The first step has to be taken.

A child never learns to walk without failing, without falling down, and having to be helped back up. There are always failures, but if you never try, you never fail. It's a choice everyone makes, wether self conscious or not. Should I try, and run the risk of failing, or should I not try, and stay safely unfailed? If a child never makes the first attempts, and tastes the first failures, then no progress can ever be made.

Failure is a terrifying thing. Some people laugh it off, saying they'll do it next time, and think nothing of it. I found it terrifying. I couldn't fail. I had to prove I was not worthless, and to do so I could not fail. Failures meant nothing but time and effort wasted. If I didn't try what did I achieve? What if I had no choice in the matter? It was either try, or die, but trying meant facing the fear in my soul, digging it out, and facing it with no protection from it.

'To overcome fear of something you should get used to it slowly-As you would preparing to swim in a cold pond. The slower you get into the water, the less the shock will be, and thus the easier it is to overcome. If there is no time you can always drop head long into the water, and numb your body to the core before getting used to the water. Either way works, but you can not get back out of the water after trying to get used to it. You will never work up the courage to get back in it, and will spend your time shivering on the shore. It may be you'll stick a toe or finger in, but you won't get back in the water of your own free will.

'You can, however, be driven back into the water by the naggings of others. They can drive you back into the water with their words, and taunts. If worse comes to worse they may just throw you in the water and refuse to let you come out.'

That was a small speech on a teacher's behalf when I had asked him how people overcame fear. It sounded reasonable, and made sense at the time. I still made sense now. I jumped from the water before I was used to it, and was suffering for it. I was chasing myself around, and trying to force myself back into the water, but I couldn't make myself plunge into the icy depths.

I sat staring at the Durandal, bared along the bed. The blade was glistening no more then a normal blade would, but it seemed to flash sinisterly. It was early, and I had anther hour before we made our way into Nergal's stronghold, and faced the villain himself. I still had not touched the Durandal. It had stayed tucked way, and I loathed to even touch it when it was wrapped thickly in a blanket. Every time I thought of it I could feel the call buried deep in my head, the wild need calling, demanding. I rubbed my temples, and looked at the sword. I couldn't touch it.

But I had to.

I had put it off for too long, and now I was afraid. I didn't want to touch that blade again, to feel the ancient power run through me, and knowing I had to save the world. I reached for it, and my hand trembled. I closed my eyes, pausing for breath, and then looked back to the sword. It seemed to taunt me, daring me to touch it, to hold it firmly in my grasp. It dared me to try, and it seemed to know I would fail. I couldn't fail.

'You may have to.' I dropped my hand to my lap, and shook my head. There was no more hate, no more angry rebellion against the facts, just fear, and sorrow. I could barely manage a convincing mask in front of everyone else, to convince them I was alright. Again my mask, again I was hiding. I tried my hardest to act like I was fine, but I was failing. I got many sympathetic looks, and at least one of the healers came to check on me every day. I suspected this was Hector's doing, but I tried to stay away from him. He would ask me about the Durandal, and I would have to tell him I hadn't even touched it.

You really are worthless, a pathetic fool to the core. I sneered at myself, agreeing. I was, but I could pick up this sword. I could wield it, if not to prove something to myself, then to save everything. I shook my head, and eyed the sword defiantly. I could do it, and nothing would stop me. I leaned toward the bed, and grasped the hilt of the blade. I nearly dropped it in surprise. The hot call was still there, and the memory of dragon's blood leapt into my mind. Ninian, her blood spilling onto me, the burning feel as it scoured my flesh, bathing me in red, and death.

Dragon's blood, so different from my own. Times beyond count I had watched it spill, watched my own life spill down my skin. I had secreted away, and plied a blade to my flesh, feeling the sting as a touch for reality, a reason to hate. A reason to say: 'Look what you did to me.', and physical pain that could wash everything out. A justification for everything, and the fact that I could kill myself to spite the people who lied to me. I had been in control.

Now I was teetering the rampaging cries beating against my hold, and screaming to give in, to lash out, and draw blood. I shivered, and drew the sword around in a smooth motion, slowly, accounting for the sword's bulk. I began a slow series of movement I had known since I was small. I was in control, the sword was the tool, and I was the wielder. I closed my eyes, and thrust carefully. The sword seemed to shift, and it threw me off balance. I scrambled to stay up right, bringing the sword around hard. A flash of blue in the corner of my eye made my blood run cold.

The sword called louder, demanding the blood was close enough, near enough to taste to... I stopped the sword, staring wide eyes at Nils. The dragon boy looked at me calmly, the sword almost touching his neck.

"I wish you Good Morn Lord Eliwood." Nils smiled, tilting his head away from the sword.

"Nils! Do you realize I nearly killed you?" I asked, my voice strained. It took a great effort not to finish the swing, and knock his head from his shoulders.

"But you didn't." Nils pointed out matter of factly. "I said you would be able to control the Durandal, didn't I?"

"Yes, but that still doesn't mean you can just walk in without a word or warning." I protested, but the shock was fading into relief, and a slight trickle of surprise.

"Of course not, I apologize for my rudeness." Nils sighed, and moved form the sword. The call lessened, and I lowered he sword. "I came to tell you that we were getting ready to leave. Mark chose the companions, and we'll be heading out very soon. I wanted to make sure you were ready." I looked at the sword in my hand, and grabbed it's sheath.

"I-"

"Eliwood!" Hector walked into the tent, his face set in determination, and his hand on the Armads. "Are you ready to leave?"

I sheathed the Durandal, and placed it in my belt, next to my rapier. I grabbed up the lance from the floor, and shouldered it. I felt weighed down, but I managed an almost sincere smile. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Hector grinned back, his a reckless one. Nils smiled as well, his a childish quirk of the mouth.

