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Lug remembered the first time he watched something die. He had been a young firbolg, barely up to his father's knees, and he was transfixed by a round little songbird on a rock next to a pond. It was a sphere of a thing, and its breast glowed red in the sunrise. It flitted its brown wings as it bathed in the shallow pool that had formed on the rock's surface. The morning dew sunk into the leg of Lug's trousers and felt cold against his ankles. Neither one of them saw the cat. Not until it sunk its claws into tender flesh and its teeth severed the connection between brain and body.
Lug didn't scream. In fact, no sound came out of his mouth at all. He stood there slack-jawed as the oil black feline stared back at him, prize hung limply from its now bloodied maw.
It wasn't just the first time he saw something die. It was the first time he saw something killed. He knew about life and death, of course. He knew where the meats his parents roasted over the fire came from. But before that day he had never seen it. He had never been part of the process, his first hunt was still several moons away.
The bird's wing bent unnaturally to cover its face and Lug thought he could see the white splintering of bone. The way it sat in his memory perfectly mirrored the scene that presently unfolded before him.
Robin was curled up on the ground, arm raised to shield his face, and he was absolutely drenched in blood. In front of him was the body of another man, or what was left of it. He laid on the ground with limbs splayed out and his fractured ribs jutted out of the cavern that had been created of his chest. A spear laid next to an empty hand, Lug assumed it to be his weapon of choice. The man's own blood left droplets of splatter on his face and a rapidly thickening puddle on the cave floor. Robin trembled and whimpered.
There was so much blood. The iron was so thick in the air that Lug could taste it on the back of his tongue. Robin's hair stuck to the edge of his face in sticky clumps. His eyes peered cautiously over his raised hand. Within them Lug could see a whirling pool of terror. He took a step toward the crumpled heap of a man, but stopped when he saw Robin's entire body tense.
"Oh, gods!" The cry of disgust came from behind Lug. It cut through the roar between his ears like a short sword to the gut. He turned and saw the rest of the team huddled behind him in the mouth of the cave. Cressida was in front, her hand over her mouth like she was going to be sick. Happen peered over her shoulder, practically giddy with enthusiasm, and his sprites whispered to each other in the same hushed tones as gossiping elders around a campfire. For a brief moment Willowfine's features held a look of shock, then shifted to one of both question and concern when she met Lug's eyes. Agrimonia tapped her on the shoulder and whispered something in her ear.
Lug turned back to the shaking man in the dirt. "Robin?" He took another step forward.
Robin scrabbled to move backwards, but his feet couldn't find purchase. The blood had mixed with the dirt and created a slick, unpleasant mud. His heels carved deep wells as he pushed off with his arms instead and finally pulled himself back. "G-Get away from me!" he stammered. Lug watched Robin's eyes flick from the body on the floor, then up to him. It was impossible to tell if he was injured. With each movement Lug made, Robin continued to drag himself backward until his back was up against the cave wall. When he had nowhere left to go, he raised his arms in front of him again as a paltry shield. For once Lug considered himself lucky that it was a shallow cave.
"Robin…" he repeated. He had seen the bandit chase Robin into the cave, but he had been too preoccupied with his own skirmish to be able to follow. From the looks he'd seen on the rest of the party's face, they hadn't seen much of anything either. He was closer to Robin now, about three strides from touching distance, but if anything the human seemed to grow more tense. He had straightened out in an attempt to get closer to the wall despite the rock digging into his back, and the terror on his face twisted into panic. His pupils narrowed into a pinprick despite the low light. "I'm not going to hurt you," Lug said in a low voice. "I just want to make sure you're not injured."
Robin shook his head frantically. Lug couldn't tell if this meant he wasn't injured or that he wasn't okay. He gave a glance to Willowfine, whose countenance could only be described as commiserating. Lug faced Robin again then lowered himself down on one knee to get a better look. Blood caked the commoner's face and cracked with each quiver of his lips. He didn't appear to be actively bleeding. Lug inched forward and reached out an arm to brush a clump of crusted hair from the other's face. To the shock of both him and everybody else, Robin smacked the hand away. They both froze, stunned by the outburst. The reaction had been so quick, it had to have been instinctual.
"I-I don't want to hurt you!" Robin finally cried out in a strangled sob.
An odd sense of relief rushed over Lug. The blood wasn't Robin's, none of it was. Robin wasn't hurt. If it wasn't for the several pairs of eyes on the back of his head, Lug could kiss him. Instead, he allowed a small smile to form on his lips. "You're not going to hurt me."
