2 (Now, please welcome: Steven! He's a really nice guy.)
With the intention to get packed as soon as possible, Alanna stormed into the rooms, she and Maude, her maid and teacher of herbal healing, lived in. The unexpected sight of a bright brown robe let her come to a sudden halt, stumbling.
"What the." she began, before she recognised the boy the robe belonged to.
He was about Alanna's age, thirteen or a bit older. In his left hand he hold a bucket of water, in the other a bunch of steel wool, obviously trying to get the rust of the iron fireplace. His bare head's skin was glittering with a mixture of sweat and one small flowing line of blood.
"Oh Steven! They've shaved you again! Why can't you just try and keep quiet instead of contradicting everything!" Alanna shouted, a slight smile on her lips while she tried to get her bag out of its hiding place under her bed.
Steven smiled back at her, blue eyes twinkling in amusement.
"Says who? Unruly Alanna herself?
Nah, I've even not been as insolent as I could've. I just politely asked the priest if he seriously believed in all these things, he uses to tell us. Guess he didn't have many arguments to convince me of his standpoint there.
Just decided to get my head shaved /again/, to teach me some humility. Shall I help you with that bag, lass?"
As she nodded, he kneeled beside her and pulled on the case as well, till both of them went flying onto the floor side by side.
"Ouch! At least you could've tried not to wipe of your bloody head at my shirt! I'll have to use my gift to get these out!"
"Good gracious, Alanna! What about you going to the priests and claiming that they better have shaved me more carefully next time? Or what about you offering your service? Bet, you'd do it properly."
Steven started groaning in pain, as Alanna propped up her elbow in his stomach to get up. His hooked nose crinkled.
"Guess what?" she screamed into his face and started hopping around the room.
"I won't be here to shave ye next time! I - won't - be - here!!!"
Totally perplexed he held his stomach while his eyes followed the girl's motions. She hopped one round, then stopped in front of the cupboard and started to get some underwear, socks, breeches and skirts into her big bag. Staring at Alanna's red hair that whipped up and down, he suddenly realized what she'd said.
"You what?" he asked. "You aren't serious, are you? I mean, where are you going, and why and what the heck shall I do without you? You're the one to pay for our lessons, I'm gonna be completely lost without you! -And I'd miss you." he added at last, like this had just come to his mind.
"Oh." Alanna answered, turning slowly. She hadn't thought of that yet.
Sure, when she went away, who would train with Steven, who would even get him the teachers? He depended on her, just like she'd always depended on him.
All the time she'd been in the Convent, she'd never given up her passion for fighting. Just in the first week, she'd met Steven.
He was just like her: he wanted to be a knight, but his father had put him here instead. Said, he didn't want him to be a knight; that traditionally only the heir and future lord of the fief would become knight, which meant Steven's older brother. Another knight in the family would have meant a possible competitor to the rightful heir, a possible threat. A priest at the convent on the other hand might be able to own an enormous political power, but he wasn't allowed to own a fief.
Steven had, of course, understood the logic in his father's actions, but just couldn't fit in to the strictly ruled hierarchy of the monastery he had been sent to. He was too open-minded; he neglected the political moves other students used to improve their status. He needed some sort of compensation for this life, which, though intellectually challenging, didn't fulfil him in the least. He found his release and his fulfilment in the arts of war.
So Alanna and Steven had begun to stick together. In their free time they would secretly train the shooting with bows and arrows, the fight with fists or daggers.
When Alanna got into apprenticeship of the healers', she'd gone to town and helped old warriors with their gout. In turn, they'd taught her and Steven the fighting arts.
Perhaps she could talk into some of their teachers.
Bart the Knife, for example, seemed to really like Steven. For sure he would teach him even without pay. And there were others who liked him for his eager way of learning and the jokes he used to make.
When Alanna told him about her thoughts, he didn't seem too glad about it.
"But it won't be as much fun as with you, Alanna." he repeated stubbornly, eyebrows pulled together. "It simply won't be the same."
She sighed. "Listen Steve."
"No. You know I'm right!" He turned away from her just to kneel at the fireplace again. The nerve-racking sound of steel-wool being rubbed on the rusty iron filled the air.
