Paul explained as best he could, he was still wrapping his head around what had happened. When Garrett heard this, he flew into a rage and stormed off to find his wife and child. Paul was alone with his thoughts again, they weren't comforting thoughts, nor were they constructive. He needed to clear his head if he had any hope of surviving.
Garrett returned with a diminished mood, and sat next to Paul.
"I'm sorry this has happened Paul, I should be the one to suffer in my family's stead."
"No, it's alright..." he replied meagerly.
"Nay, it is not. I will come with you as a witness. It is the least I can do for you."
Paul sat in silence for a time, the sun was beginning to touch the tips of the western mountain range.
He stood up, "I need to say goodbye to someone, I'll be back soon."
"Take your time. I understand if you feel like running, but I would warn you against it. The Baron's sons are excellent hunters."
"I've already told you, Garrett, I have nowhere to run to."
* * *
Paul had made it back to Dallin's home, but it was different; the ringing of a hammer was missing. Paul looked around the smithy and couldn't find him. He sat for a moment, then noticed a soft voice, a song from the forest. He followed the voice, and as it grew louder he recognized it as Dallin's. The elf was in a small clearing just past the tree line, he was singing. Paul didn't recognize the words he sang, but the emotion behind them was clear as day. Dallin was lamenting something lost. He stood in the clearing, listening to Dallin's mournful voice until it fell silent.
"That was a beautiful song. What did it mean?"
Dallin turned a bit, then shook his head and got up.
"It's a sort of farewell, you sing it when a person you cared for has fallen in battle. I have sung this many times, its words have been etched into me memories."
Dallin faced Paul, "Didn't I ask you to come back tomorrow?"
"Yes you did, I...I've done something bad, Dallin. I'm not sure if I'll be alive after tomorrow..."
Dallin's eyebrow raised, a concerned tone took his voice, "What? What have you done boy?!"
"An elf named Lynwood was-"
"Nay... Lynwood? One of the Baron's sons?"
"Yes. Tomorrow I have to fight him, or he said he would harm the family who has been helping me."
The elf began to pace, "You canny run then, eh? Dammit all, I wouldn't suppose you know how to use a sword then? Nay, maybe a spear?"
"No, I've never actually held one even, well not a real one."
"A child's toy is nothing like the real thing..."
Dallin stroked his chin for a moment, "Follow me, boy, as your master it would be shameful of me not to at least arm you."
They went back to the elf's home, and Dallin told Paul to wait outside. He did, the elf had been in his home for a little while before reemerging with an item.
He held up a large spearhead, "This came from an orcish spear, picked it up as a bit of a memento. Bastard nearly skewered me."
He handed it to Paul, it was a rather simple design, shaped like a large leaf and made of a rough dark grey metal.
"What am I going to do with this?"
"Well, boy, the spear is an easy weapon to learn. It is also very good at poking holes in arrogant Noble-elves who prefer a fancy sword."
"Alright, but this is just the head of a spear right?"
Dallin rolled his eyes, "Aye, you catch on quick. We'll need to make a handle for it, someone as tall as you should be able to wield, oh, ten spans? Practically a pike at that point!"
"What do you mean spans? How big is a span?"
Dallin held out his hand and curled his index, middle, and ring finger, then spread his thumb and pinky away from each other.
"That's a span." he said while holding his hand up. Paul paused for a second, then copied Dallin.
"If I survive, remind me to tell you about standardized measurements."
"Strander eyesd whatsit?"
"No it's, ah, never mind. Anyways, thank you, but I couldn't take-"
"Nay, you WILL take this, just as I WILL follow you to act as a witness for you."
"I'm sorry Dallin, I didn't mean for any of this to happen..."
"You canny help it boy, an elf like Lynwood would have found a reason to kill you anyways. You're a non-elf, one of the mortal races."
Paul took his master's gift, and they walked back to the village as the sun was swallowed up by the mountains.
* * *
The village was quieter than usual, there was no drinking at the tavern tonight. It appeared that however did not stop the locals from their daily ritual of becoming highly inebriated once the sun went away. There were a few elves sitting here or there just outside their homes who would greet Paul with a raised hand, or a nod. This was new to him, before they wouldn't look at him for more than a second or two before going about their business. Now, it felt like he had eyes on him every moment.
"Right boy, you ought to rest. I'll get you in a few hours."
"Shouldn't I be preparing? We could make a trap, or perhaps-"
"What do you think the Lord would think once he heard one of his sons was killed or harmed by a trap?"