"Then you should know that we're leaving." Hector directed his next words to Nils. "You go and find Kent, you'll be riding with him till we get there."

"Yes sir!" Nils saluted, and ran out of the tent before Hector could comment on it. Hector grumbled something after the boy, and then turned back to me.

"Are you sure you're ready?" He eyes the Durandal carefully, and then looked back to my face.

I walked up, and put my hand on his shoulder. "Hector, dear friend, I'm as ready as I will ever be to face my father's murderer, and anything else that is there."

Hector clapped me on the back, and laughed. "Good for you Eliwood." I staggered, and Hector laughed harder. Ready or not, worthless or not, killer or not, liar to not, I was on my way to fight Nergal, and anything else that got in my way.

Hector watched the two children run across the courtyard, Lilina with her arms outstretched, and Roy laughing. He watched both children disappear into the summer thick foliage, off to torment Lilina's poor pony no doubt. Hector turned his attention to the red-head beside him, an older version of the laughing boy who had run off with his daughter. A shiny scar was spread across Eliwood's cheek, and his hands bore the same scars.

"Are you faring well Eliwood?" Hector asked, leaning against a nearby pillar.

Eliwood looked up, and then nodded. "Fairly well." Eliwood chuckled. "Much better then I was earlier this year."

"I would be very worried if you weren't." Hector frowned, and pulled down the collar of Eliwood's shirt. "Where did you get that?"

"What?" Eliwood felt gingerly his neck. "Oh, that. Sparring with Lowen yesterday. I decided it was small enough to be left alone." Eliwood chuckled at Hector, and shook his head. "You may ask Lowen if you don't believe me."

"I believe you." Hector leaned back against his pillar, and regarded Eliwood carefully. The younger man was already going grey it seemed. Sprinkles of grey littered his red hair, and the wear of more years then he had actually seen rested on his face. The years had been tough for the Marquess of Pheare.

Six months after returning to Pheare Lady Eleanor had died, leaving Eliwood with no one to really help him get his feet as the new Marquess. So Eliwood tried to hold Pheare together, and helped Hector pull Lycia itself back together while clinging to his mangled sanity. Hector would never forget the time he had walked in on Eliwood with a knife in his hands, and blood dripping down a cut on his arm.

That time was not the only time Eliwood had fallen back into his old habit, Hector was sure, but it was the only time Hector had seen him actually do it. The memory still sent made Hector shiver. It had been a few years ago that Eliwood had married. It had been a marriage of convenience, and treaty, but it was still a marriage. Hector wondered if the woman ever saw the scars in Eliwood's arms, and wondered where they came from. Everyone knew where he got his scarred cheek, and hands from. He got those from fighting a dragon.

"You watch me like a hawk old friend, surely you don't think I'm lying." Eliwood sounded slightly ruffled, but when Hector turned a rather blank gaze on him he laughed. "What have you been thinking about?"

"About Meredith I suppose." A half truth, but that was who he had been thinking about when Eliwood had pulled him from his thought. "And Roy."

"He doesn't favor Meredith in the slightest does he?" Eliwood shook his head, and sighed. "I only wish she could have lived long enough to see him." Meredith had died in child birth, and Eliwood had been left with an heir, and no other reason to seek out another marriage. He hadn't.

"Are you sure you're alright Eliwood?" Hector asked again.

Eliwood looked blankly past Hector then smiled. It was a cold shell of a smile, but it was as close to a real smile as Eliwood ever seemed to get. "I told you, I'm as well as can be expected." Eliwood's smiled dropped, and he brushed his bangs from his eyes. "You still worry about me Hector?"

"Sometimes."

Eliwood's face changed drastically, going from thoughtful, to a warm smile, eyes alight, and everything about him said he was in a good mood. It shocked Hector for a moment. Eliwood could do that. He could hide what he was feeling perfectly, and lead anyone to believe anything about him. The only one he truly seemed off guard around was Hector himself, and that was only half the time.

"You'll worry yourself gray if you don't look out Hector." Eliwood warned with a laugh. "You may even catch up with me."

"Stop that." Hector nearly snapped. "If you're not happy don't act like you are."

Eliwood's face dropped back into a slightly sad look, and he sighed. "I really am doing better Hector, and things are starting too smooth out."

"You never say you're fine Eliwood." Hector realized. "Why is that?"

Eliwood smiled thinly. "Because I don't think I ever am. I can't undo the damage I did when I was younger Hector. I can't change how I handled things, and neither can you. We have to live with our mistakes, and try to make the best of them."

"And over come them. You can get over your mistakes Eliwood. Everyone can." Hector prodded gently. "It will just take time, and perseverence."

"But how much time?" Eliwood shook his head. "It's like the Durandal, almost. I was afraid of it, of what it reminded me of, and now that is my life. I'm afraid of what happened, and so I lock it way where I won't have to deal with it." A mirthless chuckle escaped Eliwood. "It will take my whole life to undo this now Hector."

"Even if it does I'll be with you Eliwood. I'll be with you for every step of they way. That I promise." Eliwood looked t me careful, his eyes searching.

"Truly old friend? Do you truly mean that?"

"With all my heart and soul Eliwood, I do." Eliwood smiled a small smile, but it was closer to a real and true smile then any he had flashed in years.

Owari

A/N:The end. The ending was abrupt, but I needed to end it soon. This seemed like as good a place as any to end it. So there you have it Eliwood, torn apart, and sorta put back together. Sorry, Sorry, Sorry for saying Eliwood was twenty-four. My math was way off, and I thank everyone for the corrections. Well, that's it, and thanks for all the reviews. Sayonara!