A Firefly In The Hand
Some pre-canon/pre-relationship Forsython, Forsyth trains at night, remembers a local tradition, and Python reminds him that he'll never be alone.
The moment Forsyth’s plans set into motion was after he heard his parents exchange goodnights the room over. He kept his eyes shut, but began reciting one of the old veteran’s war stories in his head to keep him awake for the next thirty minutes, listening closely for any noises in the house. When the only sounds he could hear was the distant bleating of his neighbor’s goats, he shrugged his blankets off and hopped out of bed.
Moving as quietly as his feet would allow, he made his way over to the window and pulled it open, climbing up and out into the quiet darkness.
Sneaking through the village late at night wasn’t a new activity for him by any means, nor was it for any of the local youth. During the summer, a mass of fireflies would light up the sky every year, and it was regional tradition to catch one in your hands and make a wish that was certain to come true, but the younger children were sent to bed long before they appeared. This, of course, began a long standing and unspoken custom to sneak out after everyone else had gone to bed. Forsyth remembered those evenings fondly, catching one for both him and Python (who couldn’t be bothered to do it himself) and gleefully refusing to share their wishes.
Usually, he would wish to become a knight one day, but there were other, even more secret things he hoped for too.
Tonight, however, he wasn’t off to hunt for fireflies, but train. If Father wouldn’t let him do it during the day, he would just have to do it when he was asleep.
It wasn’t long before he had made his way out to his favorite clearing in the nearby woods. It was a fairly open area surrounded by a ring of tall, hardwood trees, with many bushes scattered around for him to hide his training lances, lantern, and bandages for worse case scenarios (he often had to forcibly enlist Python to help him come up with reasonable excuses for the injuries). He never put his things in the same spot to avoid detection, effort that his best friend told him was unnecessary as no one was even looking for them, but that was Python, who told him any effort was unnecessary.
At the moment, his stash was nestled into a wild blackberry bush which will lay dormant for another month or so, where they had spent many a summer afternoon ruining their dinner. He pulled out the crude wooden lance, which only looked anything at all like a weapon because the blacksmith from the next town over had taken pity on him when he was in the village for a horseshoe delivery and helped him carve it.
That was how most of the adult’s saw his aspirations. Just a child’s fantasy to indulge in, even as he grew into teenhood.
He gripped his lance tighter.
After lighting the lantern with his flint and stone to give the night some small illumination, he took the frustration of never being taken seriously out on the invisible enemies laid out before him, swiping at them in his best mimicry of the forms in his book on combat. His father tried to take it away from him, but his mother had always felt bad and returned to him later on.
More pity.
“Haaaah!” he let out a huff of exertion as he lost his footing, sliding forward an inch further than he had meant to and nearly falling.
“Really? This again?”
As he righted himself, a familiar voice emerged from the darkness, and Python came into the dim lantern light, arms behind his head in judgemental nonchalance, “Yer pop is gonna be mad.”
“I know that. And you should know by now that won’t stop me,” he replied, swinging once more, “I do everything he asks of me all day, so I can do what I want at night.”
Python shrugged, taking a seat against one of the thick tree trunks. it was a common enough occurrence for his friend to join him, as he would often be up anyway, choosing to instead nap throughout the day like a cat. His parents weren’t all too fond of the behavior, but unlike Forsyth’s family, they had long given up on changing him.
“You know I’m all for doing whatever it is ‘ya want,” he said with a dismissive wave, “I just thought you might need the reminder. You actually seem to care when he yells at you.”
Forsyth paused, glaring down at the dirt like it had wronged him, “I don’t care about his opinion so much as it’s suffocating to be there when he’s angry. We just aren’t going to see eye to eye, which I’m fine with, but he refuses to accept it.”
A jab, and a snicker from Python.
“Are you picturing an enemy soldier, or your old man?”
“Both.”
They shared a laugh at that. Despite their differences, and how often they would get on each other’s nerves, if there was one thing he could never be in Python’s presence, it was dour.
“Any success with hunting lately? he asked conversationally as he resumed, now focusing more on his footwork than his lancework. It may have been hard to believe, but out of all the teenagers and the village, Python easily had the best bow arm, and thus the hunters always forced him to tag along. Forsyth suspected the only reason he gave in is because hunting had significant down time compared to carpentry.
"I guess. Been seeing a lot of wild boar lately, but I don't think I'll tag along for that. A lot of work I'm not willing to put in."
