, already expecting Raiwen's retaliation and dodging aside as the chunk of snow flew at him. "What snowball? Did I do something?"

"Grrr," Raiwen growled mischievously, most of his annoyance already shaken off and replaced with eagerness as he ran at Fynrir, scooping up more snow as he came. "I'm gonna get you for that, you little bug! You threw a snowball right at my face!"

"You can't catch me, slowpoke!" Fynrir taunted, grinning as he managed to avoid another of Raiwen's snowballs. Part of him realized how foolish he must've looked- a mercenary commander, and the Supreme Commander of the Estian Royal Army, having a snowball fight with his deputy- but Fynrir couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

"Meathead!" Raiwen hissed, finally slowing to a halt. Fynrir kept a safe distance away, not trusting that Raiwen would stop just yet. "Fynrir, you're such a bad little rat."

"Why?" Fynrir crossed his arms defiantly, raising his chin. "Because I decked you right in the face with a snowball and got away with it?" He wasn't sure when his self-restraint had disappeared, but it wasn't coming back- not for a while, at least. It wasn't like he needed it or anything. This was Raiwen, his best friend, and here Fynrir could relax and be himself. Fynrir didn’t even remember the last time he’d been able to unwind and forget.

"Tch," Raiwen scolded, crossing his arms. "C'mere. You need to learn a lesson in respect. I’m older than you."

"Only by two months!" Fynrir shot back, darting off and laughing under his breath as Raiwen cursed loudly.

Fynrir didn't dare look back. He kept running, listening for Raiwen behind him. After a few moments, he finally slowed to a brisk jog once he realized that Raiwen wasn't following him. Knowing his friend, however, Fynrir knew that Raiwen was hiding, waiting for Fynrir to walk by so he could nail his target. Fynrir wasn't going to let that happen if he could help it.

As quietly as he could, Fynrir turned around, tracing his steps backward. He had almost made it back to the clearing when he suddenly felt eyes on him, and he burst into a run- too late.

"Ah-!" Fynrir yelped as he felt the well-aimed snowball smack him straight in the neck. He glared at Raiwen. "Deka! Rai, you bonehead! It's freezing!"

"Well, it's not as bad as when you get lobbed in the face!" Raiwen grinned, dashing away as soon as Fynrir crouched down to gather more snow.

"Toyak," Fynrir muttered.

"What?" Raiwen stopped on the other side of the clearing. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, that?" Looking up from the snow, Fynrir struggled to hold back a grin. "Literally, it means 'idiotic god;' ‘god of idiots.’ Meaning: you're a huge idiot. Toyak."

"What?!" Raiwen gathered more snow, threateningly waving it around in the air. "You're in for it, Fynrir!"

This time, Fynrir let himself burst out laughing. He had been hoping for a few minutes of peace and quiet, but this was equally refreshing, as well. He hadn't realized just how much he needed this, even if it was only for a moment. The exhilaration, the laughter, the fun- he'd missed it, a lot. He wasn't used to not having to worry about danger or any kind of responsibility, and now that he was free, if only temporarily, he was going to enjoy it.

Fynrir formed another snowball, tossing it up and down as a taunt. "Come try me, seishai... I'm ready for you!"

~~~

Fynrir grinned triumphantly as Raiwen plopped down in the snow in front of him. "Ahh, you're too fast, Fynrir," Raiwen grunted as he laid back, staring up at the sky.

"So do you admit it?"

"Yes, yes, you win," Raiwen groaned from the ground. "I give up."

Allowing himself another smile, Fynrir dropped down beside his friend, pulling his cloak around his shoulders to prevent the snow from soaking his shirt. It didn’t really matter anymore; their snowball fight and the constant running had practically removed most of the snow from the grass, the now-melted slush kicked aside. Besides, he was already soaking wet, from Raiwen’s endless barrage of snow. For a moment, the two lie there in companionable silence, watching the crystal blue sky framed by the tall pines.

“That was fun,” Fynrir admitted quietly after a moment. “We haven’t done that in a long time. I... kind of missed it, to be honest.”

Raiwen let out a short breath, smiling a little as he turned his head toward his friend. “Never thought I’d hear you say that aloud, Fynrir. ‘Course you missed it. I know you better than that. Everyone needs to have fun sometimes.”

“Well...” Fynrir bashfully glanced away. “I never have the time- and if Queen Tarin saw me in this state, she would be hatief- not very happy.”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

Fynrir shrugged. “If the soldiers saw this, I wonder what they’d think. Would they-”

“Lord Fynrir!”

Fynrir fell silent as the voice called out loudly. Raiwen jokingly rolled his eyes and sighed as he sat up. “Speaking of soldiers...”

“Yes?” Fynrir didn’t bother getting up or turning to look. “Who is it? Caren?”

“Lord, I have a message from General-” The tall woman broke off suddenly as she appeared at the end of the clearing, gazing at the scruffy grass and scattered snow. She seemed startled as her gaze landed on Fynrir still lying on the ground. “L-Lord! Did something happen? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Fynrir answered, holding back a little bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“Did a battle happen here?”

“Yes, Caren, and we won by teleporting the enemies away,” Fynrir deadpanned, eliciting a snicker from Raiwen.

“Lord?”

“... No, nothing happened,” Fynrir sighed. He would never understand how royal officers couldn’t learn to take the hint and drop the subject. “What is it?”

Caren averted her gaze. “I’m sorry, Lord. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, don’t apologize.” Fynrir found himself falling back into the mold of being the Royal Commander. “What’s the message?”

“General Gerod sent me to call you for the meeting.” Caren straightened up, bravely looking at Fynrir as she spoke.

Letting out a deep sigh, Fynrir turned his attention back to the sky. “Alright,” he said after a beat. “Tell him I’ll be there soon.”

“L-Lord?” Caren asked tentatively, as if Fynrir would punish her for speaking up. “He needs you right away. He told me to bring you.”

Closing his eyes in defeat, Fynrir slowly got up, lazily brushing the snow from his cloak. “Alright.” He turned back toward Raiwen, who gave him a knowing look. “Rai, I’ll be back in a moment.”

It wasn’t true, he realized right after he’d said it- the meetings were unnecessarily long, and they usually ended up with Fynrir needing to direct lower officers in needless detail because they were apparently incapable of thinking for themselves- and Raiwen knew it too. The chances that they’d be able to do this again, to relax and have fun, were just about zero. Nati.

And yet, Fynrir couldn’t help but hope when Raiwen responded with a lopsided grin and a nod. “Of course.”

Fynrir let Caren lead him away, and as they got closer to camp, Fynrir didn’t bother hiding how relaxed he felt. When Caren quietly asked why he was so cheerful, Fynrir simply shrugged.

Why not?