The desert was finally quiet again.
The battle against the hollows had long faded and the caravan had stopped for now as many guards were injured and needed some help.
Solen tied a strip of cloth around a guard's bleeding arm, pulling it tight. "Don't move, stay still." he muttered. The man hissed but nodded in thanks. After Solen was done, he looked at Solen and thanked again before limping away toward the temporary tents they had set up.
All around them, the other guards were moving in silence too. No one spoke much- not even to curse. The attack had been much stronger than the one before. A few men were badly hurt while some were too hurt to stand. But thankfully, no one had died.
Solen exhaled slowly, rubbing the sweat and dust from his forehead as helped yet another guard. Once he was done he stood up,
"Not bad, boy."
He turned — Borin was walking toward him, his spear still in his hands. The blood he had on him had already been washed. His cheap armor was dented and scratched, but the grin on his face was still the same
"You did well out there." Borin said, stopping beside him. "To be honest, I didn't think you would survive."
Solen gave a small, tired smirk. "Guess I surprised you."
Borin chuckled. "Heh. That you did. You've got sharp instincts. They are not bad for someone who clearly has no idea how to swing a sword properly."
Solen raised an eyebrow. "Am I really that bad?"
"Indeed." Borin looked at him a bit more serious this time. "You've got the strength and some instincts, but no technique. All I saw was you swinging that thing around and poking at monsters like you were trying to chase off a dog with a stick."
Solen laughed weakly. "Hey, but at least it worked."
"Sure," Borin said dryly. "It'll work against weaker beasts. But in front of the ones that are truly strong?" He leaned closer, his tone becoming even more serious. "You'll be nothing more than prey."
Solen's smile faded. He looked down at his sword, then back at Borin, his eyes curious. "Then.... can you teach me? You seem like someone who has a lot of experience."
Borin looked at him a bit surprised but then gave out a laugh. "Me? No, boy. I can't teach you how to use a sword. I've never used one properly in my life. I'm a spearman, through and through."
Solen frowned. "A pity" he muttered.
Borin shrugged. "Indeed, a pity. If you'd chosen a spear, I might've helped you. In fact it is said, that learning to use a spear is much easier. There is even a saying that says "A hundred days to master a saber, a thousand days to master a spear and ten thousand days to master a sword"."
For a moment, Solen looked thoughtful, he looked towards Borin's spear then at his own sword. He didn't really have a real reason to choose a sword and no other weapon, he just chose it cause, it was the coolest. Even in the stories his mother used to tell him, when he was younger, heroes always used a sword. Then the thought crossed his mind, 'maybe I can still change my weapon'.
But before he could say anything, Borin spoke again — almost as if he'd read his mind. "No," the old man said firmly. "Don't even think about changing it now."
Solen blinked. "Huh?"
"Weapons shouldn't be changed that easily," Borin continued. "They're more than tools — they're extensions of yourself. Once you've chosen one, you build a bond with it through time and battle. Tossing it aside just because it's difficult is not how a warrior should think, that's how you stay weak forever."
Solen was quiet for a moment. "Even though I've barely fought?"
Borin nodded. "Even then. Today was your first proper fight, sure, but I saw something. Like I said earlier you have some talent with the sword and you have to convert this talent into skill. "He then glanced at the blade hanging by Solen's side. "I can't say if you have the same talent for other weapons. So, it is for the best to stick with that. You will become better, it just needs time and blood."
Solen looked at his sword again, running a thumb along it's hilt. "Time and blood, huh? Sounds expensive."
Borin laughed, slapping his shoulder. "It always is."
Solen looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded.
He took a deep breath. "Guess I'll hold onto it then."
Borin gave a satisfied grunt. "Good. Let's hope you can learn it before we get into a truly dangerous situation or you are as good as dead."
Solen chuckled softly. "Comforting."
Borin smirked. "Wasn't meant to be. Never get too comfortable, that's what kills most."
Borin stretched his shoulders with a groan. "Still," he said after a moment, "you'll need someone to teach you if you ever plan to live long enough to grow old like me."
Solen looked at him, his gaze questioning. "And who exactly do you suggest? You already said you can't."
Borin scratched his chin, pretending to think. "Hmm… maybe that Jaron fellow. The quiet one. He's got a pretty good stance and the way he moves, I don't think he's any worse than even Sir Garran."
"Sir Garran? That rude bastard is that good?"
"Indeed, To be honest, I can't really understand why someone who is that young and this good is here. He could easily get knighted. But one thing's for sure, he's your best bet if you want to learn."
Solen stared at him for a second before letting out a short laugh. "Yeah, right. He'd rather stab me than teach me."
Borin chuckled. "Can't argue with that. He does look like the type who'd kill a man just for breathing too loud."
"Exactly," Solen said, shaking his head. "I think I'll take my chances learning from trial and error instead. Less chance of dying."
The old man didn't reply at first then just looked at him and said dryly. "Well lets hope you can survive the next attack too."
Solen looked at him and thought, 'Yeah, this is totally going to jinx me. Isn't it?'
Borin then bid him farewell and turned back toward the camp.
Solen lingered for a moment, his eyes drifting to where Jaron sat sharpening his blade, his eyes as cold as ever. He wondered, just for a moment, what it would take to get someone like that to even look at him as an equal.
Then he sighed and followed Borin toward the camp. "Yeah… I'll figure it out somehow."