118 AG – Year of the Tiger, Spring.

A hawk soared high above, peering down at the lush green valley below, hunting for potential prey. Its eyes shifted to and fro, from one end of the valley where a settlement lay to the other that had similar. It glanced at the giant fissure down the middle of the valley that nearly split it in half and instinctually turned away, a primal fear urging it to not go near lest it no longer desire to live. Eyes narrowing, it had found its quarry; a shriek pierced the skies as it dove for the kill.

A young boy about ten could be seen in a stance in a small courtyard. The sun beat down relentlessly on him, brown skin glistened with sweat, black hair stuck to his forehead as he tried to hold a steady form. A stone abruptly struck the middle of his forehead with a resounding crack.

“AAAUUGGHHH!!!”

*Thump*

“Ugh, my head is spinning. I think you hit me too hard, uncle Fjǫrn.” Sǫlmundr said as he shakily got back on his feet while rubbing his ass. That hit had truly rattled the insides of his head. ‘I hope I don’t get brain damage from this, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it has already happened.’

“Nonsense!!! If a pebble like that is all it takes to throw you off balance, how will you ever be a good earthbender!!!” Fjǫrnir replied while leisurely seated in a wooden chair. Though he was a stout man, it did nothing to diminish his muscular body honed through years of practice. A sturdy jaw, a broad nose and brown eyes gave off the feeling of a strict but caring individual mentor. While a scruffy beard wrapped around his face melded connected with his orange hair, braided in two short stumps. He might be mistaken for a resting bear if one didn’t look closely.

“That pebble was the size of my forehead.” He spat back, still trying to regain his balance.

“Pebble, stone, what’s the difference.” Sǫlmundr opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Fjǫrnir raised a hand, halting his reply. “Besides, I’ve seen kids take hits twice as hard and get back up. If you can’t do even this much, you won’t ever be able to become a great earthbender.”

Seeing the humourless look in his mentor’s eyes, Sǫl knew he was right. If he wanted to improve, he would need to put in twice the effort others did, likely even more as things progressed. He relented and got back into a horse stance, the foundational stance one learnt as an earthbender that served as the basis for all others. It worked all the core muscles one used when earthbending and improved stability and flexibility.

Fjǫrnir snorted at the stance Sǫl had taken. “Are u trying to cheat?” He got up and started circling the poor boy. “LEGS SPREAD APART!!!” He drew his leg across the ground shifting beneath Sǫl, drawing his feet wide.

“THIGHS PARALLEL TO THE GROUND!!!” A heavy pressure landed on his shoulders, his dear uncle’s bear-like hands forcing him down till he was in the proper position.

“ASS CLENCHED!!! STOMACH TIGHT!!! ARMS TUCKED IN!!!” A slew of instructions followed till he was in perfect position. Fjǫrnir crossed his arms while nodding, staring at his student, who looked like he was about to shit himself. “Hmph, good, now hold this position for forty breaths of time, and you can go home. And you won’t leave till you can, even if it takes all day. Illugis be damned!!!”

Sǫlmundr could only silently agree, too focused on trying to ignore the searing sensation that pervaded his lower body. He had been training with Fjǫrnir for about two years now. The first year had encompassed general fitness training to build a sturdy base before bender training began. Sit-ups, push-ups, squats, and other similar workouts had become part of his daily routine, along with cardiovascular exercise. He had also started to go barefoot to improve his connection with the earth, the cornerstone of earthbending.

Many a night had been spent nursing his feet from the cuts, scrapes and blisters that had formed. But it had paid off, the skin on his feet had become hard and rough like sandpaper, and now he could truly feel the connection between himself and the earth. Like it had acknowledged his efforts and sacrifices, seeing him as another part of itself.

Sǫl grit his teeth, fighting the pain, his muscles pleading at him to stop holding the stance. ‘Twenty breaths left… don’t focus on the pain… don’t focus on what’s before you… but that which is deeper.’ He repeated a phrase he had learnt from teacher Fróði. Over the years, they had developed a close bond, one hungry for knowledge while the other was happy to provide it to any who were willing. He had learnt many things from the man, such as the existence of two other settlements in the valley, all working together to protect it from whatever the draugr were.

‘Ten more breaths… soon, all this training will pay off… keep pushing through Sǫl.’ Half a year ago, Sǫl had finally managed to earthbend, he had managed to make a small handful of dirt float in the palm of his hand. It was a pitiful feat of bending, but he was overjoyed. After a year and a half of routinely eroding the essence ball, he had managed to assimilate enough to bring his talent up to the bare minimum required to earthbend.

It was conclusive proof that he was on the right track, that the dark brown orb did have the ability to improve his talent, and that his flow technique sped up its erosion rate. Over the first eight years, the ball had reduced by about a fifth of its original size. However, it had shrunk by another fifth over the past two years, attributed to the erosion method. The goal now was to improve the technique, increase his talent and distinguish himself amongst his peers, hopefully catching the eye of the Illugi family.

With this in mind, Sǫl had shown his bending ability to Fjǫrnir, hoping that it would be enough for him to agree to start teaching him the basics of earthbending. And with a bit of persuasion, which involved a fair amount of grovelling and crocodile tears, it worked. But who would have guessed that the laid back uncle Sǫl had come to know would turn into a cruel taskmaster once he started to learn earthbending?

