In the Light of Two Moons, pt 2
Sep. 5th, 2011 02:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivendellroseTitle: In the Light of Two Moons, pt 2
Previous parts: Part 1.
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hearts_blood and rivendellrose
Rating: PG
Pairing: Delenn/Neroon
Word Count: 5773
Summary: Neroon could feel his mentor's eyes on him from where Branmer stood at the back of the temple, and he tried again to calm the twitching of his muscles and to stop fidgeting.
Notes: Pre-series. Words/phrases in Minbari are inspired by the Jumpnow Minbari Lexicon, but we've played extremely fast and loose with some of them.
For the moment, these will be coming out weekly. :)
Neroon could feel his mentor's eyes on him from where Branmer stood at the back of the temple, and he tried again to calm the twitching of his muscles and to stop fidgeting. How he hated sitting in temple! His legs ached and his arms were tired from doing nothing, and he kept having to fight the urge to open his eyes and look around while the priests chanted the prayers. Thankfully he was not expected to learn the responses, but the soft droning of the other students as they replied to the invocations was making him feel sleepy and stupid. The moment the students were dismissed, Neroon was on his feet and striding for the door.
He tried to dodge Master Branmer's hand but it was no good; Branmer had him by the collar and down the hall before Neroon could even blink. "Perhaps we should drop you alone in the middle of the ice fields and make you hunt for your food," the massive man said, his deep voice made colorless with annoyance. "Perhaps then you would learn the advantages to a Warrior of knowing how to sit still and wait."
"I can wait forever, if I know the object." Neroon pulled and squirmed, but there was no freeing himself, and he wondered again how his clan-brother managed to keep himself so fit and strong in such a lazy place as a temple school. "There's a point to hunting. There is no point to kneeling for hours and studying the backs of my eyelids."
Branmer twisted Neroon's collar even more tightly around his hand. Too late, the boy realized the danger and froze. "Mind. Your. Tongue."
"Yes, Master," Neroon gulped.
"If I say there is a point to meditation and prayer, then there is a point. Your task is to find it. If that means kneeling until your muscles atrophy, then you will do it."
"Yes, Master."
Branmer released his grip on his problem student and strode away towards the Star Temple; Neroon followed as quickly as he was able, still trying to get his breath back.
"In life, Neroon, you will be asked to do many things you do not understand. As a soldier, you are not required to understand your orders--only to do them." He stood upon the circular altar and waited for Neroon to join him, looking suitably chastised. "Have you been practicing the meditative calisthentics I taught you?"
"I have tried, Master, but..." The boy's expression was one of intense frustration. "There is no place suitable here."
"There are chambers devoted to exercise."
"Yes, but..."
"But they are always in use, I expect you mean." Branmer's green eyes twinkled. "I am sorry, boy, but you cannot have the whole complex to yourself. Just this temple."
"They are always watching me!" Neroon exclaimed. "No matter what I am doing, they watch me as if--as if I'm some sort of wild animal."
That being a fairly accurate assessment of Neroon's situation, Branmer made no comment. "You practice your denn'bok out on the grounds. Why not do the same for your meditations?"
Neroon growled. "Even there, I am watched. That girl, Delenn... she follows me. I tell her to go away but she will not. She is distracting."
"She is curious." He gave the boy a gentle smack on the shoulder. "Now stop complaining like a child in your first velvet. The other students are confined to the upper levels at this hour, and will soon be asleep. You will go outside and practice the prayer exercises I taught you."
"For how long?"
"Until you understand the point." Neroon's shoulders sagged, but obediently he stepped down from the altar and walked to the outer door. "Neroon? Come back." The boy frowned but did as he was told. "Give me your coat." Neroon blinked, and removed the long grey garment. "Good. Now give me your shirt. And now your undershirt."
Still not questioning his master, Neroon stood bare-chested in the cold temple, shivering slightly. Branmer folded the clothes over his arm. "Now go outside."
Neroon shot a glance at the stained glass window. "But... it is snowing."
"So it is. Out you get."
"Yes, Master," Neroon sighed.
***
"So I told Avaier that he was completely misreading the text. He actually thought the author of the poem was addressing a literal fountain - he'd completely neglected the first line of the poem. Can you believe that?"
"No, not at all." Delenn trailed along beside Mayan, feeling peculiarly light after the release of evening prayer and contemplation. All week she had felt strange - unsettled, as if something in her mind couldn't quite find a place to rest. Whatever it was had been banished by the peaceful and calming routine of the evening prayers, the long silences and the familiar words. She felt centered again. Whole. Complete. It was enough to walk through the old stone halls, the floors worn smooth by the feet of generations of students before her, snuggle into her heavy winter robes, and loop her arm through Mayan's as her friend chattered on about the day's studies. "So what happened then?"
"Oh, he went into some nonsense about how the author of the poem was using the image of the fountain to talk about his homesickness, which is completely wrong, and... Delenn?"
Delenn, who had fallen behind her friend in their accustomed walk back to the dormitory, stood at one of the windows that looked out onto the temple grounds, her face completely slack. Outside the window, a short distance from the building and apparently completely unaware of any onlookers, was the Star Rider boy. He stood shirtless in the cold, his pale skin almost blue in the dim light of the two moons above, and his body moving constantly through the motions of some sort of solitary combat.
"What's he doing out there?" Mayan asked, suddenly at her side.
"I... don't know. He looks like he's sparring with the snow."
Mayan snorted. "He'll find that a hard battle to win."
"It's so cold out..." Delenn shivered in sympathy, her hands rubbing her arms of their own accord.
"So we should go back to our room. Come on." But Mayan wasn't moving, either. Both girls stayed, as if frozen to the spot, watching the young Warrior outside as he moved through the tightly-controlled elements of battle again and again. It was difficult not to imagine an invisible opponent for his strikes to land against, so closely and carefully were they orchestrated.
"It's like a dance," Delenn said softly after a moment.
"I suppose." Mayan sounded dubious, but she tilted her head. "Do you suppose... do you suppose he does this all the time?"
"I've seen him go through the motions once or twice before," Delenn admitted. "But that was during the day. He got mad at me for watching and told me to leave."
"Why were you watching to begin with?" Mayan asked suspiciously.
"Because Master Branmer told me to be friendly with him, and... and because it annoys him when I watch him fight."
"Contrary."
"Well, yes."
Outside, the snow fell heavier now, but Neroon continued his practice in steady, endless rotation, one movement flowing smoothly into the next. Snow settled on his crest and shoulders, and Delenn's hand touched the cold glass before she even noticed she'd lifted it. "We should--"
"We should go back to our room," Mayan corrected, grabbing her friend's hand firmly in her own. "If we're caught going outside this late--"
"But--"
"Why should you care, Delenn? He's rude and irritable, and just because you're supposed to play nicely with him as a favor to Master Branmer doesn't mean we have to get in trouble because he's being stupid. He's perfectly capable of stopping whatever he's doing, going over to that door, and letting himself back into the temple. He probably doesn't even feel it."
"How could he not?"
