Cruel Fear

Late morning at the Fernwood is generally quiet; with the bulk of the patrons having long since finished their hurried breakfasts and gone to work, and the lunch rush still a couple hours away, it's the perfect time to enjoy a decent meal in relative peace.

With Lani having completed her morning training and allowed a few hours today to do as she pleases, exploring the city seemed interesting. And when she passed the Fernwood, the scent of the pub's fare awoke a deep and abiding need in the Silverguard's stomach; it had been *hours* since her morning porridge, and training is hungry work.

Thus at the moment the lanky half-oruch has installed herself at a shaded table under the balcony, her hood throwing the upper half of her face into yet deeper shadow, as she picks at a set of bacon rolls, an entire stein of steaming tea at her elbow.

Menel is just coming in from his late morning training for lunch. He orders the usual, which is basically the largest meal that his money will allow for. It's a huge meal, but it's not really much to look at. He doesn't complain about the porridge. Instead he digs into it hungrily at his spot near the counter and enjoys the tea that comes with it instead of the usual ale; at request. The owner of the Fernwood doesn't mind exchanging some hot water and a few herbs for the weak ale after all. And Menel isn't one for drinking.

He doesn't notice Lani'kua until he's about finished his food and then he waves to her pleasantly in a friendly manner, lifting his tea cup in salute. It's not really an invitation to join him, but it's not *not* an invitation to join him either.

The raised cup is answered with a tusky smile, and a raised stein in answer, and shortly after Lani gathers plate and cup and stands, threading through the tables and approaching Menel's table, bobbing her head in greeting. "Moon's light guide you," she rumbles. "Mind a friendly face at your table?"

Most of a friendly face, anyway; Lani's deep hood takes full advantage of the lighting in the pub.

"Stars light your path." Menel returns easily, "And Dana make it an easy one. I don't mind a friendly face at my table if it's one that I can see! Though you've the bearing of someone I fought with recently, and if you be her you're more than welcome to stay!" Menel seems surprisingly cautious actually, and he motions to an open seat.

With a raspy chuckle, Lani slides into the seat across from Menel, setting plate and stein down. "You'd remember aright, my friend. The incident with the bandits, a couple days ago. Honestly, I'd been hoping fate would be kind enough to see our paths cross again."

She considers one of her remaining bacon rolls for a moment, then tears it in half and pops one chunk into her mouth, offering the other across the table. "We take 'break bread' quite literally where I hail from; it's polite to bring an offering when you join a table, and you look like you've a corner of your stomach that needs filling."

Menel's eyes light up at the offering of the bread and yet he takes the half-roll graciously. "I'm embarrassed that you noticed, but grateful nonetheless." He nods to her politely, and pops the bread into his mouth, savoring the delicious flavor far more than the porridge from earlier. "Very good. But I suspect that if you were looking for me it wasn't just to break bread?"

He offers her a wry grin. "That wasn't the best of fights was it? I wasn't expecting one of our number to not be outfitted for a fight at all, and I know that abandoning my own sword in the middle of a fight is... not exactly standard protocol." Menel sighs. "I kept expecting that once they saw our superior skill that they'd see things our way, and I'm glad they did in the end but... We nearly killed one of them in the process..."

"No," Lani rumbles, smiling ruefully. "It truly wasn't... but it ended as well as it possibly could have, given the circumstances. I'll admit, I'd not have been too troubled had they not survived; banditry is rare among the Tablelands, but that only because raiding is a way of life among the Clans. But a life preserved is a life preserved, and I truly am glad that you were willing to show mercy."

Lani falls silent for a moment, then tilts her head. "...Ah. Forgive me. I've joined your table, broken bread, and still not offered my name. Lani'kua of the Waxing Eye, Silverguard. Who might you be, friend?"

"Menel Din'Morin. Of nowhere in particular really. I was born in the far north but... Nowhere near a village or anywhere that would claim me." He smiles wryly, very wryly. He offers his hand to her just the same, ready and willing to shake hands as most people do when first meeting. "A Silverguard then are you? That explains the healing. Personally, I'm a simple swordsman, it's my life's work to perfect myself so that I can dance the blades."

