A gong tolled across the land, once again giving the one-minute warning before the battle is to begin. Champions on either alter stir, some meditating, some practicing, all preparing themselves for another fight.
Tryndamere once again ran himself through sword-swings and push-ups, keeping his muscles warm in the cold air of the howling abyss. Finished, he sat down, laying the sword across his lap, and closed his eyes once more. Now, however, the images which ran across his mind had changed.
He saw his men, warriors and barbarians, all cheering when he returned from the League.
He saw the nobles of Freljord, looking at him with more acceptance and respect, nodding their heads as he passed.
He saw Fizz, carelessly flipping and dashing alongside of him when the fish was compelled to walk with him home, a constant grin on his face.
He saw his wife, her warm smile lighting her eyes when one or the other returned from a battle.
The rage was not gone; no, in the midst of battle, it would continue to surface. His fury still gave him strength at times when he needed it, still healed him of his wounds and honed the strikes of his blade. The rage still existed; however, it no longer controlled.
It returned, slightly, when he saw Katarina. Her absence from the league had not gone unnoticed; she had refused the healing treatments of Soraka and the other mages, as well as those from the league. Instead she had waited for the wounds to bind on their own, abstaining from anything that would dull her pain. Though she held her head high, her gaze humbled when he looked at her. It would be a long road before she was truly forgiven, but somehow he knew the journey had already begun.
Talon had only spoken to him once since their confrontation, visiting him once more in the night. He had explained Katarina's resolve, as well as her painful recovery.
"And you think that such actions simply dismiss the pain she caused?" Tryndamere had growled.
"No. And nothing she does ever will," the assassin answered, voice controlled. "I told you once before, Tryndamere. Noxus feeds on the pain and rage of its opponents. Yours gives you strength; it would be foolish of me to tell you to abandon your rage entirely. But if you continue to let it control you, you will be destroyed."
Pointing to Ashe's sleeping form, Talon continued. "Your life is no longer empty, Tryndamere. Remember that. Keep the rage for the battle, and when it is over, let it go. If you do this, not only will it become easier for you to forgive Katarina, but you will become unbreakable to Noxus as well."
The barbarian king breathed deeply, glaring at the assassin. "Why do you advise me? Why do you risk anything to speak to me, to… help me?"
Talon was silent a moment before he answered. "To help you is to help myself. Keeping Katarina safe is my first priority. To find my General is second. By allowing you to remain strong, I keep Swain distracted, and am able to continue my search for Katarina and Cassiopeia's father. Besides," he added, a hint of disgust edging into his voice, "if Noxus were to conquer all, the world would truly be a dark place, even by standards such as mine. If you continue to continue to oppose Swain, then I shall do what I can to make sure you stay strong."
They had never spoken after that, but the agreement was kept. Tryndamere chuckled softly. Between entertaining thoughts of forgiveness for the Sinister Blade and playing the espionage game with the Blade's Shadow, he was becoming a bit too friendly with the Noxians.
The bell tolls and he is summoned to the arena. As he runs to his position, he lets his thoughts fill with warmth once more.
His entire life he has known nothing but pain, loss, and rage. Blood and carnage were his constant companions. But now, slowly, he was beginning to learn that there was more.
More than just blood.