Lissë

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I was alone again. Back in my home next to the Gash, Neverwinter.
More of a shack than a home, Ronin stepped into the
clutter of notes and trinkets. The place could use a feminine touch. He steps
over a broken lamp to look at himself in the mirror.
I’ve been missing out on a few hours of Trance, I
should rest more… Those two think me old and wise…
But I’m young in comparison…
He moves past his writing desk to the corner of his
house dedicated to his sword.
This clear space calmed him, he dragged a finger over
a tapestry of home; of Evereska.
He crossed his legs and took the sword off the mantle,
placing it over his lap.
Young in comparison to this…
Taking a deep breath, he felt the Weave close around
him, expand.
His eyes rolled back to the back of his head, turning
white as he started humming.
And drifts away.
‘Josidiah Starym, with twin blades made of greenish fire. 
Surviving four assassination attempts! Slayer of drow and…’
‘…the Hero of Myth Drannor, yes, I’ve heard this all before Ronin.’
His mother Quinala replied. Wetting a cloth and
placing it over his forehead while straightening out his hair.
A young Ronin was holding a book, pointing out the
pictures and text. 
I’m back here, in bed again.
Laying out in an elven bed of the finest silk, he had a view of the great city of Evereska. Of flowing waterfalls and beautiful
architecture. An evergreen valley surrounded by hills, arches and great
columns, the sound of a soft bubbling creek. However, Ronin preferred his
books.
‘Well, you just need to get me more books then.’ He smiled weakly before coughing.
‘Hush now my little adventurer, you should get your rest.’
‘Mother, do you think if they fix the mythal I will be better too?’ He asked.
The mythal, a magical enchantment that surrounded
Evereska was failing.
In its malfunction it gave out a magic that affected
Ronin’s birth and a handful of other Elven children.
‘I don’t think it works that way my sweet boy, hush now, rest… go into reverie.’
Ugh, the time where I idolized Josidiah, how young and
naïve I was. It is good to remember mother again… but I do not want to recall
illness anymore… somewhere else…
His mind wandered out of the window of his room,
soaring over the creek and trees. 
Twisting around a large tower white alabaster
tower covered in ivy. 
The tower where Bladesingers trained.
Where his father
was training his half-brother Sarro.
Ronin sat by a tree on one of the rare occasions he left his modest (by Evereskan standards) home. Always eager to learn even if he could not join in.
He was drawing sigils in the grass with a stick, mapping out the movements and strikes as he watched his father and brother practice. Ronin’s illness made him small and childlike, by his age he should have been able to practice swordsmanship or magic but was barely able to do either, only read… The Elven children who were taught with him all outgrew him and they were there again. Looking at him, pointing and whispering.
I don’t know if I prefer when they mocked me from afar or just confronted me…
He wanted to get up and yell at them to mind their own business, to clench his fists.
Tears welled up in his eyes and he stood up. They snickered and laughed from afar.
He felt scared, he wasn’t used to confronting others.This time he will.
This time I will! I can just sing…
Then he felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.
‘Remember, grace is just as important as strength.’
He felt his father’s large hands open his tiny clenched fists.
‘I shouldn’t be afraid, I should be brave. I should…’
His father didn’t say anything but just closed his eyes and walked back towards Sarro.
Humming as he extended his sword. They danced, gracefully, it seemed almost slow.
There was no anger in them only a calm humming. 
But Ronin was angry, he sat down again, and tried to calm himself within the pages of a book.
Not here then, somewhere else… another time…
His memory went to the sky, past many moons and cycles
over Evereska.
The moon waxing and waning faster and faster, the sun rising and setting over the marble spires, trees and rivers. Then through the same window
past his room into the hallway. Down the stairs and out the front door to the little patch of grass by the old well. It was near night time and Ronin was now around fifty years old, still very young for an elf but he was just starting his sword practice.
His brother had years of experience ahead of him, Ronin was just a novice.
He remembered those that teased him, his fear of them, was frustrated by it, and sliced with a practice sword. 
It hit the wood of the old well and made a low ‘thwump’
‘Is that you Ronin?’ His sister Gredi called out.
‘Oh, um, yes Gredi it’s me. You shouldn’t… I mean…’ Ronin blushed, he was embarrassed to be caught practicing so badly by his sister. She always seemed to do everything right.
‘You’re too brutish you know with that.’ Moving
forward slowly, she brushes her hand on his shoulder and sits on the edge of
the well with a smile. She wasn’t sick like him and was growing well, but they
were about the same height now. ‘You should be quicker, gentler.’
‘Sure…’ He rubbed his head, he
didn’t know how to respond to that.
‘You read too much about those human heroes, things don’t just go away if you hit them hard enough. Relax your grip… you know… give me your hand.’
She took one of his hands and took out a little music box. With a brief whisper she places it on the edge of the well.
Its sound echoing down the well and towards them.
‘Gredi this is stupid…’ ‘Shush, quickly now, move your feet.’
She led him in a dance, Ronin didn’t know what to do but the music was infectious. She started humming along to it and so did he. Step by step, until the music stopped but their humming didn’t. 
They moved under the moonlight with grace, until she pushed him against the well. 
Ronin felt himself falling until his feet kicked up on
their own. 
He didn’t feel scared, he felt goosebumps on his skin and his body just knew how to react to avoid danger. 
His back twisted down over the side of the well but he lifted his legs, jumped slowly off the well’s edge and looked down into the darkness of the well before he rolled on the grass to the other side.
Brushing
his hair aside slowly. He stood up and opened his palms slowly.
Gredi broke out laughing with a smile.
‘I never took you to be one for fratricide Gredi.’ Ronin couldn’t help but smile too.
