Eleven v4

"Brother... I must cross the sea, though I'd rather stay beside you. If the gods will it, we'll see each other again. Until then, when the sun sinks beyond the waves, know that I'll be looking toward home."
He clasped my forearm beneath the pale morning sky. I held on a moment longer, then watched him turn toward the waiting ship.

"When I was young, I thought the mountain stood because it was strong. Then winter came, and the mountain wore its crown of snow without complaint. Spring followed, and it let every stream run free.
"So remember, traveler: strength is not always holding fast. Sometimes it is knowing what to carry, and what the season asks you to release."

[casual] "You're looking for work, eh? Hmm, I might have something for you. Just outside the valley, there's a group of wild horned boars I need you to take care of - nasty little beasts. The village would be grateful if you could get that done, and I'll make it worth your while."
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[annoyed] [under his breath] "Oh, you again... [sigh] Did you take care of that little problem I mentioned earlier? No, not yet? All right, off you go. I don't have time to chitchat. I'm busy standing here... handing out quests."
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[ecstatic] "You did it, you crazy bastard! [dismissive] Not that I didn't have any faith in you, but you wouldn't be the first one to fail. Yes, yes, I know. One of them might have been a little bigger than the others. But hey, you survived. You got it done. You helped the village."

[quietly curious] "Hmm… that mark. I haven't seen one like it in years. Where did you get it? Oh, you gonna make me guess? [giggle]"
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[measured] "No need to explain, if you'd rather not. This town has a way of leaving its mark on people. [soft chuckle] Usually not quite so literally."
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[lower, thoughtful] "Keep it covered when you can. There are still a few who remember what it means, and they may not ask as politely as I have."

[Quiet, measured narration] The moonlit training court lay beneath the keep, its stone walls silvered with frost. Beyond the battlements, a dragon's distant call rolled over the mountains.
Sir Alden lifted his blunted practice sword. "Ready?"
Bram, his broad shoulders wrapped in a travel-worn cloak, studied the wooden shield strapped to his arm. "I've faced worse odds."
[Pause, dry amusement] "You lost to a turnip cart yesterday," Sir Alden said.
"It was a very determined cart," Bran muttered
[Gradually building energy] They circled across the frost-dusted stones. One step. Another. Alden watched Bram's hands; Bram watched the faint blue glow gathering along Alden's blade. The air between them prickled with harmless magic.
[Quick, light, playful pace] Bram charged. Alden slipped aside. Clack! Wood met steel. Bram turned, his cloak flaring, and swung wide. Alden ducked beneath it. Bram's boot skidded on the frost; he windmilled, caught himself, and bowed as if he'd meant to do that all along.
"Magnificent," Alden said.
"I was giving you time to admire the cloak," Bran retorted.