Gladiolia Leafshimmer, granddaughter of the respected city elder Aelfiera Leafshimmer, entered the Paladin Guild hall to apply for her own apprenticeship. She asked the guard at the door where she might find the general.
"His lordship is currently tending the documents of his office," she was told. The guard gestured to the east. "The second door to your left will be his."
She thanked him, curtseying, and then walked gracefully toward the specified door. Finding the door partly open, she knocked gently upon its carved frame. "Enter," said an authoritative voice from within. She obeyed.
Though currently seated, it was clear that he must be a tall elf. Silver streaks ran through his rich chestnut hair, bound at his nape in one of the more traditional fashions. His chest and shoulders, broad as some humans', were covered by etched and gilded plate. His eyes, as vividly green as the leaves in early summer, raised their intensely penetrating gaze to look at her. "Yes?"
Though belonging to one of the lesser houses among the Elvish nobility, Gladiolia had the confidence of her class. "I have come to offer myself in the service of our Lord and our Nation," she said politely though firmly.
"Indeed?" he said. "Very few are the noble women who are called to wield swords."
"So I have been told," she replied, "yet I think I may be one of those few."
"How did it come to you?" he asked.
Gladiolia had not anticipated that question, though she knew he was within his rights to inquire. "It is difficult to explain," she said. "Perhaps it is best described as an intense awareness of the need for knights, and a burning desire to contribute to that need -- even unto my very life."
His dark brows drew together in concentration. "Your dedication is admirable," he said, "and your desire is worthy." He paused, looking down toward his desk as he sat back in his chair, folded his arms, and raised one hand to rest his chin against his calloused fist. "Sometimes the calling does come as an intense desire," he said at last, almost as if thinking aloud. "Other times, the desire is not a calling. In most cases, only the passing of time can define which is which."
He raised his gaze to her again. "Your family has no objections?" he inquired sharply.
"They know I am here," she said precisely, "and they did not forbid my coming." They had not exactly been thrilled about her choice, though, Gladiolia knew. Yet they had sufficient faith that, like it or not, if she had a true calling they had no moral grounds upon which they could prevent or forbid her from becoming a Paladin.
One side of his mouth quirked upward. "I see," he said, almost as if he had read her unspoken thoughts. He pressed his lips together into a firm line, took a deep breath, released it, and then said, "You understand that we are not a place for the young to run to, in order to escape their families. Flight solves nothing; one must face the battles that life brings."
"I am not at war with my family," she said. "Yet your words make me wonder: would flight never be acceptable? Even if one knew she could not win? Would there never be a time when one should retreat, to gather her strength or summon allies, and then return to a more equal contest?"
The last trace of his half-grin evaporated. "Retreat is not flight," he said firmly.
She nodded, waiting silently.
"You also understand that you are entering service to the Temple?" he asked. "You understand that Paladins shall be required to live in spiritual and physical purity, and not waste time or energy indulging the lusts of the flesh?"
"Yes, milord," she answered firmly and without hesitation. Her family was just prominent enough that those of lesser bloodlines often sought her acquaintance. Far, far too many had sought to promote themselves by using her. Gladiolia had learned, while still quite young, to recognize a true friend from a false one. She was unlikely to be fooled by that type of betrayer again.
The fortune-seekers had been bad enough; but there were even worse forms of selfishness. After puberty reshaped her figure into striking proportions, Gladiolia could seldom avoid hearing some one suggesting that she was physically desirable. She saw through such false flatteries, and recognized the concealed insult. Those who said such things sought only their own pleasure, and thought nothing of her - to them, she was only a convenient means to their selfish ends. She had even less interest in being used that way, than she'd had in the other.
A sacred marriage would always be an option that was both permitted and blessed by the Church; but to the priests and paladins, temporary physical alliances were forbidden. That suited Galadri perfectly, as she had no interest in temporary alliances.
Once she was known to be in Temple training, Gladiolia hoped that the puerile lascivious lechers who so frequently pursued her would finally accept her "no" as final.
The general turned in his chair to open a bronze-bound chest near his desk. He looked at her again, an intensely measuring look. Then he sorted through the various items within the chest. After a moment, he gave her a moderately padded training tunic, leggings, and a beginner's sword.
She lifted the one-handed sword, surprised at how heavy it was. She had seen paladins who swung their swords about as if the blades weighed nothing at all. This weapon was solid steel, and weighed roughly half as much as she did. Holding it up one-handed was no easy task.