"Warriors train for this sort of thing." Mayan shrugged. "They're always doing some stupid thing or other to make themselves tougher and stronger. He probably does this all the time at his training camp. Come on."
"I..." Delenn could not bring herself to admit that she wanted to watch. She wasn't even sure why she did. It had nothing to do with him, she told herself firmly - he was annoying and frustrating and arrogant. But... she had never seen a male of her own age shirtless before, and some part of her she wasn't used to listening to told her that it was an oddly compelling sight. Lean muscles moved smoothly under pale skin, and the shapes of his arms and shoulders seemed to change like flowing water... no, like fire. His movements reminded her of the flickering of a sacred flame, always changing, leaping from one shape to the next.
"Delenn--"
"Go, then, if you want. I'll be there soon, I promise. I only want to--"
"What? Watch more?" Mayan snorted. "If someone catches you... And someone's bound to come along this hall sooner rather than later, Delenn."
"I just want to make sure he's all right."
"Don't be stupid. Of course he is."
Delenn looked toward the door at the other end of the hallway, but even as she attempted to gather her courage, she saw Neroon's movements stop suddenly. He closed off in a posture similar to the Warriors' salute, and there was an expression on his shadowed face of grim pleasure, like finding the answer to a difficult question after long searching. He turned and strode proudly back toward the Star Temple.
"There, you see? It was just part of his training." Mayan tugged on her sleeve. "Now can we go back to our room? If we hurry, we won't be in trouble for being out late."
"Yes... yes, of course." Delenn looped her arm in Mayan's again as they made their way back to their safe little dormitory. She listened to her friend's stories and chatter as they got ready for bed, and snuggled into the thick blankets. But as she lay in the dark after the lamps had been extinguished, a quiet, contrary part of her mind kept returning to the image of the Star Rider boy in the courtyard, going through the ancient motions that were like prayer to his caste, while the snow fell down on his broad shoulders.
***
The unheated Star Temple was still ten times warmer than the freezing, snow-choked night outside, and Neroon's skin prickled and steamed. He knelt beside his master as Branmer prayed silently before the altar. It was many long minutes before the teacher chose to notice him, but Neroon stayed motionless.
Finally, with a long inhalation, Branmer opened his eyes and glanced at his student. "Well?"
"Peace, Master. Peace is the point."
"Explain."
Never good with words, Neroon waited until his thoughts could thaw and form themselves into sentences. "When I first went outside, I was irritated and I was cold. As I worked through the forms, I could hear the sounds of the city, and the snow falling to the ground. But as I continued, all the sounds, all the... irritations... seemed to go away. The movements were all that mattered. Doing them right was all that mattered. I wasn't cold anymore. Nothing seemed to be able to touch me."
"You felt invincible."
Neroon tipped his head to one side. "No," he said after a moment. "I only felt... serene. As though my body and the falling snow were one and the same. Like I was taking that serenity into my own being."
"And how do you feel now?"
"Very warm. Very... whole."
At last, Branmer smiled. "That," he said, "is the point."
***
"I wonder what's wrong with him," Delenn murmured over her essay.
Mayan spared a disdainful glance at the table where the Star Rider boy sat, alone. "What do you mean?"
"He looks annoyed."
"He always looks like that."
"No, Mayan. I mean, he looks upset about something." She watched, a frown creasing her forehead, as Neroon crumpled up yet another piece of paper and threw it away in frustration.
"He's probably having trouble with the assignment," Mayan said, a stylus between her teeth as she looked up a reference. "He's not much of a scholar."
"He can recite rings around you in middle-era history," Delenn was compelled to point out.
"He's a Warrior, Delenn, they're supposed to be able to regurgitate that sort of thing. It doesn't mean he understands it. And he clearly doesn't understand the philosophy of the middle era."
Delenn had to admit her friend had a point there. Of the few classes Neroon was required to attend with them, history was easily his best subject. Philosophy and theology... were farther down the list. She wondered why he didn't ask the instructor for assistance... and then, seeing Master Velier walk past Neroon without a second glance, she understood. She pushed back her chair.
"Where are you going? We have to finish these essays before supper."
"I'll be right back." Taking a deep breath, Delenn crossed the room and stood in front of the Star Rider boy's desk. "Do you need help?"
"No," he snapped. Then he looked up... and sighed. "Yes, Shaimira Delenn... I do." She sat down across from him as he pounded the table softly with his fist. "I do not understand what is being said here." He pointed to the offending passage. "Why should I wish to be proud of my ignorance? Is that not something to be ashamed of?"
Delenn read the text carefully. "The philosopher Kadroni is not saying you should be proud of your ignorance," she explained, "only that you should be eager to confess it."
"It's the same thing!"
"No, it isn't." She felt hot and embarrassed, to be contradicting this boy so bluntly. "You are missing the point."
"Very well, Shaimira. Enlighten me."
"Kadroni's teaching is that the confession of ignorance is the first step to gaining knowledge, to gaining wisdom, because it demonstrates that you have a desire to learn."
Neroon frowned. "That seems... rather painfully obvious. But it doesn't answer my question."
"Ignorance is only something to be ashamed of if you do nothing to change it," said Delenn, warming to her topic. "If you pretend that there is nothing left for you to learn, then you lose the chance to grow, to become more than what you are. But if you acknowledge the fact that you know nothing, then you free yourself to ask questions, to learn, to be grateful for whatever wisdom the universe chooses to put in your path. Do you see?"
"I..." Neroon found himself a little taken aback by the enthusiasm the tiny priestess showed for what he considered a dry and tedious subject. Her grey-green eyes shone with pleasure in the discourse, and he had to admit, they were quite beautiful. "I begin to. Then... Kadroni advocates the pursuit of all knowledge?"
"What Kadroni most advocates is curiosity." Delenn leaned forward to point to a different passage. "You see? Here, he states that the absolute greatest talent that anyone can possess is a passionate, all-encompassing curiosity."
"Like the universe," said Neroon unexpectedly. "Seek always to understand."
"Yes!" Delenn said, delighted.
The Star Rider boy's smile broke across his face like the sun in spring, sudden and warm. "Thank you," he said, "most sincerely. I have been struggling with this notion for hours."
"It must be difficult for a Warrior to accept that sometimes it is right to question things," Delenn mused without thinking. It was only after she spoke that she realized how nasty the words must have sounded. "Zhaden Neroon, forgive me. I did not mean--"
"Neroon," he corrected. His smile had gone, leaving the same stoic, lean face that she was accustomed to, but in his black eyes she saw something she had never bothered to notice before: a powerful loneliness. "And you are right, Shaimira. It is difficult. Thank you for helping me to understand."
Delenn nodded and rose to return to her own studies. Then she paused. "Delenn," she said softly. "You may call me Delenn." And she hurried back to her essay.
***
A few days later, Delenn was sitting in her usual spot, pretending to read while she watched him at his daily denn'bok practice, when suddenly he spoke to her. "I was wondering..."
Surprised, Delenn looked up from her book. "Y-yes? Did you say something?" He had never begun a conversation with her before, except to tell her to go away.