The offered hand is taken, Lani reaching across the table to clasp Menel's hand for a brief shake. As she settles back in her chair, the hood tilts to one side. "Interesting... May I ask why? You displayed a great amount of skill, but the fruits of violence seemed bitter on your tongue. In truth, it's what attracted my attention, and I confess, I'm curious to know more."

"I don't mind violence." Menel explains, sighing a little. "Or rather... I don't mind violence where it's necessary. But... I don't want to *kill* anyone."

A haunted look crosses his face and he looks at the woman across from him seriously. "Once someone is dead, they usually stay that way. Even in the rare instances where they are brought back... The Gray Halls leave their mark on the soul. Death is nothing to be taken lightly and I have no desire to kill anyone. For what? Over some over-priced wine? No." Menel shakes his head. "When he tried to kill me then I knew that it was serious, but before then they had done nothing to earn such."

Lani nods slowly through Menel's explanation, the Silverguard taking the young man with all the seriousness he deserves. "Well spoken," she says at the last. "You think like a paladin, friend Menel. My first trainer had an axiom she drilled into me with my first positions; 'Don't kill if you can wound. Don't wound if you can subdue. Don't subdue if you can pacify. And never raise your hand, unless you've first extended it.'"

Picking up her stein, she blows a long sigh over the steaming tea. "Beautiful words, but *so hard* to live. Ehhhh... but it wouldn't be worth doing if it were easy, would it?"

Menel nods seriously. "It's true. There's this saying that I remember... I think from my mother though I can't be sure. It says. 'Be nice, for once you are cruel no one will ever believe that you will be nice again'. And it's true. You must always act with kindness first and foremost and for as long as you can. For the moment you are cruel no one will believe in any kindness that you put forth afterwards."

"Heh," Lani chuckles, her tusks gleaming in the mage-light. "I rather think I like that one better. But Guard Ruzhak, she was fond of her riddles, and poetry. But with this in mind, why the blades? I spoke to a Vardaman not long ago, and they had some *extremely* interesting ideas about weaponry; namely, that the sword is one of two weapons most sacred to their Goddess, for it's one of two weapons made only for killing. I'd not be lying if I said that had me contemplating the nature of weaponry for some time, after."

Menel smiles a bit abashedly. "They are the only ties that I have remaining to my mother I suppose, and... I love how they feel?" He flushes a little. "That probably sounds strange but when I'm fighting they just feel *right*. I've fought with other weapons of course, but these swords just feel like the *right* weapons to use? Like they're the weapons I was born to use. I don't know how else to put it. I just... Need to figure out a way to use them without killing people."

"Skill and practice," Lani sighs. "Outside of the right magics, the surest way to do so is to turn yourself into a sufficiently deadly killing machine, that holding back is a kindness you might readily give to your opponent. And I truly hope you keep such a noble goal in mind, friend Menel... But if you keep your mother's words in your heart, I have every confidence you'll grow to be a warrior she could be proud of."

"Surely, that is my goal." Menel says seriously. As well it is. Every day he practices, every day he hones his body, mind, and spirit into a finer weapon. He knows that he has more practice yet to do, but he will reach the apex one day. He nods to Lani'kua. "I apologize if I worried you."

The apology actually brings a short, full-belly laugh from the half-oruch, her head shaking as she recovers from her mirth. "Friend Menel, no. *Never* apologize for the course of your heart. I had concern, and sought you out, and learned what I needed; that you walk a difficult but worthy path. And now all is well, and all shall be well."

With a finger, she nudges her plate toward Menel, one last bacon roll buttered and gleaming under the diffused mage-lights. "I've my duties to return to, but I shall leave you with a riddle; if cruelty is to be avoided, and kindness prioritized... Would it be cruel to use fear, if the goal was to avoid unnecessary death?"

Grinning, she finishes her tea, and uncoils from her chair. "Think on this... And next we meet, I would greatly like to hear your answer."

Touching two fingers to the hem of her hood in salute, the Silver Guard turns and strolls out the door of the Fernwood, rising a hand in farewell.

-End