Confident but not cocky. She liked that in a man. Elyssa smiled as Tristan walked away. She’d smiled a lot since meeting him. Maybe that -

No. She cut that thought off immediately. He was just a Warder hopeful and probably she wouldn’t see him again after today. But as long as she was here . . . There was that bench she always sat on and it was deserted at the moment. Elyssa made her to the bench and took a seat.

She didn’t recognize the man Tristan walked up to. He was unique enough that she thought she’d remember him if they had met. Not that it mattered. She certainly didn’t know everyone who lived in the Tower. It made her curious though.

A slight frown appeared on her face as she thought about Tristan’s story. It made sense and she believed him but it felt . . . off. Like he was leaving something out or skipping part of the story. And he seemed so nervous, more nervous than most people were. Something was definitely different about him.

She had been so busy concentrating that she missed most of the fight but from what she saw, Tristan showed promise. He had learned well during his time in Cairhien. It caught her off-guard when he looked over. They had only just met so he had no reason to gain her approval. She smiled and nodded slightly. For a brief moment, she was tempted to walk over but she decided against that. Her own Warders had rarely appreciated her intervention and Tristan most likely would not either. She would wait, see what happened with whoever that was observing the sparring, and go from there.

After taking a quick look around, Elyssa breathed a sigh of relief. There wasn't anyone she was particularly friendly with, so she wouldn't have to answer any questions or make conversation. Her eyes wandered back to Tristan and the other man, wondering what they where talking about.

OOC: Knock yourself out...anyone's free to RP those NPCs. Do let me know if I'm taking too many liberties with Tristan...

IC: There was more than a little reluctance in the way Tristan handed Murad his weapon and, gauging its weight and general balance, he could understand that. The thing felt perfectly balanced and the Borderman itched to draw it to get a look at the blade but he merely held it the same way he had the practice sword. As the young lads shook hands before squaring off in their respective stances--Tristan assumed Swallow Glides to the Branch then Shomari took on The Leaf Floating on the Breeze--he noted the long bumps he could feel through the leather. Those could be one of two things. Some blacksmiths liked to leave marks on their work and although these were usually hidden beneath the bindings on the hilt, some preferred to draw attention to their work in more obvious ways. Whoever the blacksmith was, the craftsmanship was certainly good enough that he did not need such marks. Herons were the only other possibility but the boy was nowhere near old enough nor good enough to have earned them. Although it would explain the bindings and his concern for them.

He watched the duel with interest. Shomari had suddenly attacked in what might have seemed an all-out offensive, pushing Tristan back slowly but an experienced eye could see that he was testing his opponent. At first, the green-eyed lad could barely turn the Taraboner's cuts but soon enough his movements became smoother. Stop pushing him, you goat-kissing fool! He had told the boy time and time again that an offensive test of an adversary's abilities only worked for a short period of time--the longer you continued, the more likely it was that you would fall into a pattern that the opponent could read and predict. Tristan might just be skilled enough to take advantage of such a pattern. Although he kept his face devoid of any expression, the big Shienaran ground his teeth when Shomari used Low Wind Rising. The bloody fool was not familiar enough with that technique for it to be any use in an actual fight. And that was after he had used Lightning of Three Prongs again.

It came as no surprise that Tristan won but Murad kept his features blank. He approved of the duel and thought Shomari had got off lightly with only slightly bruised ribs. His eye glanced over at the pretty young Aes Sedai--if the women watching the Warders did not wear novice white or the stripes of the Accepted, they had to be full sisters and that one was too new to the shawl to have the agelessness she would eventually acquire--Tristan had thrown a grin to but it registered no more on his face than the duel and he gave nothing away. Pretty lady He doubted she would wait for him to gain the skill required for the bond. He was sparing with his compliments, both with the Warders' students as with the trainees at the Black Tower and even with his equals.

