ActionsPageDiscussionView sourceHistoryThe Brother's Feud

Brummen: I love my family. We don’t always agree on everything, but we’ve never fought over our differences. There’s only one instance that could have changed that last statement. During a battle, I saw my older brother, Glocke, knocked down and defenseless. Although I was new with wielding a shield, I jumped in front of him and blocked the blows of the beast of an enemy that was trying to kill him. The blows were heavy and broke both my shield and my shield arm, but I managed to protect my brother long enough for others to come to our aid. Although I didn’t expect many thanks for my deed, I hadn’t expected what I got instead.

  “This is probably going to hurt. I’m sorry,” the medic said grimly. He held a large pair of heavy-duty scissors in his hands and prepared to cut the straps that held the broken shield to my arm.
  Although, at age fifteen, I’d been slowly building a tolerance to pain over the past three or so years, I couldn’t deny the throb of my broken arm. I clenched my teeth and gripped the edge of the table I was sitting next to, digging my fingernails into the wood. The medic did his best to jostle the shield as little as possible, but each time the straps tugged on my arm, a shock of agony coursed its way up to my shoulder.
  “There. All free.”
  I took a deep breath, thankful that the more intense pain was past for the moment. The medic reached for the supplies to set my arm, but I shook my head and waved him away with my other hand.
  “There are others that need you more than I do.”
  “But, Master Brummen—”
  “It’s just a broken arm. It won’t kill me. I can wait.” As if to reassure him of my ability to do just that, I pulled my broken arm in closer to my body. It still hurt, but the pain seemed to drop to tolerable levels when I held it still. There were other men that were far worse off than I was—men that had been run through with swords. A broken arm was, in comparison, a minor wound, and I had no intention of letting any of my fellow countrymen die just because I couldn’t handle seeing my arm at an odd angle.
  “Very well.” The medic turned away from me and quickly went to the aid of another. I think he agreed with my position. He had tried to hide his look of relief as he left, but I’d seen it. I certainly didn’t think I deserved to have special treatment and come first in line just because I was the son of the leader of our community.
  “What on earth did you think you were doing?”
  I looked over to the doorway, surprised to hear Glocke’s angry voice. My nineteen-year-old brother was advancing toward me quickly and looked like he might very well send his fist flying into my face to add my nose to the short list of broken body parts. I jumped to my feet and actually backed away. I’d never seen him so angry before—certainly never this angry at me.
  “What do you mean?” I asked.
  “That stunt you pulled out there! How dare you jump in front of me like that!” Glocke bellowed.
  “You can’t be serious!”
  “I had everything under control before you messed it up!”
  “You were on the ground, Glocke,” I argued back.
  “I could have taken him. You had no right!”
  “You didn’t even have your sword in your hand.” I couldn’t believe we were arguing over this. I couldn’t believe he was yelling at me for blocking blows that had been intended for him.
  “Brummen, you can’t do that!”
  “Can’t do what? Save your life?”
  “You didn’t save my life, Bru. You put your own in danger!”
  “He was about to slice you in half!” Still high from the adrenaline of battle, and a little on edge from the pain in my arm, my own temper ignited and quickly flared to match my brother’s. “I saved your life!”
  “Well don’t do so again!”
  “I’ll save your life whenever I want to!”
  “You save my life like that, and I’ll see to it that more than your arm is broken!”
  “Get out of here, Glocke!” I clenched my hand into a fist. I wasn’t going to take this much longer.
  “You can’t order me around.”
  “Get out of here, Glocke!”
  “I swear, Brummen—”
  Glocke was interrupted by an older soldier stepping between us and attempting to push him backwards. At the same time, I felt the medic gently yet firmly tugging on my good shoulder. I yielded to the man, the pain in my arm flaring up. Glocke, on the other hand, struggled to get free. Two other soldiers joined in and the three of them removed my brother from the medical ward.
  “I want you to sit there and not move until I can set your arm and send you to bed,” the medic stated firmly. “No more arguing in my room, do you understand me?”
  “Yes, sir,” I muttered, but obeyed, returning to the stool I’d been sitting on earlier. I clenched my teeth once again against both the pain and the anger, staring indignantly at the broken shield lying on the table. How could Glocke be so angry at me when we both knew I had saved his life?
  That evening wasn’t much better. Neither Glocke nor I appeared at our family’s gathering before bed that night. It hadn’t mattered, though—the story of our argument had already reached our parents’ ears. We were both summoned to their room where we were firmly reminded that such arguments had no place in our family. Uncharacteristically, neither of us agreed. We refused to reconcile, to talk, to even look at each other. We left their room with nothing settled.
  Our family wasn’t deterred. As close as we all are to each other, our brotherly disagreement affected everyone. The discord was felt by every member of our family, and each individual tried to help us reconcile.
  “Brummen?”
