Chapter Five

"Wake up, sleepyhead." A cheerful voice roused the elfling early the next day. Much to Feryl's surprise, he found the girl Lyra had arrived with another tray of food, and behaving as if nothing had happened. To further his disgruntlement, she yanked the curtains open. The room flooded with brilliant morning light, causing the Dark Elf to bury back under the safety of the covers. "Master Kendari has left me instructions that you are to have a bath today."

Feryl dared to poke his head out of the recess of the blankets and winced from the sunlight pouring into the room. "A bath?"

"Yes," She told him, arms folded sternly to cast a discerning eye on the elf. "A bath…it's what civilized people do. Master Kendari said you are to bathe and have some fresh clothes."

He'd been up most of then night deep in thought, trying to sort out promising futures and all the possibilities. Feryl couldn't even remember the last time he'd been awake for 'morning'. Grunting in protest, he stuffed the pillow over his head. Maybe if he persisted to ignore her, Lyra might leave-

"C'mon lazybones." The girl remained undeterred. "The day is wasting, and there's much to do."

Although she was provoking, her words had nowhere near the effect of the wonderful smell of food, prompted him from the bed. Sweet biscuits, tea, and some porridge were the morning fare, with honey for sweetener. The meal was the best me he ever tasted, and he wondered if everyone ate as often as they were offering him food.

Feryl was somewhat relieved Lyra was a forgiving sort. After harsh words with her the day before, he thought she might avoid him. Instead, her arrival with a breakfast tray and all cheers and giggles let him know that for some reason, his words had not bothered her. In fact, in light of her current mood, she wasn't at all hurt by what transpired the day before. He found he rather liked her company.

"And where exactly am I to bathe? Is there a washbasin-?" He asked.

Light brows rose up in surprise "Washbasin? We're a bit modern for that." The girl told him, making herself comfortable on the end of the bed to wait for him to finish eating. "We have a bathing room downstairs."

Bathing room...? He'd never heard of such a thing. A whole room dedicated to just bathing? The idea was intriguing. He soon finished the meal and followed the girl downstairs through the school. Feryl found the windows cast a glaring amount of light, causing him to squint. The school looked very different from the shadowy manor he was accustomed to. The girl paused long enough to put the tray aside in the kitchen, pointing out that if he were to stay, his meals would be taken there and not the room upstairs. Furthermore, he would also be expected to wash dishes when finished, and for that matter, do a number of chores to 'earn his keep'. None of the rules phased the young dark elf. Living with Nekros was nothing but lessons and all the chores within the confines of the apartment.

Only when Lyra led him to the cellar did he feel the relief of darkness. Eyes adjusted to find deep in the bowels of the school, a wondrous room. This was one area, he hadn't guessed even existed.

Master Kendari had fashioned a bathing room for the students to use. A huge cistern filled the one wall where rainwater collected, leading to pipes that then led to a huge furnace for heating. From there, a maze of more pipes snaked to sinks, showers, and a large tub.

The tub was of smooth carved stone inset against the far wall. A shelf above this kept a lantern for illumination, casting a soft glow about the room. Water was already filling the bath, leaving wisps of steam as the surface bubbled.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Lyra grinned, testing the water by trailing fingers.

Lyra laid out some towels for him, and showed him where the soap was. "Wash up, and I'll get you some fresh clothes and a comb." When she moved to leave, she brushed past him, pausing for only moments to turn and smile at him. Her eyes sparkled. "You won't drown will you?"

He frowned, confused. Drown? In the tub? He looked at the size of the tub, then back at her. How could he possibly drown in water so shallow? Her restrained smile indicated she was teasing him. The humor caught him off guard.

"I will try very hard not to." He told her, still not understanding her at all. She chuckled as she left, leaving him to bath alone.

Feryl touched fingers to the surface of the water and found it hot to the touch. Slipping into the water, the sensation of buoyancy unnerved him until he grew accustomed to the hot water against his skin. After several moments he learned he rather liked the submerged sensations, as well as the delightful experience of soap. Warmth and the silken feel of suds were almost too much for his senses to take at one time.