"Shomari, you will practice Low Wind Rising five hundred times." The Taraboner started immediately; Dailey already seemed to be practicing the forms on his own. He turned back to Tristan, his single blue eye meeting the lad's green pair. "Who taught you the sword, lad?" He would find out how the boy had come across such a fine blade later, whether heron-marked or simply of a quality that made it second only to Power-wrought weapons. First, he wanted to find out where the boy came from and, preferably, why he was asking to join the Gaidin when it was far more important he seek out the Black Tower--male wilders survived no longer than their female counterparts if they did not find someone to teach them in the Power. When one soldier meets another, they recognise something of themselves in each other and it was the same with this lad. He could channel as surely as he had green eyes. "Which army did you serve with? Ghealdanin? Altaran? Amadician? The Children?" Murad handed him back his blade, his eye still on Tristan's.

Tristan breathed only a little heavily as the one-eyed man told Shomari off to practice Low Wind Rising as he did. Tristan half expected to be told to practice The Swallow Takes Flight the same way; he should not have lost his balance so. Instead, the man turned to him, of course trying to find out why he wanted to be a student here. "Who taught you the sword, lad? Which army did you serve with?..."

Tristan tried not to jump when the man mentioned the Children, afraid of what than name might mean here, but he knew he had given himself away as soon as the words were said. Taking a breath, he answered. "My brothers taught me the sword, mostly. Most of my fighting was done in Cairhien. I did hired work for a foolish lord, but clearing out brigands is a good thing to do and the wages were worth it. I left partly because he and I had a sort of disagreement, and afterwards I was not welcome in his company. I know enough of this," he tapped the sword, "that I think I may gain some skill yet, and I want to do something worth doing." There it was. He did not want to lie to this man, so he did not. He had a feeling the man would pick up on a lie like bees picked up honey, so he didn't try. Instead, he gave nothing false, but nothing too suggestive of the truth either. He could only hope that the man hadn't caught his jump at the mention of the Children, or if he did, that he understood Tristan enough not to reveal him.

Suddenly, Tristan realized that he wasn't glancing at his sword in the man's hands. He was glancing at Elyssa, or at least toward her when he didn't turn his head enough to actually see her. Fool! he chastised himself. You don't want him to look at the sword! If you keep distracting yourself with a pair of pretty eyes... He felt his face grow red, and tried to cover it by dropping to one knee to fish a pebble out of his boot. There really was a pebble there, but it wasn't bothering him. He just had to think straight. He noticed he was turning his head again, and quickly snapped it back to look at the one eye of the man in front of him. He wanted to ask 'Do I get to train here, then?' if only so that he could go over and tell Elyssa the good news. Instead, he kept silent, just staring at the man waiting for another question.

She could not stop blushing.

Honestly, acting like a sixteen year old again. Elyssa shook her head and looked away. She couldn’t quite keep the grin from her face though. It was really quite irritating. She usually had much better composure than this; her emotions were all over the place today. It did not help that Tristan was obviously looking back at her. Even when he should be listening to the man he was with.

It was a good feeling. She did enjoy the company of men and Tristan was rather handsome.

Stop it! Elyssa took a deep breath and closed her eyes. This is getting out of hand. Absently, she began braiding a strand of her hair. She would act appropriately, which in this case meant not behaving like a lovestruck teenager.

There. She took another breath and smoothed her face into her normal calm expression.

Murad's eye never left the lad and he caught that little start at the mention of the Children of the Light. So. A former Whitecloak. He had had many...encounters with the Children over the years, none of them pleasant but rather than earning them his hatred, he had only contempt for them. Having read Lothair Mantelar's book and studied their history, he knew their current incarnation was as different from Mantelar's original idea as saidin was from saidar. No doubt the philosopher would be horrified to see what the Children had become. That he had military experience explained how he could fight; sword lessons for civilians were expensive whereas in a military corps, they were necessary and all but obligatory.

The lad took a deep breath before giving his vague explanation. If his brothers had been Children, the Baijan'm'hael would wager the father was also one. Interesting. He dismissed the idea that Tristan was a spy or assassin almost as soon as the idea formed in his mind. Unless something had drastically changed in the higher echelons when he was not looking, that was not the way Whitecloaks operated. In their minds, that tactic was fit only for agents of the Dark. Fools

Suddenly, the boy's pale face turned a bright shade of red and he dropped to one knee, pretending to dislodge a pebble from his boot. Murad's head turned to look in the direction Tristan had been glancing in--the southlander had not stopped looking--and he spotted the pretty young Aes Sedai he had been grinning at. She also blushed furiously before composing herself but she was still absent-mindedly braiding a few strands of hair. Peace! She can't have been a full sister more than a couple of months! No experienced Aes Sedai would let her mask of dignified serenity slip like that.

