Chapter 49 - Choice

By the time Erutunín’s Company straggled into Tirnen, they were completely exhausted. Erutunín had set a gruelling pace, determined to return home before Rhinure was forced to hold the choosing ceremony. He had been confident that she would delay as long as possible, giving him the time to return home – but it did not hurt to hurry.

Erutunín shifted on the bed, turning his face slightly so that his ear rested on his wife’s stomach. He could hear his child move inside his wife’s body – his child. The thought sent a tremor through Erutunín’s body. He almost did not get the chance to hold his child in his arms. He almost did not make it home. The thought still made his heart run cold.

Aldariel stroked his hair, feeling the tension in her husband’s frame but choosing not to comment on it. She had heard from her mother what had happened and even though she should have been used to the uncertainty of a warrior’s life – after all it was her life as well, still she could not help worrying. Sitting helplessly at home did not improve her temper or her nerves. She should be with Erutunín; that was where her duty lay. She could not wait for her confinement to end – only then would she be able to return to duty.

One more year – such a short time, but for Aldariel it was fast becoming unbearable. Since she had chosen to become pregnant she had removed herself from active duty. According to Clan custom, no Avari woman fought while she carried a child within her. During that time, and for the first year after the birth, her primary responsibility was to the child. Since she chose to bring a life into this world, she had to make sure it thrived. Erutunín was there whenever he could be – even he had cut down on his duties, but the Avari could not spare both of them. Aldariel knew this and accepted the custom’s wisdom but it did not help her sleep any better while Erutunín was away. It was hard enough to sustain the child without Erutunín by her side, she did not need to worry about his safety as well.

Erutunín was her husband, her lord – her Bonded. Nothing was more important than him and nothing would ever be. Not even this child of his that she carried. Aldariel did not doubt that this son she carried would be important to her – and it would be a male, just like Erutunín. It was just that he would never be as important as Erutunín was – could he?

Erutunín looked up when he felt his child kick, “What do you think of so deeply, wife of mine? Our daughter does not approve.”

“Our son thanks you for your concern but he is fine with whatsoever I think.”

Erutunín shook his head, “It will be a daughter, just like you.”

“There you are mistaken, husband, it will be a son,” Aldariel shot back as quickly, repeating the words almost by rote. This was not the first time they had this conversation.

Erutunín kept silent, thinking it best to humour his wife. She did carry his daughter, after all and for that alone he owed her the world.

Aldariel smiled, glad that she had won the argument – for now. Later, she would bring it up again. Erutunín had the most delightful way of making up. Erutunín smiled back, having a good idea what his wife thought of, if the gleam in her eyes was anything to go by.

But, not matter how pleasing the thought was, Erutunín had other, pressing concerns to take care of. With a small sigh he slid out of bed, bending down to retrieve his sword.

Aldariel watched him silently, noting how he fumbled, ever so slightly with the ties of his belt. She got up to assist him as she had for hundred of years. “Are you prepared?”

Erutunín nodded, “As I will ever be.”

“You will not defeat Istion if your attitude is this promising,” Aldariel noted a shade maliciously.

“And here I was thinking you did not want me to win in the first place,” Erutunín said as harshly.

“I would never keep you from doing your duty,” Aldariel replied stiffly.

Erutunín sighed; he had not meant to vent his nervousness on Aldariel. She did not deserve to suffer for his doubts. No one should have to suffer what he felt. He lifted Aldariel’s resisting chin up so that she looked into his eyes. “You are my duty too, the most important one I will ever have. Nothing can change that. Not even the Second Guard’s oath.”

“I know, but I cannot help but wish that you would not do this. I hold your Four, and in theory nothing comes before them, but I also know that that theory is rarely borne out by practice.”

“You speak of Morion.”

Aldariel nodded, not needing to say anything further. Erutunín knew her fears even if she did not speak them out loud. She did not need to speak of them, it was not the Avari way. Practise and an inhuman sensitivity to the unsaid served as well as speech. The Avari spent so much time paying attention to the minutiae that it had become second nature for them to read the smallest signs of emotions.

“You will not end up like Rhîwen.”

“Can you promise me that?”

“I can and I do. Once your confinement is over, you will be with me – even if I am the Second Guard. I will ask Mistress to let you join me.”

