First in Blood and Blade, Then in Song

By: Arwyn Posted on: May 30, 2005

He sighed, and leaned back in the chair, balancing precariously on two legs. Ennui taunted him again, his ever constant companion. Absently, he fingered the intricate basketwork of his rapier in an unconscious caress. Long ago, he had forsaken his martial path for the more peaceful one of a bard. Still, the memories of darker, bloodier times still shadowed his eyes, and followed him no matter how far across the lands he traveled. With a sigh, he took his hand away from the blade that he'd never been quite able to give up. The rapier had become too much a part of him for him to be without it. He'd tried not to wear it once, and the very change in his balance disrupted his daily movements. He'd resigned himself to living with the blade, though he'd sworn never to use it again. With a sigh, he thumped the front legs of the chair down as he reached for the goblet of icewyne.

Sipping the glass, he sighed as he watched his companion perform for the small gathering at the Crystal Leaf Inn. The songs at which he'd finally mastered no longer seemed to soothe him as they once did, when he first joined. With fondness, he remembered those first simple songs which had so enchanted him with their ability to soothe the soul. The wonder of a few hours of unhaunted sleep seemed like such a miracle to him when he'd first started. The lute which he'd so painstakingly mastered, for it's utter lack of violence no longer soothed him as it once had. Taking another sip of wine, he entertained himself by trying not to get drunk while he waited for his companion to finish her performance.

"You know, you could show some more interest," she said, when she returned to the table. Her sharp blue eyes shot both reproach and amusement at him as she sat down at his table. Impudently, she took the half-drunk glass of wine out of his hands and sat next to him.

"I was, Li" he replied dryly, non-plussed by her display of temper. "I was trying to think of a harmony to your new song."

"Liar," was all she said, after taking a swig of his wine. He smiled lazily at her, when she tossed her black hair over her shoulder. Liana fixed him with her piercing blue eyes, and he fought the urge to squirm.

"You know, we're nearing Aalen Forest now," she said in carefully measured tones. He took his wine back and took a careful sip to consider her over the rim of the cup. Liana narrowed her eyes at him, and continued "The nightmares have been getting worse." She spoke over him when he would have opened his mouth to deny it. "Don't bother lying, I know you too well. It's in your eyes."

He shrugged for an answer. "You should make the pilgrimage to go see Her" she added, and pretended not to watch his reaction from the corner of her eyes. She sighed when he continued to say nothing, and drained his glass. "Anyways, my break's over, it's time for me to continue playing." With one last reproachful look at him, she returned to her place at the front of the room to continue singing.

That night, after she'd fallen asleep, he lay awake staring into the restless dark. Looking over at her, he watched her sleeping face for a long while, his expression utterly unreadable. Reaching over, he pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over her face while she slept. Before they'd gone to sleep that night, she'd mentioned that she'd wanted to stay at the inn for a little while, plying what healing skills she had with her songs before they moved on. The line of his mouth thinned out, as he rose from the bed they shared. Packing his things silently, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before he left.

Journeying through the woods, pack and lute strung over his shoulder, rapier strapped to his side, he made good time to Aalen Forest. Along the way, he'd stopped in towns and fortresses to talk to anyone who might know how to find the person he sought. All told him to either speak with the Tso'laa who lived in the forest there, or to look for the druids within their groves. Both were as easy to find as a needle in a haystack, but they were the ones most likely to know how to find the person he sought. He did not care, though some laughed at him and told him he was a hunting myth down. He'd hunted worse things before, equally fabled and credited to be untrue. A single muse in the forest of Aalen wouldn't be any more difficult.

Wandering about the forest, he had to admit, that finding a druid's grove proved to be harder than finding a village made out of trees in the middle of a forest. At least, with a group of trees that had a sizeable group of people living in them, he had a chance of finding them.

Trying to find a druid's grove in the middle of a forest - well the chances of him successfully finding one were slim to none. So, he didn't try. When a druid came into the town to buy things which you simply couldn't find in the wilderness, he began to ask the druid apprentice questions on how to find a full druid.

From there on out, it was several weeks of tracking barely visible game trails to find different places within the overgrown forest.

The old discipline of his mercenary days served him well, as he forced his body once again to obey his will. He'd had a hard time too, tracing his way - until he thought to follow the less capable novices. That was how he'd found his way into the druid's grove, after many cold nights in the forest. Imagine his amazement when the druid told him the glade of the spirit he sought lay just to the east of grove he stood in.

