From: alaric@sti.com (Alaric Tekiahyn)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.cloven-shield
Subject: Re: [2xAr] Having dinner
Date: 27 Jan 1993 20:46:17 GMT
Organization: Software Transformation, Inc.
Distribution: world
NNTP-Posting-Host: smurf.sti.com

In article <1jui50INNkad@cc.tut.fi>, k113651@lehtori.cc.tut.fi (Karhu Jouni) writes:
] [quick update:  Arliana suggested she and Armas move to a table...]
] ....  Armas, noting her uneasiness,
] growled, "Feed yourself with what you like...let others do the same."

His voice carried perhaps further than he intended, reaching the half-elven
ears of Ceallach.  Glancing over toward Armas, he made a mental note of
the statement and its intent.
Ceallach was a tolerant man himself, and had a poor opinion of intolerance
in others.  Armas, who evidently shared this viewpoint, had just gone up a
notch in his estimation.

Not intending to pry, but with his curiosity piqued, he unconsciously paid
a little more attention to Armas' and Arliana's conversation than he might
otherwise have done.


]    Throughout his explanation, Arliana's eyes widened in fascination.  She was
] most intrigued by this foreign man, and she realised she had much respect for 
] him.  Now that she was feeling a bit more relaxed, she said, "When I was very
] young, my father began to teach me to use a sword.  He taught me to defend and
] protect myself.  You see, my mother died shortly after my birth." At this point
] she fought back a tear, but kept her composure and continued.  
] "So, my father was left the task of raising me alone."  Armas said nothing, 
] but it was clear he listened intently--his eyes, as ever, wre fixed on her.  
] Arliana continued, "Many thing more than sword skill did my father teach me.  
] Among them wre objectivity, honor and respect for all life.  I have killed 
] before, and would do so again. But only if my life--or someone's dear to me--
] was in danger."  Referring to previous recent happenings at the inn, Arliana 
] added, "I do not kill on a whim or to prove a point.  That is not what my 
] father taught me."
]    At this point Armas interrupted.  "I consider the previous killings dishonor
] able.  When I killed Kaarle, the man who was hunting me, I used my hands.  It
] would not have been an honorable killing had I used my sword.  Only when the
] fighters are equal is the killing honorable.  When I fought my teacher, I had
] a sword.  He didn't.  For years we were not equal...I was weaker.   So he could
] not kill me.  But when the day I earned this tattoo came," he again pointed to
] his palm, "I could have died.  I did not.  You see, my clan believes that if 
] you teach a man to fight with his hands, then giving him a sword makes him a
] giant."


Ceallach listened to the exchange with growing appreciation of the oddly
mismatched-looking pair.  They had both, it seemed, been taught well and
rightly, and had learned and understood what they had been taught.

At the same time, a pang of sadness tore at him, as Arliana's words made him
think of his own youth - and of his own parents, both dead.  His human father,
a giant of a man who had made him what he now was.  His elven mother, whom
his father had once rescued, but had ultimately been unable to protect -
and whom he had died avenging.

He signalled to the barmaid as she passed by, and tossed her a single
silver coin.

"Fetch me another drop of uisgebaugh, lass," he told her, "will ye now?
 There's a good lass."

She returned with the whiskey, and he sipped at it pensively, thinking
and remembering....


-- 
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