“And if Mistress does not permit it? Rhîwen was not able to join Morion.”

“Morion never asked. Besides, there is no reason to suppose that Mistress would refuse my request. She understands what it means to be away from her Bonded.”

“You truly think she views her vows to that Eldar the same way you and I would view them?”

Erutunín paused, carefully thinking over his answer in light of what he had seen of the Prince. “Eldar he may be, but he is not so different from us.”

“Truly?”

“He is a warrior like us. I do not think that he would accept any less than the Four from Mistress. And neither would she give her Honour lightly. Once given, her vows are as binding as ours – be they sworn to Avari or Eldar.”

“If so, then why is she here and not with her husband?”

“She is still the Sacrifice. We still have claim on her.”

Aldariel shook her head, “Theory and practice.”

Erutunín gathered his wife into a tight embrace – it was getting late and the ceremony would begin soon but Erutunín took the time he needed for his wife. “Everything will work out.”

“I hope you are not right about Mistress and her Prince.”

“Why?” Erutunín looked down at his wife, surprised.

Aldariel tightened her grip on Erutunín before answering, “Because I would not wish this pain of separation on anyone, let alone on Mistress Rhinure.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

The day was bright and the Sun shone down on the gathered Avari. The main courtyard of Tirnen was packed shoulder to shoulder by black clad elves. Every adult elf present in Tirnen was in the yard. Today they chose their Second Guard, today they made their voices heard. Each gaze was focused on the slight figure of their Sacrifice as she welcomed them and reminded them of their rights and their responsibility. To choose was their right, but to choose well was their responsibility. The Second Guard, together with the First was the first line of defence for the Sacrifice and thus for the Avari themselves. Through service to the Sacrifice, the Second Guard served the Clan. It was in the best interests of the elves if they choose dispassionately, on merit alone.

Rhinure reminded them of this fact today – of their duty today. The words were all too familiar to her for she had spoken them on the day Morion presented himself for the Second Guard’s position. However, unlike that day, today there would be a dispute to Istion’s request. No one had contested Morion’s right to be Second Guard, so the entire ceremony was more of a formality than anything else. Today, Rhinure knew that Erutunín would challenge Istion for the position. She seriously doubted that the Clan would reject Erutunín’s claim.

Rhinure was certain that today the Avari would see a battle for the Second Guard’s blade. Today, the right to hold that blade would have be proven. It would not be as easy for either candidate as it had been for Morion. But then, they were not Morion in the first place. If they were, this whole ceremony would not have been necessary.

Rhinure only hoped that Erutunín knew what he was doing. She had no doubts of his commitment or his fighting ability, but she was not so sure of his conviction. Istion hungered for this – he would fight to his utmost and more to win the Blade. She had seen the fire in his eyes. If necessary, Istion would kill today. That fire was lacking in Erutunín and because of that he could lose today. Rhinure was sure of it, she could only hope that Erutunín knew it at some level as well. If he persisted in his claim, Istion would remove him.

For Istion this was not only a matter of duty, this was a matter of wielding his foster father’s Blade. Istion had lost both his parents when he was young – not an uncommon occurrence for the Clan – but what was unusual was that he had found a substitute in Morion, much like Rhinure herself. Morion was Istion’s family. It did not matter that the older elf had not considered him to be the same. All that mattered was that Istion believed it to be so. And for family, the Avari would do anything.

Rhinure wondered if she should be letting Istion fight for the Blade. Was he doing this for the Clan or only for himself? She did not begrudge his personal feelings as long as they did not interfere with his judgement. The Second Guard served the Sacrifice – not Rhinure. Would Istion be able to make the distinction? Did Rhinure really want him to? Was she as impartial in this matter as she would wish to be? She wanted Istion to wield Morion’s Blade. The thought of anyone else handling it sickened her. Was she letting her feelings interfere with her duty? Was she allowing Istion to fight today because that is what she wanted?

Rhinure shook her head slightly to clear it. Istion was a good fighter and a good Avari. He had never given her reason to think otherwise. And she would only judge him on what he had done so far – that too was the Avari way. What he felt – and she felt – was his own business.

Rhinure turned back to the Clan to present the contenders.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Istion seems confident,” Cothion commented.

“He has reason to be. Mistress Rhinure has taught him well,” Ehtewen said as blandly, neither giving away what they felt.