"Steve." But he wouldn't listen. He just rubbed on the iron even more intensely than before.
When he didn't react on her third try either, Alanna spoke out three powerful words and pointed into his direction. The next second the boy held a bunch of soft cotton in his hand instead of the steel. He sighed.
"Alanna, sometimes I wish you'd still be afraid of using your Gift. Or at least be less stubborn. - How do you think shall I ever manage to finish this rust-removing-detention-thing with some flocks of cotton?"
"Just let it be. You know we need to talk now! See, I do understand your standpoint. And, well, I won't be leaving the Convent -."
"Mithros, stop that stuff, Alanna!" he interrupted, a shocked expression on his face. "Sure you will go to Corus. This is your first and maybe only chance to get out of here and I don't want to be the reason for you to stay. At least if you leave, you'll be the one feeling guilty. If you stay, I'll be the one and I wouldn't like that. Especially with you around reminding me every five seconds that it's my fault. You go, understand?"
His bitter grin was answered with a teeth-glittering bright smile.
"Oh, how cute and chivalrous you are!" She laughed.
"You might feel neglected now, but I didn't want to stay anyway. What I wanted to say was that I'm not going to be away /for a long time/!
See, it's a kinda healing deployment, you know? Somehow there seems to be a disease broken out in the Capital. So I'm gonna go there with a bunch of other healers and help out the inhabitants. Probably I won't be doing anything else but healing, eating and sleeping, but at least there will be no holy Sisters around me for about two or three months."
"Two or three months?" He looked suspicious.
"Yeah, no longer. And I'll be sending you letters about what I'm doing and what kind of techniques the resident warriors use. I promise."
He groaned, standing up slowly. "So I've made a fool of myself for two months of freedom of some bullying girl?"
"Yes, honey. Made a fool of yourself like everyday." She was broken of by a bunch of cotton targeted directly into her charming smile.
"Stop kidding me, girl, or I'll make you regret it!"
"I don't like threats!" And this way the greatest pillow fight in the world's history began.
With the intention to get packed as soon as possible, Alanna stormed into the rooms, she and Maude, her maid and teacher of herbal healing, lived in. The unexpected sight of a bright brown robe let her come to a sudden halt, stumbling.
"What the." she began, before she recognised the boy the robe belonged to.
He was about Alanna's age, thirteen or a bit older. In his left hand he hold a bucket of water, in the other a bunch of steel wool, obviously trying to get the rust of the iron fireplace. His bare head's skin was glittering with a mixture of sweat and one small flowing line of blood.
"Oh Steven! They've shaved you again! Why can't you just try and keep quiet instead of contradicting everything!" Alanna shouted, a slight smile on her lips while she tried to get her bag out of its hiding place under her bed.
Steven smiled back at her, blue eyes twinkling in amusement.
"Says who? Unruly Alanna herself?
Nah, I've even not been as insolent as I could've. I just politely asked the priest if he seriously believed in all these things, he uses to tell us. Guess he didn't have many arguments to convince me of his standpoint there.
Just decided to get my head shaved /again/, to teach me some humility. Shall I help you with that bag, lass?"
As she nodded, he kneeled beside her and pulled on the case as well, till both of them went flying onto the floor side by side.
"Ouch! At least you could've tried not to wipe of your bloody head at my shirt! I'll have to use my gift to get these out!"
"Good gracious, Alanna! What about you going to the priests and claiming that they better have shaved me more carefully next time? Or what about you offering your service? Bet, you'd do it properly."
Steven started groaning in pain, as Alanna propped up her elbow in his stomach to get up. His hooked nose crinkled.
"Guess what?" she screamed into his face and started hopping around the room.
"I won't be here to shave ye next time! I - won't - be - here!!!"
Totally perplexed he held his stomach while his eyes followed the girl's motions. She hopped one round, then stopped in front of the cupboard and started to get some underwear, socks, breeches and skirts into her big bag. Staring at Alanna's red hair that whipped up and down, he suddenly realized what she'd said.