Easily keeping to the fluid motions required of his weapon, Neroon did not look at her. Surely she had been mistaken... "I did. I wanted to thank you for the help you gave me, and I was wondering... if you would care to join Branmer and I for supper tomorrow."
Delenn blinked, and for a moment was too flustered to reply. The Star Rider boy glanced over his shoulder at her small, white-clad form. "Please say you'll come. Master Branmer makes a good meal, and we would enjoy your company."
"In that case," she said, somehow managing to speak above a whisper, "I would be honored." And she made him a small salute.
She thought she saw his thin lips twitch. "Good." He went back to his usual evening occupation, practicing his denn'bok and studiously ignoring his small audience.
Delenn tried to concentrate on her book, but the movements of his arms and legs kept intruding on the words, so at last she rose and bade Neroon a polite good night.
He paused. "Are you leaving already?"
"Well... yes." For a moment, his lean face looked... sad, she decided, although she was obviously mistaken. "I have some reading to do for tomorrow, and... I thought you didn't like me watching you."
"I don't. I didn't," he corrected. His pike collapsed with a swift whispering sound, and as he stowed it away in his coat, she saw a glint of the same loneliness that had peeked through during the study period. "I've grown... accustomed to your presence, Delenn."
The warm glow that spread through Delenn at his words made her feel as though she had just received a grand accolade. "I'm pleased you feel that way," she said, smiling shyly. "I know that Master Branmer was anxious that I be a friend to you and... I haven't done very much to that end."
His black eyes rested on her with sudden and unmistakeable fondness. "Yes, you have," he said, quietly, rather as if the admission might be overheard and held against him later. "Well. I must return to the Star Temple." Neroon bowed low before her. "Good night."
Delenn's journey to her room was thoughtful. She curled up in bed with her book until evening prayers, but did not make much progress in her reading.
The next evening, Mayan looked on with ill-concealed disapproval as Delenn got ready. "You look fine," she insisted, very sourly. "I don't see why you accepted the invitation."
"Because it was kindly meant," Delenn said, changing into a clean outer robe and making sure it lay smooth. "And because it would have been rude to decline."
"If it meant being alone with a Warrior, then you should have been rude. I've never seen him in the dining hall—does he use utensils, I wonder, or eat with his hands?" Delenn rolled her eyes. "He'll probably expect you to eat meat."
"Oh, Mayan, stop it!" Delenn wrapped the sash of her robe and tied and tucked it securely. "You have not been yourself since he came to stay. What is the matter with you?"
Mayan sighed heavily and took Delenn's hands. "Since he came, it seems as though I never see you anymore. We used to spend hours together and now you're always with him."
As accustomed as she was to her friend's melodramatic proclamations, Delenn felt a tinge of annoyance at this one. "I am not 'always' with Neroon," she said, a little peevishly. "An hour or two in the evening... what?"
A feline smile was spreading across Mayan's face. "Since when did he stop being 'the Star Rider boy' and start being 'Neroon'?"
Delenn scowled at her roommate and refused to blush.
"No wonder you spend so much time with him," Mayan teased. "I do believe you're growing fond of 'Neroon'..."
"And I believe that you should spend less time with your old poems and take more fresh air," Delenn snapped. She dropped Mayan's hands. "He is a friend, Mayan, as you are. And yes," she added as she left, trying not to notice her friend's discomforted expression, "he does use utensils when he eats."
Her irritation propelled her quickly through the corridors, but she hesitated as she approached the Star Temple. She smoothed her clean robe nervously. She had never eaten alone with one of the teachers before, let alone with... The honor of doing so could not be overstated, and she ran over the acts of a ritual meal in her mind. And she was deeply honored that Neroon had asked her, and that Branmer was extending the courtesy...
With a deep breath, Delenn pushed open the stone doors of the temple.
Neroon was waiting on the platform for her, singing softly to himself. His rich voice reached her ears easily.
When the creation was new and all the stars shone in their first
splendor, the gods held their assembly in the sky and sang
`Oh, the picture of perfection! the joy unalloyed!'
But one cried of a sudden
---`It seems that somewhere there is a break in the chain of light
and one of the stars has been lost.'
The golden string of their harp snapped,
their song stopped, and they cried in dismay
---`Yes, that lost star was the best,
she was the glory of all heavens!'
From that day the search is unceasing for her,
and the cry goes on from one to the other
that in her the world has lost its one joy!
Only in the deepest silence of night the stars smile
and whisper among themselves
---`Vain is this seeking! unbroken perfection is over all!' 1
The last note trembled on the air as his eyes fell on her. "Good evening," he coughed, squirming a little.
Delenn closed the door behind her. "Is that another one of the songs of the Star Riders? It is very... unmartial."
"We do have other interests besides making war," said Neroon. But he grinned a little as he said it, and Delenn knew he was unoffended. "Shall we go into the Annex? Branmer will be very annoyed with me if I let the food dry out."
He started to walk away, expecting her to follow. Then he stopped, and turned to her, and slowly offered her his hand.
A little hesitantly, Delenn laid her hand in his. The black leather was shiny and warm, and the fingers that closed around her were strong and surprisingly gentle. She felt shy looking up at him, but Neroon's expression was equally bashful. "I am... pleased that you're here," he murmured. "Branmer and I are like family, and good company for one another, but... I'm not used to spending so much of my time by myself." His thin lips curved up into a smile. "Thank you, Delenn. I know I have not been an easy companion for you."
Again came the warm, pleased sensation in her chest. "It has been... enlightening," she said truthfully.
Inside the Annex, the smells of cookery assaulted their noses, and Delenn realized with no little trepidation that Mayan had been right about one thing, at least: meat was on the menu.
Master Branmer's broad shoulders were bent over a small charcoal brazier. He spooned chunks of broiled animal flesh into a bowl. "Welcome, Delenn," he smiled genially. "I'm glad you accepted Neroon's invitation; I think he's getting tired of my conversation."
"Tired?" Neroon snorted, fetching the last of the plates and cutlery. "Some of your stories have kept me awake and trembling all night."
"That," retorted Branmer, setting the bowl on the table and gesturing for Delenn to sit, "was when you were five."
There was tea and bread, of course, and grilled vegetables, and a stew of pulses and grains that Delenn was especially fond of, but her eyes were drawn inexorably to the bowl of meat. She knew the other castes ate the flesh of animals, but she had never witnessed it, let alone been at the same table... She pressed her lips together and tried not to let the nausea the charred smell induced ruin her appetite too much.
Branmer doled out the food with a generous hand, and Delenn braced herself. "Don't look so frightened," Neroon teased her, his black eyes twinkling. "It can't hurt you, it's already dead."
"Oh, do shut up, boy," Branmer scolded. "The meat is for your prehistoric stomach."
"And for yours?"
The priest pointed his spoon at Neroon's head. "Fall silent at once."
Neroon grinned but did as he was told. True to his word, Branmer did not offer Delenn any of the animal flesh, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "We would never ask that of you," he assured her soothingly.
"Of course not," Neroon added. "That would be cruel."
"Hmph. Cruel to deprive you of a second helping, you mean."
The food now served, Delenn solemnly offered Branmer her plate. Neroon stared at her. Branmer shook his head and smiled. "This is not a formal meal, child. Just a family supper."
