There it was again, that strange warmth, when Noel called Brynjar a friend. And it got stronger when Noel said he wanted Brynjar to be happy. Brynjar frowned just slightly, confused, before he smiled a bit at Noel, and nodded
"You considering me a friend is...priceless. I'm honoured. Thank you."
Brynjar hadn't had any idea what Noel could've possibly asked him for repayment, but when the man commanded him to basically be happy it more or less caught Brynjar off guard. He blinked and opened his mouth once, only to close it again. Now he certainly didn't have any words. In the first place Brynjar didn't know what made him happy. That particular feeling was absent from inside him. As for loving...
Brynjar looked down, slightly embarrassed. He liked to read of romantic love, but he had never experienced it. Brynjar wanted to, but he was so very unsure and afraid. And other kinds of love, love for his family and kindred, those feelings he had forgotten after the centuries on ice.
"I...I could never do such a thing, for personal gain. In the first place I don't...I do not know how..."
Brynjar had opened his fists and was looking at his palms, observing all the small scars he had on them. He could name all the occasions he had received them, he could see the one or what had given them to him. One scar in particular, on his right thumb, Brynjar looked at closer. It was from his childhood, when his mother had tried to teach his how to peel potatoes. A small smile drifted to Brynjar's face and for a second it was void of sadness. It returned soon enough, but Brynjar had realized something. He had not forgotten the love towards his family and comrades. He still had it. But...
Could he ever feel that same love towards anyone?
"You considering me a friend is...priceless. I'm honoured. Thank you."
Brynjar hadn't had any idea what Noel could've possibly asked him for repayment, but when the man commanded him to basically be happy it more or less caught Brynjar off guard. He blinked and opened his mouth once, only to close it again. Now he certainly didn't have any words. In the first place Brynjar didn't know what made him happy. That particular feeling was absent from inside him. As for loving...
Brynjar looked down, slightly embarrassed. He liked to read of romantic love, but he had never experienced it. Brynjar wanted to, but he was so very unsure and afraid. And other kinds of love, love for his family and kindred, those feelings he had forgotten after the centuries on ice.
"I...I could never do such a thing, for personal gain. In the first place I don't...I do not know how..."
Brynjar had opened his fists and was looking at his palms, observing all the small scars he had on them. He could name all the occasions he had received them, he could see the one or what had given them to him. One scar in particular, on his right thumb, Brynjar looked at closer. It was from his childhood, when his mother had tried to teach his how to peel potatoes. A small smile drifted to Brynjar's face and for a second it was void of sadness. It returned soon enough, but Brynjar had realized something. He had not forgotten the love towards his family and comrades. He still had it. But...
Could he ever feel that same love towards anyone?