Movement II: Wedding Song

    Four weeks later, on their twenty-second Nameday, Haldar was wed before his people to his beloved Janya, whom he had known and befriended since childhood. Haleth knew the other woman slightly, but hoped to know her better. She would make a good wife for Haldar. Although the wartime situation was grave, Haldad’s people gladly welcomed a chance to celebrate and so seized their lord’s children’s Nameday as an excuse to throw a feast.
    Haldar and Janya make a pretty pair, she thought to herself, Haldar in blue and Janya in white. She herself had chosen to dress in inconspicuous gray, the better to slip away from Kellan’s sneers and barely concealed insolence.
    The Haladin raised their cups in salutation to Haleth and Haldar after the wedding, and then several people gave the twins Nameday gifts. Haldad gifted his son with an Elf-forged dagger, and all marveled at the delicate workmanship, especially of the eagle cunningly wrought upon the pommel. Haldad said that the Elves had given him three weapons long ago, a sword, a dagger, and a bow. The sword was belted at his side, but when pressed about the bow, he smiled enigmatically and refused to answer. Janya gave her new husband a beautifully wrought silver cup, and then various people pressed items both practical and ornamental for their new home, for Haldad had granted the new couple a small house to bide by themselves in. Haleth, predictably, was given some more supplies for her detested needlework, and slipped away at the nearest opportunity.
    To her surprise, she saw Malron outside as well, and he raised an eyebrow when he recognized her.
    “You should go back inside,” he said. “Your father plans to give you something you will treasure. But return to my hall as soon as you can.” He waved her towards the door, following her at a discreet distance.
    “Haleth,” Haldad called when the hubbub surrounding the newlyweds died down. “I would grant you a gift as well.”
    He handed her a slender package, but Haleth could guess that it was a bow by its shape. Concealing her rising excitement, she undid the cloth covering to reveal an Elven-crafted bow and quiver, as well as a small knife, nowhere as near elaborate as her bow or Haldar’s knife, but functional and keen. She replaced the ugly knife Malron had given her with the new one, but only after her teacher had smiled and nodded in approval. She hesitated, looking at the bow, and then glanced back and forth between Malron and her father.
    “String it,” Haldad commanded with a smile for his daughter’s unveiled joy, but even as she began to bend the wood, someone stepped forward.
    “It is unseemly that a woman wield weapons, my lord,” Cullan’s son, Kellan, said as he stood up, clearly visible in his bright red tunic. The contempt he placed in the honorific was clearly audible. “It is worse still that a father grant his daughter weapons. A woman’s proper place is by the hearth, tending to her husband and children.”
    Malron rose, frowning even as Haleth placed her bow aside. “It is not your right to decide who receives training at my hall or not.”
    “Ah, but it is. I claim challenge against you, for you violate the old traditions. Unless, of course, you are so senile that you either cannot fight or that you did not recognize that women should not be trained.” Kellan was openly sneering now at both Malron and Haleth, but not at Haldad. “I claim challenge, and whoever wins shall have the right to decide the fate of the loser. Or you can back down before me, graybeard, and grant to me the mastery of Haldad’s daughter. Name a champion, if you must.”
    Malron smiled in a feral way, and Kellan suddenly stepped back in fright. It was one thing to call challenge when slightly drunk, and another to suddenly have Malron, the best warrior in Haldad’s keep, facing him directly. “I name as my champion Haleth, daughter of Haldad.”
    Haleth stepped forward, her mind abuzz with overwhelming anxiety and fear. Had Malron lost his mind? But he smiled encouragingly at her even as the crowded hall murmured and whispered to each other until Haldad shouted for silence.
    “Kellan, Haleth, is it your wish to fight until first blood?” he asked in an even voice, trying to ignore that it was his daughter standing before him. “The victor shall determine the fate of the vanquished.”
    “Aye, it is,” Haleth answered, as did Kellan. Cullan had forced his way to the front, presumably to watch his son defeat Haldad’s daughter.
    But he will not defeat me this day, nor any other, she vowed fiercely to herself in determination to make Malron proud of her.