“Who do you think will win, First Advisor?”

“Istion.”

Cothion immediately took umbrage, “My son is one of the best fighters the Avari have, First Advisor.”

Túrgwaith raised his brow at Cothion’s tone. It was all too easy to bait the Commander through his family. Cothion would have to work on that. “I have no doubt about his ability, Commander. However, you asked me who I thought would win. Istion wants this more than Captain Erutunín does. Do not let your feelings cloud your judgment.”

“Erutunín might surprise you yet,” Cothion replied stiffly.

“That he might, but I think you tend to underestimate Mistress Rhinure. Istion will beat your son, as she beat you, because he wants the Blade more than Erutunín. Desire can be a powerful motivating factor.”

“Emotions have no place in this.”

Túrgwaith turned his old, tired eyes on Cothion, “Emotions always have a place in things like this.”

“That does not mean that their place is advantageous,” Ehtewen spoke quietly. Her eyes were as grim as Túrgwaith’s, even though they had not seen as many years as the First Advisor.

“I never said that they were beneficial but they will carry Istion through. Whether that is a good thing or not is debatable.”

“Mistress wants Istion to win.” Ehtewen turned to look at Rhinure who was addressing the crowds. None of the three elves bothered listening to the speech since they had heard it before – perhaps too many times before.

“Perhaps too much.” Túrgwaith wondered if he should continue. Ehtewen was known to be partial to Rhinure – well, as partial as Ehtewen would ever get. But he was surprised when Ehtewen nodded in agreement. It seemed as if the First Guard kept her counsel in all things – even Rhinure.

“I have not seen Mistress Rhinure display such – imbalance, since Sarniel killed herself.”

“It is because of that Prince,” Cothion said grimly.

“How can you be so sure? You have never met him,” Ehtewen asked curiously.

“From what you and Erutunín have told me, this Prince Legolas is not someone to be underestimated. He exerts this strange fascination on those around him. He is young but he already leads his troops into battle.”

“So does Mistress.”

“Yes, but that is because she is sworn to us, not the other way around. If she does not perform well she can be removed. She knows this as well as we do. All of us are expendable. But those Silvan elves have sworn to follow that child.”

“He is no child, Commander. He knows what he does.”

“I am sure he does, First Guard. But to convince other people of it he must be, at the very least, highly persuasive. Do you not agree?”

“Granted.”

“And his father is known to be a charismatic elf,” Cothion continued.

“And a dangerous one,” Túrgwaith added.

“You have met him, have you not?”

Túrgwaith nodded, “It was soon after he had returned from Dagorlad. He was a young leader then but very competent. I met him when Sarniel went to ask him for permission to settle in Mirkwood. Even then I could feel the power in him.”

Cothion nodded impatiently, “So we all agree that the Prince not only comes from a dangerous family but is able himself?” When the other two nodded he continued, “If it was only the matter of his competence I would not even bother bringing this up – Mistress is more than capable of looking after herself and us. However, I am not sure whether she will be as impervious to the Prince’s obvious charms. She is not very knowledgeable about males in the first place and even less so around males who pursue her as obviously as Prince Legolas does.”

“The sex will lose its potency after a while, Commander.”

“And if it does not? What if Prince Legolas is able to control her emotions through it? We all know how treacherous emotions can be. They can make us forget our honour, our duty. We are all vulnerable to them – Mistress is no exception. I do not accuse her of failing us; I doubt that anyone in her position will be able to do better. However, that does nullify the risk we face. Prince Legolas already holds her four vows, if he learns to control her heart as well we will lose her.”

“Very well reasoned, Commander. But what do you propose to do about it?” Túrgwaith asked.

“Nothing for now. Mistress Rhinure is still the Sacrifice and I will not condemn her for what she might – or might not – feel. Until her actions damn her, I will do nothing. She had done well for the Clan and that should be remembered.”

“She will remove herself without your promptings if she feels she has been compromised.”

“I believe so, but I would want to make sure of it, First Guard.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

“If Erutunín loses, then I will be accompanying Mistress back to the Woodland Realm. I will see her with the Prince for myself before I make a decision. We cannot forget that how she behaves might be the best way to deal with the Eldar. The Lost Ones are still a threat. If they decide to move against us, the Wood-elves will become our last line of defence. We lost another Spymaster but we have not been able to find out where the Lost Ones are.”

