Bonds

Disclaimer: I'm not even old enough to own DL.

AN: Sorry about that weird typo in the first chapter. It should have been dashes but got erased somehow.


Again, Rila was the first one Dalamar saw. As wont, the cat followed her into his chamber. No magical barriers seemed to have any influence on it. The cat was not her familiar, so why it followed her was a mystery. Rila seemed to find comfort from the creature, and it's welfare was the first thing she asked about.

"Good morning, master. I was thinking...Can my cat come with me?"

"I don't know how we would stop it if the creature had it's mind set. Certainly, it's not an ordinary animal."

"No, he is not. Why was I called here?"

Dalamar smiled at the girl suddenly. Turning, he rose from his chair, and entered the second part of his bedroom, where he actually slept. A moment later, he returned holding a beautiful, cherry-wood box. He placed it on the small table in front of Rila, opening it with a word. After gaining Dalamar's approval, Rila lifted the lid open, revealing several long lumps wrapped together in blue silk. The dark elf lifted them all and set the bundle on the table. The silk was pulled away with a flourish, uncovering eight daggers. His fingers gingerly skimmed each before picking up the fourth and holding it out for Rila.

"This is mine? I don't even know how to wield it," she said, taking the weapon as if it were a hallowed artifact.

"If you get close enough to use it, you don't need much skill."

"Thank you, master," Rila said finally, examining the fine blade with it's hilt shaped like a dragon, the globe of quartz in it's open mouth forming the pommel. She unsheathed her dagger, running the edge against her finger tip, then attached the sheath to her belt.

"I have a favor to ask you."

"Then this is the time to do so, young one," he answered, mildly surprised that the shyest pupil would dare. She stood up and reached down the front of her robe, clasping some pendant. Rila pulled it out and opened her palm. An unadorned, uncut gemstone glimmered faintly. At first glance, he thought it a ruby, but the color was far too rich.

"A bloodstone!"

"Yes, an heirloom. You know the legends of the Graystone in Qualinesti?"

"I do."

"Legend has it that the bloodstones came from a Redstone, the Graystone representing the combination of good and evil, and the Redstone representing the absence of each. The jewels you have to pass through the Shoikan Grove...I believe that they are parts of a Blackstone, if ever such a thing existed."

"So you mean to get yourself a piece of the Whitestone from Ergoth, and find the Graystone?"

"Yes, master."

"You realize that many stronger than you have been destroyed by just one of these? What will happen when you bring these together, do you think?"

"They will balance each other out."

"Leaving what? What is there to gain?"

"Power," she said in a voice without passion. It was not the voice of one conquering overwhelming odds, not the voice of one brimming with ambition. Her voice was dead.

"If you believe you can do this, I will grant you a nightjewel. Understand, however, if you accept it, I will not accept anything other than this task when you return. Are you willing still?"

"Yes. Thank you, master. I am certain."

"I will bring it tonight. One question more, how did you keep a bloodstone without me knowing?"

"Arine made a special box for me; she said it was payment, though I do not see how she is in my debt."


Ten minutes after Rila left, Telir knocked on Dalamar's door. The dark elf called him inside, and Telir sat across form him with an alacrity that spoke of nervousness. His eyes scanned the neat row of daggers, but he kept his hands folded in the sleeves of his robe. Dalamar gave him an appraising perusal before pushing the seventh dagger across the table to Telir. He took it wordlessly. The blade went into a leather satchel which was already half full.

"Thank you, master. May I be excused? There is much yet to be done."

Dalamar smirked a bit and nodded. Telir hurried out as swiftly as could be considered polite.


Bretik entered third, his brown eyes coolly taking in his surroundings. He lingered in the doorway until Dalamar indicated for him to sit, and he did so hesitantly. Dalamar smiled ironically, which eased the young man. His taunt shoulders relaxed, and he asked "Which is mine?"

"How do you know any are?"

"Telir told me"

"That one," Dalamar answered, pointing at the fifth dagger, frowning slightly as Bretik brandished the dagger. It was heavier than the others, but Bretik held it comfortably, shifting his fingers slightly to find a grip on the ebony hilt. With a remorseful air, Bretik let the blade slip from his hand and asked "May a wizard carry more than one blade?"

In explanation, Bretik yanked up his sleeves, showing identical blades strapped to each wrist. He twisted his left arm slightly so the thin blade caught the light. Dalamar arched one brow and drawled "You are already carrying two, already defying the code, aren't you?"

"No, this is one dagger, split into two halves. See, only the outer edges are sharp. This gift is crafted better than these, though. I mean you no offense, but I will take this one and have the same done to it. In the past, I have found such an arrangement useful," he said. He unbuckled the old dagger from his wrists and left them upon the table, taking the new one with him out of the room.


White robed Palin came next, his auburn hair disheveled. It was obvious that he had woke up recently, and rushed in, too tired for courtesy. Wearily, he flopped into the chair, supporting his head with one hand, his elbow on the table. With bleary eyes he watched his master, yawning.

