Terran lunged, and Eory just barely managed a block. Terran nodded his approval; the form of the block was good. Once again, it was Eory’s nervousness and his lack of physical strength that was holding him back. “How are you going to get out of this, Eory?” Terran asked. “I’m stronger than you; I could easily push your blade aside. What are you going to do?”
Eory was sweating as he struggled to keep blocking Terran’s blade even as the elf pressed against it harder; clearly, he didn’t know what he was going to do. Terran knew what the best way for a man to learn was; it was through cuts and bruises that only made him stronger--the way he, himself, had learned. Terran shoved Eory's blade aside, causing him to lose his grip. Terran pointed his blade at the fairy’s throat. “You just died.”
Eory pursed his lips, glowering. “Alright, fine. What am I supposed to do?”
Terran smiled, clapping Eory on the shoulder. He looked the fairy up and down. He had gained some muscle over the years, but he just wasn’t built to be a front-line soldier, which was fine, he didn’t necessarily need to be. The problem was that, if someone engaged the fairy in close combat, he would die in seconds if he didn't at least know how to get out of it. Terran tapped his chin, wondering how the fairy could possibly escape if someone engaged him close quarters. After a moment, he remembered something he had taught to Francis.
“Alright, Eory. If someone much bigger and stronger has you pinned, you need to fight dirty. Throw dirt in their face, knee them in their privates, kick them in their shins, anything that allows you to survive. Let’s practice.” Terran announced.
Eory blinked rapidly. “Y-you want me to knee you in your—”
Terran interrupted him with a chuckle. “Don’t actually do it. If you do it, I swear I’ll put you in the infirmary for a week. I just want you to pretend.”
Eory cleared his throat. “Okay. I’ll try.”
Terran nodded his approval. “Let me show you some things I taught my brother, and some things he taught me.”
***
Once Terran had finished instructing Eory, he saw the younger man beaming with something akin to confidence. Eory hadn’t won a single practice battle that night, and neither he nor Terran expected him to, but he had been able to hold his own, and had performed the new techniques Terran taught him well—including fighting dirty. Terran was proud of the fairy.
Eory was a puddle of sweat by the time they had finished, and his blonde hair was sticking to his forehead. Nonetheless, he still managed to say excitedly, “I feel so energized, Terran! I think I finally have the confidence to give Pollyanna the bear tomorrow night!”
Eory bolted from the training room before Terran could ask the fairy what he even meant by that. Terran nonetheless found himself smiling softly—glad that he could make some kind of positive influence on the fairy’s life.
He turned to Eliita, who had watched the fairy run away, too. She stood up, straightening her clothes, and approached Terran. “I suppose we should eat, shouldn’t we?”
Terran nodded. He knew his woman too well, however. He saw the frown on her face and her hunched shoulders and knew something was bothering her. “Alright Eliita. It’s time you told me what was bothering you. I know it has to do with Eory, but…”
“I don’t want to lose him.” Eliita said simply. “I’ve lost too many good men to martyrdom. I don’t want to lose Eory, too. If he dies…” Eliita’s eyes went glassy.
Terran nodded. “I understand, but he’s made his choice. There’s not much we can do Eliita.”
“There must have been a way we could have solved the problem with the doppelgangers without giving up Eory… we should have tried harder to help him look for one.” Eliita sniffled.
Terran looped an arm around her shoulder while leading her out of the training hall. “There are a lot of things I wished I had tried harder at; I wish I had tried harder at getting Francis to leave the academy, but it didn’t happen. I wished I had tried harder to just accept the queen’s advances, but I just couldn’t make myself.”
Eliita leaned her head against his shoulder, looking up at him dreamily. “I’m glad you refused her, though. It just shows your strength of character.”
Terran kissed the top of her head. “It’s not that I regret refusing her. It’s what I lost as a result of refusing her that bothers me.”
Terran and Eliita left the warmly lit training hall and turned into the dark, iron hallway. The pair felt surrounded by shadows on all sides, and Terran almost felt as if someone was watching him, even though he knew that that was impossible.
“You could have been one of her kings. You and your brother could have lived comfortably.” Eliita said, batting her sweet, brown eyes at him.
“Please. I have more dignity than to be just another man in the queen’s pathetic harem.” Terran shivered just thinking about it.
The pair strode past a few recruits chatting gaily about the day’s events; they were happy to go to sleep and just cheerful to be able to survive another day. Terran had similar feelings; over the years, he had grown to appreciate the simple things in life, and surviving day-to-day was one of them.
“I can’t believe you’re an elf sometimes. Where’s your ego? Where’s your lust? Where’s your addiction?” Eliita chuckled.
Terran rolled his eyes. “I can't beleive you're a dwarf. I would like to know where your hotheadedness is, where your boorishness is, and where your love of ale is.” Terran retorted.
Eliita guffawed until she was in tears, and then she stopped. “Please, you know I love ale. That much about me is true. And I can be very hotheaded when I want to be. If I weren’t, we wouldn’t have ever gotten together.”
Terran nodded. “That’s true. You practically dragged me to the bedroom against my will! You could have at least bought me dinner first.”
Eliita laughed even harder. Sometimes, she forgot that Terran even had a sense of humor.
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