Korhien weighed them in his hands critically and said, ‘These will do, to begin with, anyway.’
He handed one to Tyrion and then saluted; unconsciously Tyrion mimicked the moment. It was Korhien’s turn to laugh.
‘Did I do something wrong?’ he asked, face flushing.
‘No, doorkeeper, you did not.’
‘Then why did you laugh?’
‘Because like everything you do connected with fighting you do it so well.’
He took up a guard stance, and Tyrion mimicked it too.
‘Try and hit me,’ Korhien said.
Without any further prompting, Tyrion sprang forward. Korhien parried his blow, but did not riposte. Tyrion kept attacking, lunging and swinging. At first he was not trying too hard, not wanting to take a chance of accidentally hurting Korhien as he had done with Teclis and local hunters when he had tried using the wooden swords on his own. Soon he realised that Korhien was having no difficulty parrying him and he speeded up his attack, striking with greater force and precision.
‘Surely you can do better than this, doorkeeper,’ Korhien taunted.
‘Indeed,’ Tyrion murmured but did not allow himself to be provoked. He kept on attacking, looking for weak spots in Korhien’s defence, areas where his guard came up too slowly, where his responses were a beat behind. To his surprise, he did not find any. He kept on attacking, and Korhien kept on parrying, and then suddenly the sword was knocked from his hands. When he replayed the action in his mind, he saw the trick that Korhien had used, and was surprised that he had not thought of it himself.
‘That was embarrassing,’ said Tyrion.
‘In what way?’ Korhien said.
‘In that you disarmed me so easily after I could not lay a blow on you.’
‘Trust me, doorkeeper, you did not do so badly. There are elves with a century of practice who have done worse than your first efforts here.’
‘My father, for one,’ said Tyrion sourly.
‘No. Elves who would kill your father in the first passage of blades.’
Tyrion found this talk of anyone killing his father disturbing. It made him uncomfortable, and it must have showed on his face.
‘It’s something you need to know, doorkeeper. Anyone you fight will be someone’s father or mother, someone’s son or daughter or brother. That’s what makes it difficult. That’s why some elves, like your father, to his credit, never really learn.’
‘Why do you say to his credit?’ Tyrion asked.
‘Because the loss of any elf life is something to be mourned.’
‘Even dark elves?’
Korhien nodded even if he could not bring himself to say the words. ‘There are not so many elves left in the world, doorkeeper. The loss of any one of us is a grievous loss to our people.’
‘It’s a pity Malekith’s subjects do not feel the same way.’
‘Who is to say they do not?’ said Korhien. ‘We are all still kin after all, even after all these centuries of Sundering.’
‘Perhaps someone should tell them that,’ said Tyrion.
‘Perhaps you are right,’ said Korhien. ‘Or perhaps they already know.’
‘It has not stopped them from raiding us.’
‘Nor us them, doorkeeper. It’s worth remembering that it takes two sides to make a war.’
‘You do not sound much like I expected a warrior to sound,’ said Tyrion.
Korhien laughed. ‘I am sorry to disappoint.’
‘That is not what I meant.’
‘What did you mean?’
‘You talk less of glory and more of reasons.’
‘I have heard too many people talk about glory, doorkeeper, and usually they meant their own. Normally when you hear an elf talking about glory and the spilling of blood, they mean their glory and your blood.’
‘You are doing it again.’
‘I am telling you this, doorkeeper, because I suspect you will turn out like me,’ Korhien’s voice was softer now and sadder. ‘I suspect you will end up spilling a lot of your blood and other people’s for causes not your own, in places you would rather not be.’
‘Why?’ interrupted Tyrion, now genuinely curious and quite excited. He did not think turning out like Korhien would be such a terrible thing.
‘Because you are already very good with weapons and you will become very much better unless I am greatly mistaken. And our rulers have need of warriors, our world being the sort of place it is.’
Again, Tyrion suspected he was missing something. He did not find the idea that there was a place where an elf like him might be needed as saddening as Korhien appeared to. He found it hopeful. It meant that there might yet prove to be something he could do with his life, and