*Written with Nirhen [Rainith]*
He spat a mouthful of blood and saliva onto the patchy grass of the training field; his lungs burning from exertion. His limbs felt like lead weights and sweat ran from his brow down his face. He looked at the blunt training sword laying in the damp grass and steeled himself for the effort to reach down and pick it up.
It had been a year since Estarfin had returned alive from the mountains with the help of his friends and comrades; yet his strength and endurance were proving frustratingly slow to return. His daily sparring sessions with Nirhen were cut short never by the fading of the light, inclement weather or prior engagements; utter exhaustion was always the cause. Even now, they had been sparring for only a few minutes and already he was almost ready to drop to the cool embrace of the turf beneath his feet.
Nirhen looked as calm and composed as she always did; her face showing no emotion or hint of exertion as she stood facing him. As he lifted it, the steel training sword still felt unfamiliar in his hand; a poor substitute for his lost spear. The beautiful shield of Anglachelm with a great ruby set into it was strapped to his left arm and threatened to drag him to the ground with the weight. He still had not grown used to the static shield, unable as he was to manipulate the shield with his injured hand.
The light cotton and leather training doublet felt like a suit of full plate and trapped his sweat against his skin. Nirhen stood a short distance away, looking at the blunt edge of her sword with a trace of boredom and impatience. "Still too slow, Estarfin. You would be dead five times over already this morning." Estarfin tried to slow his breathing and looked around at her.
"It has been a year Nirhen, a whole year. This is probably the fastest I will ever move again, the strongest I will be. What point is there in carrying on this charade any longer?" Nirhen interrupted him.
"We are not here for you to wallow in despair Estarfin" and swung her sword at him lazily. He took a step back and parried the blow with the edge of his blade. "Again, do not use the edge of your sword if you wish it to remain intact. You were less than useless when you tried to follow the others to the mountains. Now? Now you are less useless." He nodded, then thrust the blunted blade at her but she span out of the way with no apparent effort and brought her blade up to a guard position.
Estarfin gritted his teeth in anger; he remembered their sparring sessions of the past when they had been evenly matched. When there had not been such coldness between them. Now they were little more than strangers and he must flail at her like a child. His instincts for battle had not left him, but he no longer had the strength to press an advantage or the speed to find an opening. His shield arm was still weak, ungainly and unpredictable. A heavy gauntlet anchored the shield to the end of his arm; it was strapped on tight but his hand could no longer steer it.
Estarfin held the shield up before him and advanced. Nirhen stepped to the side and hit him hard in the ribs just below his armpit, taking advantage of the unweildy shield. He let out a grunt of pain and swung his own sword quickly. It crashed into her sword at a poor angle and flew from his grasp. He leant over to pick it up again, trying to ignore the hammering of his heart and the grey and black rippling at the edge of his vision. "Too slow. This is a waste of time, if you refuse to listen, to improve." Nirhen watched him with a blank expression.
"What do you expect Nirhen? There is nothing between us anymore except this..." he struggled to find the words "this hatred? This indifference? Were we not friends once? Comrades? A year of training together every day has not thawed you, and it will not restore me to what I was. Why do we continue?"
Estarfin and Nirhen stood opposite each other in silence for a moment. Some ice is too cold to ever thaw. Instead, it shudders apart, splintering and shattering before disintegrating completely with a groan of dismay. Nirhen turned away, jaw clenched against the wave of dismay that followed his hurling of that word back at her. She had thought they understood now, both of them – after the trial, Estarfin had seemed willing to dismiss her entirely. As much as it hurt, she had encouraged him – better to hurt than see him follow her any further down the path to destruction. Yet it seemed as though they had just been running in circles, rehearsing old troubles until neither of them could get clear of the mess they had tangled themselves in.
Whirling back to face him, she regarded his exhausted, crippled form with a grimace. “Friends? You want to be friends?” A low, bitter laugh escaped her lips; her dark eyes never leaving his. She would witness the consequences of what she would do, at least. She had held to that all year, watching him train and flail around, witnessing the fall of someone she had once so respected. Now, she would hold to that commitment one last time. “You truly are as stupid as you have been pretending to be, then. After all that my 'friendship' has brought you, you are foolish enough to invite it again? Look at us! Disgrace, exile, maiming – shall we try again, and see if we can cause our deaths this time?!” Frustration scarcely masked the sick feeling at the pit of her stomach.
In a sudden burst of temper, she hurled the practice blade at the ground, near his feet. It left a wet scar in the turf, a wound, freshly glistening with the spring dew. Loose strands of hair, torn free by exercise, fell across her eyes, and Nirhen pushed them back with an impatient hand, eyes fixed on Estarfin once more. For a moment, she relaxed, allowing her dismay to show clearly in her expression for the first time. The anger leaked out of her, until all that was left is pain – pain that she has caused them both, that she knows she will go on causing, until it was finally ended. Until one of them breaks the circle once and for all.
“I cannot do this.” The admission, a sigh, a release of breath. “I cannot fix this. I thought... but I cannot do it any longer.” She paused, hesitating for a merest moment, before she finishes, turning away from him once more: “I am sorry.” This time, when she walks away, she does not look back. She will not look back.
"Nirhen!" Estarfin called after her. "Nirhen!" She showed no sign of having heard him and carried on. Looking down at the marred ground at his feet he knew that yet another friendship was finished, that he was one step closer to being alone again. "This is a bitter ending" he spoke softly to himself. He looked at the blunt training sword laying in the damp grass and steeled himself for the effort to reach down and pick it up.