Nekros had kept only a washbasin. Cleanliness comprised only what was necessary. If not washing with a cloth and basin, Feryl stayed outside in the rain to get drenched. He rarely felt as clean as this tub provided him. Odd how she mentioned the word 'civilized' to him, he pondered. Civilized...wasn't that what Nekros claimed to do by beating him senseless? Yet the man didn't have a tub, or give him proper clothes, or even a comb!

Once washed, he rested his head back against the stone, enjoying the warmth of water against his skin. The hot water eased aching muscles, and released some of the tension that had built up.

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Lyra found the Dark Elf almost asleep in the tub, or what appeared to be almost asleep. His head was resting against the gentle slope of the stone tub, eyes closed, and a pleasant expression on his handsome face. Yes he was handsome, remarkably so.

He looked different now, with dark skin the hue of light slate, and the long hair slicked back and away from his face. Now she could see him better, without his usual scowl on his face. Yes, he was handsome, she thought to herself, very much so.

Unabashed by his nudity, Lyra was used to seeing the body in its most natural state. Her mother was a high-class courtesan after all. The Blue Lady was one of the finest pleasure houses in all of Tamriel. She was to follow in her mother's footsteps someday, and fortunate for her she could choose to be a courtesan and not a common prostitute. She'd meet nobles and rich merchants, not ruffians and gutter thugs.

A smile curled up at her mouth. Then again…ruffians such as this might not be so bad. She found him intriguing, being she'd never met a Dark Elf her age before. It was said the elven races had so few children, and this was the reason to why you rarely saw them. Dark Elves in particular kept to themselves. So where was Feryl's parents? He admitted he knew nothing of his heritage, and was raised by this cruel master. Getting answers from the boy was like pulling teeth. Short clipped responses offered her nothing in getting to know him at all. He was also tight as a bowstring, and void of any humor. She had yet to see him smile just once.

His eyes opened to crimson slits, the pupils glowing like embers from the low light. Briefly those wondrous eyes looked back at her, subsequently widened as he saw her standing over him. Violently jerking upright, a wave of water splashed over the edge of the tub, onto the floor. It was somewhat comical to see, and her first impression was he was shy. However, the quick frown to his face told her it was not expected her to even be there. In fact, being she already saw him practically naked before, he hardly seemed aware of what shame might be. Perhaps his name fit him after all. This elf seems such a wild, untamed thing.

"I brought you some clothes." She grinned, setting them down near a bench along the wall. "And if you'd like, I can do something with your hair."

The scowl deepened, and he tentatively touched the top of his head. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"It's a mess."

"I'll comb it."
"I can trim it-" She started to say, but his look seemed troubled. "What's wrong?"

"You mean cut it?"

"Well that is generally the idea." Lyra told him.

"Short?" Feryl asked.

Leaning over, she grasped a towel to hand to him. "I don't have to cut it short if you don't want me to. Even a trim might be nice, or we can tie it back."

Again, the elfling raised his hand to his head; fingers tugged at the length, and nodded his consent. As long as he was getting cleaned up, he might as well take advantage of being 'civilized' as much as he could. The girl seemed to have more understanding to what that entailed than Nekros did, and he found himself rather enjoying her company.

The clothes she brought were training garments the youths at the school would wear for practice. The tunic was snug to the waist drawn around with a sash like belt. The color was deep blue, with the neckline trimmed in black. Sleeves reached to wrists, and the hem drew down past his waist to almost touching thighs. The pants were a bit long in the leg, having to be rolled up at the hem. The material was comfortable soft cotton of basic brown and laced at the waist. Soft-soled shoes completed his attire.

Lyra worked the comb through the length, finding the silky tendrils easy to manage through knots. His hair nearly reached the middle of back when she was nearly through. The color matched the brows and lashes, contrasting well with the gray slate of his skin. He remained quiet as she did her task, and soon found his eyes closing almost catlike as she did so.

The frown soon faded, and his body began to relax for the first time since she met him. As she finished combing, she took up the scissors and found his eyes had popped open with the unmistakable unease as he felt before.

"Just a few inches." She promised him, waiting for the slight nod of assent before trimming his hair. A few inches ended up being enough to leave his hair touching just past shoulders. As she finished up evening the ends, she found him flinching suddenly.

"What's wrong?" She asked, oblivious to the close proximity.

