A Good Fit
Ritter caught a glint in the grass ahead of him, shaking him out of another meandering daydream. He had been trudging across the featureless moors for days with only the wind and his wandering thoughts for company. Was the glint just an illusion of a fraying mind?
It had been four days, or was it five, since the gargs had rolled his camp and stolen his horse. He had managed to inflict enough harm to run them off before they took everything. Still he was missing some of his food, two daggers, and one of his boots.
That was the most evil thing of all. Why take one boot? They were both sitting together. Why not take both? As the monotony of the endless heath took hold, his mind kept chewing on that over and over. Why one boot? It was maddening. He started singing to kill the time, but the songs kept turning toward the missing boot.
Oh you shitty gargs
you took a single shoe
I hope you die real slow
I really hope you do
Oh you shitty gargs
why do this to a bloke
you took one single boot
now I hope you choke
Oh you shitty gargs
my foot rides in a bag
I hope my boot is cursed
I bet your wife's a hag
He picked up his pace, thankful for anything new to occupy his thoughts. The ill-tempered side of his mind groused it was probably just a shiny rock.
It wasn't. It was a dwarven shield.
The lonely wind ruffled his tabard as he stood over the blocky, round shield. It had seen better days; deep cuts in the wooden planks and metal binding told a story of many battles.
He looked around for tracks or bones or other clues. Nothing. Maybe a dragon dropped it. Stupidly, he looked up. The sky was dragonless.
He lifted the shield's edge with the foot strapped in a burlap feed bag. The wooden grip was intact.
He dropped his backpack and lifted the shield. It felt good. Solid but not arm-breaking heavy like some dwarven gear. He remembered the time he had tried on dwarven chainmail. He could barely move.
Well, well, he thought. This helped make up for some of his losses.
It took two more days to reach a small fishing village. He traded his one old boot to a dwarven cobbler for a pair of shoes. The cobbler also translated a small rune on the back of shield.
"This is Eihwaz. It means something like 'endurance.' The ability to achieve goals with resilience."
Ritter folded up his burlap "shoe" and nodded, remembering his epic trudge across the heath. "We're a good fit."
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