"Oh! I... oh." Flustered, Delenn set her plate back down and did not look at anyone.
Neroon laughed at her. It was a rich, rumbling sound, quiet and soft, and it made Delenn feel... warm. It was a fond sound, full of amusement, yes, but somehow... it didn't bother her the way her classmates' laughter did. She shot a glance at him and giggled.
The pulse stew was delicious, tender and well-seasoned. "I did not know you knew how to cook, Master," Delenn ventured.
"My father taught me when I was a boy--it is one of the hidden talents of the Warrior caste, to be able to turn the simpliest of ingredients and an open fire into a meal." Branmer tore a piece of bread in two and dipped it into his tea. "Although there was never any doubt that I would be a priest, my father was insistant that I learn some of the ways of his caste."
"And your mother agreed?"
"Compromise is an important thing in all marriages, especially in mixed-caste marriages such as my parents enjoyed."
"And what harm could there be in cooking?" Neroon pointed out.
"Not in cooking, but surely in other things..." Delenn trailed off; Branmer was chuckling. "Master?"
Neroon narrowed his black eyes. "I know that laugh. Mal'ier, tell us!"
Still smiling, Branmer took a long drink of tea before he commenced. "As important as it is for a Warrior to know he can take care of himself, it is equally wise that he know how to rely upon his comrades. To that end, my father arranged for me to undergo the dur'vadkhon, the test of winter. My cousin Nerahel--Neroon's father--went with me. We were sent to the ice fields in the middle of the long cold, given a day's worth of supplies and some weapons, and told to survive. We had five days to make our way back to the base camp where our fathers waited for us."
Delenn's eyes were wide. "How old were you?"
"Oh, a little younger than you. Neroon has already been through this test."
"It wasn't much of a test," said the Star Rider boy, tearing at his meat. "I enjoyed myself."
"Yes, I heard," Branmer said dryly. "You and your classmates tore over the fields, got to base camp two days early, and proceeded to take your commanding officer and teachers hostage."
"Is... is that allowed?" Delenn asked.
Neroon's mouth was full of food, but he made a non-committal gesture.
"Only because they were successful," his guardian replied, in the blandest voice possible. "The dur'vadkhan has changed quite a lot since I was a boy. For one thing, Neroon had his entire training class to rely on. All I had was Nerahel--and he wasn't happy about it."
"Why?" Neroon chewed and swallowed. "I thought you and he were friends."
"As close as brothers. But he was a Warrior, and I..." Branmer shrugged and grinned. "Was an acolyte priest with more gangle than muscle." Delenn and Neroon both stared at him in obvious disbelief. "It is true! If you had put me on a riding beast at that age, there would have been six feet on the ground. And if he was going into the middle of an endless frigid night with barely anything to eat and nothing but the moons and stars for light, obviously Nerahel wanted someone who knew what he was doing... which was not me."
Delenn forgot her food in her fascination. "What happened?"
"What you might expect. We got hopelessly lost within a few hours and ended up huddled under a snowbank for four days, eating raw moss and lichens after our supplies ran out. I was convinced we were going to die out there and I just gave up. Your father was incensed, Neroon." Branmer's smile suddenly changed, his memories becoming infinitely sadder and yet somehow infinitely more sweet. "But after that first day, Nerahel never complained. He was too easy of a soul for that. His temper would flare for a little while, but when it died down, he always took everything as it came, and when it came, it was always a gift. He knew we were never in any real danger, tried to console me, get me on my feet and get moving. But I wouldn't go, and he wouldn't leave me."
"What did he do then?" Neroon asked, and without knowing why, Delenn felt her heart break a little at the wistfulness in his voice.
Branmer reached out and took one of the chunks of meat. "He realized that the bank we were hiding under was the lair of an enan'dun, and that eventually the beast would come back. So he took out his knife and he sat behind the top of the bank, and he waited, throwing snowballs down at my head every so often to make certain I didn't freeze in my sleep. In retrospect," the priest mused, pausing with the meat halfway to his mouth, "he was probably using me as bait."
The two students giggled.
"But it worked. On the fourth day, the enan'dun returned, all shaggy pelt and bleached bone frill about its head. It saw me in its lair and charged... and Nerahel dropped onto its back, slashing at it while the creature bellowed. I huddled on the ground and cried like a baby, of course. Then the beast reared up on its hind legs--and fell. On top of my brave cousin."
"Was he all right?" Delenn asked. Neroon was quite speechless.
"He was utterly out of breath and laughing like a maniac. 'That,' he said as I tugged him out from under the carcass, 'was fun.' He built a fire--though out of what, I have no idea; Nerahel was always quick with a flame--and for the first time in days we ate like kings. Ate of this exact animal, in fact." Branmer bit down on the chunk of meat and closed his eyes, savoring the flavor as he slowly chewed. "We stayed in that spot for another three days, eating and singing and acting like complete fools, before anyone came looking for us. Our fathers were more amused than disappointed, thankfully, because I don't know what else they had expected to happen."
Neroon folded his arms across his chest. "So you did have fun."
"I suppose so," said Branmer graciously. "Although Nerahel did have to take the test again, with a more suitable partner. He passed that time... but that partner managed to give him more trouble than I ever did--nine years later, he married her."
The meal finished, Delenn and Neroon helped clear away the dishes, and then they all settled down with fresh tea. "Oh, I nearly forgot. Neroon..." Branmer handed his clan-brother a small cloth bag.
Neroon looked cautiously inside, and then poured a quantity of small, clear, reddish-purple globules into his hand. "Master, you didn't need to go to this expense..."
"Don't tell me you've lost your taste for buvah'ja."
"Not at all." Neroon popped several of the chewy, spicy candies into his mouth and then, remembering his manners, offered the bag around.
Branmer grinned. "He's had a passion for those things since he could eat solid food," he said to Delenn. "It's almost sinful."
As she took a few of the little red candies, she couldn't help smiling at the Star Rider boy's childlike enthusiasm. "There is a shop near my father's house in Yedor," she said in her quiet way, "and after evening temple, when I was a child, we would stop there for buvah'ja candy. He does not often purchase such indulgences... but for these, for me, he always made an exception." She touched Neroon's wrist lightly. "Thank you for sharing them with me."
His black gaze softened and then fell to the floor; his cheeks were already warm from the spice candy.
They finished their tea and then it was time for Delenn to go to evening prayers. She felt a pang of reluctance as she rose to depart. "Thank you, Master Branmer," she said, formally but very sincerely. "And thank you, Neroon. It... it has been a long time since I've enjoyed a meal so much."
"You must come again," said the astronomy master, bowing. "It's not often that I have a young person to appreciate my cooking."
Neroon scowled. "And what, precisely, am I?"
Branmer cuffed his shoulder fondly. "A stomach on legs, of course."
Delenn was still smiling when she reached the prayer space, and even Mayan's lofty disapproval could not take away her lingering enjoyment, or the familiar taste of the spice candy, or the strange new fluttering in her chest when she thought of Neroon's black eyes.
