"You stupid fuck! Can't you understand the damn words coming out of my mouth?" Brazen, violent shouting yanked Wulfstan away from his work piling the remaining unsold stock back into the cart, preparing to head home. Whoever was screaming was out of his line of sight, but it seemed to be coming from the direction that Leofric was in, dismantling the stall. "Listen to me, you goddamn outsider. Get out of my fucking village if you can't speak our language!"
Wulfstan knew for certain now that something was going wrong for Leofric. It had been half a year since losing his parents and he still had not recovered fully – while he was capable of smiling and laughing now, Leofric had begun to only speak in Gaelic. One did not have to be intelligent or know Leofric intimately to know why he was doing such a thing; it was the last link he had to his parents, and he was desperate to keep their memory alive. Speaking that tongue was a sweet gesture of familial devotion and love.
The only problem with that was now the only person who could properly communicate with him was Wulfstan. When at the market, it was easy enough for Wulfstan to do all the talking as he had always ended up being the salesman out of the two of them but, just because many of the villagers had loved Ita and Donngall as people, didn't mean it extended to speaking another tongue around them. The opinions of Wulfstan and Leofric had never even been very positive to begin with anyway, despite the universal appreciation of their parents. Therefore, on the rare occasion a villager went out of their way to specifically speak to Leofric, they were quickly incensed by his refusal to communicate with them in a language they could understand, especially because they knew he knew English.
It wasn't hard to see that they saw it as mocking them. As if Leofric thought he was better than them, rather than as a grieving man's bid to remain connected to his family's culture. Not like he could even remember where he was even born anymore, it was the last connection he had to the place his parents had called home so many years ago.
Lobbing the last sack of goods onto the cart, Wulfstan made haste back to where the remains of the stall stood to make sure nothing happened. He was only a handful of metres away, but he still couldn't see Leofric – three men were crowding around where Wulfstan assumed he must have been standing.
All the shouting had become a clamorous rabble, none of the words making any sense even though he was getting closer. It made Wulfstan's ears ache to be so near such loud shouting, but he had to endure it to keep Leofric safe.
"Get away from him." Wulfstan didn't need to raise his voice to get his point across, the three aggressors turning around as soon as the first few words were out of his mouth. As he usually spoke in a hush, when he did speak at what was classified as a normal speaking level, it left an impact. Thinly veiled rage oozed from his every pore. "What seems to be the problem, lads? You're all being terribly disruptive."
The faces looking at him were not ones he was very familiar with, but their father was someone he knew well enough. The triplets – he didn't care to remember their names – were the sons of Brom Fisher, the local butcher. A tough man whose wife had died in childbirth for his three boys. Wulfstan was not a big fan of the man, but they were not on bad terms by any means. The man had always given them a fair price for their piglets.
Perhaps that was going to change, considering how his offspring were behaving. Evidently, they thought it appropriate to belittle Wulfstan's beloved family; it did not bode well for future business relations with their father.
There was something else about their faces that seemed familiar to him, though, the few times he'd seen them around the village. They hadn't been around the place in their adolescence, always running off and travelling around, getting into trouble, if Wulfstan remembered the rumours. It made little sense for them to be so familiar when he had only really known them in the last couple years or so. He did not like it one bit, much like he didn't like the triplets one bit.
"Your brother refuses to communicate like a civilised person, spewing his nonsense language," spouted the boldest of the triplets, standing forward, with his unfortunately nose, squashed flat from his tendency to get in tavern brawls. There was a dim-witted emptiness in his gaze that was rife with hatred, though there was apprehension too as he tilted his head back to talk to Wulfstan. No matter how ballsy someone was, it inevitably unnerved them to be faced off with someone a head and shoulders bigger than them. "At least you know how to talk proper."
"Leofric can speak whatever language he wants. It's not his fault you can't understand it." Wulfstan's voice was as icy as the northerly winds that whipped through the village in winter. He didn't have to make his voice harsher to intimidate; something in him shifted when enraged that made everything about him drip with malicious intent. While he didn't like to be aggressive – he had not so much as shouted at anyone since that fateful night in the woods all those years ago – he knew this was an appropriate situation. Looking away from that hideous visage, he spoke to Leofric, voice and gaze softening in a mere moment, who looked startled but unhurt. "Are you unharmed? They've not done anything to you, have they?"
