PSHamer

Eventually, Eskel, after getting whacked across the back of his hand before he had a chance to call a truce, bent and formed a snowball as best he could with the kicked up snow. It was too cold to form a proper snowball, but he managed to form a decent sized lump of snow. He gave Geralt a playful grin then hurled the lump of snow. 

It soared across the short distance between him and the moping Lambert and completely missed him, landing pathetically in clumps at the bottom of the crate. 

Lambert gave him a look, his thin brow raised. He huffed and swatted a second snow lump out of the air when Eskel made another attempt. He swatted away a third, this one from Geralt, who'd joined in on trying to hit the littlest witcher with a snowball. 

"Stop it!" Lambert whined in his young, high-pitched, annoying voice. 

"Or what?" Geralt replied with a teasing grin as he made another snowball. 

"I'll tell Vesemir." 

Eskel snorted and turned to the side to hide his smile. He shook his head when Geralt gave him a mischievous little smirk as he wedged a shard of ice into the snowball in his hand. "Don't be an ass." He hissed. 

Geralt shrugged and dropped the ball of snow. He stood and grabbed his sword, which he'd tucked under his arm so his hands were free to make and throw snowballs. "He's the one being a whiny little snot." 

Eskel gripped his own wooden training sword. "Hey, Lambert!" He called instead of responding to Geralt's statement. 

"What?" Lambert snapped back, sounding very much like he was about to throw one of his temper tantrums he was famous for. 

Eskel gave Geralt a pointed look, which earned him an exaggerated eye roll and a quiet groan. He motioned to the smallest of their trio and when Geralt didn't say anything, he turned to Lambert. "Want to build a snow fort with us?" 

Lambert's little red nose crinkled up into what could have been mistaken for a squashed dinner roll if not for the colour of it. He made one of the most unpleasant expressions either of the two older boys had ever seen and shook his head. His dark curls flopped around cutely, despite his efforts not to look like an adorable little boy. "I'm not a baby. Building snow forts is for babies." 

Eskel shrugged and tossed his sword to the side, aiming for the snow that had piled at Lambert's feet. "All right then. Geralt and I'll just build one by ourselves." He grabbed Geralt's arm and the two of them scampered off to the other side of the grounds to a big pile of snow they'd been adding to almost every day since the first snowfall. They made a quick detour to grab shovels before they were back on course. 

The pile of snow was taller than Vesemir, a full grown man, and wider than if all three of them lay with their feet to each other's shoulders. If they dug it all out, they'd be able to fit comfortably inside with plenty of room to spare. It was about to be the biggest quinzhee Kaer Morhen had ever seen. 

The two boys eagerly got to work on digging out the inside of the huge pile of snow. Geralt shovelled out the snow while Eskel threw it back on top of the pile to make it even bigger. When Geralt's knees got too cold, Eskel replaced him and started working on digging out the interior. 

All the while, Lambert was sitting on top of his crate under his thick winter cloak watching them with a steadily running nose. He sniffled unpleasantly and kept glancing nervously at the keep, waiting for Vesemir to come out and scold them for neglecting their training. He perked up when he heard one of the older boys laugh loudly and gleefully. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard true, genuine laughter. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Curiosity getting the better of him, he slid off the crate and padded over the snow-covered grounds to see what had caused one of the older boys to laugh so hard. He was surprised to find that Geralt was the one who had been laughing while Eskel knelt half in the partially dug out front entrance of the snow fort and snickered.

“What’s so funny?” Lambert demanded, his tone less snappish now that he’d had a little while to calm down. 

Geralt shook his head and waved his hand vaguely while Eskel continued to snicker, though he was trying in vain to stop himself with a gloved hand pressed to his mouth. 

“Are you here to help, brat?” Geralt asked after a moment of Lambert scowling at him while he came down from his laughing fit. “Or are you just going to stand there like a lump on a log?” 

Lambert’s lips curled back from his teeth as he sneered at Geralt. “Don’t call me a brat. I’m not a brat.” 

“All right then. Are you here to help, Master Lambert?” Eskel asked, twisting from where he was kneeling to smile up at him impishly, his eyes twinkling with mirth. 

Lambert wanted to stomp his foot and scream at them for mocking him, but he wasn’t a child. He was a big boy and Geralt said that big boys didn’t stamp their feet and throw tantrums. Eskel agreed and said big boys settled things like men. Either with their swords or their words, and right now he didn’t have a sword, so words it was. 

“No.” He turned up his nose and scowled down it at the two older boys before him. 

