Liv & Kuolema

II

Throughout the night, as a summer storm blew rain onto the windows in violent streaks, Berwald found he couldn't sleep. He didn't know what time it was; it was too dark to see his clock and his glasses were on his bedside table, but once he'd woken up in the night, he had stayed awake.

His thoughts were all over the place, and the noise from the storm didn't help to settle him down. After what felt like an hour of tossing and turning, he sat up and pushed himself out of bed, then felt around for his glasses before lighting his bedside lantern.

It was way too early to be up and about, Berwald decided, but he was already awake, and he knew what he had to do. He had to occupy himself. Not just his hands, he needed to occupy his mind too. Going for a walk might've been the only way to do that, rain or not.

So he pulled on some of his warmest clothes and checked to make sure everything was covered before putting on his gloves. The leather was thick, so he had a difficult time doing anything delicate while wearing them. Before long, he was putting on his long blue overcoat, then, when he was ready, he blew out the lantern and stepped outside, locking the door behind him.

There was nothing to worry about when it came to him walking alone in the dark. The biggest thing was the storm, and even that was hardly anything compared to some of the Scandinavian blizzards he had grown up with. As far as criminals were concerned, if any wanted to jump him, it would have been their last mistake.

Aside from the rain which echoed in his ears and fogged up the edges of his glasses, Berwald found the city was peaceful. Save for the occasional gust of wind, the rainstorm was hardly anything to be concerned over. That was until he had gone down the street and saw a small figure with pale hair hunched against the side of the building, trying to keep warm and dry, though it seemed just about impossible in that weather.

Funnily enough, the building the figure was pressing against was a small hotel that Berwald knew to keep odd hours; it seemed like the owner never got any sleep at all since he was always up and about.

A bad feeling told him who it was curled up against the building, but he thought he had to just be paranoid. With a frown at the small figure, Berwald decided to get them a room if he could. He went inside the inn and looked around, but found its keeper, a Norwegian man by the name of Lukas Bondevik, sitting by the fire and reading a newspaper.

“Velkommen inn,” the innkeeper muttered without looking up from his newspaper, undisturbed by the late hour visitor.

Since he knew neither of them appreciated making small talk, the Swede decided to make it brief. “There's someone outside,” he told him, but the innkeeper didn't seem worried about it at all.

“I know,” Lukas replied, still failing to look up. “Told him he could come inside, but I think I scared him off.”

“Don't you have a room to put him in?” Berwald asked. The inn was rarely fully booked, so there couldn't be a problem with that. If money was an issue, he figured if it was Timo outside, he could help him until he was able to find something to help pay for expenses, some sort of work.

The innkeeper shook his head and folded up the newspaper before setting it aside. “Nei. The rooms filled up quickly today. I told him he could store his things here and sit by the fire,” he explained with a slight frown.

Berwald sighed and glanced outside as a gust of wind threw rainfall against the window panes. “What about tomorrow? I can pay now,” he offered, already reaching inside his coat to withdraw the pouch that he kept his money in.

Since Lukas hadn't immediately denied payment, Berwald figured his chances were good. He watched as the innkeeper crossed over to the front desk and flipped through a small book that he kept his records in.