Pashenor and Jurin

Pashenor reached up high and stretched. He had been sitting around for hours, waiting for something to happen. Jurin had told him to wait by the willow tree. He had promised that it would be worth it. Pashenor remembered how excited Jurin had been. His green eyes had been alight with anticipation. His soft brown hair had swayed gently over his brow.

That was hours ago, Pashenor thought to himself. He looked up at the tendrils of leaves that hung all around him. The sky was lit in a fading blue, as the sun gently slid from its place in the sky. Soon the mellow reds and violets of sunset would awaken to announce the coming of night. Jurin had never kept Pashenor waiting for so long, and he was starting to worry.

Once the night had come and the stars twinkled merrily overhead, Pashenor's patience had gone. He stepped away from the willow tree after giving one last cursory glance around him. No one was in sight. He had spent the evening hours alone. Pash's mind swirled with activity as he wondered why Jurin had asked him to wait, and why he had never shown.

Pashenor wandered down a narrow dirt path that led away from the tree and toward the nearby village. He and Jurin had spent many days running back and forth from the village, laughing and trying feverishly to catch each other. Lately, Pash had noticed that Jurin hadn't been running as fast, as if other things consumed his thoughts.

A cool breeze teased his cheek. Pashenor looked around and saw that the trees nearby did not flutter in the gentle wind. The zephyr brushed against his face again. He looked around, bewildered. A knowing smile came to his face then, and he squinted his eyes, trying to see more clearly in the darkness. He glanced left and right, and found his target tucked behind a nearby row of bushes.

"Mid-afternoon," he said sourly. "Right after the evening meal. Meet by the tree." He shook his head as Jurin muttered under his breath and came out from his hiding place.

"Sorry I'm late." Jurin bit his lip and slowly approached his friend. He looked at him, as if waiting for Pashenor to notice something.

"It's been two years, Jurin," Pash said slowly. "You've slaved for that magician and all you can do is call up a puff of air?" His eyes lit with humor, and he smirked noticeably despite the dour tone.

Jurin, however, took the words at face value and did not catch the intended humor. His silly grin fell away to a sour pout, and the light in his eyes faded. He turned slowly and stepped away. "I--" but he could not finish.

Pashenor shook his head. "Jurin…"

The younger man turned back. "I know," he said softly. "You were kidding." He shook his head. "But… Just once." He turned to face Pashenor and gazed into the questioning brown eyes. "Just once it would be nice if you didn't have to joke. It took a lot longer for me to get here than I thought it would. I moved the air last night and when I told Huali about it, she practically glowed. She whipped up a special meal with cakes and everything. We talked for quite a bit."

"Then she probably asked you to wash the dishes," Pash added, trying to lighten his friend's mood.

Jurin wouldn't accept it, however. He gave Pashenor a cold stare. "You may be able to fell a tree with your magic. You were born able to touch the essence. But some of us have to work at it." He was surprised to find tears falling from his own eyes. "I waited a long time before I tried to find someone to train me. You certainly wouldn't."

Pash sighed. "I am not a teacher, Jurin. And it's because it all comes so naturally to me. You know that."

Jurin groaned and started to pace. "And you know how much I've struggled to learn it. I gave up my studies with my father to tend to Huali so that she would teach me. It's been two whole years, Pash, and after trying every day, I finally call up a gust of wind. But you don't even say anything nice." He stopped pacing and shook his head.

"You know how I am."

"And you know me," he returned. "Pash. Sometimes I need encouragement. Sometimes, I need to feel as if it matters to you. If anything matters…"

Pashenor stepped forward at last. "You matter." He wrapped his arms around Jurin and held him as he sobbed. Pash was only two years older, but sometimes he felt the difference in their ages was much more. Pash wasn't as swayed by his emotions as Jurin. He recognized the difference, but barely thought beyond that. After a few minutes had passed, Jurin softly pushed away and looked into Pashenor's eyes. Pash looked back and smiled gently. "I'm very proud of you."

Jurin stared into the brown eyes for a time, then he smiled, comforted. He could read in Pash's face that he was indeed proud of him. "I wish you had said that before."

Pash did not respond. He turned his gaze toward the willow tree and gestured with a nod of his head. Jurin looked at him as he turned to face the tree that was some distance away. Braced for a heated run, Pash called out to begin.

Jurin, however, did not match Pash's steps. He let Pash run ahead without him. The twenty-year old man watched his taller friend run to the tree without even noticing that he ran alone. A sudden sadness filled him then, and he wasn't sure why. He looked down at his hands for a time and then he sighed. Turning around, he walked home, leaving Pashenor alone by the willow tree, wondering what was going on.

Jurin did not see as Pash shrugged and sank to the ground. He was unaware that Pashenor's eyes filled with his own tears as his arms wrapped around himself to warm a sudden chill from within. Jurin also did not know that Pash wanted to call out to him and run after him, because Pash couldn't find the strength to move. He simply sat and watched in a numb shock as Jurin disappeared into the village.

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