#mandorallen

The scenes in the last book where the Mimbrate Knights do charges into the enemy had me feeling some type of way. Mandorallen leading the charges and the descriptions.

“Dost thou truly know where we art bound, my Lord Hettar.” Hettar glanced back at the knight, trying to hide his amusement at the increasing formality Mandorallen used when getting irritated.

“Have I gotten us lost before?” He could feel the irritation of his companion radiating forward.

“Nay.” Came the grudging acknowledgement.

Hettar didn’t say anything, but he did incline his head in a ‘there you go then’ sort of manner.

“Why dost thou insist upon not disclosing where it is we art bound?”

“Surprise.” Hettar deadpanned. He had anticipated the questions, but he was fairly certain once they got to their destination, his evasiveness would be forgiven in relatively short order. He heard Mandorallen open his mouth to say something.

“How’re things with Nerena?” Hettar cut him off quickly.

“More wonderful than even the fondest of dreams or imagining coudst have ere prepared my heart for.” Mandorallen sighed, switching gears to lovestruck. “When it was I didst think I could not belong to her fair self more, she captured me, body and soul.”

Hettar nodded politely as Mandorallen continued to ramble on about her. Hettar felt much the same way about Adara, in truth. He was, however, far less vocal on the matter. Actions were more his area. Mandorallen did come up with some very good lines though. Hettar had stolen more than one Mandorallen-ism and altered it to work for Adara. She never had any difficulty identifying when he’d come up with something himself or if he’d picked up off of someone else. As far as he knew, she appreciated it regardless.

He stopped his horse abruptly, causing Mandorallen to stop short in his praises of her eye color.

“Wha-“

“This way.” Hettar dismounted and set off towards the large thicket of scrubby trees before them. The rattle of metal armor sounded as the knight got down from his horse and broke into a light jog to catch up with the taller man.

They dodged through the thick brush, ducking spiky branches that grabbed at their clothes. A clearing appeared before them, in the center a raised mound.

“Wha-“

“You were telling me a few weeks ago about one of the Korodullins having been fatally wounded in Algaria. Said something about his crown having not been recovered.” He stood next the mound and gestured at it. “Best guess it’s here. Help me dig.” Mandorallen’s mouth moved but no words escape for a good minute.

“Of certainty.” He finally managed, walking to the mound.Together they dug for about twenty minutes.

“What didst lead thee to this place?” Mandorallen asked once speech was an option again.

“Looked at the archives we had about his departure.” Mandorallen blinked.

“I did not realize that thy countrymen didst keep records of that sort.”

“Mostly for state visits and merchants, but it helps keep things orderly when disputes crop up.” Hettar shrugged.

“I see.” The knight nodded before drawing back sharply when he struck something hard. He looked over at Hettar, his eyes wide. He brushed the dirt away to reveal, a rock.

“Belar’s saggy left…” Hettar muttered.

“Not to worry, my friend.” Mandorallen laughed, lightly kicking the rock out of the way. “I didst appreciate thy attempt to share such a momentous discover-“

“Mandorallen.”

“Yes?”

“Look down.”

“By Chladan’s mighty right…”

There was a brief scramble before the crown was extracted from earth. It was filthy, and bent into a sort of figure eight. Some of the gems had fallen out, but it bore the symbol of the bull god clear as day. The briefest, but firmest of bro hugs was exchanged as they both grinned.

“Their Majesties shalt be ecstatic at this recovery of so dear an artifact.” Mandorallen beamed as they walked back out. “And thy assistance in this deed canst do nought but further assure the continued friendship betwix our countries.” Hettar smiled to himself, Mandorallen was practically skipping. They mounted up heading back to the stronghold.

“You can take the credit. That was sort of the point of asking you out here.” Hettar admitted. Mandorallen looked slightly aghast.

“I couldst nere deny thee thy rightful credit in so momentous an event!”

“I got what I was after in this.” Hettar shrugged.

A silence fell and Hettar could feel his friends eyes on him. The minutes seemed to drag.

“Oh!” Mandorallen said. “For what tis worth,” he pulled his horse along side Hettar’s, “I too hath felt a brotherly longing for thy company, and that of our other friends.”

“You’re sentimental.” Hettar answered.

“No worse than thou.” Mandorallen shot back.

“Race you.”

“Only if thou wilt promise to not use thy power.”

The Bearer of the Orb, The Man with Two Lives, The Sorceress, The Guide, The Dreadful Bear, The Eternal Man, The Child of Light, The Queen of the World, The Horse Lord, The Mother of the Race That Died, The Blind Man, The Knight Protector, The Archer

The Belgariad

Durnik: Okay combat is NOT like a video game.