An Unexpected Destiny (Completed)

North

The sparring had gone well.  I have always been fleet of foot, so my footwork only becomes more graceful and precise.  As we strike and parry at one another, I can feel the muscles in my abdomen and arms working.  They relish the work.  I may not be in battle-ready shape, but I am much better than when I first began; my arms no longer feel like they will fall off after a half hour and they do not become sore.

Alistair has to be the most graceful man I have seen swing a sword.  The Scouts and the King himself were great fighters, no doubt from what I saw of their practices, but they lacked the fluidity and oneness.  I wasn't sure what the last word meant when I heard first heard it from Merida, but watching Alistair before he struck at me, I came to realize that it meant this: the sword is a part of you.  "An extension of your arm" is what I have read numerous times in historical fiction.  Oneness was different.  It was that every single move you made with every part of your body, not just your arm, had an impact on the sword's stance.  This was running through my head the whole session and it didn't help.  I guess because I tried too hard to do something that should just come when it comes, not when it is conjured.  

Alistair never actually whacked or cut me; he never really came close.  It was not because I am the princess of blocking.  It must be because he was afraid of hurting me.  Again, I admire his gallantry, but his softness won't keep bandits or other ruffians from stabbing my heart.  I, on the other hand, was not as kind.  I didn't cut him or even knick him, but I came close-- very close.  Though I may not have as much control over my arm and the force put behind it as he does with his arm, I was careful not to slice him.  The first few times I came close to touching him, he seemed surprised. He must not have the same ominous thoughts as I do of being mauled and/or robbed.

That wasn't the only reason I did it.  When I figured out he was worried about being too rough, I was irritated.  I wanted him to act like a real threat.  How else would I learn to protect myself?  He couldn't be there every second to look after my welfare, and I didn't want him to be.  The number one reason being I despised the thought of being helpless and letting another take the brunt.  The other reason was staring me in the face but I carefully turned my back on it.  I had enough to ponder without that. 

Such as, why can't anyone give me a clear direction as to where the Old Crone went?  At breakfast, everyone-- including Marsha and her husband-- says "North".  That is it.  Strapping my bag onto Dove, my lips are pursed together and my eyes hard.  I mutter angrily, "Just 'North'.  Not twenty miles North, or North to the forest, or North to the second village, just plain, darn, North."  I yank on the leather strap and Dove swings her head around to look at me.  "Well, North, just happens to mean deeper into the Highlands where winter is only a couple weeks off and where the population is as sparse as technology is here.  That's just great.  Lovely.  Fantastic." 

Alistair leads Boldus next to Dove and watches me expectantly.  With a sigh, I rest my arms on the saddle and ask "Do you think this will just turn out to be a several-month long goose-chase?"  I can't meet his eyes.

From peripheral vision, I see him shrug.  "Might, might not.  Do not think of it darkly, Agnes.  Worry does not become you.  You can chase away all shadows with your smile."  His face reddens.  "Just think of it as great adventure with a certain, magnificent reward at the end."

"That reward would be finding Merida.  What if we don't?"

He reaches over and gently rests his hand over one of mine.  He smiles at me and that reason that I had turned my back on had me cornered.  "We will.  But there are other rewards besides that."

Whoa. 

His hand rests lightly on mine-- and I want it to stay that way.  So, it is time to back away slowly.  "Thank you, Alistair.  I know I can count on you to always make me feel better.  I wish you were my real brother."  I give him a grateful smile.  He smiles back and takes his hand away, mounting Boldus.  Perfectly at ease and content.  I watch him out of the corner of my eye.  Hmmm.  I had expected a different reaction with the brother suggestion.  I must be wrong.