"Good morning, Palin," Dalamar said, amused. Palin grumbled something inarticulate. In this instant, he was very much like his father. Much like Caramon, he was eating rather messily, but unlike his sire, Palin was not eating more than a biscuit. Wiping away the biscuit crumbs, he finally muttered "I'm sorry, master. All night I've been trying to memorize spells from the book I borrowed from you, since I can't take it with me. I've slept no more than three hours."

"The first dagger is yours. I advise that you rest for a few more hours, Palin. You won't retain anything if you're so exhausted."

"Yes, master," Palin murmured, grasping the first blade. Interest roused him as he studied it. It shone brightly, exquisite in it's simplicity. Steel needed no decoration. Almost lovingly, he connected the sheath to the belt of his robes, then returned his gaze to Dalamar.

"Tell me something. You have passed the Test. You can leave and start on your own. Why haven't you?"

"You know how I feel. Even now the memory of my Test fades. I think I should be tested again, in Wayreth like the others will be. Somehow, it doesn't feel official otherwise."

"You are unlike the others. The circumstances were different."

"But I wasn't really doing anything! My whole Test was an illusion. I wasn't ever in peril. A real Test would prove me worthy. Besides, everyone expects such great things of me because of my uncle, and I don't believe I can fulfill those expectations, not yet. There is still much you can teach me, master."

"If you were not capable, you would not have the Staff of Magius. The Shalafi cares nothing for the ties of blood. I thought Caramon would have taught you this, at least. You were given the Staff because you have the strength to wield it. Do not doubt yourself, young one."

Palin canted his head with a pensive expression, but his musing was interrupted with a yawn. He left, deciding that those words would be pondered after he had a few more hours of rest.


Seldarin sauntered in, graceful and smug. His velvet robes flowed around him like ink in stark contrast to his white skin and golden hair. With a courtly bow, he completed his indulgent entrance. Upon noting Dalamar's irritated countenance, the younger elf subdued his pride and darted to the vacant chair.

"Good morning," Seldarin intoned politely.

"Indeed. The eighth dagger is yours."

Seldarin blinked, having failed to see the daggers up until this point. Reaching down, he unsheathed the eighth dagger and gasped softly. It was a magnificent object, well-suited to the pompous elf. The silver hilt was shaped like a young aspen, it's slender branches cradling the blade which was spike of diamond, honed with magic to a deadly point.

"Quite a lovely gift. Thank you, master," he finally told Dalamar, uncharacteristically humble. Seldarin admired his teacher, and the dagger would be cherished. Dalamar dismissed the student, who went gladly so that he could see how the diamond shined in the saffron light of the rising sun.


Canore cast a baleful glower towards Seldarin, who ignored him as a lowly human thief. Canore's green eyes darkened and he mumbled a curse, slinking into Dalamar's chamber. He halted before the heart where a dying fire was smoldering, his back to the dark elf.

Dalamar calmly observed the young man before beckoning him to the table. Canore obeyed, exuding insolence, but Dalamar had done the most for this orphan, so he came. He sat on the edge of the chair, his eyes moving about like a hawk's. He gave the daggers a cautious glance, noting that the blades were facing him, the looked to his master questioningly.

"The sixth is my gift to you."

Canore was suspicious, but after a full minute, he extended his left hand and picked up the dagger. He stroked the metal, then stood up. He whispered his thanks and left


Naldyn came in unbidden, stopping beside Dalamar. She curtsied in her flowing robes, then asked excitedly "What is this gift, master?" Dalamar gestured to the table, and she grabbed one of the two weapons. Caressing the rose that made up the pommel, she smiled softly.

"That one is yours."

She tossed the dagger into the air and caught it, thrilled by the whistling sound that caused. Replacing the pretty weapon in it's scabbard, she tucked it into a hidden pocket sewn into the lining of her robes. Turning towards Dalamar, she expressed her joy. Leaving abruptly, Naldyn went back to the mundane task of packing her clothing, humming softly.


Arine was last. She stood in the doorway, touching the wall, because her staff made no sound on the thick carpet. Dalamar rose and moved to her side, offering one arm to aid her. She felt the fabric of his sleeve brush her grasping hand, and understood. Clinging to his forearm, Arine followed Dalamar across the room to her chair.

She sat down and smoothed her crimson raiment, her pale eyes somehow fixed upon her teacher. When she was finished, he held out her dagger. Arine took it carefully, tracing it's outline with her nails. She set in her lap, and declared in her steady alto "Master, I have a request."

"What is it?"

"I want a branch from one of the trees in the Grove, and if I am to have it, it must be now."

"What for?"

"If you take no offense, master, my purpose is my own."

He stared at her with hard eyes, but that obviously had no effect. He sighed, contemplating, and finally agreed. Arine smiled wanly as he guided her out. In moments Dalamar was in the Grove, Arine waiting at the steps of the tower where Palin, Naldyn, and Canore were lurking also. The dark elf quickly severed a limb, about the length of his hand. He felt the tree's ire, though it would not attack him. Dalamar strode back to the tower quickly. The occupants of the Grove seemed more malign this day, and Rila's cat had been lying on the bough from which Dalamar had cut a branch, gold eyes gleaming in the eternal shadow of Shoikan Grove.