“Why not? It’ll help you warm up. Or would you rather stand there and freeze? Here.” Geralt grabbed Eskel’s shovel and tossed it to him, forcing Lambert to catch it, otherwise it would smack him in the face. “Help me get rid of the snow so Eskel can keep digging.” 

Still frowning and sulking at being forced to help them dig out their silly snow fort, Lambert got to work shovelling the snow away from the entrance as Eskel dug it out with his hands and a spade one of them had retrieved at some point. He mostly used his hands, and they were bigger than Lambert’s, so he was sending out a steady stream of snow the other two had to shovel. 

As they worked, Lambert found that Geralt had been right. He was getting warmer. His nose and cheeks still burned from the cold, but at least he wasn’t shivering anymore. He was finally warm after sitting on the crate and shivering for the past hour or however long they’d been out in the wretched cold. 

Geralt had tossed his cloak aside at some point and was now left in his padded training doublet and his hat and gloves. His cheeks and nose were a bright, healthy red and he was puffing out great clouds of steam as he worked tirelessly to get rid of the snow that Eskel was faithfully flinging out to them. 

Lambert soon followed suit, leaving him in his hat and gloves. Before too long he wanted to get rid of those too, but he knew better than to do that in the frigid air of the northern mountains Kaer Morhen was located in. Besides, his ears weren’t cold anymore and he didn’t want to change that by taking his hat off. 

When Eskel’s knees grew stiff, he changed places with Geralt. He gave Lambert a beaming smile before he got to work shovelling the snow Geralt was kicking out to them. 

“It’s getting bigger in there.” He panted as he shovelled an especially large mound of snow Geralt had shoved out to them. “You’ll see when it’s your turn to dig.” 

Lambert nodded. He was no longer so against the prospect of building this snow fort. It was almost exciting and he couldn’t wait for his turn to dig out the inside to see just how much had been done. At this point, Geralt was almost completely hidden from them with only his feet sticking out, which must mean that there was a fair amount of room inside. 

“Wonder what Vesemir will say when he sees this.” Eskel commented as he threw a mound of snow up onto the top of the pile. 

Lambert shrugged. He could care less what Vesemir had to say about this. After all, the old man probably wouldn’t care. They were outside, out of the keep, and working up a sweat. What was there to get upset about? Besides, he was the one who’d said to do whatever training they wanted so long as they were outside. 

At first it had seemed like a punishment, but now Lambert realised that it was almost like a treat. They weren’t getting their heads knocked, they weren’t running the trail, they weren’t getting bruises and cuts and scrapes, and they weren’t in pain. They were outside and digging a snow fort while the old man was inside working in his creepy laboratory. 

They were having fun and no one was there to tell them to knock it off and get back to training. 

Eskel cast his eyes to Lambert briefly to watch him as he dutifully shovelled snow. He smiled at the look on Lambert’s young, red face. There was almost a smile on his lips as he shovelled mound after mound of snow onto the top of the pile or simply to the side and out of their way. It was nice that he seemed to be enjoying himself. It was also nice that he wasn’t complaining viciously about the cold and hard work. 

He paused his shovelling to kneel at the entrance of the snow fort. He opened his mouth to ask Geralt if he wanted to switch with Lambert yet, but instead got a faceful of snow. He spluttered and fell back on his rear as he hurriedly slapped at his face to get the snow off as it started to melt against his flushed cheeks. 

Lambert began to laugh and Geralt, startled by the sudden strange noise Eskel had made, poked his head out of the fort to see what was going on then began to laugh as well. 

Eskel shook his head to dislodge the last of the snow from his face and hair. When he’d gotten it all off, he gave Geralt a halfhearted glare. “You done in there, you big oaf?” 

Geralt smirked and crawled out of the low entrance they’d made and stood up. He shook out his limbs and then offered his hand to Eskel. He gripped his hand tightly and hauled him back to his feet. “Sure. Hey, Lambert. Your turn.” 

Lambert eagerly passed him the shovel then knelt and scrambled into the dug-out portion of their fort. They faintly heard him exclaim at the amount that had already been cleared. He popped his head out and grinned up at them. “There’s so much room! Do you think all three of us can fit in here?” 

Geralt shrugged and knelt to crawl in with Lambert and Eskel followed. Geralt managed to wedge himself up against the side with Lambert tucking his knees up to his chest beside him as Eskel just managed to squeeze himself in. 

Geralt snorted. “Fatass.” 

Eskel grabbed a handful of snow and smashed it in Geralt’s face. “We’re the same size, dumbass.” 

Lambert put a hand over his mouth to suppress his snicker. Eskel was scary when he was mad and he didn’t want to get a handful of snow in his face like Geralt. Best to stay as quiet as possible to avoid the poison glare Eskel was known for. 