"You don't know that!" Robin whimpered. "What if it goes wrong?" His voice cracked on the last word, and Lug felt his heart break. He couldn't much argue with that. It hadn't been long since Happen's endeavours literally blew up in his face. Lug cast another glance behind him for any ideas from the others. Cressida in turn looked anxiously over her shoulder, and Lug knew what she was thinking. They had done well to ward off the ambush on the road, but they had no way of knowing if the bandits were working alone or as an offshoot of a larger group. They needed to make themselves scarce and they needed to do so ages ago.
Willowfine stepped forward. "I may have just the thing." She placed a glowing hand on Lug's shoulder, and he felt a warmth spread from her touch. It traveled down his arm and through the length of his body, easing his mind and soothing his aching muscles. She leaned in to whisper in his ear, "This will protect you for a minute. Don't tell him when it wears off." Lug didn't need to say anything further.
He extended his arm to reach for Robin again. "It's okay," he assured him.
Robin looked at Lug, then to Willowfine who nodded, then back to Lug again. A few tears had cut tracks into the blood on his face. Finally, right when Lug was afraid the spell was going to end, Robin took his hand. In one swift motion, Lug stood and hoisted the human up with him. Robin's knees wobbled beneath the weight of his actions and Lug caught him before he fell. As he looked up at the firbolg his wet eyes gave a pleading expression, but Lug couldn't tell what he was asking for. He ran a thumb over the human's cheek to wipe the tears away and the pad of his finger came away red. He wanted nothing more than to take Robin into his arms and hold him. To soothe him while the sobs racked his body, and whisper into his ear until they stopped. But the road offered no time for such tenderness.
Lug stifled a groan as he lifted Robin onto his back. The man's arms wrapped loosely around Lug's neck and his head rested on the leather of the barbarian's shoulder pad. As they continued down the road, Robin didn't speak. At any other point during their journey, the team would have found this silence to be welcoming. As much as they appreciated Robin's rambling stories, they also appreciated a contemplative silence from time to time. However, the knowledge of the source of the silence on this occasion was anything but soothing. It left Lug with a sense of uneasiness that caused him to constantly check that the weight on his back was in fact a man and not the husk of one.
It was several miles, and therefore several hours, until they finally found a village. Cressida nearly shrieked with delight when they saw the first silhouettes of houses on the horizon. The timing of their discovery was impeccable, as the sun hung low and the first orange streaks of sunset tore across the sky. A light breeze ruffled the locks of hair around Lug's face. He tossed his head so they were out of his eyes, then turned to Robin to ask, "Are you still with us?" It was a two-pronged question, and he hoped it wouldn't be taken the wrong way.
He felt the weight on his shoulder shift as Robin lifted his head. "Hm? Yeah, I'm good." The human's voice was heavy as though he had just woken from a nap, but if that were true then Lug would not be talking to Robin right now. The extra weight pulled at Lug's heart again.
"Does it look like they have a bathhouse?" Lug called to the front of the group. Neither Cressida nor Happen answered, the former doing her best to ignore the latter's explanation of Cadence-approved bathing rites.
Willowfine craned her neck to get a view over Cressida's horns and Happen's various accoutrements. The ranger's constantly swiveling head made this a particular challenge. A sprite buzzed around Lug's right ear like an irritating mosquito. It tickled the tactile hairs and caused him to flick his ear reflexively.
"I think I can see smoke from a couple of the chimneys," she offered. "If one of those buildings is a bakery, the bathhouse can't be far."
"Thank the stars," sighed Cressida dreamily.
Lug grunted in agreement. He felt more than he heard Robin groan and turn his head into the crook of the firbolg's neck. This was accompanied by even more excited buzzing as a couple more of the sprites poked at Robin's still exposed cheek. Lug heard him whine as a pair of them started pulling at the clots matted in his partner's hair, and he gave a pointed look to Willowfine as their blue glow danced in the corner of his eyes.
Cleric senses tingling for a soul in need of assistance, Willowfine picked up her pace to walk in line with the ranger acolyte. Lug couldn't make out every word she said, but it sounded like she was trying to suggest Happen scout ahead. Happen nodded, and the two of them broke off from the rest of the group. Lug was relieved to see Willowfine going with him. It wasn't that he didn't trust Happen to do what he was asked, it was that he never quite knew what to expect to come out of his mouth. They could scarcely afford to be run out of another town. His relief was matched two-fold when the sprites, noticing that their charge was wandering off, finally abandoned their ministrations and flew off after Happen.