  I groaned to myself as I lay on my bed the next night. The day had been very, very long. Battle had continued without me outside of the city, and familial battle had raged within. Ordinarily, hearing my fourteen-year-old sister’s voice outside my door was a welcome oasis in the midst of the trials of life. Tonight, however, I knew what she’d say. I didn’t want to hear it.
  The door opened despite my lack of answer. “Bru?” Arien poked her head into the room. “Oh good! You are awake.”
  “If you’re here to hound me about Glocke, don’t bother,” I muttered.
  “Oh?” Arien replied, closing the door behind her and coming to perch on the side of the bed. “You’ve made up?”
  I glared at her.
  “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’”
  I closed my eyes and slung my good arm over them. Part of me hoped she’d go away. I wasn’t mad at her—really. I just didn’t want to discuss Glocke with her. She was my best friend, my confidante, and I knew if we got started on the topic, I’d become angry all over again and might say something I later regretted.
  “How’s your arm?”
  I sighed. “Still attached.”
  “Does it still hurt?”
  “Mm-hmm.”
  “Anything I can do?”
  “Nope.”
  “Are you sure?”
  “Yup.”
  “I could sing it a lullaby to help it go to sleep tonight.”
  I lifted my arm and peeked at her. The mischievous smirk on her face evoked a chuckle from me. Relenting, I uncovered my face and pulled myself into a sitting position. I used my right arm to awkwardly scoot back to lean against the headboard. Arien twisted around to face me, pulling her legs up onto the bed and crossing them at the ankles. She wrapped her elbows around her propped-up knees and grasped one wrist in her other hand.
  “I think we finally won it tonight.”
  “Sent them all running?”
  “Well, most of them. You know, the usual—retreat and pursuit. Seemed like the normal last time instead of the temporary retreats. I hope so anyway.”
  “Yeah, me, too.”
  I well knew the tactics we used every time the war resumed. It had been made clear from the start—we were defending, not attacking. We would protect our lands and our people, but we wouldn’t leave them behind. If the enemy exhausted themselves and turned in retreat, the older men and those on horseback would pursue to take out as many as possible to further extend the times between attacks. But they’d never leave our borders. Defense. That’s all we ever did. We older Dehnen children would join in battle and fight until the call for retreat and pursuit—and then we’d help the wounded back to town. Not all retreats were made equal—some seemed to only give us just enough time to remove the wounded and dead from the battlefields—and some meant the end to that particular leg of the war.
  “You look like you managed okay. I’m sorry you were out there without me,” I offered.
  “Heh, yeah, never saw that one coming. I mean, you’re the one that usually gets me out there to begin with. I think Glocke’s still mad—he didn’t seem to notice I was there until it was too late.”
  I looked away. I should have known she’d bring it back around to him.
  “Bru, you’ve gotta reconcile.”
  “Why? Why me? I didn’t do anything wrong,” I insisted.
  “Well, if nothing else you argued back.”
  “Arien, I saved his life! I took a beating in his place! My arm is broken because of it! And what did I get in return? He came in there and yelled at me for it! No thanks; no appreciation; no hint of relief that he was still alive. Just a full-on diatribe about how I was wrong to save him.”
  “Well, then, forgive him.”
  “Arien,” I got up off the bed.
  “Brummen, please,” she begged. “I know you saved him. I am so glad that you did! I don’t even like to think of what would have happened if you hadn’t jumped in to save him. And I don’t think he’s right to be angry. But you can’t live like this! It’ll eat you to pieces.”
  I shook my head at her, all sorts of retorts coming to mind. But this was my little sister. I loved her. This ordeal with Glocke wasn’t her fault.
  “If all you want to talk about is Glocke, then you can see yourself out of the room.”
  Arien dropped her arms from her knees and turned pleading eyes on me. For once, I was resistant.
  “Your choice, Arien. Change the topic and stay, or leave.”
  “Bru—”
  “Or I’ll leave.”
  “I just—”
  “Fine.”
  I’m not sure she originally thought I was serious, but I did leave. Then and there, I turned my back on my dear sister and left her in my room on my bed. I had nowhere to go, really. I couldn’t leave the house—the aftermath of battle was still playing out outside, and with only one arm, I was still fairly useless to help. I managed to avoid most everyone that night, however.
  It took me a week to do, but I finally convinced the captain of the guard to allow me to return to guard duty on the ramparts. I usually didn’t carry a shield up there anyhow—just the assigned spear. Having a broken arm merely limited me and didn’t fully disqualify me for service. I rather suspect the only reason he allowed me up there was out of pity for me and submission to my grandfather. The wall between Glocke and I had only thickened in the week since my last battle, and everyone’s attempts at helping us reconcile had been thwarted.
  That night, as I left home to head toward the guardhouse to begin my turn on the ramparts, my grandfather unexpectedly joined me. At first, I feared he was going to join in with everyone else’s attempts to fix what wasn’t really their problem. After a few moments of silence, however, I realized that he, too, was on guard duty. Finally, he broke the awkward silence.
  “How’s your arm?”
  I shrugged. “It’s there. Healing, I guess.”
  “Healing is good.”
