Narn I Auros

Auros

Jab. Parry. Jab. Block. Left cross. Right hook. Just a sparring match against one of the town guards. Focus, awareness, and concentration all in balance. Nothing escaped Auros' notice. Not the stance of his opponent preparing for the next attack. Not the ring of spectators surrounding them, blocking access to and escape from their little arena. Their cheers. Their jostling for a better view. The heavy air pressing in. The breathing, the smell, the sweat. The nearby shopkeepers who took an early lunch and snuck in to see the spectacle. Farothel shouting from the side of the ring. He took it all in, assessed the threats, and put aside the rest. How easy it could be to lose focus, but that's what he'd trained for, until he was comfortable balancing on the knife's edge. Until it became second nature.

The match was too easy: his thoughts found an opening to drift to Dinmir and Arandil. No matter how many times he told himself it wasn't his problem, his mind disagreed, so frustration became something else to balance. And yet, such intrusions on his focus weren't what tipped the scales. It was the sudden influx of fresh air, the mishmash of floral aromas Auros couldn't identify. For a mere instant his concentration wavered, and when it returned a fist was much too close to his face. It would've connected had instinct and training not tilted him just enough to the side. That same instinct locked Auros' hand around his opponent's arm, pulling the man to the ground with his own momentum and pressing the other hand into his shoulder.

The pinned man didn't try to fight the hold. "I yield! I yield!"

Auros released his opponent and pulled him to his feet with a clap on the back. "Good match."

"I wonder." The man walked away rubbing his shoulder.

Farothel handed Auros a cup of water. "I don't think you'll get too many more friendly challenges, if that's the way you intend to win."

"What about unfriendly ones?" Auros drained the cup and took the towel from Farothel's shoulder. "I was distracted."

"Well I wonder who managed that." The tone of Farothel's voice carried the smirk he'd managed to restrain as he tossed Auros a small purse of coins. "Here's your share. If I don't hurry I'll be late for my meeting with Laikendir."

"Don't let him talk you into any more than he already has." Auros filled and drained the cup again.

"I wasn't... never mind. I've spotted your 'distraction.' I'll see you at dinner."

As the last of the spectators cleared from the ring, Auros spun around to see a woman in a simple blue dress, dark hair tied back with a blue ribbon and a small cluster of flowers above her ear. A pat on Auros' shoulder and Farothel was gone, leaving him to face Thiliel alone.

"Facing" Thiliel was as good a description as any. By the determination in her eyes, she'd come prepared for a challenge. The charming smirk she wore failed to dim that look as she paced the perimeter of the ring. Each step brought her closer to Auros, her eyes never leaving him, until she came to a weapon rack not far from where he stood. She paused, tense and frozen as if reconsidering something, but a soft laugh escaped and it seemed she relaxed again.

"A boxer."

Auros grinned as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Aye."

Her finger traced the hilt of a sword. "And a fencer."

"You don't find my words misleading, do you?"

"Certainly not, although I'm rather fond of riddles. Someone else might've thought you were having fun at their expense."

"If I was having fun at anyone's expense, it was my own. So, what brings you to the guardhouse during training? I don't suppose you frequent many brawls."

"No, I leave the roughhousing up to those more acquainted with the techniques. One of my brother-in-law's cousins lost someone recently, and I brought him a jasmine to commiserate."

"Jasmine? Isn't that the one that means 'grace and elegance'?"

"Yellow jasmine, yes. Each flower has its own meaning. Even the same flower of different colors can mean different things. Like the ones in my hair today. Surely you're familiar with their significance?" Thiliel leaned in and tilted her head for him to get a closer view.

Auros grimaced as he glanced at the flowers. "If I must confess, I've never understood the interest in flower language."

"Really?! It's like a code, passing secrets only the initiated can decrypt! How many messages you may have missed, for lack of recognizing the signs! How many may you be missing now?"

