At that moment, his opponent's blade struck out, seeking the exposed flesh of Taenaran's throat. The half-elf ducked beneath the attack and rolled forward, executing a backward slash with his own weapon. Lightning lit up the stormy sky as their blades met. In the distance Taenaran could hear the braying of the training horn, signaling the end of the exercise. Instantly, the Song faded and he stood in the midst of the clearing, panting heavily.
Nardual bent down to retrieve his sword, but Andaerean simply stared at Taenaran, his own weapon still held in battle readiness. Taenaran returned the look, trying not to let his body's trembling, brought on by the rain's chill touch and the strain on his muscles, become too noticeable.
"You performed well, Taenaran," the elf remarked coolly before wiping and sheathing his blade.
Taenaran said nothing, thrown off guard by Andaerean's words. The haughty tael had never spoken a kindly word to him in all the years that they had trained together.
He did not disappoint now.
The elf sniffed the air, as if scenting something foul. "Proof that even an ape, with proper coaching, can imitate his betters," Andaerean said. "Perhaps one day they will teach you to sing and dance as well."
All pleasure that Taenaran had felt at his execution of the water battle shattered beneath the cutting edge of the elf's words. The half-elf felt his anger rise like a river swollen with spring thaw. He wanted to reach out and punch that smug, superior smirk off of Andaerean's face, or at the very least, send the tael back home with a few bruises. He might have done so, had another, lighter voice not broke in to their small circle of conflict.
"Taenaran," the voice called out. "Oh, there you are."
Talaedra stopped in midstride, her face flushed and her breath swirling in gray clouds blown by the rain-laden wind. Her silver hair, rare among the sun elves, danced wildly in the storm, tangling and twisting where the gusts tossed its curling strands. Where in others such an unusual coloring would be a flaw in an otherwise stunning beauty, Talaedra wore it like a crown. The silver-white tint of her hair set off eyes as gray as the mists of the spring-soaked Glades of Araenvae. The effect added to the elf maiden's beauty, making her seem even rarer, like a certain moonrise that occurs but once in a lifetime.
The effect was immediate-and not unexpected. Taenaran felt his breath catch and his tongue stiffen; he stood transfixed, as if caught by the gaze of a basilisk. Andaerean, on the other hand, straightened immediately. The half-elf watched enviously as the haughty, dour lines of the tael 's face were replaced by a gracious and open smile. Andaerean bowed low.
"Talaedra," he said, pronouncing the young elf maiden's name with perfect grace, "it is an honor to see you again. How fortunate for us that you chose this day to come and see the alu'dala."
Taenaran felt a surge of jealousy as Talaedra returned the tael 's bow.
"Andaerean," she replied. "The water battle is always a delight to watch. You performed well," she said, eliciting another wave of jealousy that suddenly stopped and turned to amazement when Talaedra continued with a sly wink toward Taenaran, "all of you."
The half-elf's heart leaped in his chest. She had noticed his skill today. The thrill of it was almost enough to restore his earlier feeling of contentment.
Almost.
What came next, however, damped Taenaran's enthusiasm like a torrent of freezing water on a fledgling fire.
Andaerean cleared his throat. "Tonight is the Feast of First Planting," the elf said with great formality. "I was wondering if you would grant me the honor of accompanying you to the celebration."
Taenaran winced at the elf's words, despite himself. He knew what was to come, yet even though he saw it, like an arrow speeding toward his heart, it did not hurt any less, which was why he spluttered and choked violently at Talaedra's response.
"Thank you for your offer," the elf maiden said formally, her rich voice lilting and even, "but I already have a companion for the celebration." She reached out a slender, smooth-skinned hand and laid it gently upon Taenaran's shoulder.
The half-elf nearly burst out laughing at the look of consternation and disbelief that passed across Andaerean's face, soon followed by a piercing stare full of hatred. The elf tael bowed low again.
"Well," he said in clipped tones, "since I have done my duty and am now assured that you would be spared the indignity of attending tonight's feast alone, I ask your leave to retire."
He spun around quickly and grabbed Nardual. The two walked briskly toward the waiting tree line, but not before Andaerean turned to look once more at Taenaran. The half-elf felt the tael 's hatred, like spears thrown from the angry cast of his eyes.
Taenaran groaned once the two companions moved out of sight. "Now you've done it," he exclaimed. "Andaerean is truly angry now."
"Andaerean is a pig," Talaedra spat, "whose manners, however cleverly disguised, would be more appropriate among orcs than elves. I cannot believe what he said to you."
Taenaran felt the tips of his ears burn with shame. "Then you heard what he said?" the half-elf asked. "Well," he continued, not waiting for a response, "thank you for coming to my rescue." He gave the maiden a quick bow then started to walk toward his pack.
"Where are you going?" Talaedra asked. "We haven't talked about tonight."
Taenaran stopped suddenly, as if caught in a spell. He turned to face the elf maiden, afraid that she would disappear and he would come to realize that this whole day had been nothing but a dream. "Th… Then you were serious about this evening," he stammered when Talaedra didn't fade from existence.
Her smile lit up the storm-clouded clearing. "Of course I was serious," she replied. "Where shall I meet you?"
"But your father," Taenaran began, "won't he be-"
"My father," Talaedra interrupted, "will be far happier knowing that I am spending the evening with an honest and good-hearted tael, no matter his bloodline, than if I were accompanied by a conniving and spiteful apprentice who barely conceals his own venomous heart behind a web of lies."
Taenaran simply stared, unable to respond.
"Good," Talaedra said, "I'm glad that it's settled. Why don't I meet you at the Verdant Pools and then we can walk to the celebration together?" She smiled once more then bent forward to kiss Taenaran lightly on the cheek before leaving the clearing.
The half-elf still stood there, honestly confused by what had just happened. Perhaps, he thought, this really was a dream.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if in answer.
Drops of water fell from rain-soaked trees, spattering Taenaran's cloak. Absently, he wiped away the few errant droplets that ran down his face. Despite the arrival of spring, the night air held a fierce chill. Above him, thick clouds shrouded the moon's illumination in a mantle of silver-gray luminescence.
None of it mattered to the half-elf. In fact, another Time of Troubles could have fallen upon the world and he would scarce have noticed-for Talaedra waited just beyond the next bend in the forest path. Friendships had been hard to come by, living as a half-blood among the elves of Avaelearean. Taenaran's friendship with the young elf woman meant that much more to him because of such difficulties. Now, however, the half-elf felt as if they stood upon the brink of something more, something deeper than friendship.
Taenaran smiled in the darkness as he scrambled up the last rise leading to the Verdant Pools. His smile turned to a curse as the worn leather scabbard he wore banged against an out-thrust expanse of rocks. Not for the first time, he wished that he could travel without the weight of his sword dragging at his side. As a student of the bladesinging art, however, he was expected to wear his sword always-as a means of being prepared for anything that might occur, as well as to remind him of his essential duty to the elf people.