Chapter 2

Beowulf was desperately trying to temper his excitement as he approached the tavern that evening. He didn’t want to come off as too eager, but he just couldn’t seem to keep himself away. He had not, in fact, seen the jester at all that day, as Thedrick had not been summoned to perform for the king and queen. They had instead been engaged in more serious affairs, and Beowulf had gotten a solid taste of his new job of just standing around all day. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so keen on guard duty.

Though it wasn’t all that bad, truth be told. The day had just gone by so slow, though probably only because Beowulf’s mind was fixated on the idea of possibly seeing the little jester again later at the tavern. He really hoped he would show up, given how much he had enjoyed Thedrick’s company the night before. Beowulf was praying he was right about the jester frequenting the same establishment, though there was the chance he might pass considering how wasted he had ended up the previous evening.

The top of the door into the tavern was at Beowulf’s shoulder height, meaning he had to duck significantly in order to get inside, his broad build nearly filling the entire door frame as he squeezed through. Once inside, he had to still duck his head somewhat or it would hit the ceiling. Beowulf peered through his visor at the tavern patrons, searching for the jester’s red and black outfit and bell laden headwear.

Beowulf was glad for his visor hiding his expression, because his face probably lit up when he spotted Thedrick sitting at one of the tables with a bunch of other men. A card game was spread out over the table, and the men sitting around it were glaring angrily at the jester, who was grinning smugly back at them.

Suddenly one of the larger of the men pushed back his seat and stood up, before reaching down and grabbing the jester by the collar, lifting his slight frame into the air. Thedrick’s eyes went wide, the cards he was holding falling from his grip as he was hoisted up towards the man.

“Cheater!” the man snapped at the fool, eyes ablaze.

“Now now good sir, I think you will find you are very much mistake-” Thedrick’s sentence was cut off as the larger man grabbed his leg and let go of his collar, causing the jester to fall upside down, now being held up by one leg. Thedrick let out sounds of protest as the man started to shake him, and playing cards began to tumble out of his clothing, fluttering through the air and onto the table and floor.

After a while of shaking the angry man stopped, lifting the jester up as high as he could to glare down at his pale face. “What do you have to say for yourself, clown? Think you’re gonna sweet talk your way out of this again?” the man sneered derisively.

Thedrick looked up at the man nervously, and then reached into his clothing, pulling out another playing card. “Is this your card?” he asked dramatically, as if this was the end of some magic trick, like the ones Beowulf had seen done by street performers at the town fair. The man holding Thedrick somehow looked even more furious, his eyebrows narrowing over his eyes and his searing glare locked onto the jester.

Beowulf quickly made his way over to the table, his heavy footsteps causing all the men, including the man holding Thedrick up by the leg, to look up at his approach. Beowulf towered well over all the other men, even the larger one, and many of them looked slightly nervous as he drew close. Beowulf set his full attention on the man who was holding Thedrick, while the jester himself was trying to turn his head to see who had caught everyone’s attention.

“Hand the fool over to me, I’ll escort him out so we can avoid any bloodshed today,” Beowulf demanded in his deep voice, holding a hand out to the angry man. He saw Thedrick’s face light up in recognition, but luckily the jester kept his mouth shut.

“This good for nothing weasel needs to be taught another lesson!” the large man spat angrily, glaring up at Beowulf’s visor.

“If you accidentally kill him, the king will be most displeased. Let me handle it,” Beowulf insisted more firmly, his voice almost a growl.

The man looked at Beowulf for a moment, seeming to size him up briefly, before letting out a defeated, annoyed sigh and holding the jester out towards Beowulf by the leg.

“Thank you,” Beowulf said as he grabbed Thedrick’s leg, and the other man let go. “Enjoy your evening, gentlemen,” he added, before turning around and heading for the exit.

Beowulf carried Thedrick out of the bar, still hanging upside down by his leg, ducking out of the door and taking a few steps into the street before holding up the jester closer to eye level. “Would you like to explain yourself, little man?” Beowulf tried to keep the mirth from his tone.

The fool looked up at Beowulf nervously, worrying his hands in front of his body, face flushed from all the blood running to his head. “I… I swear, I don’t know how those cards got in my clothes! Perhaps I accidentally left them there after performing a magic trick for the king earlier…”

“Oh, you do magic?” Beowulf asked in amusement as he turned the jester the right way up, now holding Thedrick up under his arms. More playing cards fell out of his clothing as he was manhandled.

“Y-yeah! If you just put me down, I can show you!” Thedrick said with anxious cheer and a nervous smile.

Beowulf set Thedrick down gently on his feet on the cobblestones and reached up to give him a light pat on his jester’s hat, which jingled lightly. “Let’s see it then,” Beowulf prompted, smiling under his helmet.

