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A short piece about Ax and Elfangor. This idea was sort of a plot baby of another piece that is still in the works, in which Elfangor says that he rarely uses Ax's name, it's always "Little Bother" or "Little Brother."
And as for the first part, the way I see it, the tail growing in is like teething.
xXxXxXx
His fur was royal-blue, and his tail blade was just growing in. It was no more than a shiny silver tip at the end of his tail, and it was bothering him. Father was occupied with political nonsense, and Mother had her classes to teach, so I was left to watch the youngster and try to keep him from scratching his tail on the trees. A full warrior, sure to be a prince in a few years, and I was babysitting my little brother.
<Little Bother,> I muttered. Ironic how close “bother” was to “brother.”
He tried to reach his tail again, but it wasn’t quite long enough. He glared at it, the expression on his small face so fierce it made me laugh. Not noticing, my little brother climbed to his thin legs and wobbled a little, but only for a moment. He was very sure-footed for his age. Mother said that it took me far too long to trust my own legs.
He looked around, and made his way straight for the nearest
derrishoul tree. I sighed and climbed to my hooves. <Aximili, stop.> I knew it wouldn’t help. He didn’t understand language yet. He knew his own name, vaguely I think, and could recognize the thought-speak of his family, but he didn’t understand words.
I hurried over and got between him and the tree. <No scratching.> His tail searched the empty air for some way to relieve the irritation. I needed to distract him. I stomped my front hooves and backed up, prancing. Aximili loved to imitate.
The discomfort in his tail forgotten, he picked up one front hoof, then the other. Slowly, uncertainly and wobbly, but he did it. Then I had an idea. He was still young, but he had already shown greater courage on his four hooves than most youngsters.
I trotted two steps and stopped. Aximili watched my hooves with a concentration that belonged on a much older face. He tried lifting two hooves at the same time, arms and tail wind-milling for balance, and fell to his knees.
<Come on, Little Brother,> I encouraged.
He stood up on his thin legs, one at a time, and tested each one. I trotted again, encouraging him to do the same.
We passed nearly an hour in this manner, before he finally succeeded in lifting his front left and hind right hooves simultaneously. Before the first sun set, he was trotting around the grass happily, clearly proud of himself. But I wanted him to
run.
At the time, I didn’t realize what it would mean. Maybe he was helping me to fill the empty hole where Loren and my son were supposed to be. Maybe I wanted a connection with him that no one would be able to break, one that no one else had.
In Andalite culture, teaching a youngster how to run completes one of our most ancient rituals. Long ago, our ancestors had to run to protect themselves from predators. Teaching a youngster how to run was the first step in teaching them how to protect themselves and the herd. The elder Andalite is considered responsible for the well-being of the younger. If harm comes to the youngster, it is concluded that the elder did not do his job. Usually, a parent completes this ritual. But Father was always been busy with his experiments, loving but a little too distant. And Mother loved her students almost as much as she loved her sons, but there were many more students than sons. Her time was spread thin. And he was confident on his hooves, trying to imitate my every move…
I darted away swiftly, teasing him. He trotted after me, already a master at that, but I stayed out of reach. <Run, Little Brother.> I tried to do it slowly, but speed is necessary for the rhythm to be right.
Then, finally, one-two-three! A true, three-beat stride. I laughed, delighted.
By the time the first star was visible and the second moon rose, we were running across the grass. Not fast, but he was truly running. All four legs working together in perfect synchronization, far younger than many Andalites managed it. And he had completely forgotten about his tail.
<You are an Andalite,> I said, completing the ritual even if he didn’t understand me, <Little Brother.> Technically, I was supposed to say his full name, but it seemed too big for his little frame. Someday, he would grow into it.
xXxXxXx
Captain Nerefir pinned a piercing look on me with his two main eyes. His stalk eyes roamed, as did mine. No militaristic Andalite ever looks in only one direction.
<Why, Prince Elfangor? I would think the two of you will distract each other.>
<No, sir. I will be as hard on Aximili as I would be on any other
aristh. Harder, even, because I know of what he is capable. I know the best ways to teach him.>
<Prince Elfangor, I think—>
<Captain, I taught Aximili to run.>
Captain Nerefir looked at me carefully. That alone nearly gave me the right to what I was asking, and he knew it. He also knew that I would be an asset to Aximili’s instruction, there was no denying that. I could scold and praise him as no other warrior could, and I had plenty of combat experience to pass along.
Of course, on the other hand, I had interrupted a celebrated and respected captain. A war hero. The chances of him saying no on those grounds alone were high.
<On a few conditions.>
I tried, I really did, but I couldn’t keep the smile out of my eyes.
<Stop that. You look like a fool.>
I tried again but I don’t think I succeeded.
<You will not be his primary instructor. There are other, more seasoned Andalites for that. You will not shirk your responsibilities. There are other warriors who rely on you. Do not desert them for one
aristh. If Aristh Aximili has not proved himself exceptional by the end of our first mission, he will be taken home. Bear in mind, Prince Elfangor, many successful warriors never set a hoof inside a Dome ship until their training is completed. We could fill entire ships with
arisths, but nothing productive would ever get done. A few
arisths are handpicked every session to go out on missions, for a variety of reasons. Your brother was not one. But you know all this. So why am I explaining it, hmm?>
<I don’t know, sir.>
<So that you, and young Aximili, understand that I have no qualms about sending him home. Is that quite clear, Prince Elfangor?>
<Perfectly, sir.>
<Good. Dismissed.>
I fidgeted on the transport the whole way home. The moment it stopped, I was off, flying across the grass toward our scoop.
<Little Brother!> I was panting, all three hearts working hard. <Little Brother!>
He trotted out from the scoop, trying to look dignified. <Yes, Elfangor?>
<You’re on the
GalaxyTree! With me!> I skidded to a stop, almost tumbling to the grass.
Aximili was too excited to notice. His eyes widened and he pranced on the spot. <Really? I was chosen?>
I barely hesitated. <Yes! And Captain Nerefir decided that I should have a hand in your training. He said that, being brothers, I would have a better understanding of how to teach you.> If he ever found out the truth, he’d be humiliated and angry with me. I wouldn’t blame him in the least, but it was worth the chance to have my little brother closer. If he was going to be fighting, better that he was doing it by my side where I could keep some extra eyes on him.
Three weeks later, the
GalaxyTree was launching.
I was annoyed, but not at all surprised, to see my little brother out of his quarters. <
Aristh!>
He jumped and turned, looking thoroughly caught. <Yes, my prince?>
<You are under strict orders to be in your quarters during take-off.>
<I’m sorry.> He hung his head and I directed my thought-speak to him alone, but kept the reproachful, irritated expression. Warriors walking past would think I was privately scolding him.
<Little Brother, it’s not like the Academy anymore. Out here, if someone makes a mistake it could mean lives. A military functions because everyone is in his position, doing his job.>
<I want a job!>
<Your job is to
learn. Now go back to your quarters and wait for the all-clear. Once we’re clear of the atmosphere, I will not be needed for a while. We can go up to the dome and you can whack out your frustrations on my tail.> I snapped my tail and smiled teasingly. <Or try to. Good luck with that.> I was trying to ease the blow of the reprimand. Aximili seemed to understand.
<Yes, Elfangor.>
All the way down to the bridge, I wondered if my little brother was ready for a deep-space mission. Had I overestimated him out of affection? If he got killed out here, it would be my fault. I shook the thought away. He’d be fine. I would protect him and teach him everything I knew. My Little Bother would come home safely.
