Lost in the Woods (Nairore)

[Merik Dragmire]

It had been nearly three weeks since the Festival had ended and the pair had set out for...well Merik hadn't exactly told Nairore where they were going. Things had progressed just about exactly as he had expected: they traveled by day, generally only speaking out of necessity; they made camp around nightfall and would then spend a few hours training before setting a watch and going to sleep. The first week passed uneventfully enough, though it always made him chuckle when the girl would snap awake at the slightest sound.

The second week had passed easily as well, though the King had been a little shocked when the girl had progressed from single word answers to actual sentences, rarely even leading to an actual discussion around the campfire. Twelve days into the journey they reached the forest's edge and set off inside.

Now nearing the end of the third week Merik had to admit to himself that they were lost in the forest. It was true that he had made this journey a few times before but each time the damned place changed, seemingly just to toy with him. As they emerged into a clearing beside a stream he brought his horse to a halt.

"This is far enough for today." he said simply as he dismounted and began unloading his horse.

[Nairore]

x x

Nairore's body ached more than it ever had in her life, even after some of the intense battles she'd been through. It wasn't the sharp sting of a wound, but rather the pulsing ache that accompanied muscle fatigue. Merik ran her harder than she had ever trained, which was saying something because she set her own pace quite rigorous. Few Knights could actually keep up with her when she took them through her personal training regime. But then she couldn't expect anything less from the sole Gerudo male, the king of the warrior people.

And, truthfully, she loved it. She'd never admit that to Merik or anyone else, but her personal urge to better herself was getting all the attention it could ever need, and each ache was a sign that her muscles were growing. It wasn't out of any sort of masochistic need that she loved that aching feeling, but rather the fact that it was a sign of progress was more than enough to keep her happy. And she was determined to keep up at Merik's pace, as well, to both show him that she could and to better her own endurance.

Then he called for a stop by a stream. They'd spent several days in that forest now, and Nairore was beginning to suspect that they were lost. Not that she would question the man, not yet anyway. It was improper for a student to question her teacher, as she had always been taught, unless it's vital to the lesson or for personal growth. For all she knew Merik was intentionally running them in circles. The man was full of mystery, she had to admit, and quite tactful when it came to keeping those mysteries secret.

She promptly dismounted at his command and began to unload her own steed. So many days set at such a steady pace was actually starting to cause her legs to be numb from the ride, but she gave no sign of it. The unloading process was enough to stretch them and get some feeling back. Silently she began the typical routine of setting up camp as they had been doing for the past few weeks, before training would begin.

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[Merik Dragmire]

Merik was silent as he finished unloading his belongings before leading the horse to the waterside to drink. Stooping to sip a little of the water himself, he turned and watched the girl for a few brief seconds before rising to his feet once more.

"Watch the horses, I'll find some wood for the fire." he said automatically, the horses were well trained and wouldn't run off under most...actually he had never seen a trained Gerudo horse run away...but he figured it gave Nairore something to do while she waited.

Luckily being as deep in the forest as they were made his search a lot easier and within a few minutes he had more than enough wood for the night. Returning to the small camp he quickly set up the wood and ignited it with a touch from Flamestrike. He then allowed the blade to fade away as he enjoyed the warmth of the fire. Finally he went and leaned against a tree, stretching his muscles and cracking his bones as he waited for the girl to finish her own preparations.

He typically began their sessions unarmed only summoning his weapons when he deemed it necessary, and he noted, with more than a little pride, that with each session he found he was needing the blades sooner than the one that had come before.

And we'll just see how tonight goes... he thought with a smirk as he waited.

[Nairore]

x x

Most people saw Nairore as arrogant, and admittedly she was arrogant quite often. She wasn't however, stupid in her arrogance. She knew when it was time to say something and when she shouldn't; she was quite tactful when it was necessary. Such as when Merik told her to watch the horses. She knew it was less a command and more him offering her something, so instead of arguing about how useless it was she continued to set up their camp while letting the horses have their water and grass. There were times to argue, and kicking up a fuss at that moment would accomplish absolutely nothing.

Merik came back and set up the fire. His little trick with the swords was remarkably handy and she found somewhere behind her mental defenses there was just a pinch of envy. Naurlambe was always strapped to her back and having to draw it from its sheath often took a crucial second, albeit she rarely entered battle without the weapon, and should she need it she was quite adept at drawing it and attacking in one smooth weapon. Being able to have your weapon with a thought, however, was something she could see no downside to and hundreds of practical uses.