*Whoosh*

A ‘pebble’ cut through the air at that moment, heading for the spot right between Sǫl’s brows. But he was ready this time. He willed his flow towards his forehead, spreading it over, forming a sort of protective barrier. His muscles clenched in anticipation with his eyes closed and his breaths calm. It felt like forever, as if time had stopped, the moment dragging on into infinity.

*PAK*

The stone impacted with such force that he thought his head would fly off for a second, but he commanded his neck muscles to remain taut. ‘PERSEVEREEE!!!’ He would not falter now when the finish was in sight. Sǫl was so focused on staying rigid and holding stance that it wasn’t until Fjǫrnir’s laugh did he realise what had happened.

“HAHAHAHAHA, you shoulda seen the look on your face when the pebble hit.”, Fjǫrnir had a hand over his forehead while the other pointed at Sǫl. “You looked like you got your arse bitten by a crococat HAHAHAHA.”

Small fragments of stone could be seen in the vicinity around Sǫl. The projectile had shattered upon impact with his forehead. It was the consequence of a basic earthbending technique that could be used by almost anyone with earthbending aptitude.

“That’s… *huff* forty breaths… *huff* I did it… *huff* uncle Fjǫrn.”, he declared, a triumphant smile on his face.

‘Crazy kid. Even after all that, he still managed to pull it off’, Fjǫrnir thought to himself while shaking his head. “Hah, you did good, kid. The new group of warrior trainees have their first lesson in a week, so rest till then. Though knowing you that doesn’t mean much.”

“I’ll take it easy over the coming week, I promise.” Sǫl replied as he trudged over to a wooden bench and took a seat. His body was aching all over, even in places he didn’t know could ache. Grabbing a small metal cup, he scooped up some water from a nearby wooden pail and greedily chugged it, the icy sensation flowing down his throat numbing the pain.

Fjǫrnir walked over and sat down beside him, his large hand ruffling his black hair. “Alright kid, seeing as your about to start formal training, I’ll be explaining some things and what to look out for.” At those words, Sǫl perked up and gave his full attention to what was being said.

“Firstly, chi. We all have it in us. Think of it like an invisible force in your body that you can control, like an invisible hand. That’s how we earthbend. Our chi interacts with the earth, moulding it according to our will. Don’t get mistaken like many inexperienced earthbenders, who focus on manipulating the earth instead of their chi. The secret to becoming a great earthbender is not how much earth you can control but how well you can control your chi.”

Fjǫrnir mistook the thoughtful look on Sǫl’s face as him being confused, “Now, now don’t get too worked up about it. It’s something even experienced warriors still struggle to grasp, so don’t focus too much on it. This is just so you keep it in mind and don’t develop an incorrect understanding of bending.”

“Secondly, always be polite to the trainer. They hold all the power and can decide whether you fail or graduate at the end of the year. So try to get on their good side. I don’t know who’s the trainer for your batch, so I can’t really say much else.” Sǫl nodded his head, keeping it in mind.

“Lastly, don’t worry about the opinions others have about you. Be it due to your… complexion or earthbending at a later age than usual. They don’t know you or the hard work you put in every day to make something of yourself.” Fjǫrnir looked at the son of his dear friend, wondering just how much hardship he had to endure from such a young age. Losing his mother, being a social outcast due to his skin, living a solitary life in the Illugi residence, having subpar earthbending talent, he only felt pity for the boy.

He dared not think how much harder his life would become once the warrior training started. Though he did mean what he stated, he knew that it wasn’t the whole truth. The Illugis may be the head family, but they weren’t the only warrior family in town. The other families were constantly vying for more power by having more of their members become warriors and expanding their influence through the city.

Though this didn’t mean the settlement wasn’t united, the safety of the valley was always the number one priority, and everyone understood this fact. It was everyone’s duty and honour to protect this promised land bestowed upon them by the Great Guardian. But while this was the case, men were still men. They couldn’t help grasping for more than they already had, even if they didn’t need it.

This would inevitably lead to them focusing on Sǫl, the black sheep of the Illugi family, who had just started his warrior training. They would either look for opportunities to manipulate him to their advantage or suppress him to prevent the power of the Illugis from growing any further. Fjǫrnir let out a sigh while shaking his head. “Listen kid, just be careful and don’t readily trust anyone, even the Illugis. Remember, everyone wants something, whether they are aware of it or not. Don’t ever forget that.” He emphasised while intensely staring into Sǫl’s eyes.

Sensing the tense atmosphere, Sǫl took a knee before Fjǫrnir. “Thank you for your words of wisdom and for training me for these past two years, uncle. I won’t let you or father down. I swear I will make you both proud.” He declared steadfastly.

‘Wise words, uncle. Words that apply to you as well as me. Your reasons for teaching me may be good, but that little part is using me to get back at the Illugis. We’re all just using each other for selfish desires at the end of the day. Everyone uses each other, that’s life, and I’ll be sure to take full advantage to reap the most benefits.’ Sǫl thought as Fjǫrnir gazed at him with a proud expression plastered on his face.