🚀 go-pugleaf

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[quick update:  Arliana suggested she and Armas move to a table...]

   Armas nodded slightly and followed Arliana to the nearest table.  Simulta-
neously they sat down across from each other, briefly making eye contact. After
a few moments of awkward silence, a barmaid approached the table and said,
"What can I get you?"
   Armas motioned to Arliana--he was still apparently enamored by her stunning
appearance--and she quietly requested, "Whatever meat you have, and a fresh 
tankard of ale."
   The barmaid then looked at Armas, who ordered, "Whatever WHITE meat you 
have, rice if you have it, and a large cup of water."  Clearly the barmaid was
surprised at this strange request from this strange-looking man, for her eyes 
widened and she gave Armas an inquisitive look.  Armas, noting her uneasiness,
growled, "Feed yourself with what you like...let others do the same."
   The girl's face turned white and twisted into a look of shock.  WHen she re-
composed herself, she nodded and whispered, "Yes, my lord," and rushed off to
the kitchen.
   Armas resumed his gaze on Arliana; she cast her eyes down for a moment, then
looked up with confidence and met his eyes.  "Have you been here before?"
   "No."
   (pause)  "Nor have I.  My wish is to see all lands and experience all I can,
so I travel quite a bit."  Armas simply nodded.  He continuously scanned Arliana, he had never seen such a beautiful, well-defined woman.
   Though his intense stare made Arliana a bit uncomfortable, she then asked, 
"Then what, may I ask, brings you to this inn, have you business here?"
   After brief contemplation, Armas replied, "It was time for me to leave my 
home.  My business is where I go."  Through his gruff visage he cracked a tiny
smile and continued, "Right now, I am right where I want to be."
   Arliana's cheeks flushed slightly, but she maintained her stoic expression.
She would have liked a more specific answer (she had always been a very curious
sort), but decided that this man was not one to press.  After all, had he
wanted to divulge anything more, he would have.  It really wasn't her business.
   "Do you gamble?" she then asked, trying to sustain a conversation.
   "No, I do not believe in luck."
   "Well, neither do I, as a matter of fact."  By this time Arliana was very
ill at ease because of Armas's short answers.  He was not hostile or cold, he
was simply a man of few words.  And he kept STARING at her.  
   Arliana looked around the inn, inwardly wondering why many of the patrons
were shuffling off to the back of the inn.  And then there was the strange man
with a blue-green tint about him, even in his long, full beard.  Eventually
Arliana's eyes again fell upon Armas's.  She decided to see what she could dis-
cover about him there.  On the surface, she saw white eyes with tiny pupils,
black as night.  After a closer look she noticed that indeed there were irises,
though they were nearly colorless.  'Behind' his eyes she saw a true sense of
honor.  And then, as if she had made a forbidden discovery, she saw a cloud of
what resembled mist begin to swirl around and around and around...
   Arliana snapped back into awareness when the barmaid abruptly placed all the
food on the table.  She waited for a sign of approval, then left as quickly as 
she came.  Silently they began to eat, and nothing was said throughout dinner.

Finally, when they finished, Arliana thought she might try again to open a con-
versation.  Though she realised she was at risk of being told to mind her busi-
ness, she took a deep breath and said, "I am curious as to where you come from,
and what manner of traditions accompany the markings and ornamentation on your
face."  Her eyes scanned the strange tattoos on his eyelids and lips, but most
of all she focused on the rings piercing his cheeks and coming out of his mouth
   Armas seemed unoffended and unaffected by this question, and to Arliana's
pleasant surprise, answered thus:
   "These rings, they have two uses.  Ahem.  For example, in a ritual duel, the
duellists are bound together from these rings with a chain of about an arm's 
length."  Arliana waited to hear the other use, but Armas continued, "The tat-
toos are symbols of coming-of-age rituals.  A warrior is tattooed more and more
during his life, always on the sensitive parts of his body."  Armas then showed
Arliana a small tattoo on his left palm.  "This one I earned when I first 
managed to wound my teacher in a swrod-against-hands combat."
   Throughout his explanation, Arliana's eyes widened in fascination.  She was
most intrigued by this foreign man, and she realised she had much respect for 
him.  Now that she was feeling a bit more relaxed, she said, "When I was very
young, my father began to teach me to use a sword.  He taught me to defend and
protect myself.  You see, my mother died shortly after my birth." At this point
she fought back a tear, but kept her composure and continued.  
"So, my father was left the task of raising me alone."  Armas said nothing, 
but it was clear he listened intently--his eyes, as ever, wre fixed on her.  
Arliana continued, "Many thing more than sword skill did my father teach me.  
Among them wre objectivity, honor and respect for all life.  I have killed 
before, and would do so again. But only if my life--or someone's dear to me--
was in danger."  Referring to previous recent happenings at the inn, Arliana 
added, "I do not kill on a whim or to prove a point.  That is not what my 
father taught me."
   At this point Armas interrupted.  "I consider the previous killings dishonor
able.  When I killed Kaarle, the man who was hunting me, I used my hands.  It
would not have been an honorable killing had I used my sword.  Only when the
fighters are equal is the killing honorable.  When I fought my teacher, I had
a sword.  He didn't.  For years we were not equal...I was weaker.   So he could
not kill me.  But when the day I earned this tattoo came," he again pointed to
his palm, "I could have died.  I did not.  You see, my clan believes that if 
you teach a man to fight with his hands, then giving him a sword makes him a
giant."
   Arliana agreed, and was glad that Armas finally seemed less distant.  It was
then she asked to see his sword.
   It was a crudely forged sword, though made of a very fine metal.  Arliana's
eyes grew wide; she could see its solidity and decided that she would not want
to meet the blade in a battle.  (A friendly match, perhaps--Arliana was always
looking for a good spar--but definitely not in a true battle.)  The grip of the
sword was about 35 cm long, the blade itself 10 cm wide and about 70 cm long.
THough it was one-edged, the blunt edge was fashioned into 2 cm long sawlike
teeth.  Not a very 'pretty' sword, but clearly it was of the highest quality.
  Arliana then--with her left hand--drew her own blade.  While Armas looked
upon it, she warned, "Do not touch it, else the results may be fatal.  It is a
magicked blade."  Nodding, Armas scanned it, seeing the elaborate runes on the
hilt, noting the strange silvery-violet hue of the metal.  Though he said 
nothing (a quality which Arliana was used to by now) he seemed to approve.
   Arliana smiled at his approval, for few men take her seriously as a warrior.
She thought to herself, "I think we are going to get along just fine..."
   As Arliana resheathed her sword, Armas looked at her thoughtfully for a 
moment. "It would be interesting to cross blades some time or another. Never
have I seen a woman carrying a sword... and such a sword."
   Arliana's smile widened, as she responded. "It would be indeed. You just 
name the time and the place and I'll be there."
   "Yes...", she thought, "we are really going to get along fine..."
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  This story is a collaboration of Donna L. Koczaja (main author) and
  Jouni Karhu (some dialogue). The story continues.... :)
-- 
'Listen! I have something to say! |   JJ Karhu     k113651@cc.tut.fi
 It's better to burn out,         |       'The Immoral Immortal' \o
               than to fade away! |     -=========================|xxxxxxo
                                                                 /o