Once the camp was set up she stood and stretched her arms up high to loosen the muscles. That action was one of the Knights' favorites as it showed off more than a little of her curvy, feminine figure. At first she had been a little more self-conscious of it around Merik, hating the feel of his eyes on her, imagining the thoughts he might have. But after three weeks of traveling those concerns were tucked away and ignored, just as they were when she stretched around other Knights. On many levels she saw him in the same way as she saw them now, she was becoming more at ease around him.

With a quick pop of her neck she was ready. At least she was ready for the warm-up. That was how Merik referred to it, anyway. Where the Knights warmed up by doing exercises, with Merik it was about leaping straight into what mattered, the crucial parts of training. If a warrior wasn't ready to fight at any time then they aren't properly trained and so forth. So Nairore cracked her knuckles, stepped up to where Merik had decided they would fight, and drew the sword from her back. He was still significantly better than her, enough that she still needed the handicap at the beginning of the fight, but she could feel her own improvement.

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[Merik Dragmire]

Merik watched Nairore as she stretched only allowing himself the barest flicker of enjoyment at the sight before slipping back into his focused manner. As she walked towards him, drawing Naurlambe as she approached, he was quick to detect the hints that her body offered that she had deigned to keep to herself.

Over the weeks of travel he had noticed that she was slowly becoming more comfortable, more relaxed, around him as they went. As he watched her now he saw that relaxation was starting to slowly slip into her combat readiness. She knew that he would start unarmed, that he'd toy with her until she proved herself ready for him to draw arms.

In a burst of speed Merik dashed forward, swinging a right hook at her but seemingly stopping short as he jumped backwards, Frostbite suddenly in hand and a deadly look in his eyes. Barely noticeable from where he stood, a thin line of ice hardly an inch long curved along the girl's cheek, just deep enough to draw blood when it thawed. He gave her little more than a second to realize the cut even existed before moving forward again, both blades alive and hungry in his grasp.

[Nairore]

x x

A true warrior was always ready for combat. That was one of the lessons Merik was driving home to her as they trained together over the weeks. While she certainly wasn't expecting the sudden dash and appearance of his swords, she wasn't caught completely off guard by them either. She would be disappointing him if that were a fact. That readiness is probably what saved her cheek from a particularly nasty scar as Merik's frost sword appeared with the momentum of his punch. Nairore flinched to the side, away from the strike, and felt the cold sting slice the skin of her face.

The warm trickle of blood was enough to tell her she was bleeding, but it was an aesthetic wound. Not something to worry about; it probably wouldn't even scar. The real worry would be Merik's sudden onslaught with his two swords, a definite change from their usual training routine. Naurlambe was already in her hands, however, and she was not caught by surprise. Her guard quickly went up and she deflected his second attack with relative ease, quickly backing up across the difficult terrain of the forest until she had breathing room, for however long it would last.

Then there was a flicker of an idea. She looked down at Naurlambe in her hand, then back up to the two scimitars Merik used. With a quick smirk she twirled the two-handed weapon easily and chopped into a nearby tree, letting the weapon sit, making sure to keep her eyes on Merik at all times. No more surprises. With the weapon firmly in place she turned and hopped a couple times to loosen her muscles. She wouldn't rely on the weapon to guard, not this time.

Now left intentionally weaponless, she looked up at Merik through her eyelashes and gave him a coy look that said just one thing: Come at me, bro.

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[Merik Dragmire]

Merik laughed darkly as Nairore stabbed her blade into the tree and prepared to go against him unarmed. Neither of them had really sparred hand to hand, save for the few seconds he had taken knocking her down in their first bout, but he knew she had to have some skill if she was prepared to go against Frostbite and Flamestrike.

"I do hope you really realize what you're doing, I hate to think I've wasted the last few weeks on you." he said as he advanced slowly, almost casually when compared to his previous attack.

The first swings were slow, clearly designed to test her defenses, but quickly gaining speed as they progressed: Left swing, diagonal slash, vertical slash, low swing, right swing, high swing, horizontal slash, stab. All these he did in rapid succession, alternating blades as needed to see if he'd throw her off her balance. He ended by slicing both blades vertically inward before curving them to diagonal back, both passing each other to form a 'Z'.

[Nairore]

x x

"You can't always fight in optimal circumstances," she said simply back to Merik as her eyes focused on the blades. She then withdrew her focus from the weapons themselves. When you blocked with a sword you needed to know where to put it. When you were fighting unarmed against weapons you needed to move one step ahead of your opponent, to know where the swords were going to be going afterward, thus allowing yourself time to place yourself in the best position. She raised her arms and tensed up her muscles as he approached, preparing herself.