He turned back to Tristan. "Who was your commanding officer?" He regarded the shorter lad coldly, keeping his scarred face blank as he made a mental note of the name and rank given, before nodding briskly. "I will teach you the sword." ...and hopefully more. He added silently. "My name is Murad. Meet me here at First Rise tomorrow morning, that should give you time to sort out where you will stay." His eye flickered to the young Aes Sedai. "But a word of advice. Wait before allowing yourself to be tied to a sister. Being a Warder is more than just protecting a pretty pair of eyes, silky skin and a slender figure." Not that Murad had any experience of being a Gaidin. But he had not said that.

He turned to watch Tristan run off back to the Aes Sedai, crossing his arms again. His mind noted everything from the boy's appearance and the makeshift bindings on his sword to that of the sister before they left and he turned back to Dailey and proceeded to tear him apart.

Tristan contained his smile for the one-eyed man. Barely. In reality he wanted to laugh. This was no commission earned because of his father's rank or his brother's prestige. He felt the exhilaration of a child rushing into something he knew he didn't quite understand, but didn't care either. He gave a short bow to the man, murmuring a small "thank you, Master Murad," before all but running back to Elyssa.

Halfway back to the seats where Elyssa Sedai waited, Tristan remembered exactly what Murad had said about her, "a pretty pair of eyes, silky skin and a slender figure." Tristan colored and slowed himself down to a walk, hoping the red would leave his cheeks before she saw him. He realized halfway that he hadn't asked Murad where he should stay while training, and absently wondered if trainees were supposed to provide their own lodging. Surely they aren't as hard as that, he thought, making us work for our keep to pay for off-grounds lodging and keep up with training. He resolved to ask Elyssa.

Tristan felt strangely awkward approaching the benches. He was near enough that he could see the Aes Sedai and he knew that she could see him, but he was too far away to say anything, and he had to be content with looking to her and walking. He realized that she did have silky-looking skin and a nice, slender figure. He found himself looking at a pretty pair of ankles that he could see while she was sitting, and silently cursed Murad as he colored again. The walk back to the benches seemed infinitely longer than the walk from them to the training yard.

When he finally made it to the bench where Elyssa sat, he stood there and opened his mouth to speak, then promptly shut it when no sound came out. He wished he were back on a battlefield, maybe even in the middle of a storm, but he could not find anything to stay. Finally, after what seemed like hours (though he was certain only seconds had passed), he dropped his eyes to the ground in front of them and felt his cheeks going hot again with her ankles plainly in front of him. He shut his eyes, wondering what had gone wrong with him.

Tristan practically ran back, slowing about halfway to her bench. His face was red and he looked uncomfortable. Again. Maybe that was just his usual expression though . . .

Elyssa quickly undid the braid and smoothed a fold of her dress. She was still acting like a teenager, though hopefully not as noticeably. Her face didn’t feel warm at least, so she probably wasn’t still blushing.

Tristan stopped in front of her and opened his mouth, only to shut it seconds later. She waited a moment, then decided she should speak up.

“I assume things went well.” she began.

What is he staring at? Elyssa peeked down discreetly. He isn’t . . . A quick look up assured that he was - or rather, had been staring at her ankles. His eyes were closed now. With a slight shift of her weight, her dress covered in the exposed skin. Some things simply were not proper, no matter how pretty his eyes were.

“Please sit.” Elyssa slid over to make room on the bench. “You’re tall enough as it is.”

She glanced around, again feeling relieved that no one she knew very well was around. It would be awkward, having to answer questions in front of Tristan. Absently, Elyssa began twisting Andru’s ring. It really was too big even for her thumb and she was afraid that she’d lose it someday and then she’d have nothing to remember him by.

Stop that. Elyssa took a breath. This was not the time to be worrying about that. It would just make her cry again and that was the last thing she needed.