    Cullan handed his son his sword, and yet he looked troubled even as he did so. But before Haldad or Haldar could step forward, Malron knelt on one knee and said, “My lady Haleth, my sword is yours to use, as I am yours to command. Take my sword. May it bear you to victory.”
    Haleth slowly drew the keen blade from its leather sheath, and remembered a time that had been only weeks ago, but now seemed like years. But this time, she faced a true opponent.
    “Kellan, do not fight her,” Cullan begged. “It is unseemly that a warrior fights a woman, and treason for a warrior to lift his blade against his lord and his family.”
    “She flaunts tradition,” he answered as he swept the blade before his face in a mocking salute. “She needs to learn that her proper place is beside a husband and children.”
    Although he carefully said “a” husband, Haleth realized, with a sickening feeling, that Kellan intended to be her husband—and somehow gain power over the Haladin that way.
    Not while I draw breath.
    “You yourself said so, father,” Kellan continued.
    “I never intended anyone to raise blades against her!”
    “The better for her to realize that she has no business handling one.”
    Cullan subsided, but he seemed anxious, both for Kellan and Haleth.
    She saluted him as well, then said, “Cullan, I accepted the challenge. Do not interfere.” Turning back to Kellan, she said with a feigned calm, “As challenged, I claim the right to name the arbitrator.”
    “I challenged Malron.”
    “And I am his champion. The challenge concerned me, and I name Gelvar as arbitrator.”
    Gelvar stepped forward, his hound-like face smiling at Haleth.
    Gelvar began by asking to hold them to the rules of ritual combat. “I ask your word that you will abide by the rules of honorable combat, and to fight only to first blood, not to the death. You are to use nothing but the swords in your hands. Turn aside all mortal blows. Whoever draws first blood claims the right to determine the fate of the vanquished. Do you swear to abide by the outcome of this duel?”
    “I do, and I shall follow all the conditions you have laid out,” Haleth said, and Kellan echoed her a moment later. She tried to conceal the tremors that ran through her as she waited for Kellan to attack, hoping to drive him into an unwary move.
    After he stood staring nervously at her, he sprang at her with a wild shout.
    She easily parried Kellan’s swing at her side, aware that he could quite easily kill her if he ever had a chance to close with her. So she danced away, relying on her swiftness and agility rather than strength, always on the defensive but watching for an opening or a weakness in her opponent.
    A parry to her leg, a slash to his arm. Block the swipe at her head and use the weight of her sword to bring down her opponent’s. Malron’s careful instruction took over her body and all she could hear was the clash of swords. Not even that remained a moment later, for Malron’s voice whispered all she had learned in her head, and some of her fear left her, to be replaced by calm.
    But she still felt the jarring impact whenever he blocked her rare attacks, and he felt the effort whenever she sidestepped from a swing, forcing him to draw the sword back before she was past his guard.
    She danced back from a thrust and slashed at him, still hearing Malron’s voice chanting. Block only attacks you cannot avoid. Your strength lies in agility, not in brute force, he had repeated constantly whenever she tried to fight as Haldar did rather than Malron did. Once, she had wearied of that continual litany. Now, she felt only gratitude towards it.
    Even as the Haladin stood shocked in surprise at Haleth’s proficiency in fighting, she lost her terror and regained the rest of her calm. Let Kellan waste his breath in shouting; I shall remain silent. Her silence unnerved him, and desperate, he turned to taunts. The spectators murmured in disapproval of that until Haldad called harshly for silence, his blue eyes glued to the combating figures.
    Gelvar was filled with fear, as was Haldar and his new wife’s brother, Arion.
    Arion had always admired Haleth for her courage and intelligence, and Haldad had given Arion permission to seek Haleth’s hand when he had tentatively broached the idea, for lately he had grown to love her. But he was torn apart from this battle. He wished for Haleth to win, but should she prove to be the victor, then she would never consent to marriage, and he did not know who to cheer on.
    Haldar and Gelvar, as with the other spectators, did not know to what extent Malron had trained Haleth, and nor did she understand that she was a warrior born. They only saw that she was a woman, and that Kellan, several years her senior, was a man. They expected to see Haleth’s ignominious defeat, and while some hoped for it, and others hoped against it, all knew without a doubt that Kellan would win.