“Mistress asked all Spymasters to be recalled.”

“Not all of them, First Advisor. A few are still in the field – the necessary ones.”

“Why was I not told of this?” Túrgwaith demanded.

“The decision was between the Sacrifice and her Heir. She did not deem it necessary to tell you.”

Túrgwaith narrowed his eyes, looking coldly at Cothion, “And why did you not tell me?”

“I still obey when my Mistress orders me, First Advisor. You should remember that.”

Túrgwaith kept his voice low but cutting, “Such loyalty, Commander.” He knew that the statement would nettle Cothion. It almost bordered on an insult to suggest that he had given his emotions to Rhinure. It implied a recognised emotional connection, something which was anathema to the Avari.

“Do you mean to imply something, First Advisor?”

“Nothing whatsoever, Commander. But you seem obviously rankled by the statement. It does not speak well of your control of your emotions. Perhaps you should be looking at yourself before you accuse Mistress of being imbalanced.”

“I am completely in control, First Advisor,” Cothion bit out.

“Are you certain of that, Commander? Are you sure that your desire to accompany Mistress Rhinure has nothing to do with the desire to see your brother? After all, it has been a long time since you have laid eyes on him.”

“You over-step your boundaries, First Advisor. I am still Heir and I still outrank you.”

“That you do,” Túrgwaith said pleasantly. “But you have not answered the question.”

“The question does not deserve an answer,” Ehtewen put in before Cothion could reply. “To accuse the Commander of such petty motives is beneath you, First Advisor. You forget that the Commander was the one who sent Arandur away in the first place – without regard for Blood ties, without regard for his personal comfort. All because the Avari asked it of him. Even if the only reason he wanted to go was to see Arandur, you cannot begrudge him that. It is his right. Arandur is still Kin.”

“Perhaps you are correct, First Guard. But it is my job to be suspicious. If I am incorrect then it does not matter that I asked. The Commander can overlook the statement as irrelevant.”

“And I am going to do exactly that.” Cothion turned to look at Rhinure, determined not to let Túrgwaith aggravate him further.

Of course, he could not say what annoyed him more – the fact that Túrgwaith had made the accusation in the first place, or that it had some truth in it.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure beckoned Istion and Erutunín to step forward and stand beside her. Though they did not need it, she introduced them – who they were, what they had done, their strengths, their weaknesses - all that they owed the Clan and all the Clan owed them. She spoke of each one’s right to wield the Second Guard’s Blade. She reminded the gathered elves to choose wisely since the position was binding for life – a terrible position for any immortal. And last she warned them that if they did not unanimously choose, the matter would be decided in battle – by the Blade, as was the Avari way.

Since Erutunín was the older, it was his privilege to be presented first. Rhinure placed her hand on his shoulder and called out in a clear, high voice, “This is Erutunín, Captain of our forces, son of Cothion, husband to Aldariel – soon to be father. He has the blood, the rank and the experience. Do you, collectively, wish him to wield the Blade of the Second Guard?”

Perhaps half of the crowd, maybe a little more roared its approval. Erutunín felt proud at his people’s approbation but he knew that it would no be enough. Too many people opposed his petition. Istion had enough support to take this into battle, if he so wished.

Istion stepped forward, taking Erutunín’s place. Rhinure asked the question of the Avari again and received a positive response from the remainder. The ceremony was now in dead-lock – without a clear preference each candidate’s right was still valid. Unless one of them backed down, this would go to a trial by battle.

Rhinure turned to the two elves, now standing shoulder to shoulder, mouths set in a determined line. “Do you, Istion, relent your position and throw your support to your elder?”

“I do not. My Clan is best served by my appointment.”

“Do you, Erutunín, yield your petition and give your support to you Clansman?”

“I do not. My Clan is not best served by him.”

“Then this will be decided by arms, until one yields – or dies.” Rhinure turned to the table behind her where Istion’s and Erutunín’s weapons lay. She handed his sword to Erutunín. “Fight well for you fight for your Clan.” Then Istion, “Fight to win, for victory alone is acceptable.”