“Ah yes, well, you see, for my next trick, I will disappear!” Thedrick said dramatically, and quickly turned on his heels to try and run. Beowulf quickly reached out a hand and placed it down heavily on Thedrick’s head, holding him in place so he couldn’t get away. He turned the jester back towards him, and Thedrick looked up at Beowulf with anxious fear.

“Show me your card trick, funny little man,” Beowulf said with amusement, releasing his grip on the smaller man’s head.

“Y-yes, of course,” Thedrick stuttered out before dropping to his knees and gathering up the cards off the cobblestones. He pulled them into part of a deck and got to his feet as he shuffled it, flashing the tall soldier a nervous look.

“Pick a card, any card!” the jester announced, holding the fanned-out deck towards the soldier. Beowulf reached out and pulled out a card, lifting it to look at its value. Then he tucked it back into the deck, and Thedrick closed up the deck with a grin.

Thedrick proceeded to shuffle the deck in various flashy ways, cards almost flying through the air as he did so. Eventually he stopped and pulled one of the cards out of the deck. “Is this your card?” he asked with a flourish and all the confidence in the world.

Beowulf grimaced slightly under his helmet when he saw the card. “N-no…” he said awkwardly.

“Oh,” Thedrick said, his showman demeanour quickly dropping away as his shoulders slouched slightly. He seemed to try and rally his own spirits for a moment and pulled out another card and held it up. “How about this one?”

Beowulf shook his head slightly, frowning. Any enthusiasm Thedrick might have had left seemed to be knocked out of him by that. He sighed and let the cards fall from his hands. “Well, maybe the real magic was friendship all along,” he suggested weakly, smiling up at Beowulf apprehensively as the cards fluttered to the ground around his bell tipped shoes.

Beowulf couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the little guy. He smiled down at him, though he knew his expression was hidden. He reached out a massive, armoured hand, and gently patted the jester on the head again, Thedrick flinching slightly under the touch, but then looked relieved when it was just a pat. “It’s alright, maybe you can try to show me some other time,” Beowulf suggested lightly.

Thedrick seemed to perk up at that slightly, giving Beowulf a lopsided smile.

“Shall we be on our way, lest those men emerge from the tavern, see you and decide to try and teach you that lesson they were so keen on giving you?” Beowulf asked, smirking to himself.

“Aye, let us make haste from here,” Thedrick agreed, glancing nervously back at the tavern. Beowulf gestured up the street and started walking, and Thedrick jogged a few paces to catch up to his long strides.

Beowulf looked down at the jester as they walked together towards the castle. He took note of the fading bruises that marked Thedrick’s face, evidence of the times where he hadn’t been saved from being served a beating by the tavern’s patrons. For some reason thinking about that had Beowulf overcome with the urge to protect the small man from harm.

The dark bruises showed up particularly well against the jester’s pale, almost translucent skin. Beowulf also noted Thedrick’s white hair (though it appeared he had used something to change the colour of the ends), as well as white eyebrows and lashes, and his eyes being a strange red colour. But his ridiculous outfit almost helped make these features seem not quite as unusual, as if they were part of the character he played, just another part of his makeup.

The bells covering Thedrick’s outfit jingled as he walked quickly, trying to keep up with Beowulf’s pace. Despite the jester’s features being slightly gaunt, they were rather handsome, at least Beowulf thought so. Even his long, pointed nose seemed to fit in well with his other characteristics. Thedrick seemed to notice that the soldier was studying him and looked up at him questioningly.

“What are you looking at, big guy?” the jester quipped merrily, grinning up at him. When he did so Beowulf could clearly see a gap from a missing tooth on the upper left hand side of his smile.

“Oh, just… your appearance is rather… unique,” Beowulf said thoughtfully.

Thedrick looked surprised for a moment. “Hey, yesterday you said I was handsome!” he exclaimed, pouting and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Woah, easy now. I didn't mean to contradict what I said before. Your unique look is handsome,” Beowulf reassured with waving hand gestures, grinning under his helmet.

“Well, you sure know what to say to a guy,” the jester murmured as he ducked his head slightly in embarrassment, and Beowulf thought he could see a tinge of a blush upon Thedrick’s pale skin.

“Hah, for all your bravado you are surprisingly easy to fluster,” the soldier pointed out, glad of his smile being hidden.

“Ye-yeah well, you know, I… haven’t ever had anyone respond positively to my advances… I wasn’t really prepared for this!” Thedrick explained clumsily, avoiding eye contact.

“And what do you think ‘this’ is?” Beowulf asked mirthfully, enjoying the silly little jester’s awkwardness.

“Someone actually wanting to talk to me?” Thedrick said with uncertainty, stealing glances up at the other.

“My, you’re certainly melancholy for a clown,” Beowulf pointed out, though more jokingly than critically.

“H-hey! You threw me off my game, that’s all!” the jester exclaimed indignantly, pale brows narrowing.

