(2023-07-20) Throwing Knives and Other Childhood Pastimes

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Author:	Alli
Summary:	Bertrand goes to check on Sil and finds him practicing with his throwing knives. They talk about the past, present, and future. ~1600 words.
Rating:	T for Teen

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Sil is looking a bit more like his old self again, though he still carries an unusual weariness and a little bit of a shadow around his eyes. He's clean-shaven now, and his leathers seem cared for. He has found a little empty corner in between two buildings in Wintergarde Keep, where he has a tattered wooden plank worked into the frozen ground. He stands a number of paces away, patiently tossing a handful of throwing knives into the plank, recovering them, and starting again.

Bertrand waits until the knives are all in the plank rather than in Sil's hands to say, "Hey." He looks much the same as he usually does, currently wearing his work leathers.

Sil flinches at the sound and whirls around, then relaxes when he sees who it is.

"Hey," He echoes, and manages to put on something like a smile. "You looking for me? They need me for something? I thought I had some time free, or I wouldn't…" he gestures at the plank.

Bertrand holds his hands up. "No, no. I just wanted to see how you were doing, that's all."

"I'm alright," Sil says with a sigh, reaching absently at his side for a throwing knife that isn't there. "I mean, I'm probably about as alright as anybody is, yeah? How've you been doing?"

Bertrand smiles a little. "About as alright as anybody is, too. I knew my fair share of soldiers in that ravine. A few of 'em actually made it out alive."

"Your unit, they're safe?" Sil takes a step over toward the plank, looking away for a moment.

"The 11th was all here, holding down the fort." Bertrand hesitates. "My old unit, from before, was almost fully wiped out." It's a solemnly-delivered report, but there's a trace of a smile as he adds, "Our fire mage lived."

"I'm sorry," Sil says, with sincerity, turning back to look at Bertrand. "I know how close the units get. I.. I felt like I was a part of something, too. But it must be worse for Hall, and for Tyrrell. And for you."

"We lost so many good people." Bertrand shakes his head. "The Alliance and the Horde both. Absolutely brutal. You got anybody back home to write to? Tell them you're okay?"

"Yeah, I ran into the… Lady Fallon?… a while back," Sil sighs. "She helped me get word to my sister-in-law straightaway. She's the main one who isn't here. I worry about her a lot, being a widow with a little kid and all. How about you, you wrote back to your family and everything?"

Bertrand nods. "Yeah. My parents, back home, and my fiancée, Scilla. I keep seeing your Cobalt Company people all over this place, helping out. I recognize the tabard, even if I don't know them all by name."

Sil smiles briefly. "That's a lot of family. Getting married soon? And yeah, it's kind of comforting, seeing all the Cobalt folk hanging around. I know most of 'em, if you ever want an introduction to anybody in particular."

"As soon as the Lich King is dead, Light willing," Bertrand says, a dreamy sort of expression passing over his face for a few seconds before he snaps out of it. "Hm? Well, I suppose I don't know who they are to be introduced to them, but I'm always happy to meet new people, and I'm curious about the twins' squadmates."

"Colson and Cressidha?" Sil considers. "Most recent they've been working with Sir Dane Atley, you met him before? I respect the hell out of him, he's a veteran. And Caspis, he's a newer night elf fellow I don't really know yet. And then Azizia, who's… well, she's a draenei. She's got a lot of opinions."

"I've heard of Sir Atley - he's one of the primary squad leaders, right? The other two I know even less about." Bertrand shrugs.

"Yeah, he's been leading a squad for ages, he's been in Cobalt as long as I have. Lord Ference even named his baby after the guy, so you know he thinks a lot of him," Sil chuckles, moving over and starting to pry the knives out of the plank. "He's done all sorts of stuff for Cobalt. Killin' Van Cleef, that demon lord in the Blasted Lands, more than I can think of in Outland, and now Northrend. Kind of a gruff guy. I was going to be on his squad once, but it didn't work out."

Bertrand eyes the plank consideringly and reaches for a knife of his own, although he holds it in one hand and waits for Sil.