Forsyth scoffed, "Two boar could feed the village for a week and a half! If you helped, it would save you a lot of work in the long run."
Python hummed in consideration, snuggling into his relaxed position even more like he was barely listening, but Forsyth knew he was actually thinking hard on his words. One of the few things he would put effort into was the saving of effort, after all.
"We'll see. It's a problem for tomorrow."
"If you," step, jab, "Always," step back, block, "Put off," downward swing, "Your problems," upwards swing, "Until 'tomorrow', then you'll never get to enjoy 'tomorrow'."
"Your form was off in the middle there, more shoulder, less arm," Python pointed out, and Forsyth adjusted accordingly, "That might be true, but if yer always doin' everything today, then you can't enjoy the moment. Either way you lose something, and I'd prefer to reap my benefits before I'm old and wizened."
Shaking his head, it was Forsyth’s turn to shrug, "I will never understand you as long as I live."
"Feeling's mutual, pal."
And for the next few minutes, there was silence between them. When they were younger, their time was almost always filled with antics, arguments, and mutually prodding, and there was still plenty of that, but they were now able to enjoy long periods of quiet together.
Of course, nothing lasts forever.
"Python, look!" Forsyth called out, letting his lance arm relax, "Fireflies!"
True to his word, a group of fireflies formed a small bundle of light that was hovering near and on the bushes.
"They're a little early, but it is getting to be that time," Python supplied, getting up and brushing the dirt off his posterior, "Reminds me of when we were kids, staying up too late to see the lightning bugs."
"You're right..." he put his training lance aside, Forsyth reached out to trap two in his hands, a much easier task as a sixteen year old than a nine year old.
Python walked over to him, smiling in a soft way Forsyth thought might exclusively be for him, but didn't dare be so bold as to be sure of that, "Caught one for me too, just to finish the trip down memory lane?"
"Maybe I just want two wishes for myself."
"Ha!" Python gave him a friendly jab in the ribs, "You'd never be that selfish, it'd give you a stomach ache. Though your lofty dreams need as many wishes as they can get."
Forsyth’s heart fell. He often forgot that even his best and longest friend also saw his dreams as silly.
He did his best to sound chipper, "I think I'll just let them go this time. No need to rely on some bugs when I've got hard work!"
As he opened his hands to release them, he felt something, or rather someone, force them shut, "Hey now, what's all this about? That ain't like you."
"It's nothing."
"Don't give me that. Nothin, is ever just nothin' with you."
"You're being awfully pushy about this. Why do you even care?"
Even in the low lighting, Forsyth could see a unique flavor or anger flare in Python's eyes at that, making a feeling bubble in his gut he couldn't name. The look was gone as soon as he saw it, but it wasn't something he would soon forget.
"Dealing with you normally is already more work than I feel like doin', and it's double that when you're mopey. Better put the work in now than be forced to deal with it later, right?"
That's what Forsyth always said to him.
"It's- No one takes me seriously. Not my parents, not anyone else in the village, not even you. I won't give up no matter what anyone thinks of me, but I would rather not be dismissed anytime I open my mouth. My dreams aren't just some joke!"
"Forsyth," Python tightened his grip on his friend's hand, making Forsyth worry he was killing the poor torchbugs, "Listen. I do think what you're tryin' to do is impossible. But I know you're serious about it. I take everything you do seriously, even if they're wastes of time. Have I ever tried stopping you?"
"...no."
"And have I been there for all the nonsense?"
"...yes."
"Am I here, keepin' you company because I know that you get unto yer own head on nights like these, when I could be in my comfy bed back home?"
"Yes."
Python released him, so he could in turn release the fireflies, thankfully alive, though likely quite annoyed, "Then that's that. I would love it if you learned to settle for a little less, but I'm never gonna get in the way of your big dreams. Yer gonna need someone with a good head on their shoulders to keep your big old noggin' from floating away anyhow."
"Python..." Forsyth grinned, much more like his normal self, "I'm sorry for doubting you. Lazy layabout you might be, bad friend you are not."
"Glad to see your common sense came back. While we're here," he smiled mischievously, "Why don't you tell me what you wished for?"
"It won't come true if I do!"
And like that, they argued amicably until their exhaustion finally caught up to them (and Forsyth’s father was an early riser, so he had to return soon), and they walked back to the village together.
Forsyth hadn't come out here to find fireflies, but he had, and even better, rediscovered that no matter what he might feel in the moment, he'll never be truly alone.•