Glancing up, eyes widening for a moment as he blinked rapidly, Leofric brought himself back into the present and found his voice. He no longer looked like a beaten dog, the brave, bold man he was coming back to light. "No, they've just been shouting. I don't think they'd dare to attack me in broad daylight, Wulfstan. Don't worry."
Wulfstan smiled slightly, nodding his head before his gaze was yanked away from Leofric by the caterwauling of one of the other brothers. Once again, he was back in character, eyes hard and unyielding. Unbreakable and unbending as an old oak, Wulfstan stared down the new contender.
"How fucking arrogant, you red-haired bastard." Walking forward to stand beside his squashed-nosed brethren, a boil-covered face contorted revoltingly, indignation rife in his tone. Spittle flew from his mouth with every one of his words. "Abandoned by your own parents, weren't you? I bet they could see the devil in you and hoped you would die before tainting the world with your filth."
If that had been said five years ago or so, it would have riled Wulfstan up. He had been sensitive about his past, any shit-talking about his long-gone parents or his potential lineage cutting deep but now he knew that none of it could be true anyway. Maybe he'd had parents in his last life, but he knew he couldn't have had them this time so whatever that unimportant thug was saying glanced off Wulfstan's shoulders like rainwater.
"Incredible insight you have. No, wait… with such knowledge, are you, perchance, my father?" Wulfstan was unsure if it was a good idea to mock the Fisher boys – it wasn't like he was even angry about the comment. While he could quite easily deal with them if they decided to start a brawl, he didn't want Leofric caught in the crossfire. Completely unlike him, however, his mouth was running without thinking much, words tumbling out of him with no filtering. "By God's bones, I've missed you so much, Father. Why did you abandon me? I must have taken after Mother, though – you're so hideous. Do you know where she is too? What a miracle!"
That spotty face grew red, the rage flush spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. Perhaps it wasn't the most insulting thing Wulfstan could have said but he was no expert in this field. However, it was having the right effect at least. Whether that would mean he would have to avoid a fist swinging at him and then keep himself from accidentally killing someone again, he didn't know nor did he want to think about it.
What would be would be.
If the world could continue without Ita and Donngall, it would continue without the poisoning presence of these three nameless goons. Worthless wastes of land and food, they were.
The third of the brothers was watching all of this unfold from the sideline, behaving as if he was not really interested in whatever idiocy his siblings were up to. With a plain, boring face, the true face of the identical siblings, no defining maladies, he was easy to overlook. The only reason Wulfstan was keeping an eye on him was because of that incident in the woods – a harmless face didn't mean much, so he watched him, just in case he would leap into action unexpectedly to try something violent or stupid. He quite despised the odd way the third one was looking at him, those pale blue eyes not leaving Wulfstan's face once. His eyes were different from the clear brown that his brothers were – it was unnerving. Something about them gave him an all-knowing, piercing gaze. Almost ghostly.
The one with the ugly nose spoke again, spewing thick spittle everywhere in his anger. "Don't fucking talk to my brother like that, you parasite. Just because you want to invade our village doesn't mean we have to be nice to you. People like you should be hung from the gallows."
Wulfstan was genuinely baffled about where the triplets had gotten these aggressive opinions from. Brom had never had an issue with any of the Smythe's nor Wulfstan and he had even asked how to say hello in Gaelic – while they were not friends and they had some clashes, Brom was not a bad man. He supposed that Brom's sons must have been spending too much time at the tavern and listening to the ramblings of that Godwin Ward and his rabble. That would make sense – the triplets were a few years younger than Leofric and Wulfstan, just twenty or so, and, therefore, much more impressionable.
He was already bored of this, just wanting to go home. Wulfstan noticed that Leofric had backed a bit away, out of reach of any of the triplets and much closer to where he was standing. "Leofric, go back to the cart. I'll be there in a moment. All I need to do is handle this – it'll be quick."
"Alright."