Wordlessly, Agrimonia sidled up next to Lug and held out a closed fist. Lug held out his palm and into it she placed a bundle of herbs. He didn't recognize all of them — they may have been native to Fenfold — but he could smell chamomile and sage. Flecks of pink and red flower petals peaked out from between the stalks and leaves.
"For the bath," she explained. Lug nodded then spoke his thanks as he gingerly placed the bundle in his pouch, careful not to bend anything.
Willowfine and Happen returned moments later with good news. There was a public bathhouse near the bakery as Willowfine had suspected, as well as an inn nearby where they could rest for the night.
Lug felt Robin slipping to his left and adjusted his posture to keep the human steady. "You still with me?"
"Yeah," came the whispered reply, and the hushed tone pierced Lug like a thorn. He would give anything for a long-winded Osric anecdote. Anything at all to indicate the commoner wasn't ruminating on the horrors. There would be no such reassurance.
Willowfine led Lug to the bathhouse while the others went to choose their lodgings, then left them so she could join the rest of the team before Cressida called dibs on the entire inn. Lug figured the others would join after they'd settled, but Robin's situation was slightly more urgent.
The attendant was unable to hide their initial shock at Robin's appearance, but fixed his face almost as soon as Lug made eye contact. He had a hawk nose and eyes of such deep brown that they nearly looked black in the low light, and this made his countenance difficult to discern. He ran a hand through short chestnut hair as Lug placed the required coin on the counter. In return he received two linen towels and a bar of ash soap.
The heat hit them instantly when Lug carried Robin in and the steam nearly stole his breath. Along the back of the room was a line of wooden tubs set upon a stone platform, and steam rose up from the basins. To his right were several screens for changing, as well as some jugs of warm water and sponges for before the bath. It soothed Lug's nerves to see the bathhouse was empty. He wasn't completely averse to civilization, but the list of villages he'd been run out of was only getting longer by the day. There was something about being surrounded by commonfolk that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, but right now his discomfort was low on his list of concerns.
He took Robin to the screen furthest from the door then set him down gently, not letting go until he was certain the human's feet touched the wooden floor. There was a short wooden bench next to the screen upon which sat several jugs of steaming water. Lug looked at Robin, the man had his arms crossed over his chest in a manner that made him look even smaller than he was, and worried that he would need a few more jugs.
There was so much blood.
Lug removed his shoulder pad and shirt and hung them over the screen. Partially to avoid the mess but also partially because it only seemed fair. He then turned to Robin. Gently and wordlessly, he placed his hands on the man's shoulders to guide him behind the screen and over the drain. He gingerly placed a finger under Robin's chin and lowered himself slightly to meet his eyes. Lug desperately searched his mind for anything to say, but came up empty. Every time he thought he found the perfect string of words, it slipped through his fingers like a silver fish. Instead, he could only offer the same hollow platitudes as before. "Are you okay?"
Robin nodded in response, and Lug felt his mouth press into a line before he could correct his expression. Robin had never been a good liar, and that was clearly a skill of Morven's that hadn't transferred. Try as he might to steel himself, he couldn't hide his quivering lip or his watery eyes.
Rather than press the point, Lug focused on the task at hand. He held Robin by the wrists and uncrossed his arms from his chest, placing them at his sides. Then he reached and began unbuttoning the commoner's shirt. The fabric was stiff and it creaked as Lug peeled it off of his shoulders. He tossed the shirt over the screen, then moved for the drawstring of Robin's trousers. When Robin made no move to stop him and gave no further indication of discomfort, Lug continued. Robin lifted his feet obediently to step out of the trouser legs. Those, along with his undergarments, quickly joined the rest of the clothes on the screen.
Lug moved back over to the bench and tentatively stuck a finger into one of the jugs to assess the temperature of the water. It felt pleasantly warm and did not sting his skin. Pleased with this, he crossed back over to Robin. "Are you ready?" This time, Robin was at least able to manage a mutterance of the affirmative.
Robin screwed his eyes shut as the water from the first pitcher ran down his face. It poured over his eyebrows and down the tip of his nose before running down the rest of his body in rivulets. As the water picked up fibrin and other debris, it ran into the drain in a deep rust color. Once more Lug could taste blood on the air as some of the drops evaporated into steam.