Rhinure stepped back, “May your arms never falter and your Blades remain sharp. Now – fight.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

The two Avari fighters accepted the weapons from their Sacrifice and stepped off the dais. They turned and saluted Rhinure, reiterating their commitment to serve their Clan. Rhinure accepted gravely and went to join the rest of the Avari Council.

Rhinure, as befitted her position stood in front. On her left and right respectively were Túrgwaith and Cothion. They were two steps behind her, signifying their inferior rank to the Sacrifice. Right behind Rhinure was Ehtewen in her guise as First Guard. No Second Guard stood beside her but after today, he would be able to take his place in defending his Mistress.

Usually, that would have been it – the Avari Council – the Sacrifice, Heir, First Advisor, First and Second Guard. However, just for today, right next to Rhinure, stood Mîrneth – Morion’s son. It was a unique mark of honour, and one that re-enforced the message – today’s ceremony was about the Second Guard. 

Rhinure sat back in her seat and nodded to the child in greeting. Mîrneth immediately straightened and gripped the sword even more tightly – determined to impress his Sacrifice. There was no trace of any familial feeling in his face, any acknowledgment that his cousin sat next to him. For him, Rhinure was and always would be the Sacrifice. The fact that she happened to be Morion’s niece as well was immaterial. By accepting the mantle of the Sacrifice she had given up the rest of her identity. She was always Mistress – never Rhinure, not even to her Blood.

As Rhinure gave the signal for Istion and Erutunín to begin, she wondered if Erutunín was prepared for such a loss. If he became Second Guard, no longer would he just be Erutunín to the Avari. His own Blade would be passed on to another, while he would take on one that had been wielded for Ages before his birth.

Perhaps it would be better if Istion won after all. He did not have any Blood left; all had been killed in orc raids when he was young. There would be no one to mourn the loss of Istion, no mother, no father, no sibling. There would be no one to turn accusing eyes on him, and silently ask why they were left behind.

Perhaps that was best.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Erutunín and Istion saluted each other warily. Each knew that the other was a skilled fighter and not prone to giving up easily. They withdrew their weapons, bringing them up in almost identical motions. As they fell into a defensive stance, they went over each other strengths and the few weaknesses. Erutunín had age and experience over Istion, but he knew it was not that simple. It was never that simple. Istion had that ferocity and determination that reminded one of Rhinure. And as Rhinure had defeated Cothion, it was very possible that Istion would defeat his senior as well.

Perhaps it was a likeness of spirit that had prompted Rhinure to train Istion. Morion would have been a more than adequate teacher, but Rhinure had insisted. If anyone would make Istion a warrior, it would be her. After all, who better than Rhinure to hone the shard that circumstance had created into a weapon for the Avari. She knew from personal experience what was needed.

“I will win. I will defeat you,” Istion whispered. He brought up his sword into attack position, signalling that it was finally time to begin

Erutunín shook his head – Istion was too much like Rhinure. “I will not be intimated by empty threats.”

“That was not a threat, it was a warning.”

“We shall see.” With that, Erutunín attacked the other elf.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Cothion watched with pride when he saw his son take the initiative and finally attack. Both elves fought with a concentration and skill that was a credit to their respective teachers. Though it was probably not the purest of motives, Cothion hoped that his son would trounce Istion. Through his son, Cothion hoped to avenge the slight done against him so many years ago. While he had accepted that the better and more determined fighter had won that day, he could not help but feel a slight envy towards Rhinure.

It was an honour to serve his people in whatever position – Sacrifice or Heir, it really did not matter to Cothion. The truth of the matter was that the Heir in his role as the Commander of the Avari forces was more concerned with the martial defence of his Clan. Since the Avari were all warriors, Rhinure was involved in this aspect as well. But her duties encompassed the well-being of the entire Clan – a tenuous thing at best. She had to look at the bigger picture, to make sure that whatever was done was in the long term interests of the Avari. Cothion knew that temperamentally he was not suited to such task – he was too volatile. He enjoyed the immediacy of his position as Commander, and Rhinure rarely interfered in his decisions.

Still, he had lost to Rhinure. And that thought would forever rankle.

As Cothion watched the two fighters, his thoughts and concerns went out to his son. If his son won today, he would no longer be Erutunín but the Second Guard. It would involve grave forfeiture on Erutunín’s part but Cothion was confident that his son would meet even that challenge. And it was not as if the ties of Blood would be broken by Erutunín’s appointment. Yes, Blood was often thinned by duty but it always remained Blood.