As the elfess stood testing the weight of the weapon in her hand, she was told to go out and fight the enemies that plagued the forest surrounding the city.
Gladiolia had known, intellectually, that she would eventually be expected to defend the city. However, she had not expected to be sent forth so soon, nor without any training or preparation. She stood blinking at the general in disbelief. "I thought I would receive training ere venturing forth against enemies," she said. "As yet I have no skill with the sword."
"Wise," the general said, nodding. "You pass the first test. We cannot have paladins who fight without thought. What is your name?"
"Gladiolia Leafshimmer, milord," she said.
"Leafshimmer?" he said softly. After a thoughtful pause he told her, "Go put on your training clothes, and then return to me for further instruction."
Gladiolia entered the female Paladins' bathing area for the first time. She removed her cloak, unwound her sash, unfastened her platinum shoulder-clasps, and let her plain green silken gown drop as she pulled the coarse training tunic over her head. She kept her undergarments, since no replacements for those had been offered, and slipped on the leggings.
Here was her next surprise: the training tunic's hem stopped just slightly above her knees! Her tunic was three or four palm-widths too short for a woman of her station. She wondered if the general had accidentally or deliberately chosen an incorrect size as she hung her gown on a nearby hook. Then again, Galadri reminded herself, she did run taller than average for even a high elfess. Cautiously, she returned to his office.
He rose wordlessly and led her to a practice yard. Once there, introduced her to another Paladin apprentice. "Face each other," he ordered. "Stonn, you attack; Gladiolia, defend. Slowly, now - the point is to learn how to do it correctly, not to surprise and overcome your training partner."
The general beckoned to the master of the yard, who came to monitor their progress. After a brief conference between the two, the general bowed to them and departed.
The rest of that day was spent in the practice yard. All the squires were commanded to practice both attacks and defenses. Over and over again, they rotated and practiced within new pairings. When Gladiolia asked why, she was told it was to keep all their skills sharp.
"Imagine how it would be if there were not rotation," the master of the yard explained. "If one among you should excel, then only his or her partner would benefit from such excellence. The rest of you would learn less, from never personally facing one with a higher skill. If one among you was unusually weak, their partner would have to be always teaching instead of having opportunities to learn. By using partner rotation, the strong can teach the weak. All benefit."
She nodded, returning her focus from his words to the actions required of her.
There were no other noble women. In fact, there were few other women at all. As the hours wore away, she began to understand why. It was long, grueling labor. Gladiolia had never felt so weary in her life. Her arms ached as if they might fall off her body.
Yet she persevered until the sun drew near to the western horizon. At last a trumpet sounded, and all were released for the night. The yard master inquired if she would need a place in the barracks, or would be returning home.
She found herself pondering, not sure how to answer. It was unusual for her to fail to think ahead. Mayhap her mind was numb from all the physical exertion in the heat of a summer's day.
"I think I shall return home, at least for tonight," she answered at last. "Mayhap tomorrow I shall know where I will be living henceforth."
He bowed and walked away. The yard had largely emptied even as they spoke, and she found herself standing there alone.
She returned to the women's wing to wash up and retrieve her gown. She washed quickly, but even so found herself half-inclined to doze in the warm water. Rousing herself with a reminder that she did not wish to miss the evening meal, she hurriedly dressed and departed.
O how surpassingly good it was to see home again! The family mansion had never before seemed as lovely as it did in the golden light of that evening's setting sun.
She passed in by way of the main entrance, under the silvery letters etched into deep green marble that proclaimed her family's name in an ornate, artistically rendered Elder Elvish script.
She stepped into the hallway, upon its wide marble squares of alternating pale green and deep green. The walls were formed of pale green marble with deeper green veins. Beautifully carved pillars supported the slightly arched ceiling at intervals. Yet the hallway was not bare: carpeting, paintings and tapestries adorned it. It was exquisitely appointed, yet displayed enough restraint to avoid ostentation.
To the weary young elfess, it was home.
She took a step aside, to hang her deep green cloak on a peg in the family cloak room. Stepping back out, she looked again through the windows that flanked the doorway and judged the angle of the sun. No, there would not be time to change, she realized. The gown she currently wore would have to do. She hurried down the hall from whence the faintest wisps of appetizing aromas were emanating.