With that, Leofric took off back to the cart, moving quick enough that none of the triplets could grab him but slow enough that it wouldn't call attention to him leaving. Once he was at a safe distance, the triplets too engrossed in their howling to notice anything other than their rage, Wulfstan flicked his eyes back down to the aggressors. All softness he had left his gaze. He had no care for these men and the one person he wanted to have a good impression of him was already out of sight.
"Have you had enough?" Wulfstan cut through their
incomprehensible bellowing, the daggers in his words instantly quelling the ruckus. Peering down at the two men crowding him, keeping the third one in his peripher, he called upon whatever insane, animalistic instinct he had felt that night all those years ago so he could terrify them enough to get them to leave. As long as he could keep it wrangled, nobody would get hurt. Using his words like a dog using its teeth, Wulfstan stated, "We're all adults here. Keep this behaviour at the tavern – don't embarrass yourselves like this in the street."
Lingering on their faces, the uncomfortable, palpable fear beginning to surface as they receded back slightly, Wulfstan thought he'd done enough. Quite satisfied with his handling of the situation, he was about to turn to leave when the plain triplet spoke up for the first time.
His voice was smooth and pleasant, a stark contrast to his abrasive siblings. Perhaps their rage had come from their unfortunate appearances and this one had only remained normal because he was not disfigured by bad luck. Wulfstan sneered at him. "Of course, you're quite right. I'll make sure these two get an earful from their wives for their poor behaviour." This one, the mediator, had some semblance of intelligence to his words. As he looked up at Wulfstan, they made eye contact for a brief moment before the smart one grabbed the idiots by their collars.
Wulfstan may have had the impression of intelligence from that triplet's voice but there was something sinister hiding within his gaze and pleasantries. A glint of familiarity filled with vengefulness that seemed vindictive and cruel. It was only a glimpse, but it was enough for Wulfstan to flag that one near the top of the list of credible threats to Leofric's life. There was only a handful but it was too many to expect there to be no altercations in such a small village.
Shaking off the odd feeling that one triplet had given him, Wulfstan watched the trio walk away until they vanished out of the market before he finally went to where Leofric was waiting for him. The man was standing with his back to Wulfstan, arms crossed across his chest, reclining against the cart.
"Leofric! I've sorted it – we can go home now." Wulfstan called out, closing the gap between the two of them. He smiled as Leofric turned around, the anxious expression that had been creasing his face melting away once their eyes met.
Straightening up, Leofric let out a sigh. "Nothing happened, right? You didn't get in a fight?" He reached out and caught Wulfstan's right hand, then his left, turning them about to look for scrapes or bruises that would imply an altercation. Still concerned, despite the lack of injuries, he looked back up at Wulfstan's face and scrutinised it. "You don't look battered, at least."
Wulfstan gently pulled his hands back from Leofric's grasp. For a moment, he hesitated before placing both of them on Leofric's shoulders and giving him as reassuring of a smile as he could. "I don't need to fight with them. Don't you think I'm frightening enough to intimidate them away?"
All nervousness gone, Leofric almost folded in half, howling with laughter at Wulfstan's words. Tears streamed down his face as he was unable to stop himself from nearly toppling to the floor, his only saving grace being the closeness of the cart. Gripping onto the wood, he took a few moments before being able to stand back up straight and look at Wulfstan, his lips still curved into an incredulous smile, eyes curving with mirth. "You? Intimidating? Where on God's green earth did you get that from…" After a big, gasping inhale, he sighed again, but it was a much more relaxed, happier sound. "Well, at least they've left us alone now. Should we head home?"
"Mhm," Wulfstan grunted in affirmation, walking to the head of the cart so he could wheel it back home. As always, Leofric hopped onto the back and lounged between the remaining bags of produce. "Let's go home."
Pulling the cart behind him, Wulfstan could hear Leofric mumbling to himself. The man was obviously not intending for anyone to hear it but, like it had been since he'd first woken up, Wulfstan could hear any whisper.
"Frightening? How absurd."
Wulfstan smiled, bittersweet. It was something he was grateful for, Leofric's ignorance – the man had not once seen him in any light that would damage his perception of him. That was the only reason Leofric could care so much for such a being as Wulfstan.