As Deirdre walked home, she gesticulated wildly with her new sword almost hitting Alfar several times. Abruptly she turned to face Alfar.
“Hey, I know you let me win,” Deirdre said surprising Alfar.
“What do you mean?” Alfar said feigning innocence.
“With only one arm, even you could have beaten me easily but you left yourself open on purpose,” Deirdre accused pointing the sword at him.
“Well, I knew that if you had both arms, you could have won without a problem so it only seemed fair,” he confessed scratching the back of his head nervously.
“Thanks.” Deirdre quickly stepped forward and pecked him on the lips. “But you have to duel me again when my arm is healed.”
“Alright but you better be ready to lose,” Alfar boasted with fake bravado. As the two got closer to her home the conversation turned to simpler times.
“Do you remember when we used to race frogs by the brook?” Deirdre asked. When Alfar nodded, she continued,” And you were always sad because your frog was slower than a snail.”
“Yeah, and we spent that entire summer training that little frog to be faster until he finally won.” Alfar remembered thinking back to his childhood. “We practiced for hours every evening until it was time for supper.”
“Well, I have a confession I replaced your frog with another because I wanted you to be less sad.”
“What could possibly have made you think of all this now?” Alfar questioned not really concerned with the validity of his frog racing win.
“This might sound weird but the chlochdreki today reminded me of that 3-foot-long horned bull frog that Ciaran and Thomas tried to train to race,” Deirdre said giggling towards the end.
Alfar chuckled and replied, “He looked nothing like a frog more like a gecko someone dressed as a soldier.” The pair reached her house and stopped in front of the door.
“Imagine a little gecko thinking it’s all important as he delivers a little message from his king promising war if his demands are ignored,” Deirdre joked pretending to hold a tiny lizard in her hand.
“Better watch out their spears could give you splinters,” Alfar jested. As the two giggled to themselves in front of her doorway, Alfar fiddled with a small wooden carving in the pocket of his trousers. “Deirdre this might sound random but do you ever think about the future?” Alfar asked tentatively his hands sweating from apprehension.
“I don’t know. I guess I always thought I’d end up spending my life here, working the fields or caring for the livestock, but recently...” As she spoke Deirdre held the sword up in the moonlight and carefully examined it. “I feel like I can do so much more. I could see the world and finally do something worth doing.” She paused trying to collect her thoughts. “There’s so much of the world I don’t know about but I want to. My favorite times as a kid were hearing the stories of travelers as they crossed the continent. I think after this festival maybe it would be time to leave Elderbrook.”
As he listened Alfar released the carving in his pocket and awkwardly scratched his arm. “I’ve always wondered if you weren’t made for a quiet life.” Alfar nervously chuckled in a weak attempt to hide the fear clutching his heart.
“However, no matter where I go, I’d like you to be there.” she quickly stammered grabbing his hand. “Will you come with me and see what the world is like?”
Alfar answered by once again grabbing the carving and placing it in her hand. “Deirdre, would you do me the pleasure of marrying me?” As she opened her hand, she could see a wood carving of a crescent moon curving around a sun. Deirdre separated the two and handed the moon back to Alfar.
It took almost a minute for Deirdre to manage to speak through the tears forming in her eyes. “Of course I will. I will be the sun to your moon. I will bring life to your world and light to your day.”
Alfar fought back tears as he nervously recited, “I will be the moon to your sun. I will nurture the life you have brought and carry your light through the night.”
Deirdre woke up early enough that the sunrise greeted her as she walked towards the festival grounds. A few stray sunbeams illuminated the scattered houses catching the face of Lachlann as he climbed out of Elder Topapa’s back window. Deirdre chuckled to herself as she chose to ignore him assuming that he was in no mood for someone to catch him. Soon the festival came into view with only a few people milling about. However, standing tall in the arena from last night was the clochdreki holding a twohanded wooden sword. He swung the sword repeatedly in the same pattern consisting of a slash in every direction possible. With every attack it seemed like the world moved with his blade. The grass beneath his feet bent as though the wind followed his sword. His swinging was mesmerizing until a tiny bumble bee flew into his swords path. To avoid the insect, he diverted his swing causing him to stumble and bury the sword point into the ground.
“Careful little friend you were almost sliced in half,” he said with a deep chuckle while offering a scaled finger for the bee to land on. “And what would you want on this bright morning?” The clochdreki asked as he turned to face Deirdre.