And then there was Erutunín’s new child – the child would wield Erutunín’s old Blade if Erutunín won the new one. And as long as that was done, the old Erutunín would be remembered. In Erutunín’s child and wife, Erutunín would live on even if all others saw him as only the Second Guard. As long as he had his family, Erutunín would always keep that private part of him alive that made him the elf he was.

Cothion looked over the crowd to where his wife stood. Their eyes met and both knew what the other thought right at that moment. If being Commander was the price he had to pay to protect her and his people, then Cothion was more than ready to do so. Whatever else he had given up, Cothion had the satisfaction that he was making a difference – that he was doing his duty. He knew that Erutunín felt the same.

Now the question was, did Istion have the same incentive?

    x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Erutunín parried a particularly vicious blow aimed at his legs. He frowned; Istion would have taken off his legs if Erutunín had not blocked it. Istion saw Erutunín’s distraction and doubled his blows. Erutunín hissed in pain as Istion’s sword sliced his arm.

The sound caused both elves to stop for a moment. Istion watched the blood flowing down Erutunín’s arm onto the ground. “Please back down, Captain. I do not want to be responsible for a child growing up without his father.”

“You will not be.”

“I will kill you if I must.”

Erutunín did not reply but he lunged forward, managing to cut Istion before the younger elf danced back. “I know – as will I.”

Istion smiled grimly, feeling the warmth on his arm. They were both committed now.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Cothion somehow managed to keep quiet when Istion managed to get past Erutunín’s defence. He did not how he did but he managed to keep silent. Erutunín had become careless, underestimating the younger elf. The wound was minor but it would serve as a warning. This was no game that he played, this was a battle and one in which Erutunín could lose his life. One in which he would lose his life if he did not take Istion more seriously.

He glanced over to where Rhinure stood, remembering their battle. That day it had been Cothion who had drawn first blood but Rhinure had taken the warning and come back to defeat the Commander. Perhaps Erutunín would do the same. Cothion could only hope.

He settled back and tried to watch with a critical eye – a commander watching a recruit, not a father watching his son. Still, he could not help rejoice when Erutunín struck back.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

It seemed as if Istion’s first blow would also be his last. Erutunín had woken up from his stupor and seemed all the more determined not to let Istion win. Istion wondered if justice truly existed in life – Erutunín did not want to win, he just wanted Istion to lose. He did not believe Istion would be a good Second Guard, and for that he was willing to sacrifice himself and his life.

In some respects, Istion admired that devotion to duty. Erutunín was not the type to only complain, he was the type to present a solution – in this case himself. However, none of this was going to stop Istion from winning.

He was going to be Second Guard – for Morion, for Rhinure and most of all, for himself.

And he would do anything he had to in order to win. 

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure held her breath when Istion fell back under Erutunín’s assault. His arm was bleeding freely, Erutunín must have stuck him harder than Rhinure had first thought. Istion’s strength seemed to be flagging – he would not survive much longer. Erutunín would win – and Morion’s Blade would be forever lost to her.

Rhinure swallowed, disgusted with herself. Istion could lose his life and all she could think about was herself. Morion would be ashamed of her. She should be thinking about her Clan and the potential Second Guards. She should be cataloguing their strengths, fighting styles, weaknesses – anything and everything that might be useful later.  She determinedly focused on the battle – watching even more closely, determined not to lose track about what this ceremony was about.

It was only then did she notice something out of place. Istion’s retreat was too systematic – too controlled. It was almost as if Istion was letting Erutunín win. But why? Had he given up?

*~ NO! ~*

Rhinure eyes widened as she realised what Istion was planning. He must not do that.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Istion let Erutunín drive him back, letting the older elf’s blade come closer and closer – along with the elf himself. Just a little more and he would have Erutunín exactly where he wanted.

*~ Right about – now! ~*

As Erutunín’s sword swung down, Istion dropped his guard, letting the blade slice into his unprotected side. Not all the way through, but enough to slow Erutunín down. As the sword bit into his flesh, Istion swung in closer, using his arm knife to attack the vulnerable point behind Erutunín’s neck.