“So, where should we go anyway?” Beowulf changed the topic to ease up a bit on Thedrick. The pair of them had almost reached the castle.

The jester seemed to perk up a bit at that. “Follow me, I can show you some of the best spots in the castle!” he said gleefully, skipping ahead of Beowulf and gesturing for the soldier to follow.

Beowulf followed the small man through the winding corridors of the castle, up many flights of stone steps, until they ended up on a flat part of the roof. Beowulf was surprised to find them in a small roof garden, surrounded by raised garden beds as well as large pots containing trees.

“The queen’s pet project,” Thedrick briefly explained as he almost danced down the aisles between the garden beds. “Nice and quiet and a great view, come!” He gestured Beowulf towards the short wall that ran along the edge of the roof.

As Beowulf approached, Thedrick hopped up on the wall, balancing on the edge as he looked out over the castle courtyard and the rest of the castle town. Beowulf stepped up next to him, the jester’s head now being closer to the same height as his own.

Thedrick started whistling as he walked along the thin wall with his arms outstretched like it was a balancing act. Beowulf watched the jester as he fooled about, much more enamoured with him than he was with the view. Thedrick grew bolder and tipped into a cartwheel across the wall, which sent Beowulf’s heart into his throat. The jester came back towards him with a series of gymnastic backflips, landing the final one right in front of the soldier, turning to smile broadly at him.

“Most impressive,” Beowulf acknowledged with a nod of his head, which turned the jester’s smile from smug to genuine in an instant.

Thedrick bounced on the spot, clapping his hands together happily. He then tipped into a handstand, walking down the wall on his hands. However, when the jester tried to land back on his feet his foot slipped on the stone wall, which suddenly sent him tipping towards the edge. Beowulf moved on instinct, quickly reaching out and grabbing the small man by the hand to prevent him from falling.

Beowulf had grabbed Thedrick’s hand quite firmly, though he was still surprised at the way the jester flinched and automatically tried to pull his hand away. Once Thedrick had regained his footing Beowulf let go of his hand, the soldier watching carefully as the jester pulled the hand against his body, wincing in pain.

“Are you alright?” Beowulf asked in concern, and under his helmet his brows were pulled together.

“Haha, whoops, yeah I’m fine,” the jester tried to brush off, still cradling his hand against his chest protectively.

“Show me your hand,” the soldier requested firmly, holding out one of his own massive hands. Thedrick looked between Beowulf’s helmet and his hand nervously.

“It-it’s nothing, really,” Thedrick said dismissively, holding his white gloved hand out towards the soldier hesitantly. Beowulf grasped the jester’s wrist as gently as he could, before using the fingers of his other hand to grab the tip of the glove and pull it off. Beowulf’s eyes widened as he saw the darkly bruised flesh of the jester’s hand, matching the bruises on his face.

Beowulf gently pushed up Thedrick’s sleeve while the jester grimaced, and he found more dark welts running up the small man’s thin arms. His baggy jester clothes mostly obscured the fact that Thedrick was concerningly naught much more than skin and bone.

Beowulf gently took up the jester’s other hand as well, pulling off the other glove to find more matching discolouration marking his pale skin, leading up under that sleeve as well. The soldier was now gently cradling Thedrick’s small thin hands in his own armoured paws.

The soldier glanced at the jester’s face, and noticed the small man was blushing quite furiously, his red eyes looking away from where Beowulf held his hands.

“Where did all these come from?” Beowulf asked in a measured tone, trying to look into Thedrick’s eyes.

Thedrick shrugged nonchalantly, avoiding eye contact. “Oh, you know… all those lessons the soldiers and others like to teach me…”

“Do you have them all over your body?” Beowulf was unable to prevent his voice pitching up slightly in distress.

“W-well yeah, b-but it’s not as bad as you think!” the jester exclaimed, taking his hands back and raising them in a gesture of placation. “My skin is very delicate, I bruise super easily,” he attempted to reassure, though that didn’t assuage any of Beowulf’s concerns at all.

“And you’re so thin! Do you even eat proper meals?” Beowulf continued, worry lacing his tone.

“H-hey… lay off a little will you… you’re not my mother…” Thedrick joked half-heartedly as he pulled his gloves back on, covering up the dark marks on his hands.

“You need someone to feed you up… come, let's visit the castle kitchens!” Beowulf declared firmly, which seemed to slightly startle the little jester.

“Ah… at this time? The staff will have all gone to bed,” Thedrick pointed out nervously.

“Good, we don’t need them, you got me,” Beowulf said confidently, pointing a thumb towards his own chest. “Now come along, funny little man,” he said as he offered out a hand to the jester to help him down off the wall.

Beowulf smirked as he noticed the wide-eyed expression that crossed Thedrick’s face at what the soldier had called him. The jester ignored the offered hand, instead performing an elegant flip off the wall back down onto the roof. He shot Beowulf a grin before they headed for the stairs together.