you packing, and I was just admiring your…"
He fumbled for the right word. Perhaps the translation circlet had helped him in a way providing an acceptable pause.
"My what?" asked the elf.
"Your packing," he concluded. "It's quite efficient."
"Yes, I guess it is," replied the elf. "It allows me easy access to my things should I be in haste."
An uneasy moment passed between them, and Gideon thought desperately for something witty to charm her. But that was pointless, for she seemed to have enough charm for the both of them. Yet she had approached him. She had made the first move. "Are you a knight of the order also?" he asked finally.
"Yes," she said, smiling brightly. Her teeth were also perfect. "But I am of a different order and regiment. I am a knight of the Order of the Horn. Usually, only females are members. We normally ride the horned steeds of the sky, for they prefer bearing females. We ride the wingless unicorn type as well."
Gideon nodded in amazement at her horned steed. "Unicorns?"
"Yes, that is one of their names," she replied, smiling. Then she continued, "I was separated from my regiment in a battle far to the north, near the spine of the Imyr Mountains bordering Cymoria, and I was picked up by these brother knights of the Order of the Platinum Griffon. I shall leave their pleasant company once we reach Mindon, for there is a division of my order there."
"I am sorry to hear that we shall be parting company so soon," replied Gideon wistfully. "Anyway, allow me to introduce myself. I am John Gideon. I am traveling with a Tauri named Ragan."
"I'm Laurelin Leaflock," she replied with a merry gleam in her eye, "from the city of Eamondir in Lindorien." Gideon stared at her intently. Catching this, she asked, "What is it, John Gideon? What are you staring at?"
"You, Laurelin," he replied softly. "You are as beautiful as your name."
Laurelin blushed prettily. "Oh! Thank you, and you are handsome."
This is it, thought Gideon in a rush of elation. She seemed to like him, perhaps as much as he liked her. He decided to pursue the conversation. "Hopefully, we can meet again in Mindon before you have to rejoin your order?"
"Perhaps" was her reply, and then she asked, "Your name, John Gideon, is strange to me. What does it mean?"
"Mean? Uh…" began Gideon. He thought hard to remember. "I think it means 'gracious cleaver' or something like that. I'm really not very good with names, Laurelin."
"But that is a perfect name for a warrior!" she proclaimed. "It bears a certain appeal. That is important, you know, the naming of a person."
"Yeah, I guess," replied Gideon. Again, a still silence fell between them until Laurelin said in a shy tone of admiration, "I heard that you fought with the Valharri Vasha and actually wounded her." It was a question, but it came out like a statement.
"Well, she and I…uh…had words," said Gideon cautiously. He was not too keen on being reminded of what had transpired between the Valharri and himself. But with that statement, Gideon realized what had brought Laurelin over to him. Thinking back on it some of the forward riders would have perhaps seen him in Vasha’s grip, or perhaps Ragan had told some of the Alor. She was idolizing him as a fearless hero who had stood face-to-face with death and laughed. He could not tell her that at the time, he nearly wet himself in fear. "I did what any other decent citizen should do with a bully—stand up and fight back!" It was the truth. He hated overbearing, pompous people like Vasha, and he secretly wished that one day, he could repay her in kind.
"You may think lightly of it, John Gideon, but what you did today will live in the tomes of lore long after you pass from this world. You are a hero!"
"I'm no hero!" replied Gideon sharply.
"Untrue!" argued Laurelin. "Most heroes of lore do not think of themselves as such at the time, for fear does wonders to one's courage." Gideon stared at her. Here was a lady whom he had just met defending him against himself. "Remember this: when faced with death, few have the courage to confront it without fear. However, those who do confront it with fear and defeat it have conquered more than their foe."
He listened to her words in awe.
"You're pretty smart, Laurelin."
"I am a knight, a scout ranger, and a master of weapons. I bore witness to the death of many and have slain more enemies than I can readily recall, so I believe I am eligible to pass judgment on you. Take my word for it, John Gideon. You are a hero!" she said, tapping her forefinger on his chest to emphasize her point.
"Very well." Gideon sighed. "I'm a hero."
"Excellent!" said Laurelin. "Now, I think you need to be given a name in the old speech. Let me see…"
She paused, examining him closely.
"Aha!" she suddenly proclaimed. "I have it! From now on, your name in the tongue of my people shall be Finelen, 'the golden-haired one.' Do you like it?"
"Finelen? Is that a man's name?" Gideon asked in awkward caution.
"What?" asked Laurelin, suddenly angry. "Of course it's a male name! It is my father's name, if you must know!" Then with a huff and a pout, she curtly spun on her heels and strode back to her winged unicorn.
"Wait!" shouted Gideon after her. "I'm sorry! I didn't know; I'm…"
But she was already gone. Gideon's eyes followed her, watching her mount her unicorn and move it into preflight position. Gideon sighed lightly and walked over to Sir Caylendril's griffon. The knight was already saddled and was waiting patiently for him.
As he approached, Sir Caylendril said casually, "She is very beautiful, especially by general standards."
"Yeah." Gideon sighed again, even more depressed.
"What is wrong, my friend? Why do you look so downcast? Did the young maiden spurn your advances toward her?"
"You could say I spurned myself for her."
"You could try again later, if you think it might help," offered the knight. "Perhaps if I said something to her, I could smooth the cultural situation—"
"No," interrupted Gideon. "I've done enough damage. I do not need to drag you into this. Thank you. If I get the chance, I'll apologize to her and try to get out of the doghouse."
"Doghouse?" inquired Cordlyer.
"Forget it," was Gideon's response. "Let's get out of here."
"Soon," said the knight. "Tema tells me she too is growing impatient. She wants to fly, for she feels strong today."
"You can speak to your griffon?"
"Yes, of course," replied the elf. "All riders can communicate to some degree with their mounts. It is called bonding. It allows free movement to the griffon and better trust between the rider and mount, a valuable asset in combat."
"I agree," said Gideon.
Then, from between two other riders, Gideon saw Ragan coming swiftly toward him. He wore a gray cloak that covered his partially torn