“Good morning, I was wondering if you might be willing to teach me a few things... about swords,” Deirdre stated, her confidence waning under the gaze of the warrior.
The clochdreki gave a deep chuckle before he answered, “My name is Advar of clutch Dragonborn, I would be honored to show the blades of my ancestors to an aspiring warrior.” Advar nudged the bee from his finger as he gripped the practice sword with both hands again. “What can I call the next wielder of Scaleripper?”
Deirdre beamed with delight as she half shouted,” Deirdre... of house Etsan.” Deirdre pulled Scaleripper from its sheath at her waist and tried to mimic her teacher’s stance. Just holding the heavy longsword in front of her was tiring.
“Just try your best to follow my swings and copy my steps, miss Etsan,” Advar instructed as he continued his earlier routine but much slower than before. “It is important for a swordsman to establish a proper foundation of both strikes and legwork. The legwork is the basis for all your strength while these swings will help you adapt to any opponent,” he explained as the movements became almost like a dance with Deirdre occasionally stumbling through movements.
After a few minutes the pair heard footsteps approaching and as their movements turned, they saw that it was Alfar.
“Is it alright if I join your practice?” Alfar asked in a cautious voice.
“Of course, simply go to that tent over there and grab a practice sword,” Advar commanded pointing to a tent on the edge of the practice field. With Alfar joining, the three began the practice movements once again. As they went Deirdre and Alfar could feel every muscle from their shoulders to their feet begin to ache. At first it was a dull ache that quickly grew with each swing until both their swords shook with their arms. The clochdreki showed no signs off wavering despite the signs of fatigue in his temporary pupils.
As Deirdre saw this, she felt a different kind of ache. She hated that her body needed to rest, and wished that she could practice without end like Advar. Eventually, long after Alfar had collapsed out of breath, Deirdre felt her left leg buckle causing her to fall to the ground. Despite the cause, her forced rest was a welcomed reprieve for her body. As she lay there, she heard a soft deep chuckle next to her.
“It’s not good to strain your body so hard while practicing,” Advar instructed, “You would be wise to take a lesson from your friend and rest when your body says to.”
Deirdre tried to respond but found herself unable to collect enough breath to talk. “If I do this every morning then no one in valley will be able to last a minute against me,” Deirdre thought to herself having gained a confidence in the intensity of the training. “But I bet there’s countless warriors who can boast that from among the kingdoms.”
“You should do this exercise every morning and then after you’ve rested you should try running around this village to increase your endurance,” Advar instructed. “However, since it is your first day I’ll let you off for now. Go enjoy the festival booths.” As Advar finished his sentence he began to walk off toward the merchant tents waving his goodbye.
After a few minutes of rest the remaining two finally worked up the effort to talk. “So,” Deirdre began to ask, “have you told your parents about your proposal yet?”
“I was actually hoping we could do that together after all the potluck is tomorrow,” Alfar replied rubbing his sore shoulders.
“That could work but...” Deirdre paused as she stared into the distance, “Is that Thomas?” Alfar turned to see Thomas walking towards the village away from the tents. Much of his face was covered in veil commonly worn by desert traders. However, from his walk and the bit of his face poking through the veil his friends could recognize him. He was carrying a small ornate leather pouch and walked with a hurried pace.
Alfar and Deirdre prepared to follow Thomas until they saw a figure riding a horse further down the road. Dressed in a thick leather cuirass with tarnished steel arm guards a short stocky woman rode a horse far past its prime. As she approached an old bardiche, a short polearm with a large axe blade, on her back became visible along with her face. She looked like Deirdre except twenty years older with a face covered in scars.
The pair recognized the woman instantly as Elice Hawkwing captain of fort Brownstone and Deirdre’s mother. As soon as Deirdre recognized her mom she forgot about her fatigue and ran to meet her.
“Praise Athairte, it’s been months since I’ve seen such a cute face,” Elise greeted Deirdre, her face beaming at the sight.
“Mom, check it out I won a sword in the annual tournament,” Deirdre proudly presented scaleripper to her mom. Elise took the blade in her hand and inspected the edge carefully.
“This is a fine blade. We’ll have to test it against my sinew snapper,” Elise proposed handing the blade back, “Unfortunately I have to go see your father. I’ll catch up with you two later.” With a wave Elise continued on her way.
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