The slow swings were easily dodged. She snaked her body to and fro, allowing mere inches between her and the weapons. Perhaps against someone who uses dual swords was a bad first step to this particular practice, but hey, the best way to learn to swim is to dive into the deep-end. She kept her eyes on his arms, on his foot, watching the muscles tense and relax and using that knowledge to her advantage. He began to pick up speed, but she had already figured out the tempo and was able to move accordingly, ducking and rolling, sidestepping and, most importantly, strategic backsteps. In combat you never wanted to give your opponent too much ground, but you needed to know when to give it up.

As Merik approached his final maneuvers Nairore felt the sting of a few cuts here and there. Nothing serious, again, nothing she couldn't just brush off, but injuries nonetheless. Then he began his Z motions and Nairore had to leap backward to avoid the initial blows. Her hands shot out in either directions and as the blades came to cross she slapped them both by the flat, ignoring both the cold and the burns kept from becoming serious by her gloves. She knew better than to grab the blades, but merely slapped them out of the way.

Her breathing was heavy when it was all said and done, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths. Lines of blood flowed down her arms, but altogether she managed to go unharmed. "You held back," she commented once she had her breath, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. "Next time don't."

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[Merik Dragmire]

"I've been holding back since our first encounter, despite what you may think you're not ready to fight me at full power just yet." Merik said, though it was only partially the truth.

Nairore had seen his full speed, and honestly held up fairly well against it all things considered, but he had never once used his full strength in any of their sessions.

"But enough talk, have at you!" he called out as he dashed forward once more and resumed his assault.

His blades sparked and glinted in the light as he spun in a vicious dance of death. Despite the high speed they flew at, each was aimed perfectly as he founds gaps in her defenses to make her adjust with each burst.

[Nairore]

x x

She growled at his remark. It was a fact she knew somewhere deep inside, but one she didn't wish to embrace. The fact that Merik had always been holding back against her made all of her progress seem completely useless if she were nowhere near his level. Already after the first routine she was feeling weary, and she hadn't even had the opening to try for a counter attack. She'd put all her focus into dodging and still taken several nicks and scratches, which stung all the more due to the magical nature of his swords.

She really hated magic.

Nairore grunted as he charged at her again and braced herself. She was going to show him what she could do. She was going to show him that she could handle herself, that he could push it up a level. Nairore hated being treated like a little girl, like a weakling, after dedicating her entire life to getting better and better. She braced herself as his first attacks came in and the danced continued. At least that was the only kind of dancing the pair of them would ever experience.

A few hours later it was done and Nairore's muscles were secretly glad. She had suffered many scratches, but no actual wounds. The worst was a deep cut across her exposed naval. It also stung the most, but had been worth it. That gash was the cost she had paid to land a solid punch on Merik's jaw, the only hit she had actually managed to get that entire evening. Now she was out of breath and hunched over, bleeding in several spots.

"I'm . . . going to get clean up stream," she said when she had her breath. She grabbed the hilt of Naurlambe and pulled it from the tree she had left it in, sliding it into the sheath on her back. Fighting against everything in her she refrained from wincing as she walked across the camp and followed the stream they had set up next to until she felt she was far enough from the camp that she could get cleaned up without Merik seeing.

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[Merik Dragmire]

Merik's jaw was throbbing where he had gotten closely acquainted with Nairore's fist, and he swished a bit of blood around from where his tongue had gotten nicked by his teeth. He spat it onto the ground as she announced her intent to go up stream.

"Good work Nairore, enjoy the bath." he said as he watched her walk away.

A part of him was tempted to go find a good place to watch her but he forced the thought away as he sat down and stared into the fire. As the fire flicked and writhed along the logs, the King allowed himself to fall into a half trance though his other senses remained tuned for any sign of trouble or for the return of Nairore.

[Nairore]

x x

Once again Naurlambe was pulled from Nairore's back as she dug it into the ground near where she was going to wash. She liked to have the sword close by when she was traveling, in case of emergencies. She gritted her teeth and knelt down at the edge of the stream. She remembered Knights complaining about her training making them feel this way. They always did stuff so gingerly afterward, afraid of the pain. Nairore wasn't like that. The pain was good; if it became a familiar friend then it would soon become merely a minor annoyance than an actual problem.