Eskel crawled out of the fort to get back to shovelling snow and Geralt quickly followed. Lambert was left alone in the fort so he could get to work on digging out the interior. 

Outside, Eskel got the brilliant idea to start packing snow around the entrance of the fort, making a sort of  windshield, even though they were in the inner grounds of the keep and there wasn’t much wind to speak of that quiet morning. 

He started setting aside snow to make the wind shields once they were finished digging out the interior of their fort. The shields would just get in their way at this point, so they’d work on them later. 

When it was his turn to dig out the interior, he passed the shovel to Lambert when he emerged and then crawled in to get to work. Lambert had dug out a lot and he’d dug upwards instead of deeper, so Eskel was almost able to stand upright. Soon enough, once he had finished his turn, he and Geralt would be able to stand upright and shoulder to shoulder with Lambert. 

The three of them worked tirelessly on the fort for what was hours in their young minds, but in reality was only under two hours. By the time they’d finished, all three of them could stand straight and lie down side by side with plenty of room to spare. 

They then worked on the wind shields Eskel wanted to build and completed those within that same timeframe as the rest of the fort. 

Now that everything had been completed, they were free to do whatever they wanted. Eskel had the brilliant idea to use a shot of Igni to melt the interior of their snow fort a bit then let it freeze again so it would be even sturdier. 

Doing just that, he knelt and formed the Sign with his hand. However, as he was still young and still working on controlling his Signs, he overdid it a little bit and singed the tip of his nose and nearly burnt off his eyebrows. 

He shrieked in surprise and scrambled out of the fort to plunge his face into the snow to combat the slight singe he’d received. 

Geralt and Lambert laughed at him until they both saw the perfect imprint of Eskel’s face in the snow and decided to do the same themselves. One by one they pressed their faces into the snow then sat up, leaving behind near perfect impressions of their features. 

Lambert started a snowball fight, to the great surprise of the other two, but they were both quick to join in. They practised swatting snowballs out of the air with their hands and small bursts of Aard while Lambert made the snowballs. 

Laughter and shouts of glee rang out through the inner grounds of the keep that morning as the three boys played and had fun for the first time in a very long time. It had been so long in fact, they’d almost forgotten what it was like to have a little fun and laugh. 

Geralt suggested, when his stomach growled loudly, that they should sneak into the keep to get some cheese and bread for lunch. It would be stealth training, they’d explain to Vesemir if they were caught. 

They weren’t caught, however, and the three of them were able to sneak into the keep and to the kitchen then back outside with their spoils without being seen. They’d even managed to snag a pitcher of mead to enjoy, though they still weren’t too fond of the taste, though it was sweeter than ale. 

Once they’d finished off their meager lunch, they were ready to get back to playing in the snow and “training”. Eskel was the first one to suggest they run a mock obstacle course through the grounds of the keep after they’d taken a few minutes to digest. 

Eskel told Lambert to run it first while he and Geralt set up obstacles with snow and some of the other things lying around the keep grounds. The prize would be an extra mug of mead for whoever ran it the fastest without falling or tripping. 

They took turns running the course over and over again until they were sweaty and panting heavily. They argued over who had been the fastest until they decided they’d tied and each of them got a small mug of mead as a prize. 

Next, Geralt suggested they have a mock battle. Lambert was to be the enemy while he and Eskel defended their snow fort. After a fit from Lambert about how it wasn’t fair that he was by himself, Eskel volunteered to be the enemy. 

Eskel played a convincing villain and he was a force to be reckoned with once he got started. He was, after all, more powerful with Signs than Geralt, though he wasn’t as fast or as strong. Nevertheless, he made up for that with his intimidating performance. 

They switched after the first battle, after a stunning win by the two defending, so Geralt was to be the attacking white-haired villain. He got into position across the grounds while Eskel and Lambert prepared for his attack by piling more snow onto the low wall that had been constructed for the obstacle course. 

Just as Geralt was launching his first attack, which was a combination of bursts of Aard and snowballs, Vesemir came storming out of the keep. 

“What are you three brats doing?” He was wearing a rather fearsome expression with his face scrunched up into a sneer. 

Eskel quickly dropped the snowball he was holding and shot to his feet. He gripped his wooden sword tightly in his hands and began stringing an apology together mixed with an explanation as to what they were doing. He only got about two words out before he was nailed in the side of the face by a snowball from Geralt. He swatted away the second one as it came at him. 

“Stop it!” He cried as he batted away a third snowball. 

