How Borg, the 5th Level Fighting-man, Trains
You know blonde Borg, don't you? He wears his hair in one long braid, because his people are from beyond the eastern plains. He killed the twin Ogres, claimed the prized Phoenix Jewel from the Plains of Ash, and wrestled many men to submission. I asked him about the methods that built his bronze, marvellous body.
"You make your body by living," he told me, "did you try to think for yourself before asking me, dog?"
Typical Borg, but I pressed him, and he told me to follow him, so I did. He doesn't follow a fixed routine, like I learned to do, so there's no sense in presenting his training program. I found some unifying principles, though I'm not sure how much help they are.
Big Borg takes life easy. He eats plentifully of cow and pig, drinks his wine in big gulps, and spends his time in repose or leisure. He stays up late playing at dice, and beats his servants when they make small mistakes. He naps just past noon everyday; everywhere he goes he takes big leisurely steps.
When he does train he comes late to the field, and never in inclement weather. Then he does a few simple lifts; a side press over the shoulder, some stone lifting, and almost never sprinting or running; the loads never push him, unless someone tries to show him up: then he'll grit his teeth and outwork them, and there's nothing they can do about it. Ralphe challenged him to a wrestling match and said insults about his father; blonde Borg left him with a broken arm.
The only other time he trains hard like the other men is when he makes a game of it. The other day he dug a hole and spent hours throwing heavier and heavier stones, each painted in patterns of orange and green, from different distances. Others joined him, and they sent the servants to bring them wine. All day the men drank and tossed stones. Borg cut their scores on tally sticks, and turned red when great bellied Mundos surpassed him—his eyes sharpened like a wild wolf, he muttered and hissed to himself, and endeavoured with all his being to surpass Mundos, and did.
But most days are not like that. He trains lazily, or not at all.
Then there's a job that needs doing, and he is the first to volunteer. I asked to come with him to slay a great River Serpent, and he said "okay, dog" and led the way. We armed ourselves, I in my father's helm, he in great furs and a few iron plates, and he armed others, too: five men followed us, and hoped to make a name for themselves.
We rode from village to village, and asked the people about the Serpent that broke the boats that went downriver. We came to Varlin, the village under trees, and their wise elder said "It hates humans, because the Samite people use the river for their mill and give nothing in return; so the river sent a snake to punish us all, because the Samites use their mill to make grain into flour, but share none of their bread with the river. Borg, punish the Samites."
And Borg said he would. We went to the Samites, whose land borders the Red Mountains and stretches with golden fields of wheat. Their village is protected by tall palisades. The proud Samites were sad, because their mill was broken and they could not travel by boat, all because of the great River Serpent. None among them knew how to read the flight of birds, or count meaning from bones. Borg found the leader of the Samites, the old woman Sia, and told her to pay one life and much grain to the river. She rebuked him, and said "Stop joking: grain is our lifeblood. You eat our grain like we do; when the river stops thrashing our mill, I will give it flour made into fine bread." Borg nodded, and flashed a devilish smile at me. It was the same one he wore when he came with one of his strength games.
I woke that night with his hand clenched hard on my jaw. "Wake now, and silent: Sia's men cannot know." We crept from her house. One man alone stayed behind, and talked to the bent servant Jarlz about many stories, because Jarlz did chores through the night.
Borg, myself, and the four others nighted quickly through the village to the granary at the top of the hill. The gate was made from a strong wood; Borg told me to keep watch, and I did. His muscles coiled full of power and he smashed through the gate with his axe, and in the village below I saw lanterns flicker to life because each chop echoed from the hill across the flat lands of the Samites.
We went inside, and there he found two strong sacks and told his men to fill them with grain. I told him that a lantern bobbed up the hill toward us, and he only smiled even though I became frightened, and my courage shrunk.
A Samite warrior called out three times while we hid in the granary. He saw the busted gate, and turned to run back to the village. Then, Borg yelled in a womanly voice "Thief!" and the Samite warrior turned and leapt inside, his chest rising and falling fast like a rabbit. Borg struck the man's sword with force and it clanged to the ground, and he grabbed him by his short hair and threw him to the floor, where the men bound him with rope. I looked outside, and now more lanterns bobbed in the village, and calls could be heard echoing up the hill.
