“Shafir! It’s almost time for dinner!” The smell of autumn was crisp and musky-sweet. It only stressed the smell of his mother’s cooking from that evening. Shafir turned to look at his mother, who stood in the doorway of the little home. She was cleaning her hands on her apron and her warm smile glowed. 

“Yes, mama!” Shafir turned back around and his tiny hands held the rough leather-covered hilt of the sword. It was small and not extremely heavy. Their fathers often gave just a small sword to young boys. Though it was still harder to use than his old wooden sword, he was bigger now! So Shafir’s father had given him the same training sword he used when he was young. Dark, calloused hands wrapped around Shafir’s own, helping him lift the sword. His father’s hands were warm, just like the man himself. The gentle touch redirected his grasp, teaching him how to properly hold the dangerous weapon. 

“Shafir is going to be a skilled knight one day, don’t you think honey?” Shafir’s mother spoke once again, a tray of fresh bread in her hands, trying to entice the two to hurry. Shafir’s father loved his mother’s bread. It was the one thing he always made jokes about, saying that he would fight hundreds of knights just so that he would get a taste of her bread. In a way, that was just what he did when he swore to marry her. 

“He will be a pride for the House of Honors.” Though muffled and unrecognizable to Shafir, now it was clear what had been spoken. When he looked up at his father, the face he once knew well and saw every day was clouded. He knew his father had looked so much like him it hurt his mother after his passing, but how long had it been since the last time he could remember his father’s face? The death of his father was one he looked on without hate, even if the event extremely saddened him, as it was as honorable as any knight could be. The man protected the people he cared about from some true evil in the world and he did so even after he retired. 

“... ir… Shafir.” 

Rough shaking of Shafir’s shoulders caused the dream to shift and sway. Soon the browns and reds of the trees’ leaves swirled into the color of white office walls. The familiar smell of his mother’s cooking and leaves dissipated to the smell of paper and ink. Shafir could hear a deep voice calling out his name and he groaned at the disruption. When his eyes focused on the figure in front of him, all he could see was the blue of his captain’s eyes. He felt himself being drawn to them and when he realized what he was doing; he pulled away. Had he never noticed that Eliqinor’s eyes were so blue? Well… That was the least of his worries, as Eliqinor was uncomfortably close. 

With the speed of light, Shafir threw his arms out, shoving Eliqinor away from him. There was no way he was going to be that close to this idiot and especially not when he had such a warm feeling flowing through him. A loud thud accompanied Eliqinor’s large body hitting the floor and with the blanket still half strewn across him, Shafir jumped onto the other elf’s form. His breath was heavy and he could feel Eliqinor’s muscles tense under him. Shafir had never gotten the jump on the other like this before and it caused blood to rush to his head, making him slightly dizzy. He brought back his fist and connected it with Eliqinor’s face. Perhaps this was too close to how Shafir felt in his dreams. The rush of fear caused him to act, and he brought his fist back again.