    Cullan, while unhappy with his son for pushing the challenge, understood his reasons for doing so and supported Kellan.
    Haldad was frightened for his daughter, but determined to maintain a stoic mask. However, he understood that Malron was the best armsmaster the Haladin would ever see, and that Haleth had been trained well.
    Malron was the only one in the hall who viewed the combat with anything resembling cheer and optimism for Haleth. He guessed that Haleth had an equal chance of winning or losing, but knew that if she did lose, she would sell her defeat dearly. He had been satisfied with his pupil’s progress, and had judged her nearly ready for combat, if not for command. This battle would either prove his thoughts right or wrong.
    And so they watched Haleth and Kellan dance a deadly dance, Kellan filled with the fear that he might yet fail when he saw Haleth’s proficiency, and Haleth filled with battle calm and confidence. She knew that she might yet lose, but she also knew that she might yet win. And she felt Malron’s silent encouragement, and drew upon that as her strength even when she began to falter.
    When a quarter of an hour had passed, Haleth knew that she would never be able to outmatch Kellan’s sheer strength and endurance, and braced herself for defeat. However, Kellan thought that Haleth would win eventually. Unable to bear the shame that might or might not come, he broke his oath and used his dagger to draw first blood, slashing Haleth’s arm when everyone was staring at Haleth. When they saw the blood and began to clamor, he smeared blood upon his sword tip and then wiped the dagger clean on his scarlet tunic. Blood seeped through Haleth’s sleeve as she dropped the sword with a clatter.
    But Malron did not rebuke her for not caring for her weapon, for he had shouted, “Foul! Kellan cheated!”
    Gelvar shouted for the combat to come to a halt, but the hall had already erupted in an argument, some saying that Kellan had used a dagger, others saying he had not. When Gelvar swore that he had seen him cheat, others swore that Gelvar was prejudiced on Haleth’s behalf. Haleth said nothing but only grabbed a bandage from a servant and bound her wound tightly, and was satisfied that it was only a light slash.
    At last, Cullan, his face inscrutable, asked for silence and permission to speak. Gelvar granted it, and he said, “By my own eyes…” Here he faltered, then regained strength. “By my own eyes, I saw my son Kellan break his oath and cheat, using a dagger to draw blood.” He wept, and continued, “Though it breaks my heart to say so, the lady Haleth has defeated my son with full honor, for she held to her oaths while Kellan did not.”
    As Haldad and Gelvar stared at him in consternation and shock, Cullan bowed to his son’s victor in silence, and then departed the hall with heavy footsteps. Everyone else was stunned to silence, save for Kellan.
    “You betrayed me!” Cullan’s back stiffened at his son’s shout, hurled at his retreating back, but did not slow. “You are no father of mine! I won, I swear I didn’t use my knife! Examine it!” This last was directed to the crowd, who surged forward to examine it, and he smiled. The smear left from wiping it on his tunic could be attributed to the people’s fingers, and his sword was still bloody.
    “Halt,” Malron commanded in his coldest voice, and as once, the spectators drew back. “Hand me the weapon.”
    “You’ll lie for Haleth, you will!” he said, hoping no one else noticed his sudden shrillness.
    Malron raised an eyebrow. “Do you dare accuse me, Armsmaster of the Haladin, and sworn to never lie for anyone? I who invoked the names of the Valar and even the One, Eru, the day I took that oath? I cannot lie, but you can. Now give me that dagger.” While his voice did not increase in volume, his tone was deadly and icy, and Kellan reluctantly handed it over.
    There was a smear, as if he had wiped it on a cloth.
    “Take off your tunic, Kellan,” he ordered, still examining the smudge.
    When he refused, Arion jerked it from the younger man and placed it in Malron’s outstretched hand.
    “There—a smear, no?” He lifted the tunic to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Fresh blood, all right.”
    “I bled there,” Kellan babbled, unable to bear the shame. “I pricked myself—”
    “On your side? Let’s see the skin.”
    It was soon clear that Kellan had broken his oaths, and Haleth, in a voice devoid of any emotion, exiled Kellan to serve the women in what ways they deemed fit, and that he was not to bear arms or armor for one season.
    Kellan fled before she had finished speaking.

Contents Previous Next
top