(to be continued... Click here for Part 3)
1 - "Lost Star" by Rabindranath Tagore
Previous parts: Part 1.
Authors:
hearts_blood and rivendellroseRating: PG
Pairing: Delenn/Neroon
Word Count: 5773
Summary: Neroon could feel his mentor's eyes on him from where Branmer stood at the back of the temple, and he tried again to calm the twitching of his muscles and to stop fidgeting.
Notes: Pre-series. Words/phrases in Minbari are inspired by the Jumpnow Minbari Lexicon, but we've played extremely fast and loose with some of them.
For the moment, these will be coming out weekly. :)
Neroon could feel his mentor's eyes on him from where Branmer stood at the back of the temple, and he tried again to calm the twitching of his muscles and to stop fidgeting. How he hated sitting in temple! His legs ached and his arms were tired from doing nothing, and he kept having to fight the urge to open his eyes and look around while the priests chanted the prayers. Thankfully he was not expected to learn the responses, but the soft droning of the other students as they replied to the invocations was making him feel sleepy and stupid. The moment the students were dismissed, Neroon was on his feet and striding for the door.
He tried to dodge Master Branmer's hand but it was no good; Branmer had him by the collar and down the hall before Neroon could even blink. "Perhaps we should drop you alone in the middle of the ice fields and make you hunt for your food," the massive man said, his deep voice made colorless with annoyance. "Perhaps then you would learn the advantages to a Warrior of knowing how to sit still and wait."
"I can wait forever, if I know the object." Neroon pulled and squirmed, but there was no freeing himself, and he wondered again how his clan-brother managed to keep himself so fit and strong in such a lazy place as a temple school. "There's a point to hunting. There is no point to kneeling for hours and studying the backs of my eyelids."
Branmer twisted Neroon's collar even more tightly around his hand. Too late, the boy realized the danger and froze. "Mind. Your. Tongue."
"Yes, Master," Neroon gulped.
"If I say there is a point to meditation and prayer, then there is a point. Your task is to find it. If that means kneeling until your muscles atrophy, then you will do it."
"Yes, Master."
Branmer released his grip on his problem student and strode away towards the Star Temple; Neroon followed as quickly as he was able, still trying to get his breath back.
"In life, Neroon, you will be asked to do many things you do not understand. As a soldier, you are not required to understand your orders--only to do them." He stood upon the circular altar and waited for Neroon to join him, looking suitably chastised. "Have you been practicing the meditative calisthentics I taught you?"
"I have tried, Master, but..." The boy's expression was one of intense frustration. "There is no place suitable here."
"There are chambers devoted to exercise."
"Yes, but..."
"But they are always in use, I expect you mean." Branmer's green eyes twinkled. "I am sorry, boy, but you cannot have the whole complex to yourself. Just this temple."
"They are always watching me!" Neroon exclaimed. "No matter what I am doing, they watch me as if--as if I'm some sort of wild animal."
That being a fairly accurate assessment of Neroon's situation, Branmer made no comment. "You practice your denn'bok out on the grounds. Why not do the same for your meditations?"
Neroon growled. "Even there, I am watched. That girl, Delenn... she follows me. I tell her to go away but she will not. She is distracting."
"She is curious." He gave the boy a gentle smack on the shoulder. "Now stop complaining like a child in your first velvet. The other students are confined to the upper levels at this hour, and will soon be asleep. You will go outside and practice the prayer exercises I taught you."
"For how long?"
"Until you understand the point." Neroon's shoulders sagged, but obediently he stepped down from the altar and walked to the outer door. "Neroon? Come back." The boy frowned but did as he was told. "Give me your coat." Neroon blinked, and removed the long grey garment. "Good. Now give me your shirt. And now your undershirt."
Still not questioning his master, Neroon stood bare-chested in the cold temple, shivering slightly. Branmer folded the clothes over his arm. "Now go outside."
Neroon shot a glance at the stained glass window. "But... it is snowing."
"So it is. Out you get."
"Yes, Master," Neroon sighed.
***
"So I told Avaier that he was completely misreading the text. He actually thought the author of the poem was addressing a literal fountain - he'd completely neglected the first line of the poem. Can you believe that?"
"No, not at all." Delenn trailed along beside Mayan, feeling peculiarly light after the release of evening prayer and contemplation. All week she had felt strange - unsettled, as if something in her mind couldn't quite find a place to rest. Whatever it was had been banished by the peaceful and calming routine of the evening prayers, the long silences and the familiar words. She felt centered again. Whole. Complete. It was enough to walk through the old stone halls, the floors worn smooth by the feet of generations of students before her, snuggle into her heavy winter robes, and loop her arm through Mayan's as her friend chattered on about the day's studies. "So what happened then?"
"Oh, he went into some nonsense about how the author of the poem was using the image of the fountain to talk about his homesickness, which is completely wrong, and... Delenn?"
Delenn, who had fallen behind her friend in their accustomed walk back to the dormitory, stood at one of the windows that looked out onto the temple grounds, her face completely slack. Outside the window, a short distance from the building and apparently completely unaware of any onlookers, was the Star Rider boy. He stood shirtless in the cold, his pale skin almost blue in the dim light of the two moons above, and his body moving constantly through the motions of some sort of solitary combat.
"What's he doing out there?" Mayan asked, suddenly at her side.
"I... don't know. He looks like he's sparring with the snow."
Mayan snorted. "He'll find that a hard battle to win."
"It's so cold out..." Delenn shivered in sympathy, her hands rubbing her arms of their own accord.
"So we should go back to our room. Come on." But Mayan wasn't moving, either. Both girls stayed, as if frozen to the spot, watching the young Warrior outside as he moved through the tightly-controlled elements of battle again and again. It was difficult not to imagine an invisible opponent for his strikes to land against, so closely and carefully were they orchestrated.
"It's like a dance," Delenn said softly after a moment.
"I suppose." Mayan sounded dubious, but she tilted her head. "Do you suppose... do you suppose he does this all the time?"
"I've seen him go through the motions once or twice before," Delenn admitted. "But that was during the day. He got mad at me for watching and told me to leave."
"Why were you watching to begin with?" Mayan asked suspiciously.
"Because Master Branmer told me to be friendly with him, and... and because it annoys him when I watch him fight."
"Contrary."
"Well, yes."
Outside, the snow fell heavier now, but Neroon continued his practice in steady, endless rotation, one movement flowing smoothly into the next. Snow settled on his crest and shoulders, and Delenn's hand touched the cold glass before she even noticed she'd lifted it. "We should--"
"We should go back to our room," Mayan corrected, grabbing her friend's hand firmly in her own. "If we're caught going outside this late--"
"But--"
"Why should you care, Delenn? He's rude and irritable, and just because you're supposed to play nicely with him as a favor to Master Branmer doesn't mean we have to get in trouble because he's being stupid. He's perfectly capable of stopping whatever he's doing, going over to that door, and letting himself back into the temple. He probably doesn't even feel it."
"How could he not?"
"Warriors train for this sort of thing." Mayan shrugged. "They're always doing some stupid thing or other to make themselves tougher and stronger. He probably does this all the time at his training camp. Come on."
