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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