"Hmm." He crossed his arms and gave the flowers in Thiliel's hair more thorough study. "When you put it that way, I imagine it would have its uses."

"I'd be happy to tell you more sometime."

"Great! How about now?" Auros didn't understand flower language, but he suspected that was the response Thiliel wanted.

Thiliel grinned. "Now would be a good time, yes. Tell me, do you train your mind as well as your body?"

"I like to think both are well-trained."

"Then I have the perfect place for us to go. Do you know the building across from the notary?"

"I've not been inside, but I know of it."

"Good! Meet me there in thirty minutes."

"Until then!"

When Auros first arrived at the rendezvous, he couldn't find Thiliel, until someone hidden under a long, plain-looking cloak appeared in front of him. Though her face was hidden in the shadow of its hood, when she tilted her head up, Auros could make out the gloss line of a smile and the shine of her eyes. He couldn't help but be amused at Thiliel's apparent efforts to avoid recognition.

Auros bowed. "I trust you've successfully dodged the search parties so far?"

"Search parties?" For a moment she sounded puzzled, then embarrassed as she seemed to remember the cloak. "Ah, yes. I've had a trying day, and I need at least a small respite. If my duties spot me, I'll have no choice but to attend them." The gloss line stretched into a smile again as her tone changed from embarrassment to puckishness. "I came close to discovery once or twice, but we're safe for the moment."

"Good!" Auros lifted one side of his own cloak to reveal a bag. "As it's not long after noon, I thought we might have lunch while you instruct me in flower language."

Thiliel yanked the corner of Auros' cloak over the bag. "Do not let the caretakers see that!"

"My apologies." Auros' smile faded. "I have no intention of getting you in trouble."

Thiliel sighed. "No, I'm sorry. Perhaps I'm more anxious than I should be. The books we'll be perusing are mine anyway. I've made arrangements for a private room where an occasional visit by one of the attendants will be our only interruption. They're very protective of all under their care, but if we can make it to that room, we'll be safe."

"Then I'll follow you to sanctuary." Auros clutched the edges of his cloak closed from the inside, feigning solemnity. Thiliel's smile returned at the sight.

As they crossed the threshold into the building, the first thing Auros noticed was the shelves. Dozens of tall shelves, full of books. The second was how much bigger the inside looked than the outside. One floor lay above and one below, with an atrium in the center. Stained glass windows decorated the spaces between shelves, with clear glass panels near the ceilings of the two upper levels to let in unfiltered sunlight. "It's a library! Dinmir would love this place."

Two caretakers came to greet them. Thiliel curtseyed and returned their greeting, then turned back to Auros. "Please don't tell Dinmir yet. I intend to introduce her myself soon, but I've chosen to extend the first invitation to you. I know the patrons, and I'm familiar with all of the attendants and caretakers."

From the sharp glare one of the caretakers gave Auros, he gathered that their protectiveness extended beyond the tomes in their care. Had they known of it, the small bag of food under his cloak would've been little more than a drop on the pool of their misgiving.

Thiliel turned back to Auros with a smile more reassuring than the attendants' glares were threatening. "It's a small study in the back, one table and two chairs. It should be rather cozy."

They passed by and through rows of shelves, arranged to fit as many as possible. It wasn't until they'd descended a staircase at the far end that Thiliel pulled back her hood. From a niche in the wall, she retrieved a small candle and a candlestick, whispering to Auros as she struck the match.

"I apologize for the darkness of the hallway. The local candlemakers have come upon hard times, and haven't been able to keep up with the library's orders. We have to conserve where we can."

"Perhaps I should take the lead, in case some danger waits in the shadows before us?" Auros tried not to grin too wide.

Thiliel grinned back at him. "But you don't know the way, and what if danger lurks in the shadows behind us, waiting for us to pass before it strikes? Nay, good knight. I must light the path, but if we find ourselves in such jeopardy I'll trust you to pull me to safety."

As they made their way through the shadows, Thiliel told him more about the library.