"I..." Delenn could not bring herself to admit that she wanted to watch. She wasn't even sure why she did. It had nothing to do with him, she told herself firmly - he was annoying and frustrating and arrogant. But... she had never seen a male of her own age shirtless before, and some part of her she wasn't used to listening to told her that it was an oddly compelling sight. Lean muscles moved smoothly under pale skin, and the shapes of his arms and shoulders seemed to change like flowing water... no, like fire. His movements reminded her of the flickering of a sacred flame, always changing, leaping from one shape to the next.
"Delenn--"
"Go, then, if you want. I'll be there soon, I promise. I only want to--"
"What? Watch more?" Mayan snorted. "If someone catches you... And someone's bound to come along this hall sooner rather than later, Delenn."
"I just want to make sure he's all right."
"Don't be stupid. Of course he is."
Delenn looked toward the door at the other end of the hallway, but even as she attempted to gather her courage, she saw Neroon's movements stop suddenly. He closed off in a posture similar to the Warriors' salute, and there was an expression on his shadowed face of grim pleasure, like finding the answer to a difficult question after long searching. He turned and strode proudly back toward the Star Temple.
"There, you see? It was just part of his training." Mayan tugged on her sleeve. "Now can we go back to our room? If we hurry, we won't be in trouble for being out late."
"Yes... yes, of course." Delenn looped her arm in Mayan's again as they made their way back to their safe little dormitory. She listened to her friend's stories and chatter as they got ready for bed, and snuggled into the thick blankets. But as she lay in the dark after the lamps had been extinguished, a quiet, contrary part of her mind kept returning to the image of the Star Rider boy in the courtyard, going through the ancient motions that were like prayer to his caste, while the snow fell down on his broad shoulders.
***
The unheated Star Temple was still ten times warmer than the freezing, snow-choked night outside, and Neroon's skin prickled and steamed. He knelt beside his master as Branmer prayed silently before the altar. It was many long minutes before the teacher chose to notice him, but Neroon stayed motionless.
Finally, with a long inhalation, Branmer opened his eyes and glanced at his student. "Well?"
"Peace, Master. Peace is the point."
"Explain."
Never good with words, Neroon waited until his thoughts could thaw and form themselves into sentences. "When I first went outside, I was irritated and I was cold. As I worked through the forms, I could hear the sounds of the city, and the snow falling to the ground. But as I continued, all the sounds, all the... irritations... seemed to go away. The movements were all that mattered. Doing them right was all that mattered. I wasn't cold anymore. Nothing seemed to be able to touch me."
"You felt invincible."
Neroon tipped his head to one side. "No," he said after a moment. "I only felt... serene. As though my body and the falling snow were one and the same. Like I was taking that serenity into my own being."
"And how do you feel now?"
"Very warm. Very... whole."
At last, Branmer smiled. "That," he said, "is the point."
***
"I wonder what's wrong with him," Delenn murmured over her essay.
Mayan spared a disdainful glance at the table where the Star Rider boy sat, alone. "What do you mean?"
"He looks annoyed."
"He always looks like that."
"No, Mayan. I mean, he looks upset about something." She watched, a frown creasing her forehead, as Neroon crumpled up yet another piece of paper and threw it away in frustration.
"He's probably having trouble with the assignment," Mayan said, a stylus between her teeth as she looked up a reference. "He's not much of a scholar."
"He can recite rings around you in middle-era history," Delenn was compelled to point out.
"He's a Warrior, Delenn, they're supposed to be able to regurgitate that sort of thing. It doesn't mean he understands it. And he clearly doesn't understand the philosophy of the middle era."
Delenn had to admit her friend had a point there. Of the few classes Neroon was required to attend with them, history was easily his best subject. Philosophy and theology... were farther down the list. She wondered why he didn't ask the instructor for assistance... and then, seeing Master Velier walk past Neroon without a second glance, she understood. She pushed back her chair.
"Where are you going? We have to finish these essays before supper."
"I'll be right back." Taking a deep breath, Delenn crossed the room and stood in front of the Star Rider boy's desk. "Do you need help?"
"No," he snapped. Then he looked up... and sighed. "Yes, Shaimira Delenn... I do." She sat down across from him as he pounded the table softly with his fist. "I do not understand what is being said here." He pointed to the offending passage. "Why should I wish to be proud of my ignorance? Is that not something to be ashamed of?"
Delenn read the text carefully. "The philosopher Kadroni is not saying you should be proud of your ignorance," she explained, "only that you should be eager to confess it."
"It's the same thing!"
"No, it isn't." She felt hot and embarrassed, to be contradicting this boy so bluntly. "You are missing the point."
"Very well, Shaimira. Enlighten me."
"Kadroni's teaching is that the confession of ignorance is the first step to gaining knowledge, to gaining wisdom, because it demonstrates that you have a desire to learn."
Neroon frowned. "That seems... rather painfully obvious. But it doesn't answer my question."
"Ignorance is only something to be ashamed of if you do nothing to change it," said Delenn, warming to her topic. "If you pretend that there is nothing left for you to learn, then you lose the chance to grow, to become more than what you are. But if you acknowledge the fact that you know nothing, then you free yourself to ask questions, to learn, to be grateful for whatever wisdom the universe chooses to put in your path. Do you see?"
"I..." Neroon found himself a little taken aback by the enthusiasm the tiny priestess showed for what he considered a dry and tedious subject. Her grey-green eyes shone with pleasure in the discourse, and he had to admit, they were quite beautiful. "I begin to. Then... Kadroni advocates the pursuit of all knowledge?"
"What Kadroni most advocates is curiosity." Delenn leaned forward to point to a different passage. "You see? Here, he states that the absolute greatest talent that anyone can possess is a passionate, all-encompassing curiosity."
"Like the universe," said Neroon unexpectedly. "Seek always to understand."
"Yes!" Delenn said, delighted.
The Star Rider boy's smile broke across his face like the sun in spring, sudden and warm. "Thank you," he said, "most sincerely. I have been struggling with this notion for hours."
"It must be difficult for a Warrior to accept that sometimes it is right to question things," Delenn mused without thinking. It was only after she spoke that she realized how nasty the words must have sounded. "Zhaden Neroon, forgive me. I did not mean--"
"Neroon," he corrected. His smile had gone, leaving the same stoic, lean face that she was accustomed to, but in his black eyes she saw something she had never bothered to notice before: a powerful loneliness. "And you are right, Shaimira. It is difficult. Thank you for helping me to understand."
Delenn nodded and rose to return to her own studies. Then she paused. "Delenn," she said softly. "You may call me Delenn." And she hurried back to her essay.
***
A few days later, Delenn was sitting in her usual spot, pretending to read while she watched him at his daily denn'bok practice, when suddenly he spoke to her. "I was wondering..."
Surprised, Delenn looked up from her book. "Y-yes? Did you say something?" He had never begun a conversation with her before, except to tell her to go away.
Easily keeping to the fluid motions required of his weapon, Neroon did not look at her. Surely she had been mistaken... "I did. I wanted to thank you for the help you gave me, and I was wondering... if you would care to join Branmer and I for supper tomorrow."