“No, no. Keep going, Geralt.” Vesemir waved a hand then crossed his arms. “I want to see how much Eskel’s improved his deflection.” 

Geralt was more than happy to keep throwing snowballs at his friend. Lambert was quick to join in and ran over to kneel in the snow beside him to make snowballs and throw them at Eskel as well. 

Vesemir looked on with his arms crossed over his broad chest and a tiny hint of a smile on his lips. He watched every move all three of the boys made carefully, judging their capabilities and skills. So far he was rather unimpressed, but they were having fun and he’d allow them this one moment of youthful excitement.

When he decided they’d had enough, he called them all to him. He waited patiently for them to scramble over to him, each panting and flushed from exertion and the cold air. 

“Head inside after you’ve put everything away. It’s time to eat.” He motioned with his hand to the shovels and swords left scattered across the grounds. He would scold them for being so careless later. For now they needed to rest and eat. 

He waited beside the doors for them to collect all the tools they’d used throughout the day, then he followed them into the warm keep to start preparing supper for them all. 

“Do your stretches then go get your things. You’re all sleeping in your little snow fort tonight.” He smiled only once his back was to them when they each started to protest. 

“It’s too cold, Vesemir!” Geralt moaned. 

“I’ll freeze!” Lambert whined.

“Is this part of our training?” Eskel questioned.

Vesemir nodded and motioned for them to run along. “It is. Now go. Before I make you go find your own supper in the forest.” 

Three smaller pairs of feet quickly scampered off to do their stretches then to fetch their things they’d need for their night outside in their quinzhee. They would no doubt bring all the blankets they had and as many bedrolls as they could find in order to keep warm. But they wouldn’t need all of that. They would be perfectly warm and cozy once all three of them were packed inside. 

While the three young witchers were off doing their tasks, Vesemir ordered them to do, he busied himself preparing supper. He’d heard all the racket the three of them had been making throughout the day and he knew they hadn’t gotten much training done, but they’d at least been active. He’d seen them running a simple obstacle course, so he wasn’t too angry with them for not doing much training. 

And their fort. He was impressed by it. He’d have to take a look at it later to see how well they’d dug it out. Nevertheless, he was still rather impressed by their ingenuity to utilise the snow pile already there and dig it out to create a place for them to use. 

Maybe he’d make them sleep out there for the rest of the week. It would be good training for them. Especially if he ordered them to hunt their own food and prepare it as well. 

When they had all returned to the main room of the keep where Vesemir was making supper, they had bundles of cloth and bedding under their arms. They were also all dressed up and ready to go as if they were setting off for a hike through the mountains. They were red in the face from their warm clothes, but none as flushed as Eskel. 

“Eskel.” Vesemir flicked his fingers, motioning the boy over. He reached out when he was before him and gripped his narrow chin in his big hand. He slowly turned the boy’s face, eyeing the redness of it. “What happened to your face?” 

The redness in his cheeks grew more prominent and expanded to his ears and down what small bit of his neck was still visible over his scarf. “I burned it a little.” 

“Burned it? How did you do that?” 

“With Igni. It was an accident.” Eskel’s eyes dropped and he avoided meeting Vesemir’s gaze sheepishly. “I need to practice it more.” 

“Then you know what your training will be tomorrow.” 

Eskel nodded as best he could with his chin still grasped firmly in Vesemir’s strong grip. “Yes, sir.” 

Vesemir released him. “Take off all that gear. You’re not going on a trek through the mountains. You’re eating supper.” He waved his hand. “And leave all that here. You won’t need it.” 

“But we’ll freeze!” Lambert complained noisily and irritatingly.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, boy.” Vesemir barked, leaving no room for argument in his tone. “Or I’ll show you what it feels like to really freeze.” 

The three quickly shucked their heavy outer layers then ran to return them to their places back in their rooms. They were back within a few minutes and by that time Vesemir had finished heating the broth. He directed Eskel to fetch bread and cheese from the kitchen along with Geralt to get bowls and platters. 

Soon enough all four of them were seated and tucking into their meagre meal of broth, bread, and cheese. There was no talking during the meal, everyone too worn out from a long day to bother with conversation until the end. 

“Tomorrow, you will all be working on your weakest skills. Eskel, you’ll work on your Signs. I know you’re powerful, but you need more practice. Lambert, you’ll work on sword combat with Geralt. The two of you could use a few hours of proper swordplay. And after that you’ll all go hunt your own food. You’ll spend the week entirely outside. You’ll sleep in your snow den and prepare the meat you’ve hunted. You’ll not set foot inside this keep for any reason until the week is done.” 