After he had repeated the process with the second pitcher of water, Lug picked up the bar of soap. He started with Robin's shoulders and torso, knowing that his hair would require a more concentrated effort. Once he had developed a decent lather on the human's skin, the blood came away with only slight scrubbing on Lug's part. He knew it would have been easier in the colder water of the river, but his aim was comfort rather than efficiency. He held Robin's hands in his and scrubbed a little more vigorously under his nails. Little by little, the red flecks peeled away.
The lower half of Robin's body had more or less been spared from the carnage, apart from his feet and ankles. Lug ran the bar of soap around his thighs and moved quickly around his buttocks and his cock, as they had been covered. Around the lower legs, he applied more soap and a firmer hand. He slowed down for a moment to gauge a reaction, but Robin didn't cringe, so he continued.
When he got to Robin's feet, he stopped. "Sit down," he said softly. Robin glanced around behind him, and once he turned back around Lug gestured to his right side where the bench was. Robin plopped down in his typical, weighted manner and Lug felt a fondness in his chest. Robin was still in there. He picked up the first foot and scrubbed with the soap. Initially, Robin pulled his foot back and gasped at the tickling friction. Lug slowed down and massaged his foot more gently, and he felt Robin relax beneath his palms. He had to dig slightly more with his nails around the heel, as that's where most of the blood and mud was caked on, but he was careful of making contact with skin. Only when he felt he could easily rinse away the debris with the remaining pitcher did he move on to the second foot.
Finally, he could work on Robin's hair. Rather than make him stand up above the drain again — although Lug was sure that would be what the establishment preferred — he rose to his feet and stood behind Robin. Sitting on the bench, the human's head came up to just below his hip bone. The perfect height for him to comb his fingers through. "Are you ready?" Another nod. Lug raised the pitcher and allowed an amount of water to fall out equal to that which would fit in the palm of his hand. It seemed to soak into Robin's hair with no trace like the first rain after the dry season. He worked the bar of soap in his palm until he developed a lather, then placed the bar on the bench. He splayed out his fingers and massaged Robin's scalp in slow, circular motions. When the hair felt dry to the touch he added a dollop more water from the pitcher. It took a concentrated effort to break apart each clot, especially in the areas where several had matted themselves together. Lug held his breath as he tried not to pull, his stomach dropping with a stone of guilt with each wince. At last, when he was afraid the stones would cause his already present well of emotions to spill over, he cut through the last of it and felt satisfied rinsing Robin off with the rest of the jug. There would still be some suds clinging to his body when he dipped into the tub, but surely the place had seen worse. Lug still had Agrimonia's herbs in his pouch, that should more than make up for it.
He took Robin by the hand and led him to the tub on the far side of the room. Towards the back, the line of wooden basins bent into an 'L' shape, and Lug chose the tub at the back of the 'L.' At this time he also ditched the last of his clothes and hung them over the screen. He made sure to grab the bundle of herbs from his pack and tucked it between his thumb and his palm in his free hand. When he selected the rear tub, he released the bundle into the water and watched it float in a slow circle. Within moments, the steam that rose from the basin carried a soothing fragrance.
Robin tentatively touched a big toe to the water. He withdrew quickly, then slowly inched his leg into the water when he realized he hadn't been burned. While the water from the jugs had been warmed, that which was actively being heated in the tubs was considerably hotter. Lug could feel his face flush despite the fact he hadn't gotten in yet. He did not allow himself to get into the tub until he was certain Robin was comfortable. He sat across from the human, and when he looked into those azure eyes he found Robin to be far away from the village. He wasn't sure he could follow. He trailed Robin's line of sight to the middle of the tub where he was hypnotized by the languid swirl of the water. Runaway flower petals and traces of residual soap bubbled one last time before they finally disappeared beneath the surface. Lug reached into the center of the tub to try and hold Robin's hand and bring him back to Heorth, but his hand only met open water.
Neither of them spoke for what felt like ages. In truth, Lug had no idea what to say. His experience with guidance was always more in the physical realm of things. Which forest path had the fewest brambles, which berries to avoid eating if you wanted to keep your intestines intact. Those were his areas of expertise. The emotional and the spiritual? He often found himself feeling like a fish out of water. Although, given his previous experiences Lug didn't mind staying as far away from the water as possible. He was willing to offer an arm to anybody who got swept away in the current, but he preferred not to get in.