"I...I think that he would be furious, but-"
"And what do you think a furious lord would do?"
Paul said nothing.
"Justice, he would call it justice. You would be hunted, then tortured, and then you would be made into an example."
"Then, if I harmed his son in a duel, would he not be furious then?"
"Nay, the law is very clear, during a duel you are permitted to outright kill your opponent and not be punished. This is the King's Law, it is above the Baron's. Of course, there are some dirty tricks you can use, that is allowed. Hidden weapons, poison, that sort of thing. Traps however are looked down upon, shows bad faith or what have ya. Now, you go and lie down, you need to be ready by sunrise. The spear is an easy weapon, but you still need to learn it."
Paul begrudgingly went off to his room, to lie awake and restless until Dallin came for him.
* * *
It was still dark when Dallin fetched Paul from his room, he must have dozed off because he woke with a start when the door swung open loudly.
"Wake up Paul! It's time for us to make sure you get to see tomorrow!"
Dallin brought him outside, handed him a very tall stick, took a few steps away from him, and promptly shoved both his hands into his pockets.
"Right, now, I want you to charge me, and bash me head in. Got it?"
"I can't do that! What the hell, Dallin!"
"Oh shut it boy, you canny make it to me anyways."
"You're not that far...I could just-"
Paul took a step forward, and as his boot hit the grass just in front of Dallin, the elf drew his hand out and blasted Paul's face with a fistful of gravel. Paul dropped to the ground and gripped his face, it stung horrendously.
"WHAT THE HELL, YOU BASTARD?!"
"You weren't expecting that, eh! Works every time, unless it doesn't, then it's a good idea to know how to fight. I can't teach you much before the duel, but one thing is for sure. You need to learn how to stand, and hold your spear. Oh, and you'll want to carry some of this in your pocket."
Dallin pulled his other hand out and handed the loose gravel to Paul who was still on the ground.
"You could also use some fine sand with that, really get 'em in the eyes. Remember this, however, the spear is best with two hands, use this trick as a last resort. You understand?"
Paul nodded, his face still stinging. He got to his feet and glared at Dallin.
"You could have just explained that, it's not hard to get the idea."
Dallin chuckled, "Pain is an excellent teacher, well, that and I haven't done it in centuries."
"If you say so."
Dallin proceeded to somehow drill some nine-hundred years worth of spear technique into Paul's skull. Most of which he forgot before the hour-long lecture was even over.
"So, you understand?"
Paul shook his head, "I don't think this is going to help anything..."
"Fine then, we'll go with a more hands-on approach, you canny go wrong with that. Me father taught me how to fight by beating me with a stick. You know, I miss him, he was a good elf."
"Oh god, if you throw anymore gravel, Dallin..."
"Nay, ya see the sad thing is, that trick only works once."
Dallin picked up a shorter stick, and nodded to the stick that Paul had dropped.
"So, your legs need to be spread, dominant foot pointing forward..."
Dallin drilled Paul on footwork and how he should stand so that he could keep his opponent at a distance.
"Aye, right, now try to poke me anywhere, just like I showed you."
Paul stepped forward and lunged with the long stick. Dallin stepped back in response just out of range.
"Good, good, now keep it up, and don't let me grab your spear, or it's over."
Paul lunged again, but this time Dallin stepped to the side and rushed closer, putting his hand out and stopping Paul's instinctive swing. He closed the distance between them and smacked Paul rather hard in the leg.
"OW!"
"Oh shut it, you'd be dead now. I said don't let me grab it, and you put it right in me hands!"
"Sorry-"
"Nay, do it again. I'll hit you harder next time, maybe it'll help you remember."
Dallin, as it turned out, was very skilled with a stick. However, after about thirty minutes of beatings with a stick, Paul finally jabbed his master in the chest.
"Oh, ho, ho! That's the spirit! Now you just need to do it again!"
* * *
Another thirty minutes passed and Paul was able to keep Dallin away with the long stick. He was no master, but keeping someone at a distance with a stick doesn't take long to learn.
Dallin was wheezing, "Alright Paul, let's take a break...I'm too old for this..."
"Are you sure? I only have until sunset. I should be doing something!"
"Erowin, carry us. Are you not winded yet? That stick has got to feel heavy by now!"
"No, I can keep going."
Dallin furrowed his brow, "Hmm, you're not tired at all?"
"Well, not really, I feel great actually..."
"Aye, well I need to lay down. Me lungs are on fire."
