Yet, to her surprise, in his off balance stumbling, he was somehow able to avoid her strikes as she missed three times in succession drawing injury from only the air her blades effortlessly cut through. Speaking through a labored increase in breathing, Eriboth addressed the current object of his interest, "You almost had me there, My Lady. I lost my balance and almost lost my neck. I am much surprised I am standing still. Though luck seems to be on my side, I am finding great value in your instruction. Can you again show me the slash you used to almost sever my head from my shoulders? It sounded quite impressive."
Without hesitation, she pressed the attack, this time employing more of her speed and quickness. Shocked with her flaming presence, Eriboth had to release his veil of ineptitude and engage in one of the intermediate forms of his martial patterns. He too needed to employ more of his natural physical prowess to equal hers. She was good; almost too good to have been exclusively instructed in the confines of the world of man. He did recognize many of her techniques, but there were several that had a very elvish nature to them. Dancing like they were, he was becoming more aware of the woman she was. When warriors fought other warriors, there was a linking and bond that occurred. There was an ancient elvish philosophy embodied by a simple phrase he found irrefutable the longer he lived explaining this phenomenon between warriors perfectly, "If one wishes to seek the depth and truth in another, seek to cross them in battle. For if they can keep their calmness in the heated exchange of life and death, then their intent and identity can be known and trusted as truth."
And he was beginning to know her. Through the patterns of her steps and easy way she transitioned from advancing to retreating, he was able to see a clear opening to strike at her lower hamstring. He need only align the intent of his will to this target and he would cripple her, thus ending the battle, instruction, and if they were at war, her life. He did so, but instead of striking with the sharpened portion of his blade, he took the flat end and struck her firmly across her rear. He needed to engage the depth of her, without restraint and predetermined patters and motions. He needed to see her raw, unguarded, unfettered, and existing without abandon to sense the true strength of her. He needed to see her intent, her identity, and thus, her true beauty.
Without hesitation, she spun from the fury of her flaming blonde hair and struck him across the mid-section with the flat of her blade as well causing him to respond with a quick gasp for breath. Between shallow coughs he addressed her again, "Impressive My Lady, your speed suggests you have been keeping part of yourself hidden behind those dark and intense eyes of yours."
"What would you seek to find? Yet another to fill the shallow comfort of your bed?" She retorted through a sarcastic and demeaning grin.
"No, My Lady. I would not dishonor you by seeking comfort within your arms. I would rather seek to honor you by finding comfort within your soul. For it is one I can sense that runs deeper than any I have seen before." He met her gaze and locked it as he finished.
From a place he knew existed within her, she attacked with a ferocious viciousness to rival the large, cat-like creatures of the Ogrentoic Jungle. Swift, daring, bold, and lithe, she pushed him backward. Though comfortable defending himself from a retreating position, he found it unsuitable because he could not focus on who she was unknowingly allowing him to see. She attacked through pain and betrayal. She had experienced both, on a deep level, for the rage and fire with which she advanced did not find its genesis in any other combination of emotions. Somewhere in the span of years before he had met her, she had been betrayed and felt a great pain as a result. Her heart had been covered and hardened by years upon years of living with this pain and never being able to let it go. He saw it in her, though different, as a partner to his own. Whereas hers had come from knowledge extending too far, thus shaking her concept of the world wherein she lived, his began from knowledge extending well before its fullness. Each experienced a great pain, and each were letting it out on this field of battle, hers because it was overflowing, and his because it was being filled.
Endlessly, their movements combined in a fluid expression of a greater connectedness than that of a simple physical confrontation. Giving, taking, striding, parrying, spinning, dodging, striking, retreating, and ultimately moving on the dirt they now shared, they complimented each other as if they were joined together on a bed filled with the presence of only them. They continued to dance and reflect a unity betraying the silent vows they had independently made to stand alone; because for the beauty they were creating to continue, they needed each other. This is what he had wanted from her. This is what he had wanted to see. Was there, in all of creation, one single woman who was capable of capturing him on any level? He had held the company of the most beautiful women of this age, yet none had forced his reciprocated connection; none until her. He could deny no longer his esteem for her persona, clearly surpassing any and all pseudo-beauty he had seen before. This woman, her face, her eyes, her hair, even her boots spoke directly to his personal and singular definition of what he desired. She did not display beauty, she was beauty.
As their blades drew their elevated breaths close in a locked position, instead of spinning effortlessly away as he did so many times in battle before, he spun her around, disarming her in one fluid motion. Stepping sideways to avoid a particularly vicious kick aimed at his right temple, he waited for her foot to land on the ground. When it did, he swept her support leg from underneath her, reached around her waist to prevent her fall, and feverishly kiss her. Time itself stopped breathing and he found immortality. For what seemed to him as an eternity, he held her closer than anyone he had ever held through the duration of his entire life.
