Born To Hail

Chapter 23

Rosdrael was busy with the preparations of the upcoming Seed-Fall Ceremony. The ceremony was as it sounded, when the tree's begun releasing their seeds through the forest. The elves of Entnahil used this time to celebrate the anniversary of the creation of their home. Something deep in his bones told him that this would be the last Seed-Fall Ceremony that he and many of his elves, if not all, would celebrate. He wanted this year's to be the most memorable. It would also serve as a reminder to the elves that lived there; they had something to fight for.

Only two days left. He was waiting on one final shipment coming up from a trading post in the south along Snakehead River. The shipment wasn't due to arrive until later this evening, yet he couldn't help but worry. Not with all the orcs roaming around, growing bolder. And he knew very little of the Shadoworcs.

He had heard numerous rumors of their ancient cousins, Underelves, had bread with orcs to preserve they're blood. He thought they were ridiculous accusations. It was said the Underelves hated Orcs more than any other race. They made slaves of the entire race of Orc, deeming that servitude could be their only form to justify they're being on this world. It made no sense to the old elf, why breed with the very creatures you hate most.

"Fate" He whispered and cracked a smile. "You have a cruel sense of humor. What jest do you have in mind for me?" He asked the air.

A moment later Finrael burst into his chambers, sporting a troubled façade.

Rosdrael looked up and sighed heavily. "What have you to report?"

Sebastian stood there, eyes locked on Ceradell, he was breathing deeply and heavily. His mind clouded by frustration, it didn't help that Ceradell's demeanor was casual. They had been sparing for hours now. Every muscle in Sebastian's body cried out for rest, sweat fell from his head like a swift summer storm. The front and back of his shirt turning white from salt, and she stood there fresh as a morning breeze.

It has been an off day for Sebastian, they both know it. Neither knew why, but today it seemed as though he was no more schooled with the blade than his first day of arrival. This fact got under his skin, what didn't help was the fact that Mooncutter was belted to his hip. Ceradell insisted he wear it, "So you can grow accustom to the weight." She had told him. He pleaded with her trying to convince her it wasn't a good idea, she wouldn't hear it. He was learning more each day that what Ceradell asks of him, especially in regards to his training, she expected it done. She was a strong and willful woman, its one thing he loves about her, yet it can get trying at times.

He hadn't told anyone the full conversation with Ian while dreaming; he left out the part about his anger. He believed it was something he needed to deal with alone; so he had a hard time giving Ceradell a good enough reason for him to not wear his sword. Sebastian gave in and reattached the belt about his waist. Now he could feel the anger brewing within him like a tropical storm building just off the coast of a nation. He was fearful of that storm being unleashed.

"I can feel that you are holding back." She stated flatly.

"Why would I hold back?" He asked accusingly.

"I don't know you tell me." She gave him a hard look, her eyes saying more that her words.

Maybe he was holding back, that would explain how badly he was doing today. It had to be the fact that the sword rested on his left hip, its influence on his anger all the more potent. Since the day he got shot, since his fight with Ceradell and his actions he had grown fearful of the sword, more-so after his chat with Ian. Maybe that fear subconsciously was making him hold back today, trying hard not to release that rage.