Standing roughly in the direction the druid had pointed him in, he stood, unsure of what to do next. After a moment of standing awkwardly with no one to see him, he bowed his head. Drawing his blade, he plunged the rapier point first into the ground and knelt.

"Lady of the Forest," he prayed, "guide me, for I feel that I have fallen from the path that was set before me. I have done my best to learn the ways of the bards. I have disciplined my hands to the shape of the lute, and my voice to the sound of song, and not to the call of battle." He raised a face that was contorted with the quiet anguish he'd felt over the last few months, as he slowly grew to realize that he had not escaped his bloody past.

"I find that I have lost the inspiration that once guided me on this path, and the passion with which I once followed the music is now buried beneath the weight of my mistakes." He bowed his head again, as though unable to bear the any immortal gaze peering down at him. "I pray that you help me find peace again, before violence consumes my soul as it once did."

For many long moments, he knelt there, hands folded around the hilt of the rapier. Only the rise and fall of his breath set him apart from a statue within the glade. With his head bowed, and eyes closed, he did not notice the shadows shifting about him without any breeze to aid their movements. Otherwise, reflexes might have taken over, and he would have drawn the weapon that he had thought to forswear so long ago. Rising from his spot, he wiped off the rapier carefully clean of any bits of dirt that it had picked up, before sheathing it in his scabbard. Picking up his pack, he shouldered it, and set off into the trees.

Half a day later, he found himself in the same place within the woods. He could recognize the spot, by the indentation in the plants where he knelt, still trying to straighten back up. Those were his footprints in the ground, where he was careless enough to let them fall upon places that easily took a print. Raking a hand through his fair hair, he scowled. The dreams had not been so bad as to cause this much carelessness in himself. Marking the direction he set off in, he made sure to try and leave the grove the way he entered it from the druid's directions.

Again, he found himself at that self-same center of the grove. Frowning this time, he knew that nothing natural was afoot when he retraced his steps a third time. Taking a bit of thread from his cloak, he tied that to a tree next to where he knelt. Carefully, he let his cloak begin to unravel as he wandered through the trees. No sooner had he lost sight of the first tree, his thread snapped. He only snorted when it did. He'd been half expecing it to happen, even though he'd taken the trouble to secure the thread every few paces. Wandering back into the clearing, where a dusky twilight held sway, he called into the listening trees.

"I've had enough of this merry dance, whoever you be!"

Leaves rustled, and parted before a slender figure. He could only get an impression of wild hair and bright, pine green eyes, as she spoke. "A dance, say you? Then let us see how well you do!" Clapping her hands merrily, she turned and fled into the trees, her laughter tinkling merrily behind her. Without thought, he plunged into the trees, questions shooting themselves off his lips as he ran after her. Within heartbeats, he'd lost sight of her, though he knew it wasn't possible for a small scrap of a girl to outrun him as this one did.

"Testing me, are you, lady muse?" he murmured as a half smile formed upon his lips. Sheathing the rapier he'd automatically drawn, he began to follow after the merry sound of her laughter floating on a whispered echo. Pausing between the trees, he stopped to get his bearings and ponder what direction she'd gone. A frown creased his forehead, as he pondered the wisdom of his path. Lost in the middle of an unfamiliar forest, chasing down a scrap of a girl he'd barely seen- there was little conventional wisdom to be seen in his predicament. Despite the fact that it was her forest, and she was the one he might be seeking, he frowned. Perhaps he ought to turn back and retrace his steps. A soft, musical peal of laughter greeted him, as he looked up.

Quickly, he moved to follow the source of the sound, and halted out of sight of where he'd started the chase. Looking about, he thought he saw a flash of curly brown hair, and heard a scrap of notes cascading like laughter.

Trusting his ear to recognize the cadence of that voice, he charged again into the underbrush, scarcely marking his passage as he went. Uncertain of the direction, he paused, and his doubts began to assail him like so many assassins. Every time he turned back into the trees to leave, he saw the darkness that awaited him there. He could return, revoke his path, forget the music, and forsake Li, and find permanent oblivion in the blade. He could do that - and it wasn't as though he'd never been a mark before - but he had the terrible luck of a survivor. It didn't matter what new, skilled marksman they hired against him. No matter what happened, no matter what horrible catastrophe occured, he would survive it in some scarred and broken form or another. He shuddered at the thought. No, going backwards held nothing but a broken man. His only choice was to follow the soft peal of music and laughter, leading him onwards.