  I waited. Nothing. “Are you wanting to talk about it, too?”
  “No, Bru, I don’t want to talk about it. In fact, I think there’s been too much talk about it. I think this all needs to be resolved between you and Glocke, and all this interference is only making matters worse.”
  I was quite surprised by his answer, but also relieved. For once, someone wasn’t going to tell me how I was wrong to still be angry at my brother.
  “I do have a question for you, though.”
  “Oh?” Despite the fact that I’d avoided as many people as possible all week, I was ready to talk—well, ready to talk with someone who wasn’t going to bring up my argument with Glocke. In hindsight, I realize now that Grandfather had made his statement to open my mind and heart to him instead of adding bricks to the wall I’d been building all week.
  “I’m curious about something. I’ve thought to ask you before, but the time never seemed right.”
  “What is it?” He had my full attention and curiosity now.
  “If I could grant you one wish—just one desire of your heart—what would it be?”
  I stared at him, dumbfounded. As soon as he asked the question, my mind went blank.
  “Think about it for a little bit,” he encouraged as we continued down the roads. “What do you want most?”
  I did as he stated and considered his question. He was patient and waited. We arrived at the guardhouse and both gathered our spears—Grandfather armed himself with a bow and quiver of arrows as well. Silently, we both ascended the stairs to the ramparts. He was to go left, and I was to go right. We paused at the top, and he looked at me. I could see clearly that he wasn’t going to press the issue if I wasn’t ready to answer.
  “I think—” I started, but stopped abruptly. In all honesty, it hadn’t taken me long to decide what that one thing was. I merely wasn’t sure how to state it. “I—” I tried again, but gave up trying to phrase it just right. Dropping my head, I admitted, “I just want my family to be safe.”
  Grandfather didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure of his immediate reaction, not able to bring my eyes to meet his. Why I was so embarrassed by my answer, I’m not sure. We stood there quietly for a minute before he reached out and grasped my shoulder.
  “I have no doubt,” he started in a husky voice. “No doubt at all, Brummen, that you will see your wish fulfilled.”
  I wasn’t so confident.
  He squeezed my shoulder and made one final statement before turning to begin his rounds: “If only because you will fulfill it.”
  I stared after him for a bit before remembering that I, too, was on duty, and turned to consider his words while I walked the walls. I was both encouraged and unsettled by his words. Part of me hoped he would be right—that I would be able to protect my family and keep them safe. The other part of me feared he would be wrong—that I would fail and end up the reason for my family’s demise.
  Several hours passed as I considered, walking up and down the wall, simultaneously keeping my eyes on the surrounding landscape. It was quite late in the night when, as I neared the stairway once again, someone ascended to the ramparts. I recognized the dark, curly hair; the strong, broad shoulders; and the commanding stature of my brother before Glocke turned toward me. I scowled at him and turned my back—with good cause: that was the end of my walk and the spot I usually turned back. I hoped he was there to speak with Grandfather, because the mere sight of him brought back all the frustration of the week. I was halfway down my path before my hopes were dashed.
  “Brummen,” came Glocke’s call.
  He wasn’t far behind me—must have followed me on my trek. I tried to ignore him, quite disgruntled that he’d even come. Of all the places, this was the one I couldn’t just leave to get away from him. I had a task, a duty, and I would fulfill it regardless of his presence.
  “Bru, please.” His voice was soft—the anger was gone. I easily detected the note of contrition.
  “What?” I snapped, turning my icy glare on him. I was surprised at the humility of his stance and the regret on his face.
  “We need to talk.”
  I said nothing, but didn’t walk away, either. His posture was different, and something told me to stay—stay and listen closely.
  “I know you’re upset with me, and you have every right. I was wrong. I was wrong to yell at you and I was wrong to say what I said. And I was wrong to let this go on for so long. I just—”
  The distressed look that crossed his face made me uneasy. I’d never seen my older brother like this before.
  “When I was knocked down during that battle—I just—I was prepared to die. I knew it was coming. I closed my eyes and waited for the blow, but instead of feeling that mace, I heard this sickening thud. I opened my eyes and saw you standing over me, shield up, and watched as he brought his mace down on you again. And you dropped your sword and braced for another blow—and another—and another.” His voice shook a little as he concluded, “And all I could think was, ‘I’m going to watch my brother die in front of me.’ And it terrified me.”
  Glocke brought his gaze up to meet mine, and I saw without doubt that he was telling the truth. All the anger and frustration of the week dissipated at that moment.
  Glocke shook his head, “I didn’t want to admit it, though. So, I turned my fear into anger and plowed into you for it. And I was wrong to do so. I’m sorry.”

We were reconciled that night. We still don’t always agree on everything and still have our differences, but we understand each other better now. It had taken humility on Glocke’s part to admit to me that he’d feared my death. It hadn’t occurred to him, however, until I told him that night, that the very fear he’d named—the fear of watching his brother die in front of him—was the very reason that I’d jumped in front of him in the first place.