When she regained her bearings, she dislodged his firm grasp by throwing a well-marked elbow across his face. It landed with force enough to part their lips and stun his focus. She coiled herself on her lone supporting leg and launched a dreadful knee into his stomach expelling the breath from his lungs and landing him on the seat of his pants. She picked up her sword from the ground and stormed off in the direction of the rear gate. Eriboth was forced to roll onto his back and lay there, gasping, to allow the air to gain entrance back into his wounded gut. He had found her.
Smiling to himself, he picked himself up, dusted himself off and walked the three lonely steps to return his sword from the ground to his sheath. He had been struck a few times in battle, usually the result of his imperfect awareness, whether it was on an open field during open warfare, or in the more intimate setting of a tavern brawl following his noticed advances upon the wrong woman. But this time, he felt a momentary joy from hers. It is not that he enjoyed the physical pain of the actual strike, but he did find their connection, however fueled by her anger, appealing. The important and primary concern was the connection; the initial reasons for the connection were less important and could always be adjusted when the time was right. That he was capable to provoke such a large emotional response from her was a signal that she was open to it and to him.
As he walked toward the back gate to the fabled city of Elves, through the lush greens of the Great Green Forest, his thoughts were so consumed by her that he was not completely aware of his surroundings. Normally, he was in tune with all aspects of the moment and would have easily been able to detect the arrow that was flying toward him before it stuck harmlessly in the tree just in front of him. He stopped, looked around with squinted eyes, and fixed his gaze on what appeared to be an empty tree branch. To the untrained observer, he would have given the impression of partial insanity as he addressed the empty branch, "Come now. Do you honestly believe you can conceal your location from me?"
A female voice returned his question with a question of its own, "How then was I able to conceal my location before letting loose an arrow?"
"Perhaps your skills of concealment are greater than your aim; because, in case you had not noticed, I am still breathing!" he said as he looked around to find this voice.
Just follow
ing the conclusion of his statement, a slender, blonde female elf dropped from the exact branch he was addressing. She landed effortlessly and walked to over to him. "Really Star Father, how did you not notice the drawing sound of my arrow? I have never before been able to catch you flatfooted. Is it that you have been away for too long that your training and superior skills have fallen prey to the clumsiness of men?"
"Greetings, My Star Daughter! I must confess that my attentions were momentarily distracted," he said with a large smile.
"Well, I suggest you regain your focus. Had I been an Ogre or Orc, or even a Goblin, I would not have missed, and you would be dead and unable to speak at my Indri Primos."
"If you had been one of those, your foul smell would have certainly given your position away," he said while allowing a slight chuckle. "How are you faring with your preparations for your ceremony?"
She fell in beside him as they continued the walk to the back gate while taking his arm. "I am quite prepared. I have studied all the ancient texts in ancient elvish. I am confident in my pronunciation as well as my reading and writing. I have even become quite fluid in conversation."
"Emor dua, enon dua?" He asked her and tested her.
(That is a claim is it not?)
"Inconi dua, Drahino," she responded without hesitation.
(It is truth, Father.)
"Duasis solin thina?" he asked, looking in the direction his recent training partner had exited.
(Who is she with the sun hair?)
"Vinira dua Embotai," she answered as she grinned.
(She is the victor of the tournament.)
"Vinira la dua? Enon xenprese. Pretago Pris dua Droga?"
(She is the victor? I am not surprised. Is she First Protector of The King?)
"Dremor dua a'son Pratego Pris?" she asked as her grin grew into a full smile.
(Do you desire to know the First Protector?)
"If the King's new First Protector possesses hair the color of the mid-day sun, then yes, my Eklirin, I do wish to know her," he said as he broke from the ancient Elvish.
She laughed loudly as she walked with him and placed her head on his shoulder taking comfort that some components to his character never seemed to change no matter how long he had been gone. "Eriboth, Star Father, you are going to make many of your Elvish kin saddened with your affections for her. There has been much talk amongst the women regarding your return. I was going to offer myself as your personal guard to fend them all off."
"Come now, Princess, it would not be fitting for you to take up sword to defend me. I am sure if the need for your efforts were to occur, it would create a much larger response than the one you are no doubt exaggerating for the benefit of my ego! Certainly my reputation for my affections toward a great number of women would have worked to stem any chance of affections from the Elven women!"
"We will see, my dear Drahin. Though I am quite sure they see you as a challenge. As they should," she said as she again took his arm leading him in the direction of the City of Light.
Their walk continued much the same way as they always had when he returned after a long several years away. They took turns speaking of their adventures, though it was mostly him speaking and her listening. She was always enthralled whenever he told a story of the world beyond the boundaries of the Great Green Forest. She loved hearing about his battles, whether they be against the Ogres, Orcs, Goblins, or some other developing foe. And he was all too indulgent of her listening ears for he too took pleasure in seeing her expressions as he retold his adventures, with just the right amount of exaggerations to balance her attention on the fence of belief.
Though she always asked questions about all of his stories, her primary focus would be upon those involving his attendance to the Royal Courts across the scope of Avendia. He never omitted any details regarding them because he had learned quite early on in his return visits that she was relentless with her pursuit and would uncover even the smallest details he had thought to omit as unnecessary. On this particular trip, he was retelling the story of how he had been invited, most recently, to attend the courts of the dwarves for their Dothdok Festival.