"Nothing." He said quickly.

"Are you ticklish?" Lyra wondered, but even as she asked him this she realized she'd brushed against him. Perhaps his reaction was her breath against his ear for that matter. She'd heard rumors of how sensitive they were.

His lips tightened. "A bit." She decided not to press the issue.

"Almost done." Lyra moved to the other side. When she finished cutting hair, she took the remaining length and tied it snug against the nape of his neck. "There now." She grinned, handing him a mirror. "You look like a gentleman now."

Feryl jerked back from the image in the mirror, then blinked a few times. He lightly touched fingertips against his face, as though he'd never seen himself before. No longer did hair hide his face from the world, instead was drawn back to reveal a face with glowing red eyes and stormy gray skin. The pointed ears were also now prominent, and it was clear, he wasn't sure if this was a good thing.

"Don't you like it?" Lyra asked, noticing his reaction

He touched his cheek with light fingertips, then his ears. "I...I don't know."

"You know, you shouldn't hide your face." She blushed as her own forwardness. "You're very handsome. Even more, now that we can see your face."

His attention shifted back to her, with an incredulous look. Feryl obviously doubted her claim. Unable to find a response, he looked back in the mirror still not believing the young dark elf looking back was actually him.

"Master Kendari told me once you've washed up, you're to meet him upstairs in his office." Lyra busied herself with picking up the cast off rags he once wore, and used towels,

Feryl set the mirror back where it belonged on the shelf and turned to leave. Pausing briefly in the doorway, he turned back. With a slight bow and awkward beginning of a smile on his mouth, he spoke softly. "Thank you,… Lyra."

It was Lyra's turn to be startled, "You're very welcome."

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Master Kendari's 'office' was more of a storage room, with every manner of piece of junk littered the shelves and tables. From books to old leather armor, to scrolls, and bottles made for a space set aside for chaos. The aged warrior used this for his personal space, keeping a bed to the far end of the room behind a row of barrels, and a makeshift workshop to the other end of the room. Here he could think, and for a short time stop being the sword master and be a simple man enjoying a simple life.

A soft knock alerted him to the young elf hovering near the open door. The boy's transformation took the sword master off guard, letting him forget he had been a ragged street thief not the day before. No longer did a curtain of hair hide the elfling's face, and his lean frame now wore clothes that actually fit, making him appear older.

"Is that really you?" He grinned. "I doubt anyone will be able to recognize you now."

The boy self-consciously touched the trimmed hair and clothes. "Lyra helped." He said awkwardly.

Master Kendari motioned for him in the room, shoving a stack of papers off a nearby crate for the lad to take a seat. Once settled, the boy still looked as though he was ready to take flight at a moment's notice.

"Have you given more thought of staying?" Master Kendari asked him.

"I'd like to stay." The young boy admitted. His eyes darted around the room, taking a quick assessment of the number of items about the room. Merthisan wondered if the boy simply behaved out of habit, or was he curious to what half the items were? Some items such as the soul gems and exotic weaponry from foreign lands might be of interest. He could only hope the lad was simply curious and not hoping to steal him blind while he slept.

Which brought the matter of his arrival to mind. The boy had tried to steal a valuable sword, so would have to prove himself to be trustworthy. Kendari folded arms and looked sternly at the boy. "Very well, " He said, "There are a few rules you need to follow." He watched the young elf listen attentively, trying to judge what thoughts were beyond the red eyes. "There'll be no more stealing-" The boy nodded, having expected at least that much. "You will need to do your share of work around here," Another quick nod. "The storage room will be yours, you can come and go as you please," Arched brows lifted in surprise. He had not expected any level of freedom. "And I will need to know who your master is."

To this the elfling reacted with a stiffening of his back, and a quick indrawn breath. His mouth opened, only to have a stammer come out before he finally managed the words. "I...I can't." He managed.

"You must." Merthisan persisted. Why was the boy so afraid?

"But he'll kill me."

"You will be safe here, Feryl." Merthisan winced at using that so-called name. It sounded too much like an insult than someone's identity. He'd have to figure out something else later. "He can't hurt you while you're under my care."