Delenn blinked, and for a moment was too flustered to reply. The Star Rider boy glanced over his shoulder at her small, white-clad form. "Please say you'll come. Master Branmer makes a good meal, and we would enjoy your company."
"In that case," she said, somehow managing to speak above a whisper, "I would be honored." And she made him a small salute.
She thought she saw his thin lips twitch. "Good." He went back to his usual evening occupation, practicing his denn'bok and studiously ignoring his small audience.
Delenn tried to concentrate on her book, but the movements of his arms and legs kept intruding on the words, so at last she rose and bade Neroon a polite good night.
He paused. "Are you leaving already?"
"Well... yes." For a moment, his lean face looked... sad, she decided, although she was obviously mistaken. "I have some reading to do for tomorrow, and... I thought you didn't like me watching you."
"I don't. I didn't," he corrected. His pike collapsed with a swift whispering sound, and as he stowed it away in his coat, she saw a glint of the same loneliness that had peeked through during the study period. "I've grown... accustomed to your presence, Delenn."
The warm glow that spread through Delenn at his words made her feel as though she had just received a grand accolade. "I'm pleased you feel that way," she said, smiling shyly. "I know that Master Branmer was anxious that I be a friend to you and... I haven't done very much to that end."
His black eyes rested on her with sudden and unmistakeable fondness. "Yes, you have," he said, quietly, rather as if the admission might be overheard and held against him later. "Well. I must return to the Star Temple." Neroon bowed low before her. "Good night."
Delenn's journey to her room was thoughtful. She curled up in bed with her book until evening prayers, but did not make much progress in her reading.
The next evening, Mayan looked on with ill-concealed disapproval as Delenn got ready. "You look fine," she insisted, very sourly. "I don't see why you accepted the invitation."
"Because it was kindly meant," Delenn said, changing into a clean outer robe and making sure it lay smooth. "And because it would have been rude to decline."
"If it meant being alone with a Warrior, then you should have been rude. I've never seen him in the dining hall—does he use utensils, I wonder, or eat with his hands?" Delenn rolled her eyes. "He'll probably expect you to eat meat."
"Oh, Mayan, stop it!" Delenn wrapped the sash of her robe and tied and tucked it securely. "You have not been yourself since he came to stay. What is the matter with you?"
Mayan sighed heavily and took Delenn's hands. "Since he came, it seems as though I never see you anymore. We used to spend hours together and now you're always with him."
As accustomed as she was to her friend's melodramatic proclamations, Delenn felt a tinge of annoyance at this one. "I am not 'always' with Neroon," she said, a little peevishly. "An hour or two in the evening... what?"
A feline smile was spreading across Mayan's face. "Since when did he stop being 'the Star Rider boy' and start being 'Neroon'?"
Delenn scowled at her roommate and refused to blush.
"No wonder you spend so much time with him," Mayan teased. "I do believe you're growing fond of 'Neroon'..."
"And I believe that you should spend less time with your old poems and take more fresh air," Delenn snapped. She dropped Mayan's hands. "He is a friend, Mayan, as you are. And yes," she added as she left, trying not to notice her friend's discomforted expression, "he does use utensils when he eats."
Her irritation propelled her quickly through the corridors, but she hesitated as she approached the Star Temple. She smoothed her clean robe nervously. She had never eaten alone with one of the teachers before, let alone with... The honor of doing so could not be overstated, and she ran over the acts of a ritual meal in her mind. And she was deeply honored that Neroon had asked her, and that Branmer was extending the courtesy...
With a deep breath, Delenn pushed open the stone doors of the temple.
Neroon was waiting on the platform for her, singing softly to himself. His rich voice reached her ears easily.
When the creation was new and all the stars shone in their first
splendor, the gods held their assembly in the sky and sang
`Oh, the picture of perfection! the joy unalloyed!'
But one cried of a sudden
---`It seems that somewhere there is a break in the chain of light
and one of the stars has been lost.'
The golden string of their harp snapped,
their song stopped, and they cried in dismay
---`Yes, that lost star was the best,
she was the glory of all heavens!'
From that day the search is unceasing for her,
and the cry goes on from one to the other
that in her the world has lost its one joy!
Only in the deepest silence of night the stars smile
and whisper among themselves
---`Vain is this seeking! unbroken perfection is over all!' 1
The last note trembled on the air as his eyes fell on her. "Good evening," he coughed, squirming a little.
Delenn closed the door behind her. "Is that another one of the songs of the Star Riders? It is very... unmartial."
"We do have other interests besides making war," said Neroon. But he grinned a little as he said it, and Delenn knew he was unoffended. "Shall we go into the Annex? Branmer will be very annoyed with me if I let the food dry out."
He started to walk away, expecting her to follow. Then he stopped, and turned to her, and slowly offered her his hand.
A little hesitantly, Delenn laid her hand in his. The black leather was shiny and warm, and the fingers that closed around her were strong and surprisingly gentle. She felt shy looking up at him, but Neroon's expression was equally bashful. "I am... pleased that you're here," he murmured. "Branmer and I are like family, and good company for one another, but... I'm not used to spending so much of my time by myself." His thin lips curved up into a smile. "Thank you, Delenn. I know I have not been an easy companion for you."
Again came the warm, pleased sensation in her chest. "It has been... enlightening," she said truthfully.
Inside the Annex, the smells of cookery assaulted their noses, and Delenn realized with no little trepidation that Mayan had been right about one thing, at least: meat was on the menu.
Master Branmer's broad shoulders were bent over a small charcoal brazier. He spooned chunks of broiled animal flesh into a bowl. "Welcome, Delenn," he smiled genially. "I'm glad you accepted Neroon's invitation; I think he's getting tired of my conversation."
"Tired?" Neroon snorted, fetching the last of the plates and cutlery. "Some of your stories have kept me awake and trembling all night."
"That," retorted Branmer, setting the bowl on the table and gesturing for Delenn to sit, "was when you were five."
There was tea and bread, of course, and grilled vegetables, and a stew of pulses and grains that Delenn was especially fond of, but her eyes were drawn inexorably to the bowl of meat. She knew the other castes ate the flesh of animals, but she had never witnessed it, let alone been at the same table... She pressed her lips together and tried not to let the nausea the charred smell induced ruin her appetite too much.
Branmer doled out the food with a generous hand, and Delenn braced herself. "Don't look so frightened," Neroon teased her, his black eyes twinkling. "It can't hurt you, it's already dead."
"Oh, do shut up, boy," Branmer scolded. "The meat is for your prehistoric stomach."
"And for yours?"
The priest pointed his spoon at Neroon's head. "Fall silent at once."
Neroon grinned but did as he was told. True to his word, Branmer did not offer Delenn any of the animal flesh, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "We would never ask that of you," he assured her soothingly.
"Of course not," Neroon added. "That would be cruel."
"Hmph. Cruel to deprive you of a second helping, you mean."
The food now served, Delenn solemnly offered Branmer her plate. Neroon stared at her. Branmer shook his head and smiled. "This is not a formal meal, child. Just a family supper."
