He was making good time, but he had a lot of time to make up. He had overslept. He seldom did, but more often now than before. Age, again, probably. As a rule he was apt at getting up, but some days it was like his body was completely shut down. Not capable of starting up at the usual time. Not fully recharged, maybe. Too much drainage. He had felt tired last night, even though the trek up to Hvitstein hadn't been anything remarkable. It shouldn't have been at least.
When he started out he was two hours behind schedule. That should still be enough to make it in time for the game. Maybe he'd be just a little late. Unsatisfactory, but what can you do. The snow had come in heavy during the night. The first part was through woodland. A fair few came by here daily, and luckily he could follow in their tracks. The snow would make the steep climb up Hölen a nightmare though. But going the eastern route would in itself be time-consuming. He tried to work out the most beneficial route as he hurried forward.
…
As he approached the outskirts of the complex of structures making up The Hearth, he could discern the great Common Hall with the auditorium towards the centre of the settlement. His entire body was aching, but having his target in sight filled him with a boost of leftover energy he did not know was there. Upon nearing the hall he almost ran into an officer from the Interior Constabulary. A man by the name of Bjørn, whom he knew. He apologized and asked if he could have the time. The officer checked his watch and said it was 13.45. He nodded his appreciation and started running lightly towards the hall. He was pleased with himself, having made the trek from Hvitsten to here in what he estimated was just under four hours. That's a respectable winter time even in less harsh conditions. The game would be ongoing, yes, but he was sure to catch most of it.
The auditorium would be crowded, no doubt. A great many homesteaders made their way to The Hearth during competitions. But Falk and Stagnelius wouldn't be playing until later, around 17.00, so he'd be sure to find a seat. He busted through the doors, and found the auditorium empty and the big screen black. He looked around bewildered, and then sat down to catch his breath. Was the game over already? Had his granddaughter won so swiftly? Or suffered a loss of unimaginable embarrassment? He heard a noise behind him and looked up. A young man had just entered, and he looked just as surprised at seeing another person.
"I didn't expect anyone in here now." the man said.
"The game over then?"
"Yeah, of course they are." The man looked confused
"Swift."
"About regular, I'd say."
"I was hoping to see my granddaughter play. Ran late. Was sure I'd catch some of it."
"So you're Vidar Björnstjärna. People were asking about you; wondering why weren't here when Augusta's game was on."
"Her letter said 13.00. I know I'm late, but I didn't expect it to be over in 45 minutes."
The young man smiled, and said
"Yeah, the game was at 13.00 alright. Local time. In Gergary. That's 06.00 here."
"I see."
Vidar slowly ran his hands down his face and got up. The young man approached him, his smile even wider.
"She won. Augusta won. She'll be playing again tomorrow. Try to get some rest, old man, and make sure to be here 06.00 sharp."
Augusta Björnstjärna (PUG) 5 7 6
Rhonda Robbins (NOV) 7 5 1