"You run well, bard." The soft voice greeted him and brought him to a crashing halt within the forest. "Like a dancer, given wings." She titled her at him, the glimmer in her green eyes a warning He paused, a mocking smile upon his lips. . "But do you fight as well as you dance?"

"Milady," he said with a mocking smile upon his lips, "I was born to the blade."

"Then fight, and fight well," she whispered, fading into the undergrowth.

Drawing his rapier, he turned to survey the clearing. A rustle of leaves in the undergrowth preceded the emergence of his opponent from the trees. Smoothly, with the grace of much practice, he side-stepped to face his opponent. The twilight dimness of the forest prevented him from getting a good look at his opponent. The most important features he could make out were the shape of a person, and the coldly glinting edge of metal wielded. With a tip that waved slightly to its own rhythm, he faced off his opponent. He found that by controlling the rhythm of the fight, like a dance, he found he could lead his opponent, forcing him into moves and patterns that he or she did not plan to be in.

Settling into a familiar rhythm now, he began exchanging blows with his dimly seen opponent, relying mostly upon reflexes and muscle memory to guide his strikes and parries. Side-step, parry, thrust and riposte- all the moves became a graceful blur as his heart raced, and his feet traveled evenly over the forest floor in a sure-footed rhythm. Even the clash of blade upon blade was almost musical, in time with the internal dance to the death that he could see within his mind's eye. His breath hummed from his lips as they curved into a smile. First, he teased his opponents parrying skills, then he overplayed one particular strike, till he was able to crash his hilt against his opponent's numbed hand.

"Enough!" he cried, bringing the fight's crescendo to a halt. He leveled the tip of his blade as his opponent's neck, pinning him in place. "Hold," he said, between breaths, "I would not kill you if there is no need." For a moment, he saw the flash of white as a grin split the shadows on the face of his opponent. Then, much to his surprise, his opponent back flipped back into the trees where he disappeared from sight.

"Well done, well done!" a female voice said, as she applauded him. Twirling to face the new threat, he saw the young woman of the wild curls and green eyes step out from the leaves again. Smoothly, he sheathed his blade. Upon catching his breath, he demanded of her.

"Why do test me so, Lady Terpsichore?" he asked, rightly calling her by name. His eyes flashed the anger he dared not put into words.

"Did you not feel the blood humming within your veins in joy? You have found another expression of song, my young mortal," the Muse of dancing replied. Gently, she laid soothing hands upon his shoulders as she approached him. "What talent you have is a gift, not a curse. It will only continue to burden you, if you do not use all your talents to serve upon the path you have been given." "This is a bloodthirsty path you would set me upon!" he cried out, anguished still. Laughing, she shook her head at him.

"Did you kill when you could have?" she asked him. "Your test was two-fold. Once was to test your trust in the arts. Twice was to test your discipline. Do not take for granted the strife which forged your will. You stopped your hand from taking life, when it was not necessary. You will judge well when to use the blade, and when not. You guard a precious thing."

"But, my lady, I lack the inspiration sufficient to continue as a bard!" he protested, less passionately now.

"You, my young blade singer, will find that you will inspire songs without meaning to do so. Do not worry about how it is to come about. Simply follow the path set beneath your feet, and the music will find you." Bowing his head in acceptance, he nodded. Kneeling, he presented her the blade in a silent request. Understanding, Terpsichore took the blood-baptized blade, and spoke a blessing over it. Returning the blade to him, she smiled gently. "Go home, and share what you have learned here today."

Adjusting the pack over his shoulder, he smiled as he finally left the woods behind him. Stepping into the clearing that contained the inn, he paused to survey its surroundings. Once inside, he asked the innkeeper if she had kept their rooms. Scarcely pausing to hear the answer, he turned and walked swiftly to the stairs. He found her, in the same room where he'd left her, calmly tuning her harp. Liana didn't need to glance up to see who it was. Her musician's ear recognized him by the tread of his footsteps. Twisting the last string in place, she set her harp down. She smiled once at him, or so he thought through the misty sheen that had fallen over the world.

"You've found your path?" she asked, taking his hands. Silently, he nodded, and gathered her into his arms. Resting his chin atop her head, he was home.