"Oh! I... oh." Flustered, Delenn set her plate back down and did not look at anyone.
Neroon laughed at her. It was a rich, rumbling sound, quiet and soft, and it made Delenn feel... warm. It was a fond sound, full of amusement, yes, but somehow... it didn't bother her the way her classmates' laughter did. She shot a glance at him and giggled.
The pulse stew was delicious, tender and well-seasoned. "I did not know you knew how to cook, Master," Delenn ventured.
"My father taught me when I was a boy--it is one of the hidden talents of the Warrior caste, to be able to turn the simpliest of ingredients and an open fire into a meal." Branmer tore a piece of bread in two and dipped it into his tea. "Although there was never any doubt that I would be a priest, my father was insistant that I learn some of the ways of his caste."
"And your mother agreed?"
"Compromise is an important thing in all marriages, especially in mixed-caste marriages such as my parents enjoyed."
"And what harm could there be in cooking?" Neroon pointed out.
"Not in cooking, but surely in other things..." Delenn trailed off; Branmer was chuckling. "Master?"
Neroon narrowed his black eyes. "I know that laugh. Mal'ier, tell us!"
Still smiling, Branmer took a long drink of tea before he commenced. "As important as it is for a Warrior to know he can take care of himself, it is equally wise that he know how to rely upon his comrades. To that end, my father arranged for me to undergo the dur'vadkhon, the test of winter. My cousin Nerahel--Neroon's father--went with me. We were sent to the ice fields in the middle of the long cold, given a day's worth of supplies and some weapons, and told to survive. We had five days to make our way back to the base camp where our fathers waited for us."
Delenn's eyes were wide. "How old were you?"
"Oh, a little younger than you. Neroon has already been through this test."
"It wasn't much of a test," said the Star Rider boy, tearing at his meat. "I enjoyed myself."
"Yes, I heard," Branmer said dryly. "You and your classmates tore over the fields, got to base camp two days early, and proceeded to take your commanding officer and teachers hostage."
"Is... is that allowed?" Delenn asked.
Neroon's mouth was full of food, but he made a non-committal gesture.
"Only because they were successful," his guardian replied, in the blandest voice possible. "The dur'vadkhan has changed quite a lot since I was a boy. For one thing, Neroon had his entire training class to rely on. All I had was Nerahel--and he wasn't happy about it."
"Why?" Neroon chewed and swallowed. "I thought you and he were friends."
"As close as brothers. But he was a Warrior, and I..." Branmer shrugged and grinned. "Was an acolyte priest with more gangle than muscle." Delenn and Neroon both stared at him in obvious disbelief. "It is true! If you had put me on a riding beast at that age, there would have been six feet on the ground. And if he was going into the middle of an endless frigid night with barely anything to eat and nothing but the moons and stars for light, obviously Nerahel wanted someone who knew what he was doing... which was not me."
Delenn forgot her food in her fascination. "What happened?"
"What you might expect. We got hopelessly lost within a few hours and ended up huddled under a snowbank for four days, eating raw moss and lichens after our supplies ran out. I was convinced we were going to die out there and I just gave up. Your father was incensed, Neroon." Branmer's smile suddenly changed, his memories becoming infinitely sadder and yet somehow infinitely more sweet. "But after that first day, Nerahel never complained. He was too easy of a soul for that. His temper would flare for a little while, but when it died down, he always took everything as it came, and when it came, it was always a gift. He knew we were never in any real danger, tried to console me, get me on my feet and get moving. But I wouldn't go, and he wouldn't leave me."
"What did he do then?" Neroon asked, and without knowing why, Delenn felt her heart break a little at the wistfulness in his voice.
Branmer reached out and took one of the chunks of meat. "He realized that the bank we were hiding under was the lair of an enan'dun, and that eventually the beast would come back. So he took out his knife and he sat behind the top of the bank, and he waited, throwing snowballs down at my head every so often to make certain I didn't freeze in my sleep. In retrospect," the priest mused, pausing with the meat halfway to his mouth, "he was probably using me as bait."
The two students giggled.
"But it worked. On the fourth day, the enan'dun returned, all shaggy pelt and bleached bone frill about its head. It saw me in its lair and charged... and Nerahel dropped onto its back, slashing at it while the creature bellowed. I huddled on the ground and cried like a baby, of course. Then the beast reared up on its hind legs--and fell. On top of my brave cousin."
"Was he all right?" Delenn asked. Neroon was quite speechless.
"He was utterly out of breath and laughing like a maniac. 'That,' he said as I tugged him out from under the carcass, 'was fun.' He built a fire--though out of what, I have no idea; Nerahel was always quick with a flame--and for the first time in days we ate like kings. Ate of this exact animal, in fact." Branmer bit down on the chunk of meat and closed his eyes, savoring the flavor as he slowly chewed. "We stayed in that spot for another three days, eating and singing and acting like complete fools, before anyone came looking for us. Our fathers were more amused than disappointed, thankfully, because I don't know what else they had expected to happen."
Neroon folded his arms across his chest. "So you did have fun."
"I suppose so," said Branmer graciously. "Although Nerahel did have to take the test again, with a more suitable partner. He passed that time... but that partner managed to give him more trouble than I ever did--nine years later, he married her."
The meal finished, Delenn and Neroon helped clear away the dishes, and then they all settled down with fresh tea. "Oh, I nearly forgot. Neroon..." Branmer handed his clan-brother a small cloth bag.
Neroon looked cautiously inside, and then poured a quantity of small, clear, reddish-purple globules into his hand. "Master, you didn't need to go to this expense..."
"Don't tell me you've lost your taste for buvah'ja."
"Not at all." Neroon popped several of the chewy, spicy candies into his mouth and then, remembering his manners, offered the bag around.
Branmer grinned. "He's had a passion for those things since he could eat solid food," he said to Delenn. "It's almost sinful."
As she took a few of the little red candies, she couldn't help smiling at the Star Rider boy's childlike enthusiasm. "There is a shop near my father's house in Yedor," she said in her quiet way, "and after evening temple, when I was a child, we would stop there for buvah'ja candy. He does not often purchase such indulgences... but for these, for me, he always made an exception." She touched Neroon's wrist lightly. "Thank you for sharing them with me."
His black gaze softened and then fell to the floor; his cheeks were already warm from the spice candy.
They finished their tea and then it was time for Delenn to go to evening prayers. She felt a pang of reluctance as she rose to depart. "Thank you, Master Branmer," she said, formally but very sincerely. "And thank you, Neroon. It... it has been a long time since I've enjoyed a meal so much."
"You must come again," said the astronomy master, bowing. "It's not often that I have a young person to appreciate my cooking."
Neroon scowled. "And what, precisely, am I?"
Branmer cuffed his shoulder fondly. "A stomach on legs, of course."
Delenn was still smiling when she reached the prayer space, and even Mayan's lofty disapproval could not take away her lingering enjoyment, or the familiar taste of the spice candy, or the strange new fluttering in her chest when she thought of Neroon's black eyes.
(to be continued... Click here for Part 3)
1 - "Lost Star" by Rabindranath Tagore