"Azizia is… a person who wishes she was less than she was," Sil says, pulling out another one, frowning. "She has a hard time with expectations, which I think is just 'cause she doesn't really know what it's like when people have none."

"Sounds like she let someone down and took a rough lesson from that." Bertrand flicks the knife into the plank.

"Nice throw," Sil glances at Bertrand and smiles. "This is just what I used to sneak out and do when I was a kid, when things weren't…" He shrugs. "Anyway, I worked on a squad with Cressidha once, in Outland. That time she wasn't working with Colson, though."

"Thanks." Bertrand smiles back. "I didn't have the right kind of knives to do this as a kid. It's relaxing, though, isn't it? Especially if you have enough to just get into a rhythm."

"Yeah, that's one thing I like about it. Once you have the movement down, you can kind of fall into the repetition," Sil offers Bertrand a hilt of one of his throwing knives. "I don't think my parents ever even knew about my set. They would not have approved."

Bertrand takes the knife, weighs it, and then flicks it into the target. "I was always climbing things as a kid. My parents didn't approve of that at all at first - not until I got a bit older. Just worried I would fall and get hurt, you know, and Father wouldn't have been able to catch me."

"I think mine wouldn't have minded a broken leg or so on me," Sil says, leaning against the nearby wall with a sigh. "Keep me in place for a while. Did you ever fall?"

Bertrand laughs. "Nah, I never fell. My buddy Colin did once, there was a big fuss over that. And Amadeus and the twins never even tried - they were all big Rules kids."

Sil chuckles. "I stopped being a Rules kid somewhere along the way. Reckon Simon always was, but he was so much older than me. Sylvie, she was more of a slip around the rules quietly type."

Bertrand walks to the plank to retrieve his knife and Sil's. He returns and offers Sil's back hilt-first. "They're taking volunteers on the walls and up in the watchtowers, still, if you get bored. You've got sharp eyes."

"Yeah? Maybe I ought to," Sil says. "I heard my unit's getting disbanded. Or well, they're going to head back south, get new people, train, all that stuff."

"Oh, hell. Tyrrell's going to hate that." Bertrand sighs.

Sil takes the knife back, and slides it into his sheath. "Yeah, I mean, who wouldn't? Their unit, they fit together. Like… like a family, sort of? And I was starting to feel like a part of it, and now it's torn apart."

Bertrand claps him on the shoulder sympathetically. "You better keep in touch with them, then, if you're planning on staying out here with Cobalt Company."

"Do you think they'd want that?" Sil asks. "I wouldn't be just… reminding them of a bad time?"

Bertrand stares at him. "Of course they would. You joined their family, didn't you? Wouldn't you want to know about them?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Sil hesitates. "Sometimes I'm a little more eager to know people than they are to be known, you know? But I am planning to stay up here. War's not done yet. I'd guess you are too, yeah?"

"Oh, I get that feeling, that's fair. Still. I think they'd want to hear from you, yeah." Bertrand nods. "I'm here until the Lich King's dead, then I'm dipping out to go get married and be unreasonably happy."

Sil's expression brightens with a smile that seems genuine, even given the circumstances. "Now that's a plan. I hope we get the guy soon, for your sake. And hers."

"I've been keeping her waiting way too long," Bertrand says with a sigh. "Luckily, she seems to think I'm worth waiting for. I told her this was the last campaign, when I sailed to Northrend. I don't care if the Lich King dies and immediately two bigger, scarier threats pop up, I'm out the moment he's off the table."

Sil nods. "Let somebody else handle it for a while. That makes sense. I don't know what I'll do, after we beat him. Guess I'll figure that out when the time comes."

"Come to my wedding," Bertrand suggests, laughing a little. "And then figure it out, yeah."

"I'd be happy to," Sil grins in response. "No better way to start figuring it out than to be somewhere unreasonably happy."

"I'll send you an invitation," Bertrand promises. "You take care, alright?"

"Yeah, of course," Sil says, running his hand over the hilts of his throwing knives. "And thanks. You too, take care of yourself. I guess we won't be in the 7th together anymore, but I'm sure we'll still run into one another. Northrend's not that big a place."

"Yeah. I'll be around." Bertrand grins at him and wanders off.