The stream was exactly that, a stream, and they had found a particularly rocky section of it. There weren't any pools where she could relax, so instead she knelt down and splashed the water over the scratches, scrubbing at them painfully to get rid of any dried blood and keep infection out. Her father was a healer by trade, he had bestowed upon her many habits when it came to treating a wound to allow it to heal as quickly as possible if left to natural means.

Once her arms were clean she glanced around, then pulled off her shirt and proceeded to clean herself more thoroughly. She made it quick, not wanting Merik to sneak up on her. Once she was clean she groped around for some moss on the nearby rocks, rinsed it in the stream and then used it along with some bandages to treat the nastier cut across her naval. It wasn't particularly bad, but it would be much more prone to infection than the scratches. Once that was done she pulled her shirt back on, splashed some more water over her face and stood up.

Her muscles screamed in pain at her and she found herself longing for Lori's soothing touch. Her sister had always been able to get the kinks out of her worn and tired muscles when they most needed them, especially after traveling with father on one of his campaigns. She'd have to live without the massages, though, as she didn't know when she'd be back. With a grunt she pulled Naurlambe out of the ground and returned to the campfire, letting the heat of the fire warm the moisture on her skin.

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[Merik Dragmire]

Merik slipped back to reality as Nairore returned to the campsite and sat down on the other side of the fire. His vision didn't waver from the flames to avoid any sort of temptation from the sight of the dripping wet woman before him. The one nice thing about his constant travelling before was that even though he was quite eager to have a woman back in his bed at least he wasn't constantly surrounded by a woman he couldn't have...well he could have her if he wanted but that would mean he'd bowed before his baser urges.

So they both sat quietly enjoying the fire's warmth as he tried to figure out where in the forest they'd wind up tomorrow without any proper way to find their way around.

Note to self, make sure to have a Fairy guide on hand next time I head into Faron Forest... he thought bitterly as the fire continue to snap, crackle, and pop.

[Nairore]

x x

There was one bittersweet thing about travelling alone, or without the Knights. On one hand it was nice to have a break from their constant flirtation and bothersome ways. On the other hand, Nairore had almost grown used to the attention, in a strange masochistic way. Merik was actually remarkably respectful of her, keeping his distance and manners about him at all times. She rarely found his gaze on her, unlike the Knights, though she suspected he was merely more talented at hiding it having grown up around women all her life. Frankly, for all that it was worth she could not see why her father thought this man so evil.

Yet he did, and she trusted her father, so she believed him. But that belief was growing ever more weak with each passing day and she was coming to realize this. He was taking time out of his own schedule to train her at her own request, and outside of a fit of anger when she'd been bratty to him he'd been the pinnacle of patience with her and her arrogance. He had a way of schooling her, of showing her her mistakes and putting her down without ever once, previous exception aside, making her feel little about it. Her gaze drifted slowly from the fire to the man who sat across from her, the mortal enemy of Zenethil, the man who had adopted her.

Father, why should I hate this man?

When she realized her gaze had shifted without her knowledge she turned it back to the fire. Perhaps it was because she was a Gerudo that he was like this. Perhaps he was much worse when it wasn't his kin. But try as she might she could not imagine that. She sighed and reclined beside the fire, stretching out with that feline grace and staring up at the stars while she searched her thoughts for answers. But there were none, and the thoughts were leaving her mind foggy and confused. So she decided she needed to get her mind off of them.

"What was it like, growing up as the only male Gerudo?" she asked, breaking the silence between them. She didn't turn her gaze away from the stars above, but merely folded her hands under her head and made herself comfortable, waiting for his reply.

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[Merik Dragmire]

Merik was a little shocked by Nairore's question, mostly from the fact that most of their conversations have been started by him but also from the fact it was a fairly out there question. He thought it over silently for a while before he finally spoke.

"Honestly it wasn't easy." he said simply before deciding that would probably not be enough and preparing to expand upon his answer a bit. "My family traveled around the desert almost constantly to avoid assassins and I don't recall ever actually seeing another male until my teens. But I doubt my childhood was much different from most Gerudo. I received arms training from the moment I could wield a weapon, I learned to survive on what food could be caught and the water we could find. When I was eight my family moved into the Fortress and I became openly recognized by the Gerudo as the King."

He lapsed back into silence again as he slipped back into memory in search of answers. It lasted a while longer before he began speaking again.

"I robbed my first trade caravan when I was twelve: that summer had been less forgiving than any I had ever lived through and we were in the midst of difficult famine. Luckily between the caravan's supplies and by selling the goods they had carried we were able to survive until the summer broke..."