Dallin flopped down onto the grass, the sun had started peeking above the horizon, casting a golden light onto the waking world. Paul sat down next to the old elf, and pulled out his journal.
"Oh? Can you read by chance, Paul?"
"Yes, I can't read your language very well, but mine I can read and write just about anything I want."
"Must have taken you a long time, hard stuff that is."
Paul shrugged, "Not really, every child where I'm from is taught how."
"Children? Your people teach that to children? How do they wrap their little heads around it? All the wiggly lines, dots, and dashes. Wouldn't it be confusing?" Dallin said, with his eyes peeled wide.
"Well yeah, that's why they teach them from a young age. You have more time to learn, and your brain is still growing. It's easier to pick up a skill when you're younger."
"Alright, but children are stupid, they couldn't possibly grasp reading and writing, it's too complex! I mean, it takes even a smart elf the better part of a century!"
"Well Dallin, humans rarely live to be older than ninety most of the time."
"Awfully violent people it would seem."
Paul thought to himself, he wasn't wrong, they were very violent.
"Well, it's usually from old age where I'm from."
"OLD AGE!? BOY! THAT'S JUST BARELY ADULTHOOD!"
Paul shrugged, "Not for us."
"How can a race that lives such short lives get anything done? Why, you'd be working for almost all of it I'd wager. I canny imagine, only a century... How old are you Paul?"
"I'm twenty-three, so around a quarter to a third of the way through my life now."
"Ah... I see"
They sat in silence for a moment, then Dallin got up.
"Wait here, boy."
The elf strode off to the tavern and came out a moment later holding a stick that was twice his height.
"Here, I affixed the head to a pike shaft, and it looks about the right height for you."
Paul took the weapon and stood it upright. It was maybe eight feet long, not including the head.
"Now, I don't think I'll be able to teach you anymore...so instead, I shall go pray. I will return soon, just go and stab the air and get used to quick and random thrusts. Remember, you have to keep the pressure on him, otherwise you're dead. Maybe use some of that unnatural stamina you have, I may be old, but I know that the barons brat of a son isn't a soldier nor does he have the discipline"
The elf walked off toward the forest, and Paul was alone again.
He decided that if this was his last day, he might as well enjoy it while he could. A nice walk would help clear his head. The village was still empty, no one was buzzing about, working the lumber. The children didn't play on the village green, and it had an engulfing silence.
The quiet scene was interrupted by a voice behind Paul.
"You're an idiot." It was Wystan, he had a blackened eye and his split lip had started to scab.
"I could have taken him, you didn't need to save me."
Paul stared at him for a moment, "I'm sorry."
Wystan scowled, "I'm sure, now that Lynwood is going to kill you I'm going to have more chores to do."
"Well, maybe you'll follow the law if you're busy."
Wystan looked incredulous, "IT'S NOT FAIR! WHY SHOULD SOME LORD HAVE ANY RIGHT TO MY PREY!? I HUNTED THAT CREATURE!"
"He shouldn't."
"YOU DON'T UN-. What? Wait, what did you say?"
"He should not have any right to what you have. I agree with you."
Wystan no longer had the look of teenage angst, he just looked confused. Paul got the impression that no one had agreed with his opinion on this matter before.
"You...you agree?"
"Yup, I think that no one should have any right to take from someone else. It is wrong, but there's nothing you can do about it."
"Not yet, when I grow old enough I'll show those lords. I'll make them regret everything they've done to my family and my village."
"I believe you."
Wystan frowned a bit, he looked like he was going to say more, but abruptly turned and walked away. Paul figured his pride had been hurt, but it made sense so there was no point in being upset with the boy.
* * *
It was time. The sun was touching the mountaintops, and their shadows began to stretch out over the foothills. Dallin had returned from the forest, and Garrett came to stand with Paul as they waited for Lynwood. After a while, three riders meandered down the road. Paul had been sure to find some sand and gravel to keep in his pockets, if it could save his life he wanted to at least try.
After a short wait they spotted some distant riders on the road.
The three riders came close, the frontmost elf shouted in a familiar voice.
"Ah! And here I was hoping to hunt a kadrêni today. Well, at least you've made it easier!"
Paul stood resolute, he wouldn't be intimidated.
"No quips this time? Must be the fear. Tell me non-elf, are you ready to die?"
Paul nodded.
"Good!" Lynwood dismounted his horse and walked over to the rider on the left. The rider handed Lynwood the handle of a long and elegant looking sword.
He pulled the sword from its sheath, and examined it. He cocked an eye at Paul.