"The patrons have gone through great effort to collect volumes of all the knowledge we can. Many were eager to share at the asking. Some of us were able to request copies of other volumes from Imladris or the Havens. Many tomes were penned from the memories of those who sailed West shortly after. If we lose them, we lose many lives' works. These books aid us in... I hope you can understand why both the caretakers who focus on the preservation of the collections, and the attendants who, well, attend to the guests, are both so stringent in their rules."

"I don't blame them. It would be a tragedy to lose such history." He couldn't help the twinge of intrigue at how the books aided her, but if Thiliel wanted him to know she wouldn't have cut herself short.

"We've almost made it!" Hope danced in Thiliel's voice, but just as they reached the door to the study, an attendant scurried towards them from the far end of the hall. Leaning close, she whispered something in Thiliel's ear.

"I'm sorry, Auros." Thiliel tried to sound cheerful, but she couldn't hide the frown. "It seems they've caught up to me. My duties won't afford me a respite after all."

"I understand. Another time, perhaps."

"Very soon, I hope. The attendants here know your face now. I assure you they'll be more than happy to assist in any literary endeavors, or even if you just need a quiet escape." Thiliel smirked, then she leaned in, bounced to the balls of her feet and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you for the flowers."

Watching Thiliel walk away with the attendant, Auros realized the candlestick she'd been carrying somehow ended up in his hand. Then he remembered to breathe. It wasn't often he'd been caught off guard like that. At least the hallway was dark enough not to see the red he felt in his face. He took a moment in the dim light, then returned the way they'd come.

With the library behind him and Dinmir's shop ahead, Auros decided it was for the best that things had gone awry. If Arandil fared as well as hoped, they should be able to resume repairs on Dinmir's house that same day.

Arandil

"This must be a jest. I wouldn't use this wood to build a house for an orc!"

"Well it's a good thing you're not building a house for an orc then, now isn't it? That's what we have. Take it or leave it."

Arandil scowled at the stack of lumber, then back at the miller. The miller was gruff, unpleasant, and more than that, he knew better than to sell lumber in such poor condition; but Arandil didn't have many choices. The quality was unacceptable, by any standard and certainly for Dinmir's house. It was time for a different approach.

"I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Orndir."

"Greetings, I'm Arandil. Orndir, I've seen the quality of your lumber from previous purchases. What I don't understand is the sharp decline in quality this time."

Orndir's own scowl deepened. "Perhaps you and your friend haven't noticed, but you're not my only customers. I have three injured loggers and trouble keeping up with the orders I have. And before you ask, even if you go out and get the lumber yourself, I've got a waiting list far longer than your pockets are deep. As you can now see, I have more important things to do than stand here while you make up your mind."

While the miller went about his business, Arandil grimaced at the wood. After meeting Orndir, it made sense why, contrary to his own admonishments, Auros would've burned the proverbial bridge behind him to get what they needed last time. It would've been enough too, if a heavy rain hadn't proven Dinmir's roof needed more work than they'd thought. Despite their current turmoil, Arandil knew Auros had left this to him trusting that he could get what they needed. That was a faith he couldn't afford to fail. More than that, he refused to fail Dinmir. How was he to succeed, though, when even the miller seemed to be wanting Arandil to reject his wares?

There had to be a way. Even if he'd considered getting the wood himself and commissioning Orndir to process it, he couldn't hope to get it back before winter. Arandil eyed stacks of wood sitting nearby, waiting for their buyers to collect. Some were in better condition, but none were enough to meet his needs. Except... at the far end nearer the mill stood a shed, large enough to contain lumber for many houses. A door, open by chance, offered a glimpse of a brimming inventory. If it all belonged to one contract, perhaps the buyer would be willing to part with a portion at a reasonable price. If not, Arandil would have to try an unreasonable one.