The dining hall appeared almost like a forest at sunrise or sunset. Plentiful beeswax candles lent both light and a pleasing scent. They were scattered about the room almost like fireflies among the branches of the illusory trees carved into the walls. She paused a moment to enjoy the familiar walls, formed of varying shades of carved, colored marble. Brown marble columns formed tree trunks, green marble formed leaves and grass, and beige marble formed winding "paths" on the walls and floor. How often had she taken for granted this work of a master craftsman, or mayhap the combined efforts of a troupe of master craftsmen?
The long central table was made of a hardwood of a peculiar hue. The grain was accentuated by a glaze, which also protected the wood from any spills that may occur. Woven mats of softly dyed plant fibers were distributed around the table, upon which were laid out place settings of silver flatware beside dishes of fine porcelain.
Galadri took her usual seat, one away from the right hand of her grandmother's chair. Even as she estimated that the others must arrive very soon, she heard her brother's step in another hallway. She composed herself as best she could, knowing that he would certainly note any flaw in her appearance or bearing.
Kalrin often arrived first, Galadri reflected. His was a very exacting personality. One day he would be head of House Leafshimmer, and he took great pains to behave in a manner that would prove him responsible and worthy of that honor. His hair was as deep an auburn as their grandmother's had been, and at times he could be equally solemn. Other times, the mischievous twinkle in his deep blue eyes seemed the calmest part of his personality.
Her younger sister, Abree, arrived next. Her sister's deep golden hair was caught up into an elaborate style twined with pearls and numerous semiprecious stones. Her lavender gown was more tailored than Gladiolia's, and was ornamented with elaborate embroidery outlined in silver threads. Platinum filigree ornamented her upper arms and wrists, her throat, her waist, and dangled from her ears.
Gladiolia felt positively drab as she looked upon her sister's everyday finery. She still felt it would have been less than polite to wear such ornamentation to the temple for paladin training, as it might have appeared she was flaunting her nobility to the common folk who were called to service. However, she began to regret that she had not brought suitable ornaments in her carrying-pouch to put on for dinner. That was the second time today that she had neglected to look far enough ahead. She hoped she could cure herself of that fault ere it grew into a bad habit.
Her grandmother, matron of the household, arrived in attire similar to Abree's. The immediately noticeable difference was that Aelfiera's silken gown was dyed and embroidered in many shades of green, instead of the lavender and silver that formed her younger granddaughter's.
The aging priestess' hair was liberally sprinkled with silver strands among the deep auburn. She bore herself gracefully, though some minor stiffness was apparent to an astute observer. Her vivid blue eyes seemed to echo depths upon depths of her soul and mirror both past and present in nearly equal measure. All in all, however, she bore her four millennia with dignity.
When the current guests had arrived and seated themselves around the table, Aelfiera led them in evening prayers followed by a benediction. Once the benediction was complete, a sincere prayer of thanksgiving for the food was pronounced. As they raised their heads, smiling servants brought in the evening meal.
It was Gladiolia's favorite; a well-done roast with fruit and nut glaze and garnished with root-vegetables. Her mouth watered as she returned the servants' smiles and thanked everyone from her heart.
* * * * * * *
Gladiolia spent years studying in the Paladin hall ere she was pronounced fit to apprentice among the city guards. Among them she had to study for several more years ere she began to learn prayers of power that would heal friends or confuse foes. She progressed well, up to a point.
Once she reached that point, however, it seemed that her ability to learn combat decreased and her capacity to learn prayers increased. A strange situation, this odd imbalance in her learning capacity: especially since a knight needed both skills in great measure. Either skill without the other could mean needless defeats. Unfortunately when a knight was defeated, those (s)he protected were most often harmed also.
Over a lengthy period of time, an odd pattern in Gladiolia's battles emerged with increasing clarity. She began suffering more and more defeats - instead of less, as would be expected when one grows more seasoned. This troubled her exceedingly, so she began earnest prayers to learn what was amiss.
When Gladiolia had completed her 24th season of instruction, she finally knew what was awry. She had to admit an embarrassing truth. Denying truth is unnatural, even when it hurts. And this particular truth was so very painful that Gladiolia had hidden it from herself for a very long time.
That truth is that Gladiolia had grown far better at praying than she was at fighting. She had worked hard, with the aid of many friends, to win a sacred sword. She had hoped to prove herself worthy of the holy blade, and with it to gain great victories.