The dwarves particularly favored the Princess's attention because they were so different from the elves. At least, most people saw them as such, probably stemming for their short physical stature. But what they lacked in height, they made up for in strength. Averaging almost a full foot and a half shorter than the elves, their strength was almost equal to the Orcs, who, aside from Ogres and Trolls because of their large size, were the strongest humanoids in Avendia. Elves were said to be more refined in their appreciation for the arts and all things structured, whereas the Dwarves were heralded as the more spontaneous and desire driven. But Eriboth had not found this to be true. Refinement is often times interpreted as acts of a deliberate nature, where significant planning and attention to detail was labored upon, often times resulting in multiple changes, sometimes seemingly for simply the sake of change itself. It was true that the Elves were the most time driven and deliberate of the creatures to grace Avendia, and their long consideration of all sides of a situation was legendary. However, because the Dwarves reached their decisions quickly and solidly, without a perceived attention to even a secondary interpretation, let alone many, they were seen as stubborn and head strong. But truly, if refinement is measured as the dedication to the substance and characteristics qualifying one as a total representation of the belonging group, then Elves and Dwarves stood as equals when compared to this mode of measurement. And Eriboth appreciated this, so he often times indulged in his story telling of the dwarvish customs for Princess Glinovia, in particular during her youth with a hopeful intention of producing a wide vision of all people and all races of Avendia. However, he did not do this because of his belief that diversity must be emphasized. Rather, it should be celebrated, but the true emphasis should be centered on the commonalities between all people. If he could show her how similar the Elves and Dwarves truly were, then she could perhaps focus upon their inclusion with the elves because of their similarities and not their exclusion because of their differences.
Similarity, commonality, inclusionary, belonging; what a similar creature he had found in the blonde haired beauty. Similarity in that she dedicated her life to developing her blades with an uncommon skill and success; commonality, because she too bore a deep felt pain that pervaded and subconsciously dictated her path in life; inclusionary because, just as he had let down some of his walls during their first encounter, so too had she resulting in a mutual inclusion of part of each other's long forgotten desire; and finally, belonging because they both belonged to the exclusivity of their own hearts. It was the summation of all these he found driving him toward her even only minutes after she had hastily vacated his presence. Had this not been the Iglandonin, and had he been on his way out of the city instead of in, he admitted to himself that his current course of travel would be the same. He would have turned around and traveled back to Meckthenial in the hopes of seeing her again.
"Well?" interrupted the Princess.
Not knowing what she referenced as the subject of her inquiry, he looked blankly at her.
"Drahino! What happened to the Dwarven Council?"
"What?" he asked as his left eyebrow raised reflected his confusion.
"You were just about to tell me what happened to the small gathering of the Dwarven High Council when you stopped talking altogether!" she said in an exasperated voice reflecting her desire to know the ending to the story.
"Oh, well I apologize for my digression into silence," he said with a graceful and exaggerated bow.
"Drahino! Keep your apology and tell me what happened!"
"Oh, very well Princess. As always, I stepped in, blade in hand, and helped the Dwarves vanquish the troll warriors," he matter-of-factly stated. As she stood looking at him, hoping there was a more eloquent description, he turned to walk toward the back gate once again.
; Catching up to him quickly, she took up his arm in the traditional manner and walked with him for a few more minutes before turning her head to speak to him, "You are still thinking about her are you not?"
"What betrayed my thoughts?"
"Never before have I heard of, and certainly not personally witnessed, the Great Warrior Poet Eriboth Dordrosis, legendary in his ability to tell the most wonderful stories, lose his ability to finish in the most extravagant manner mortal speech will allow. Never that is, until this day," she winked at him as they walked.
"My Dear Princess Glinovia, I know not what you speak of," he said feigning shock. "Yes, you are right. This day has indeed made things different. This day, things have changed and I am not yet sure if I approve of the changes." And as they walked silently toward the back gate, now in visible recognition of its great wooden structure, his thoughts ventured to all aspects of the blazing blonde woman he had met and the fire he had seen within her. A fire he desperately wanted to touch, even until it burned. But this was a burn he welcomed as she had already seared her intent upon his soul.
Soliney (Fireborn).
Nothing in her life had prepared her for what was to come in the next moments. Though she had been through more than her share of forging pain, no matter how cold the embers had burned nor how deeply she felt delivered from her pain, everything had re-surfaced and been relit because of him and his damnable persona. But now it seemed the same persona that had caused her to remember everything she had endeavored to forget; that same persona that had relit the fleeting spark of life she had felt a little over two decades ago was still bound to her. It was clear he did not remember her, but then why would he? It was only a week.
She had once believed in him, in his solidity, his presence as a function of her; that neither of them could be without the other. But the harsh truth she had begun to understand two decades ago was brought to complete fruition in the last three days. And though she should have been forever resentful, she found herself trusting in what she believed could be again. Then they danced. They danced and the world faded away into the hopes of long ago. The hope of life resplendently inside everything they would be together, only together.
Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1) Page 15