Kill point.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Cothion watched with a sick sense of fascination as Istion let Erutunín wound him. As soon as the sword struck flesh, Cothion knew what Istion had planned. He knew that Istion would arc in, letting the sword sink in – slowing down in opponent in order to make the kill. He knew that Istion would use his knife arm to attack Erutunín’s neck.

He knew because that was exactly what Rhinure did to him.

Though Rhinure did not have the skill to defeat him, she had something a lot more potent – a fanatical devotion to win. She was willing to almost kill herself in order to become Sacrifice. She had sheathed the blade with her own body so that she could defeat Cothion.

Cothion would never forget that moment – the horror of it as his sword went inside her body, causing the blood to gush out of the wound. He would never forget the determination in Rhinure’s eyes as she had pushed herself into the blade so as to reach Cothion with her knife. That frightening devotion had won the day for her. In the face of such will even Cothion had to admit defeat. It was that madness which had made Rhinure Sacrifice and which still boiled in her eyes from time to time. That madness still held Cothion enthralled and slightly afraid.

Now it seemed as if Istion was infected with that dedication as well. Perhaps a little insanity was the mark of a victor.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Istion’s knife hovered over Erutunín’s flesh. “Tell Mistress that you concede.”

“I will not.”

“Do not make me kill you, Erutunín. I have won and you know it. Do not make me carry out the final step. Give in.” Istion’s voice was raspy and ever so tired.

“I will not bring dishonour to my name and my Blood.”

“There is no shame in admitting defeat. The dishonour would be if you left your wife and child alone. The disgrace would be if you robbed your Clan of a good Captain.”

Erutunín set his jaw and did not say anything. If he could drag this out for just a little longer he could still win this.  Istion’s blood loss would make him slow and careless. Erutunín would be able to escape with his life and his dignity.

Istion’s dagger came down over Erutunín’s neck, drawing blood slightly. Erutunín looked into Istion’s eyes. They were full of pain but they were not clouded. He knew what Erutunín was thinking and he was telling him as clearly that the plan would not work. If Erutunín did not surrender, he would die.

“Please, Erutunín. For Aldariel.”

The sound of his beloved wife’s name was enough to remind Erutunín of his duty. Before anything else – his Clan, his honour, his life – came his Bonded. He had to return to her as he had promised. That was where his duty lay – not on this blood-covered field.

Erutunín nodded grimly, and threw down his sword.

Istion had won.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure stepped forward when she saw Erutunín drop his weapon, making sure that the immense relief she felt was absent from her face. Mîrneth followed behind her, still gripping the sword tightly. As Istion stumbled towards him, blood still flowing from his side, he lifted the sword up and presented it to the elf.

Istion gripped the weapon with a trembling, blood soaked hand. His blood flowed over the metal, making the sword truly his. Istion smiled, *~ For you, Morion. ~*

Putting his new Blade into the scabbard, Istion turned to Rhinure, “I am at your service, Mistress.”

Rhinure turned at said in a loud voice so that all the Avari could hear, “We welcome you, Second Guard.” At that, the on looking Avari saluted Istion, fists to their hearts and welcome in their eyes.

Istion took a step forward, none too steady on his feet. “May I make the Avari proud.” As he said that he stumbled, exhaustion making him dizzy. He would have fallen if Rhinure had not caught him. As he felt her arms steady him he whispered softly so that only she could hear, “He would have been proud of me, yes?”

Rhinure bent forward so that no other could hear her words, “I believe he would have been very pleased.”

Istion smiled, “Thank you, Rhinure.” And with those unconsidered words, Istion fainted.

Rhinure looked down at the unconscious Avari in her arms, “I, too, am proud of you, little one.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed that. Sorry the chapter took so long. Since I know all of you who are reading this probably want me to update as soon as possible. Therefore, I am not going to reply to all reviews (though I love all of you), just to the ones who asked me specific questions (not the ones that asked me what was going to happen next of course). Saves time, and lets me get on with chap 50:

 Generally though: thank you all who liked the last chapter. I loved writing the sparring scene as well. I am in love with both father and son (sounds weird no?). Explanations are coming soon and for all those looking forward to some smut – the “reunion” is pretty soon (by my standards) so you just might get your wish. (Standard disclaimer – I don’t write R rated stuff).