But the holy sword was not enough to cure her own inadequacies. Finally, deeply regretful, an evening came when Gladiolia laid aside her beloved blade on the guard walk of the city wall. She knelt in prayer, and waited.
The elfess had misunderstood her calling. She had not been called to knighthood, but to priesthood. Priests were forbidden the use of blades, as their first calling was to heal - not to kill. Only blunt weapons were permitted, and it was encouraged that they be used only for defense.
A guard approached. "Seeking illumination in the sunset?" he asked.
"Mayhap," she allowed. "Else mayhap I ought best to speak with the general or the high priest. I know not which I ought to seek," she added miserably. "I need their counsel."
"I shall see if they are willing to speak with you," he said kindly. She had trained with this one, but to her embarrassment she could not recall his name at that moment.
"Thank you," she said softly. She heard his footsteps retreat.
Shortly thereafter, she heard soft footsteps approaching. Surprisingly soft footsteps, considering they belonged to two elves in plate armor. Galadri knew the sound of those footsteps, and that it meant the guard had sent the ones she needed instead of summoning her to them. She remained kneeling, waiting for them to speak first.
"What ails you, my child, that you request we meet you here?" a deep voice asked.
Gladiolia's eyes misted with unexpected tears. "I..." she began, finding the words more difficult than she had imagined. "I may have sinned," she said brokenly.
"What is this sin that troubles you so?" the same voice asked.
That voice belonged to the high priest, she realized. The general, though present, remained silent. It was said the two were related, and indeed they did look and sound much alike. It had taken her this many words to know who had addressed her.
A long pause followed, during which Gladiolia struggled for composure. "I believe that... I may have misunderstood the call placed upon my life, and thereby brought dishonor to the Temple," she blurted out somewhat abruptly. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she confessed.
She heard the general shift position, felt a hand on her shoulder. "You have not dishonored the temple," he assured her. "You have put your whole heart into learning the skills needful for a paladin. No more can be asked of anyone, for none can do aught more than his or her best."
"It is no sin to be mistaken," the priest added, "provided you do not persist in the error after learning the truth."
The elfess nodded, trying to accept this absolution. "What then shall I do?" she asked.
"What do you believe your calling ought to be?"
"I think that mayhap," she began hesitantly, unsure of herself since she'd been mistaken once before, "well, that mayhap I am called to heal instead of fight." There, it was out. The decision was theirs; in a manner of speaking, her life rested in their hands now.
"That calling is no less difficult." The voice was completely neutral. She wasn't sure which of them had said it. "Come to the altar, and wait tonight in prayer. We shall pray with you. Mayhap ere daybreak illumination will come."
With head bowed, Gladiolia rose and followed two of the most important elves in creation to the temple's main altar. There all three knelt, and waited.
She prayed silently but with intense sincerity. She praised the Holy Maker, for all the wonders bestowed. She repented and sought forgiveness. She humbly requested wisdom and understanding.
Time passed, the candles flickered as they burned low. Her prayers became more heartfelt and less fully formed as words in her thoughts. She continued to feel prayerful, yet her thoughts slowly began to merge together and drift...
An infinitely strong yet equally gentle voice echoed softly in her mind. "My healing power shall flow through you when you pray. Know that all are my children - be not too proud to heal one who does not acknowledge me. Condemn deeds where needed; but never condemn the doer. Let your life be your sermon - example teaches better than preaching. Serve me faithfully, with your whole heart, and I shall be with you always."
Gladiolia awoke with a start, feeling guilty for having succumbed to a weakness of the flesh when she had such a great need in her spirit. She looked quickly to either side and found that both men were looking at her with concern.
"I am to heal," she said, "leaving judgment to others."
"My spirit sings as she says it," the high priest said. "I confirm the message."
The general nodded quietly. "I, too, sensed the presence of the Maker while she slept," he said. "She shall serve as she is called." He took her sword hand, squeezed it gently, and then laid it in the high priest's hand. "I shall miss a promising squire," he said in a tone of voice that made it uncertain if he were serious or in jest. "Yet I believe we shall gain a priestess worthy of the calling."
Again the water stood in her eyes, as Gladiolia tried to find words to thank them for their patience and support.
* * * * * * *
Gladiolia continues to devote herself to prayer and learning, and to healing others. When all are healthy and an opportunity to bludgeon an enemy presents itself, she seldom bypasses it ... she still has a bit of the Paladin in her soul.