"You what?" he asked. "You aren't serious, are you? I mean, where are you going, and why and what the heck shall I do without you? You're the one to pay for our lessons, I'm gonna be completely lost without you! -And I'd miss you." he added at last, like this had just come to his mind.
"Oh." Alanna answered, turning slowly. She hadn't thought of that yet.
Sure, when she went away, who would train with Steven, who would even get him the teachers? He depended on her, just like she'd always depended on him.
All the time she'd been in the Convent, she'd never given up her passion for fighting. Just in the first week, she'd met Steven.
He was just like her: he wanted to be a knight, but his father had put him here instead. Said, he didn't want him to be a knight; that traditionally only the heir and future lord of the fief would become knight, which meant Steven's older brother. Another knight in the family would have meant a possible competitor to the rightful heir, a possible threat. A priest at the convent on the other hand might be able to own an enormous political power, but he wasn't allowed to own a fief.
Steven had, of course, understood the logic in his father's actions, but just couldn't fit in to the strictly ruled hierarchy of the monastery he had been sent to. He was too open-minded; he neglected the political moves other students used to improve their status. He needed some sort of compensation for this life, which, though intellectually challenging, didn't fulfil him in the least. He found his release and his fulfilment in the arts of war.
So Alanna and Steven had begun to stick together. In their free time they would secretly train the shooting with bows and arrows, the fight with fists or daggers.
When Alanna got into apprenticeship of the healers', she'd gone to town and helped old warriors with their gout. In turn, they'd taught her and Steven the fighting arts.
Perhaps she could talk into some of their teachers.
Bart the Knife, for example, seemed to really like Steven. For sure he would teach him even without pay. And there were others who liked him for his eager way of learning and the jokes he used to make.
When Alanna told him about her thoughts, he didn't seem too glad about it.
"But it won't be as much fun as with you, Alanna." he repeated stubbornly, eyebrows pulled together. "It simply won't be the same."
She sighed. "Listen Steve."
"No. You know I'm right!" He turned away from her just to kneel at the fireplace again. The nerve-racking sound of steel-wool being rubbed on the rusty iron filled the air.
"Steve." But he wouldn't listen. He just rubbed on the iron even more intensely than before.
When he didn't react on her third try either, Alanna spoke out three powerful words and pointed into his direction. The next second the boy held a bunch of soft cotton in his hand instead of the steel. He sighed.
"Alanna, sometimes I wish you'd still be afraid of using your Gift. Or at least be less stubborn. - How do you think shall I ever manage to finish this rust-removing-detention-thing with some flocks of cotton?"
"Just let it be. You know we need to talk now! See, I do understand your standpoint. And, well, I won't be leaving the Convent -."
"Mithros, stop that stuff, Alanna!" he interrupted, a shocked expression on his face. "Sure you will go to Corus. This is your first and maybe only chance to get out of here and I don't want to be the reason for you to stay. At least if you leave, you'll be the one feeling guilty. If you stay, I'll be the one and I wouldn't like that. Especially with you around reminding me every five seconds that it's my fault. You go, understand?"
His bitter grin was answered with a teeth-glittering bright smile.
"Oh, how cute and chivalrous you are!" She laughed.
"You might feel neglected now, but I didn't want to stay anyway. What I wanted to say was that I'm not going to be away /for a long time/!
See, it's a kinda healing deployment, you know? Somehow there seems to be a disease broken out in the Capital. So I'm gonna go there with a bunch of other healers and help out the inhabitants. Probably I won't be doing anything else but healing, eating and sleeping, but at least there will be no holy Sisters around me for about two or three months."
"Two or three months?" He looked suspicious.
"Yeah, no longer. And I'll be sending you letters about what I'm doing and what kind of techniques the resident warriors use. I promise."
He groaned, standing up slowly. "So I've made a fool of myself for two months of freedom of some bullying girl?"
"Yes, honey. Made a fool of yourself like everyday." She was broken of by a bunch of cotton targeted directly into her charming smile.
"Stop kidding me, girl, or I'll make you regret it!"
"I don't like threats!" And this way the greatest pillow fight in the world's history began.