He really smiled now and held both sacks on each shoulder. He burst from the granary, and the four men followed behind carrying the rope bound Samite warrior who now really cried and screamed. Borg ran faster than all of us across the plains, even as he had to grunt and moan with effort, and hot sweat dripped from his brow onto his feet.
Sia's house warriors, pride of the Samites, rallied and gave chase. I heard them galloping before I saw them: 7 men finely clad in iron, each with many short throwing spears that hungered for human flesh. The first whistled past me, and another struck a man and made him die. The other three almost dropped our captive, but Borg yelled at them. He said "Carry that man to the river: if you slow or drop him I will kill all of you, divide your bodies into parts, then feed them to the crows." So they ran, because they feared Borg more than the house warriors.
We came to the river, and another round of darts flew at us and would have struck if not for the protection of night. Borg tossed the heavy sacks of grain into the river, then grabbed the hostage and yelled to our pursuers. "Do not throw your darts, or you will strike your man dead. Come, on foot, and I will not make his family mourn his short life." The men, who outnumbered and outarmed us, dismounted and my iron blade quivered in my hand, like a butterfly afraid of flowers.
The 7 men each produced a sword, and told Borg to give back the Samite man. "We gave you hospitality, and now you rob us only to lose your treasure to the river. Give us Clegor, son of Boht and the gracious Unn, and you will lose only your hands, not your life."
Borg agreed. The men sheathed their swords, and one approached to take Clegor, when Borg broke into a shout: "Great river! Great Serpent! I give you man and grain; so let me challenge you and win!" He broke the neck of the man and threw him into the river. The 7 warriors were furious, and fell on us with their blades. Borg fought well, but 2 more of our men died, and the last surrendered. I fought furiously, and hid behind Borg who was iron bitten but still standing.
Then, when I had thought myself dead, river water crashed upon us and knocked all down except Borg. A great serpentine tail swept over my head, and dragged 2 iron-clad Samite warriors into the water. The men panicked, but Borg dove in, unafraid of the water. We watched him wrestle the Serpent; it was if he grabbed the river itself, even as it thrashed against him and bit him with white wild spit. He let the monster chase him with its dagger long teeth, but he shifted here and there, and let the water bear him off, or resisted its force to always evade the worst of the danger. And as the serpent chased him he crawled through its constricting coils, and the monster found itself bound up in a great heap that he heaved above his head, and with a mighty shove rolled it onto the river bank.
Blood ran free from him into the river, and his muscles swelled from the long effort; yet still he continued, and dove again underneath the water. He brought an armoured Samite to the surface. "Pull him up," he called to me, "or do you expect that I do all the work?" I nearly fell into the river pulling the man up, because he was soaked and wore iron, but his comrades helped me, and all together we saved and stripped the two men of their arms, then pushed on their chest until they spat up the water that choked them.
Borg told the Serpent he would make Sia give a fair share of grain to the river, or he would punish her and break her mill himself; he also told it only to eat men dumb enough to be caught in the water alone at night, or he would kill it rather than merely tie it into knots. The Samite men wanted to drive their swords into the beast that broke their boats but he roared at them, and returned the River Serpent to the water.
We returned solemnly; for the first time Borg was neither laconic nor filled with loathsome pride. He was just tired, and his furs were wet and heavy. In the end the Samites forgave him because he stopped the raging River Serpent, though he had to pay for Clegor to be well buried. They gave the river grain, and people again travelled up and down the white water on boats.
I stopped following him after that, because I came to understand why his training was so easy. Others make mock heroics in the training field; he puts himself again and again on the line of death and vies with his whole strength against fate itself. You want to grow big and strong? He's not a role model for you, because you are looking for a role model. To live like Borg you have to want to die and to be remembered in song, not by loved ones. Train normally: it's for the best!