Movement II: Brother’s Song

    Haleth slipped outside before the din died down, hoping to avoid any curious fools who might come her way.
    “My lady Haleth,” she heard Cullan say in a voice heavy with shame and remorse. “I ask pardon for my son’s conduct. While it is true that I believe women should not fight, I did not support Kellan’s decision to challenge you, my lord’s daughter.”
    “Pardon granted,” she said after a moment’s pause. What game was he up to now?
    It seemed he had read her thoughts, for he said, “No games, my lady. I… I am sorry.” He turned and left her, his shoulders shaking with suppressed emotion.
    “Haleth?” That was from Malron, her one true friend in this keep, to whom she could always turn to for comfort. “Come with me,” he said, walking back to his hall.
    She followed him, still clutching her father’s gifts to her, and then she placed them beside her cot. She handed him back his sword, and he took it without comment.
    “My Nameday gift to you, Haleth,” he said quietly as he crossed the floor to a wooden chest similar to his own. “A good sword you have, as with a knife and bow. So. There remains only armor.” He drew forth leather armor stiffened with links of chain mail, but it would not weigh her down as normal armor would. “I would have given you mithril, but the Dwarves do not part with their treasures lightly.” She caught a glimpse of something else within the chest, and she would have leaned forward to look, but he gently pushed her back.
    “No, Haleth,” he said. “There are yet some secrets I must keep.” He sighed, then said abruptly, “Sit down.” She placed her armor to one side, and sat cross-legged upon his gleaming floor, looking up attentively at her teacher as he sank down opposite her.
    “Recite to me the rules of battle.”
    And she did, beginning with the ones he had taught her on that first, fateful day, and both grinned when she said, “Battle always hurts.”
        At length, she was done, and she cocked her head in curiosity as he closed his eyes.
Tulkas protect you, my lady, for now I must send you forth.
    Opening them to look at Haleth with inscrutable blue-gray eyes, he said, “May Eru and the Valar protect you, my lady. You are ready for battle.”
    Her mouth dropped open in shock. “Armsmaster, I have been training but for weeks—”
    He cut her off with one curt slash of his hand. “The basics are there. You are not fully honed yet, but only experience will, now—experience you must gain now. All you will do is drill with me and with any other willing to spar with you. There is no more training, Haleth.” Smiling a little, he leaned forward to cup her cheeks and lightly brush her brow with cool lips. He hesitated before saying, “I would be honored if you no longer called me ‘armsmaster’ but ‘friend’ or ‘brother,’ for Haldad is your father.”
    Oh, I think that you will be closer than Haldar ever was, for he never understood me and my desire to do battle. And yet, sometimes I feel as if I should have been your daughter, she thought to herself. “I would be honored if you called me ‘sister,’ ” she said softly, and felt her heart swell with joy when she saw the genuine joy in Malron’s eyes, and she realized how alone he had always felt. The armsmaster must always be alone, never maintaining a personal relationship, for otherwise he could not maintain respect and authority over his pupils. Those who had gone beyond his training were warriors and might be killed at any moment, and he distanced himself from the inevitable pain and sorrow, for if he gave his heart to one person, he might die with him. It was, she reflected somberly, a lonely life.
    “But before we do that, there is one final lesson,” Malron said, his joy fading as well. “There are five more rules, and you must remember them. But as I said to you before, one day, you will not only remember them but know and understand them with the warrior’s soul that is yours. Listen well to the rules of the Master of Battles,” he chanted as if reciting a poem. She leaned forward in eagerness, wondering what secrets Malron would give her in defeating all of her enemies. “The first is that ‘Pain is not always physical.’ The second is ‘A battle avoided is the best one.’ The next: ‘There is no such thing as a free victory.’ The fourth: ‘Mandos shall come for you eventually.’ And the last: ‘Life is made of nothing but choices.’ ”
    Haleth nodded obediently, committing to memory the rules, although she was surprised that Malron gave her these rules. Besides the second and the third, they seemed to have nothing to do with battle. She was disappointed that they had nothing to do with tactics and victory.
    Although Malron had perfected Haleth’s ability to keep her emotions from being painted on her face, something Haldar had yet to accomplish, he knew her too well now. He had expected her disbelief and disappointment, and knew that it would be a while before she truly understood the wisdom that lay in those simple words. They were simple pieces of wisdom, nothing earthshaking or all-powerful, but wisdom men too often forgot and too often needed to remember. Too often, it demanded sorrow before men remembered and understood what they meant.
    So he hid his sigh, and smiled at his former pupil. Before she could react, he had snatched the knife from her belt and cut a crescent into the palm of his left hand. As blood welled up, Haleth did the same to her hand, and they clasped hands to let their blood intermingle.
    “May the Valar accept us as brother and sister,” they said together, and then drew away. By the mingling of their blood, both had said that their blood was one and kin. Malron had never sworn a blood oath or had a sibling, but suddenly, he was very glad that he had a sister. He was Haleth’s senior by a mere handful of years; perhaps four or five, but none would have guessed that by his somber face and sorrow-filled eyes. And yet he was the armsmaster and the best warrior in the keep. He could have been lord, but he had been content to follow Haldad until now.
    Now, he had sworn himself to Haleth in the hall where she and Kellan had fought. “You know, sister-mine,” he said with a grin that took years from his face and made him seem his true age, “there’s something I bet your father and brother never introduced you to, and that’s very inconsiderate. Especially when they are celebrating this solemn rite.”
    “What is it?”
    “Why, sister-mine, getting drunk.”

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