"How do you live with it?"
Through his fog of thoughts Lug almost missed the fact that words had been spoken. "What?"
"Killing, I mean," Robin clarified, "How do you keep living?"
"It was you or him, Robin," were the first words that tumbled out of Lug's mouth. He knew it was the wrong thing to say, knew it wasn't what Robin wanted to hear, but it was what he knew in his heart to be true.
Robin must have known as well, deep down, because he didn't argue. Instead he pulled one of his hands, which Lug saw now to be tucked behind his back, and scratched at the back of his head. It was a nervous tick of his, something Lug saw him do when the conversation started to veer towards subjects that made his stomach turn and his skin prickle with gooseflesh. He did not meet Lug's eyes.
Lug's memory flashed back to the cat and the songbird. He had watched with morbid curiosity as the cat pinned the bird's body to the stone, and tore into its flesh with the pearly white canines of a beast that had only just reached adulthood. The still-warm blood coated its whiskers in droplets as incisors tore meat and premolars sliced it into edible portions. If he strained his ears, he could hear the crunch of hollow bones.
Suddenly, the vision shifted. He was back in the cave, the footsteps of the others echoed behind him. He smelled the blood before he saw it. In front of him was the bandit, but their back was to Lug. It was a mirror image of what he had initially seen, but this time the body on the floor was Robin's. Chest splayed open by fractured ribs. Mouth open in a silent scream. Eyes crystallized with pain and terror. The blood that sprayed across the bandit's face was not their own, but rather their victim's. Lug's fists tightened around the handle of his hammer, and his knuckles went white.
"The truth is," Lug said at last. His voice came out raspy and he cleared his throat before he continued, "if he had killed you I don't know if I would have been able to stop myself from killing him anyway." He felt his nails bite the palms of his hands and realized he had been so upset by the mere thought that his hands had balled up into fists. He reminded himself where he was, that Robin was still there in front of him, and willed himself to relax. He reached out, and waved his arm when the other didn't see him. "Come here." Robin finally looked up, and when he processed what Lug asked he narrowed his eyes as if he were asking permission. As if Lug hadn't personally invited him. Lug took him by the wrist and gently tugged him to his side of the tub, turning him so he could sit in Lug's lap with his back against the firbolg's chest. Lug wrapped his arms around Robin's waist and melted into the touch. He rested his chin on top of Robin's head and closed his eyes in contentment.
Suddenly, something blossomed in his chest like a seed experiencing the first sunlight after a harsh winter. It sprouted rapidly, filled up his lungs until he thought he was going to burst before it finally found passage up his throat.
Long before Folkmoot, before Team Northwest was even a speck of an idea in the universe, after he had left Mossfold the first time, Lug had surrendered himself to the idea that perhaps love was not made for him. It was difficult to imagine putting down roots when anybody with a grudge and a machete could tear them up at any moment. No. Love was a luxury for the sedentary. For those whose futures were clearly plotted out and handed to them by the same gods who had forsaken him.
But that was before he met Robin. Now that he'd had a taste of the fruit, he realized he was right to be afraid of it. Now that he'd had it, there was absolutely no way he could go back to a life without it. Anything less was saccharine and artificial.
He couldn't hold it in. The flowers billowed out of his mouth and their vines wrapped around his arms until they controlled his every movement.
"I love you," he confessed. The words felt odd and unpracticed on his tongue. He'd never had the pleasure of saying that before, but he liked the way it sounded.
Lug supposed Robin would have said it back, but he couldn't wait for a response. As the human opened his mouth to speak, Lug hooked a finger under his chin and turned his face to meet his. Then he brought their lips together and swallowed his words.
They had kissed many times before, but this was different. This wasn't desperate heat underneath a half-moon, trying to keep the volume of their pants beneath the crackle of the campfire. This wasn't a sticky, sweaty reunion after the heat of battle. This was soft. This was deliberate. This was Lug running a hand along the side of Robin's face and behind his ear because he knew despite the warmth of the tub the human would shiver and lean into the touch. This was Robin turning his body to straddle Lug's waist so that he could get closer without putting a crick in his neck. This was their tongues running alongside each other rather than fighting for control. And most of all, this was Lug ignoring Cressida.
"This place is amazing!" she cried. Several pairs of footsteps plodded in behind her. "Would you look at those oak floors— are we interrupting something?"