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.
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