Someone stood examining the lumber, but by the time Arandil reached him the shed was closed. From a distance he'd thought the man might be one of the mill workers. Closer inspection told a different tale. The haughty, self-important sneer, the silken fabric of his clothes, the stance that, while straight, would've crumbled at a strong gust: it spoke of softness, of someone who couldn't be bothered with labor. Soft, well-manicured hands rested on a belt that was more ornamental than practical. Hanging upon it was a thin stretch of wood and gold that spoke of further impracticality. Arandil had to assume it was meant to be a scabbard, but the sword it housed couldn't be much more practical than the rest. As easy as it would be to dismiss him at first glance, the sense Arandil had about the man didn't match his presentation. Perhaps it didn't come from his skill with a blade, but the man was not one to trifle with. Something had brought him a taste of victory, and a desperate hunger for more clung to him. Everything in Arandil told him to loathe the man, but for Dinmir, he would swallow his pride, hold his nose, and if necessary, do business with him.

"Excuse me, sir. Might you know if the lumber in this shed belongs to one person or many?"

The level of disdain the man exuded boiled Arandil's blood. "Why yes, yes I do. Might I inquire as to why you wish to know?" It wasn't some mistaken playfulness that inspired such an indirect answer. As expected, the man relished any power he could claim, even in such a small matter of knowledge. He would dangle his superiority over Arandil's head as much as he deemed he could get away with, and Arandil couldn't risk showing any ire.

Arandil slid his hand into his pocket to keep from assuming a more threatening posture. "If it belongs to one person, I'm hoping he would be willing to part with a portion. I'm in the process of some house repairs, you see, and the miller seems to be low on quality materials. I'll pay a fair price for it, or replace the wood myself."

"This wood is not so easy to come by. It's grown and cut by permission of a nearby lord, and is harvested only every few years."

The veracity of that statement seemed shaky at best, but challenging the man on it wouldn't go well towards his goal. "Still, I must try."

A frown would've been expected. An apologetic smile would've been acceptable. The twisted grin the man presented made Arandil glad it was the small purse of coins in his pocket that his hand curled around.

"I am the owner of this lumber. Let it never be said I refuse to offer my aid to those in need. Here is what I will do: I will permit the miller to negotiate on my behalf for as much of my supply as you need. Oh, Miller!" The man shot a hand into the air just as Orndir emerged from the mill. Arandil got the impression this man knew the miller's name, but chose not to use it.

Orndir had been deep in a heated conversation with one of his workers, and as his attention turned to Arandil and the man, the glower in his eyes reached an intensity outstripping his previous scowl. He left the worker rattling off numbers to the air and stalked to the shed. A thin veil rested over his contempt; so thin that Arandil wondered why he bothered at all.

"How may I help?" The words came out more like a threat than an offer.

"This man wishes to purchase some of my lumber. I've given you authority to determine a price, and we'll settle my accounts once the bargain is complete. For now, I take my leave."

As the man turned away, Orndir's scowl followed him, and Arandil realized someone had earned greater scorn than Auros. It infused Orndir's words.

"Very well, Mr. Taurant."

"Taurant?" This was the Taurant Auros had spoken of?

The man paused and turned to Arandil with a sinister grin. "Why yes, that is my name. Please, do tell Madame Tailor that I was quite pleased to come to her rescue when no one else could. I shall never forget." Satisfaction oozed from Taurant as he sauntered away.

Arandil should've guessed it, but that knowledge changed nothing. They needed wood for Dinmir. For Dinmir, he could ignore the jab at his expense. The sneer and the toying with him meant nothing. Feeding Taurant's ego was a small price to pay. The disregard with which Taurant spoke of Dinmir, however, Arandil could never forgive. Staring at Taurant's back, his teeth clenched until his jaw ached. A strange sensation came over him. His lips tightened, then turned upward and parted. Anyone who didn't know him would be justified in mistaking it for an expression of joy. He'd succeeded in his task, after all. They'd be wrong.

What an interesting sensation. This was the first time in all his life Arandil had felt it. He'd never met anyone he absolutely despised before.