"You know, this sword has been used in my family for duels since my grandfather owned this land. Though I believe this will be its first taste of kadrêni blood."
Dallin came up next to Paul, handed him the spear, and whispered.
"Remember boy, keep him at distance, and don't let him breathe. I don't want to bury another friend so you better survive, you understand?"
Paul wished he could speak, but a lump in his throat kept his voice hostage.
"Ah yes, the weapon of choice for fodder, very tribal of you non-elf. Why, I'd say it fits you! Hahahaha!" It was a cruel humored laugh. The elf gripped his sword in both hands and assumed a fighting stance.
Dallin backed away, as Paul assumed his stance.
Silence, calm, everything started to look sharper, more defined. He could feel his heart beating against his chest.
It happened suddenly, Paul took the initiative, testing the waters with a quick thrust. The elf brushed the tip of his spear aside. Paul responded in turn by stepping back and pulling the spear closer, before thrusting lower trying to catch the elf in his leg, while he took a forward step trying to close the gap. It was a miss, Lynwood seized his chance and grabbed the spear just past the sharp tip. Paul had only a fraction of a moment to react, he let one hand off his weapon, and grabbed the loose gravel in his pocket. Lynwood advanced, sword raised when he got a face full of tiny sharp rocks.
The elf staggered back one hand on his face, the other holding his sword out in front of himself. Paul brought his spear to the side. With a mighty swing, he brought its tip across the elf's face, slicing his cheek wide open.
"ARGH! YOU FILTHY NON-ELF! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"
"I drew blood." Paul said.
The elf stared at him with a burning rage, touched his face, and saw the blood on his hand.
"Ha... You have drawn blood... fine, you win..."
Paul sighed with relief and turned to look at his master and Garrett. They had a horrified expression, Dallin pointed.
"BOY! BEH-"
Something whizzed past Paul's shoulder, he heard a sudden thwack, and then some gurgling. He spun around to see Lynwood clutching at his throat, an arrow shaft was sticking out of his neck. Lynwood collapsed backward still gurgling. One of the mounted elves yelled something, but Paul couldn't hear what. He hadn't noticed how bright and blue Lynwood's eyes were, they almost looked familiar. Those brilliant eyes went dull, and silence fell upon the witnesses. Paul stared at the lifeless blue eyes, and they stared back into his soul.
There was a sudden rush of movement around Paul. He looked up from the body of Lynwood to see the riders had dismounted, and drawn their weapons. Dallin had come forward brandishing his own blade he had retrieved from somewhere hidden. Paul felt a hand grab his shoulder and pull him back. It was Garret, who had a cleaver.
The dismounted riders were shouting and speaking too quickly for Paul to understand whilst pointing off past Paul and the others. Dallin seemed to be yelling back, arguing with them. After the yelling died down some the riders got back apon their horses, scowling at the human.
The taller of the two riders spoke, "I will skin you alive, you filthy kadrêni, and that child you were protecting. My brother will be avenged."
Paul did not respond, he was still reeling, it wasn't supposed to be like this.
Garret and Dallin pulled Paul away and back to the tavern in a haste, They seemed terrified. At some point Wystan had joined them, pulled along by the scruff of his clothes by his father.
"Damn you boy, first you hunt the lord's game, and now you have killed the lord's son. Do you want to end up like your brother! Is that what you wish?"
Once they returned to the tavern Garret instructed them to sit at the bar and not to move a single muscle. Both he and Dallin went off somewhere into the tavern leaving Paul alone with Wystan.
After a few moments Ella came rushing out of some unseen room and embraced her son. She sobbed horribly, and Wystan seemed to be holding back tears himself.
Dallin and Garret returned shortly afterwards with some sacks and new clothes.
Dallin approached Paul. "Put these on, hurry, we have to leave before they come back."
Paul hesitated, "What's happening? Why is Ella crying?"
Dallin shook his head, "No time to explain you daft boy! Just go put these on, I'll go and fetch a mule, we need to leave now."
Paul obeyed, and found a room to change in, being as quick as he could.
When he returned Ella was gone, and Garret was now embracing Wystan. Once he noticed Paul he straightened up.
"You and Wystan need to leave. Once those elves make it back to the Baron, he'll send armed elves to take your head. Once they find that you've gone, he'll hire bounty hunters. I need you to take care of my son Paul."
Garret had a very serious look upon his face as he handed one of the sacks to Paul.
"Dallin is outside, hurry up. You haven't much time left."
The two left the tavern, and joined the blacksmith in the falling night.