‘You have it in you, just relax and stop thinking so much. Let the Weave cover you, hum with it. 
You felt it too right? I find the music helps getting in touch with it all, to balance.’
She looked up to the moon and he did as well, she had a way of explaining things without saying much at all. With a wave she went on her way, she was becoming wise even at such a young age and was ahead of him in the magical arts. He had a lot he needed to make up for.
His mind then wandered forwards, through his investigation about the Mythal, over tomes about lore on other realms and creatures. Of practice sessions with father and Sarro. The alabaster tower, his room, the library, the alabaster tower, his father returning with manuscripts… when the mythal malfunctioned again and the lower sector by the water mill fractured in two.'His meeting with the High Council.
‘You are but a novice Bladesinger, our numbers already are few…’ High Councillor Ochram said, his long fingers curling around his staff. His long beard curling.
‘Which… which is why you should let me travel to investigate a solution for the mythal. The capable should remain to protect Evereska, I am expendable, fit and ready for travel.’
‘The boy has decided Ochram… I have seen it. But you are not expendable Ronin. 
You are a true Tel'Quessir, Evereska will be emptier for your departure.’ Oracle Elanor said quietly.
He left the grand structure which had a large bridge connected to it, a river rushing underneath. 
Standing by the side of the bridge he looked out over Evereska.
Stay a bit longer… Take it all in.
But he moved with excitement towards home. The scenery whipping past him. Sarro was by the door.
‘You’re doing it aren’t you. You’re going to leave me so soon after Gredi started her arcane training. Who’s going to keep mother company while I’m busy now? You didn't even clean up your room.’ 
Sarro said with his arms folded by the main entrance.
‘I’m sure you’ll manage, I can’t stay indoors forever Sarro. You always figure things out.’
Why was I that way with him?
‘Corellon Larethian guide you Ronin, won’t you slow down and listen for a little?’
Ronin went to his room, packing his spellbook, rations, clothing and all sorts of equipment in a large backpack. He was prepared for months. The mythal, the cause of his illness, the cause of Evereska’s instability. It was a mystery to solve, he could be a hero, be seen by…
By father, to no longer be the ‘sick son’
’Or what Sarro? I must hurry the mythal gets worse every day I…’
Sarro was standing at his door, his blade drawn and humming.
’I don’t have time to spar, you’d just win again, this is pointless. Sarro, Move.’
But Ronin drew his own sword out, and rushed him. He tried to hum but he couldn’t hear the music. He could only hear the sound of the blood pumping in his ears. Sarro moved slowly to the side. He’s mocking me. Ronin moved forward but Sarro simply stepped back and somersaulted backwards onto the steps
of the stairs. Ronin remembered…
He remembered how it felt as he looked down the well. And rolled up and onto the stairs wooden rails, slicing down as his blade sung and struck Sarro’s. They went blow to blow, Sarro now taking the offensive as Ronin tumbled and nearly tripped down the stairs. 
Into the living area with mother’s tea cups and father’s war trophies. Almost cutting a painting of Myth Drannor. Sarro pushed and pushed until Ronin was up against father’s sword that hung on the mantle. He then yelled and broke the hum. Reaching backwards for father’s sword and bringing it down onto Sarro’s defending blade.
It did not sing, but gave out a loud clang.
Then father walked in. They both froze as he slowly walked up to them.
’Ronin… you’re leaving…’
He slowly walked up to them both taking both their fists and slowly opening them. Letting their swords fall to the floor. He looked down and slowly picked up his sword. He wasn’t angry but slowly moved a finger over it. There was now a notch in the pristine blade where Ronin struck Sarro’s sword. 
The sword had an engraving, Lissë, it meant grace in Elvish.
‘My boy…’ He looked sad as he placed a hand on Ronin’s cheek.
Why isn’t he angry? I’m sorry father, I didn’t mean to… Sarro… I was young and…
’Take Lissë with you, and remember your lessons. Don’t be afraid. I’m proud of you.’
‘But… father your sword, I…’ Father only looked to Sarro, his own apprentice before looking to Ronin. 
He always thought the sword would go to Sarro.
‘Using two swords is unconventional Ronin, but if you keep concentrated you wouldn’t need a free hand for the arcane arts. But you must do it with grace, with calm. Or the Weave will not bend. Now both of you, bid each other farewell as brothers should… I’ll go get your sister and mother. We’ll have tea before you leave.’
That was maybe the longest chain of words father said, he was always brief but every word had its own weight. 
Has it been four hours already?
Sarro and Ronin stared at each other for a long time. Sarro just wanted to make sure he was ready.
They then embraced warmly, but with one arm each. For they both found intimacy a bit awkward.
...
.
.
Ronin opened his eyes, the sword on his lap in the little corner of his house.
His meditation was over.
He hummed and slowly brought a cloth back and forth the blade.
The notch was still there.
The safety of Evereska didn’t prepare him for the horrors of the outside world.
But, when fear and chaos took his heart. He felt calm and grace in the Bladesong.
In his mother at his bedside, the role model of his brother, his sister’s music and the gentle open palm of his father. 
Ronin took a deep breath.
And opened his eyes again.
He awoke in a place that smelled of wine and hay. A large bell hung from the ceiling. A strange two headed creature looked at him from across the room. 'Oh, one of big guy’s minions is awake. Good I was getting bored, care for some violin Mr. Pointy Ears?’ Who is this? Where am I? They will get me, they will…
Drift back into trance, drift back to Evereska… Stay calm, grace. Hum, hear the music
They will find you, run, run, get out of here. 
Open your fists, shhh… sleep. Sleep my boy, my little adventurer. We’re all so proud of you.
He went back to sleep, a gentle grip around the hilt of his blade.