Before any of them could argue, Vesemir shook his head and rose. “I’ll not have any complaining or whining. You’ll do as I say, or I’ll have you run the trail until your legs give out. Am I clear?” 

“Yes, sir.” They chorused with varying levels of resignation and resentment. Nevertheless, none of them complained anymore about having to sleep outside. 

One by one they all collected their dishes and took them away to wash them and put them away. Once that was done, they collected their things and trooped obediently outside into the cold night air. 

A light dusting of snow had started to fall while they were inside. It drifted down lazily from the dark sky above, slowly covering their hair and shoulders in its fine powder. At the rate it was falling, there would only be a thin layer of it covering the ground come morning. 

“Are we really going to sleep out here tonight?” Lambert stopped abruptly and sneered down at the dark hole of their snow fort. 

His sudden halt caused Geralt to run into him. “Do you want Vesemir to make us run the trail?” He snapped, giving Lambert a rough shove in the direction of the entrance. “Get your ass moving. It’s cold out here.” 

Eskel sighed behind him and shook his head. “Let’s just get inside. I’m sure it’ll be warmer once we’re out of the snow.” 

“We’ll be in a pile of snow, dumbass.” Lambert huffed irritatedly, but he nevertheless got down on his hands and knees and crawled into the fort. 

“Did you bring a candle?” Geralt asked, twisting to peer over his shoulder at Eskel. 

Eskel, being the ever prepared one that he was, nodded and smiled. “Of course I did. I’m not an animal.” 

Geralt’s lips twitched then he knelt and crawled into the fort after Lambert and Eskel followed. 

Once everyone was inside, they started getting their bedding set up for the night. They lay down their bedrolls and placed blankets on top of those to keep themselves as far away from the icy ground as possible. 

Eskel had set up a few candles on a ledge he’d had the foresight to make earlier in the wall of the fort and lit them with a tiny burst of Igni. Thankfully he managed not to singe off the rest of his eyebrows this time. 

They finished setting up their bedding for the night then they lay down and tried to get comfortable under the last few layers of blankets they’d brought out. Lambert shivered violently between the two bigger boys and Geralt sighed loudly. 

Eskel sat up and took one of the blankets off of Lambert and crawled back outside. He covered most of the entrance to their fort so they would keep most of the cold out, but with a big enough gap that they would still get fresh air so they wouldn’t suffocate. He crawled back inside and lay down beside Lambert, who was still shivering. 

“Would you stop? Lie still!” Geralt snapped when Lambert continued to shiver. 

“I’m cold.” The littlest of them complained noisily. 

Eskel held out his hands and formed the Igni sign. “Hold still for a minute. I’ll warm you up.” 

“No!” Lambert squealed and grabbed Eskel’s wrist, yanking it back down. 

Geralt began to laugh and Eskel quickly joined in. Lambert turned his head back and forth, scowling at both of them before he too began to giggle, unable to help it. Within seconds all three of them were laughing. 

During their laughing fit, one by one, they realised they were no longer cold and subsequently kicked off the layers of blankets. Then they began to strip off their heavier outer layers, leaving them in their bottom most clothes. 

“Are you still cold, Lambert?” Geralt asked with a snicker. 

Lambert shook his head and settled back down against the soft bedding. “Not anymore.” 

“Good.” 

Eskel sat up and snapped his fingers. The three candles sitting on the ledge beside Geralt went out and he made a proud sounding huff. “I’m getting better.”

“You still suck at controlling your Signs.” Geralt spoke up in the dark. 

“I do not. I just said I’m getting better.” 

“Sure.” 

Eskel sighed and lay back down. “Asshole.” He murmured under his breath. 

Geralt snickered and rolled onto his side so his back was to the two of them. “Go to sleep, dumbass. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” 

Eskel rolled over as well and said nothing more. He wouldn’t give Geralt the satisfaction of a response. 

~*~*~*~

Vesemir was surprised to find that none of the boys were up and doing their morning stretches when he emerged from the keep the next morning. He searched the grounds, but he couldn’t find any hint that they were hiding somewhere. Frowning, he went to check their snow fort. 

He squatted down and lifted the blanket covering most of the entrance to see inside. He found two pairs of socked feet first, and when he looked for the third, about to chew them out, he found them tucked up and half buried under Eskel. 

The three boys were curled up half on top of each other, making Vesemir think of a pile of sleeping puppies. Lambert was nestled snugly under Eskel and Geralt, as he was the smallest, with the two bigger ones half crushing him into the blankets under their weight. To top it all off, Lambert had his mouth wide open and Eskel was snoring into Geralt’s forearm.