Feryl's mouth worked, as he considered what to say. The boy looked down, and then locked a firm gaze onto the swordmaster with grim resignation. "I can't stay then…unless I tell you?"

Merthisan hadn't expected the boy to remain steadfast in his secrecy. In fact, the thought hadn't even occurred to him the boy would be anything but grateful and eager to move on with his life. Faced with putting him back on the streets didn't seem a viable option however. He sighed in frustration. "No…no of course you can stay. I've taken an oath to protect those who need it." He rubbed his face in agitation. "Do you plan on staying within the school forever? Eventually you'll need to venture out, and what then?"

Feryl looked away, as thoughts were considered and thrown away. "I could learn to fight…"

"So you're staying in the school until you can fight him?" A child's dream, he thought to himself. But when the boy's head bowed in an attempt to hide his face, the sword master felt too sympathetic to speak further on this matter. "Fine…you can stay. We'll figure something out…eventually."

He expected Feryl to brighten then, to be content with the time being he was safe, but the boy remained oddly silent. The quiet was frustrating. Someone his age should be filled with questions and chattering of things about the world. In light that he was given a second chance, a chance to have a future, Merthisan expected him to at least seem happy about it. Instead, the young elf was seated in a strange cloak of self-control unheard of someone this young.

"Well since you're dressed for practice," The sword master said, "Shall we get started?"

"You're going to train me?" To this Feryl perked up.

"Now is the best time, don't you think?" Merthisan said. Now he saw the brightness in the boy's face. About damned time!

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Feryl enjoyed learning. Most of his life he'd spent in some form of study, from books to knife-work, to lock picking, to any number of subjects from poisons to anatomy. For a boy no allowed games or toys, the studies took their place. But the biggest difference between training with his old master and training with Master Kendari is that Kendari expected questions. The young Dunmer had been trained simply absorb the information, and learn it without question.

He already knew how to handle a knife. A short blade was almost a toy for a youth who had no playthings. He could spin a razor's edge with speed and deftness with just one hand, spinning the weapon in an impressive display. He could throw with deadly accuracy to a target at distances most would baulk at. A sword, however, was different. Bulkier, heavier, and requiring more strength, Feryl found the practice sword encourage a sense of power. Within his hand, a longer blade felt stronger, and having more impact. Something within him seemed to stir, almost like a memory as how to grip the hilt, and balance oneself on legs to accommodate the steel.

Things were slow at first, with the swordsman showing him the best stances and blocking techniques. Feryl knew he was taking things slow, and not wanting to hurt him. This concept was so new to him. Nekros never hesitated to hit or even draw blood. Such methods, the assassin felt, taught him quickly and most effectively. Most damage was easily remedied with a healing potion, and Feryl had long since endured pain in his short life.

"Very good." Master Kendari told him, impressed with how quickly Feryl absorbed the first lesson. He was assessing the boy as well, finding him rather advanced for his age and lack of experience. The boy moved with all the grace, strength, and stamina of an acrobat. He also did exactly as told, never being told twice, or even asked questions. For a man who taught many young students, accustomed to a boy's inquisitiveness or even inability to focus, this was almost disturbing.

As Feryl moved through the positions and fluid body movements, he knew he had nearly mastered the delicate dance-like practice. Though seemingly pointless, Merthisan explained the 'dance' would strengthen the necessary muscles to handle the sword he held in his hand.

"You're a natural," Merthisan told him. "But we should stop now."

"Stop?" Feryl blinked, curious that they had only been at this for a few hours.

"We'll only do lessons in the morning hours." The sword master explained, motioning for him to replace his sword to the shelf. "We still have to go through what chores you're to do, and what things will be like here for you."

Without question or complaint, Feryl simply did as he was told. After lessons, he was to take yet another bath, dress in clean clothes, then find Lyra to be told what chores needed doing. Most of which were simple tasks around the school, helping her wash dishes, clean out the stove, haul in the wood, and other tedious work.

Despite being exhausted by the end of the day, Feryl felt the day had been the easiest of his life.

I felt this chapter should lead into his 'new life', more of a transitional chapter. Lately I find its been tough getting into the groove of writing because of getting a wisdom tooth taken out, and my son being sick with a cold. I'm hoping to get another chapter out by Monday. Wish me luck!