In our village, there was a blind man. He was old now, but he had never been able to see. He'd been completely blind since birth.

"Do you just see black?" one of the children had asked him once, when I was about five. Me and a group of children had gathered around him, as we did sometimes, fascinated as we were by the man.

"No", he said patiently, even if he had heard the question a thousand times before. "I just don't see."

We had marvelled at this, trying to imagine it but unable to. Since that day, the children of the village had made a play out of trying to describe colours to him.

"Blue is like the ocean!" one said proudly.

"But I haven't seen the ocean", the old man said, ever smiling, ever patient.

"Oh..." The child was disappointed.

However hard we tried, we couldn't describe any colour to him.

That's the way it was with the elven touch. Never in a million years did I think I could describe it. It was completely different from the humming of the elven-made wooden chest my mother had gifted me. Or the amethyst sword singing in my hand. Still, I lay in my bed in one of the castle's guest rooms at night, doing my best to make up a description in my mind.

It was like all of my senses awakened at once from all of the nerve endings in contact with the king's palm; sight, hearing, smell, taste, sensation. And the pleasure I felt was not only greater than anything I had ever felt but of an entirely different calibre, another entity of stimulation felt not in my body but within my soul. And I suspected that would be how the blind man would feel if he could finally see colour; the arrival of a new sensation. 

It was incredibly addictive. So much so that the entire time he touched me, the fright of him letting go was so overpowering, I had to actively work so as not to panic.

And now, I couldn't sleep.

Early morning, when I started hearing the birds, I gave up and rose, took my sword and walked out through the doors of my bedroom, unguarded now as they'd realised there was no point in having guards as I escaped anyway in search of my brother and more pralines, out of the castle and onto the field of grass where I would meet Tobirama in a few hours. There, I trained alone until the jerky tiredness evaporated from my body. When the sun rose, I took my silken jacket that the seamer, who I had actually become very good friends with, had made, off, but I was still sweating like someone possessed. Soon after sunrise, the flamboyant seamer came out with a glass of water, and I thanked him. I was in the middle of a combination that I knew would never be useful in battle, but which built strength in my shoulders, when I heard someone behind me.

"Hi."

I turned. 

To my great surprise, he wasn't wearing his chainmail or anything protective, just a thin robe, even if he had his sword tied to his side and his hair in a low bun, clearly ready to train.

"Hi", I said. "I couldn't sleep."

He smiled a crooked smile. "I slept very well, actually."

"This way, you might have a chance", I teased lightly.

"Ahh, perfect", he sighed.

"You're confident enough to battle me without armour?" I asked.

"Quite the opposite, to be honest", he said. "This way, I hope you'll be more careful so you don't hurt me."

"How do you know I don't want to hurt you?" I asked.

This sent our eyes into a battle, locking them together, both of us trying not to be the one who averted their gaze first.

He let his sword slide out of his sheath.

"Test me", he said, still not breaking eye contact.

We encircled each other for a while, both of us hesitant, me because of the rumours I'd heard of how great the king was in battle, him because he had seen how easily I tore his guards and captains apart. He knew he had to charge first, as I was the one training him, and he did, taking a step back that caught me off guard before lunging forwards. I just had time to lift my sword. Our faces were inches apart, and I could feel a soft floral smell emitting from his skin and the fabric of his clothes, which made me very aware of how sweaty and bare-chested I was. I took a step back before charging at his feet, which surprised him. I felt the amethyst in my sword charge, which I knew meant I could match his power without much force.

We started dancing with our swords then in a never-ending frenzy of back and forth, back and forth, never braking eye contact, me hardly having to work the muscles in my left arm due to the power of the amethyst. I felt my sword beginning to heat up as well.

"Hehh", the king laughed.

"What?"

"You're left-handed."

"So?"

He didn't answer, but kept clashing our swords together. Suddenly, he stopped, for just the smallest amount of time, and when he charged again, he needed no force to match my power just like I didn't to match his. A purple glow was snaking around his arm. It caught me off guard for long enough for me to slip, and Tobirama took his chance and lunged. I sunk to my knees, twirled, grabbed him by his waist and used his own movement to get him to kneel in front of me. Then, I stood up behind him, and put my sword to his throat from behind.

The whole thing had taken one second, maximum.

We stood there, panting, him kneeling in front of me with his back to me, my blade tickling his throat that was on the same level as my own even if I was standing up. I put some pressure into my sword until I could feel blood from his skin start to trickle down the blade.

"Hehh", he smirked. He could easily get up, as I had given up all resilience, but chose not to.

"How did you do that?" I asked.

He didn't even need to ask; he knew I was talking about that purple glow around his arm.

"The crystals of the South. The ones who made the amethyst of your sword. They trained me."

"Did they train your soldiers as well?"

"No. Only me."

He stood up and turned round. Before I had time to think, he started clashing swords with me again, his silken robe glistening in the sun, and I backed off in a frenzy of defence.

In one swift movement, he threw his sword to the side and grabbed my bare wrists. I gasped in surprise by the sudden elven touch and my knees buckled beneath me.

Then, he went down on one knee, put his finger underneath my chin and connected our lips, sending me into an electrical shock-like experience, the power of the elven touch being a thousand times more forceful coming from the skin on his lips, the nerve endings on mine responding by sending me to the heavens, begging me to never come down again, which I, in a sense, never would allow myself to do, ever again.