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Message: <blockquote data-quote="ScyldSceafing" data-source="post: 794151" data-attributes="member: 5928">A young elf's first assignmentDone well, swordfighting in the elven style results in a sort of brutal, sinuous worship of power; positions and movements learned as a child are incorporated seamlessly and without thought, and the result is a destruction of those very forms, replaced instead by a singular expression of beauty, confidence and danger.Done poorly, it looks something like this:The Master stands, poised, his thin, wooden training blade loosed and held - but held loosely - near his hip. The Student, her expression creased with concentration, runs at him. As she approaches, she raises her sword high with her right hand. The sword swings in a wide oval as she runs, then slashes down diagonally as she reaches him.He parries it lazily, offering a grunted, "You showed it again" as she follows up with another blow - parried - and a chop at the legs - blocked. She steps back, then lunges back in. A twist of his wrist flips the sword from her grasp, and she slumps dejectedly as his wooden blade ticks her under the chin.Sighing, he abruptly drops into a cross-legged sitting posture on the floor. "Sit," he says, and she does."Wyn," he says, still sighing, looking about the room for suggestions on how to start. "Your father, ehh, he would want you to work harder on the--""I'm not my father, you know.""Yes. I know. But you've got ability with more than just the bow. You want to be one of those archers who dies the first time they get overrun? It happens more than we like to talk about. And your father ...Ji'tun laughed, and the look on his face became that of someone she wished she knew more completely. "I remember how your father fought, there at the end of the Hateful Wars. One time, we were trapped in a little side-room by some orcs, just the three of us - your father, Telmo, and me. He just laughed and sang a drinking song at them! And as he sang he danced to the song, with his feet and his body and his sword. Oh, so many orcs marched into his blade it became like an anthem ..."On and on. All her life Wyn had heard stories like this. On and on, all her life, all for a man she'd never met and would never meet. Her father danced his beautiful dance until the blood pouring off of his flashing blade had finally made him slip. "I've got to go to the range," she said, when Ji'tun's reminisences made a brief pause. Then, siezed by a vague guilt: "Festival's coming up. You know. Have to get ready for the contest."Ji'tun's beatific expression vanished, replaced by his usual carefully neutral inquisitive stare. "Ah," he said. "Yes. Absolutely. So then - same time in two days?""Sure.""Wonderful. Just put the practice sword and the tabard in the equipment room. Oh - and take mine, please. Thank you."While she was putting the equipment away, Wyn's turbulent thoughts were interrupted by another voice in the dojo: Ly'al, of the royal guard. "Wyn here?" she heard him ask Ji'tun. "Yes," her master replied, then the conversation continued, more quietly.It's not really eavesdropping if they're talking about me, right? Wyn thought as she moved to hear more clearly. I mean, I can hardly avoid hearing what they're saying."... know she's upset at being turned down for that Ministry trip.""Yes. She was fierce that day. She didn't say anything, but I heard about it later.""Right. Well. Her mother must be part dwarf. The woman is stubborn. She wants her daughter--""Shh. Here. Come out here."Wyn strained, but only bits and pieces wiggled through."... put her on a ranging.""Not b ... available.""... safer than ... and the goblins - they're ...""... counsel her to listen and learn. Good. It's good."Realizing they were coming back into the dojo, Wyn dropped the final sword into place and banged the cabinet door shut."Ah, Wyn. Yes." Ji'tun gestured at the guardsman. "You know Ly'al, yes?"Pulling herself into what she hoped was a powerful stance, Wyn said, "Yes. Of course. Hello, sir.""Wyn. No need to call me sir. I just wanted to tell you I got you a post.""On the next Ministry trip?""Well ... we'll see how this goes. I've asked for you to be placed on the list for a ranging."So. There it was. A ranging. They wanted her to prove herself. A ranging. Fine."That's ... kind of you. I should report ...?""Report to the guards stand first thing tomorrow. I'm not having the Queen's niece running around in the woods with three other saplings wearing armor made for a fat boy. Then I'll walk you over. I hope that's acceptable?""It is, sir. And thank you."</blockquote>

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