Complete - VIII. Strength

Long ago there had been for Rook a teacher, a mentor, the woman who first taught Rook swordplay (parry first and trap their blade, then dart into the opening like passing cars, fill the space, use their weight against them) and about maps (walk-walk and draw the walking, north is where the thick moss grows on tree-trunks, let your pen-strokes be your footsteps).

But he had lost her sword. He had lifted it and taken it to battle before he was ready, he had stolen from the woman what was never his to take. He had been too quick (the Quick!) and the rookie swordsman had failed, the blade lost, left to suffer his mistake.

He could not go back. Not until he’d found the sword, he could not look her in the eyes until Rook knew that he could wield it on his own.

He was Rook the Foolish, yes, but not Rook the Total Fool! He knew himself to be untrained. He needed to grow stronger! He needed practice, and guidance, and a new teacher (whose blade he would not pilfer! Whose lessons he would learn this time, and not be hasty!)

---

He’d found that teacher in Yladia, north and strange and filled with odd-odd forests (mushroom-trees with little birds) an ancient elf-man who would take on an apprentice. Pah, but there was competition! @Sean Poteitoku so-small with red, red hair and kitten ears and magic too, Rook was jealous (darkly jealous) of his flames.

Once, he too had borne a blade with fire at its core, but it was long, long lost...

The silver-hair, the elven-man, greeted them in the morning. With swordplay? Fencing practice? Bladecraft? No: he gave them CHORES. “I’d like you both to fix the roof, and weed the garden. Bring water from the well. Then, when you are done, we can begin.”

At last!

 

Sean had traveled to Yladia in search of a teacher-to find somebody who can make him strong enough to protect those he cared about. Eventually, he found a wise elven man. Surely, Sean could obtain his wisdom and protect his friends!

But Sean hadn't expected manual labor. Involuntarily, he made a quick "What-!" before shaking his head. No, there must be a reason. Regaining his composure, he looked the man in the eye.

"What does this have to do with getting stronger, sir?"

 

Rook put his hand on his fellow student’s sword as if to stay his blade, shaking his head no. Caution! Who knew what tricks the silver-haired man had up his sleeve? He was a swordsman renowned far and wide for his teachings, after all.

Giving a quick nod of assent, Rook sprung into action. Before the Yladian man had time to turn around, he’d taken a running jump off a stack of logs and was clinging to the side of the roof. His feet dangled comically for a moment before he scrabbled up the shingles and perched on the apex, searching for the hole. He found the gap in the roof and jogged from foot to foot, waving his hands and swords at Sean to show he’d found the place.

As it seemed to dawn on the brown-masked man, the teacher gave a chuckle on the ground. “You forgot something, boy! Hasty moves in battle before you’re prepared will cost you.” He turned to Sean. “Mind taking these up to him? As for how this will make you strong... have faith.” The sword-master handed the Felis a pile of shingles, a handful of nails, and a hammer. He walked away, shaking his head.

 

As Sean was handed the shingles, nails, and hammer, he could do nothing but blink. "Uh... Okay?" He made his way to where he could reach the other person looking for training and began handing the requested items to him. "I don't know how this is supposed to help me stab things? I know I shouldn't be in the position to question his authority, but I'd really like to know how this helps us."

 

The black-haired youth had never been taught to fix things. He held the hammer in his hand and stared beadily at it, first with one eye and then the other. He gave it a little swing, then stared at it again.

He could do this!

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap! He squatted with both feet on the shingle, hammering a single nail into the center and ignoring Sean’s attempts at conversation. When he was done, a piece of wood had certainly been nailed over a hole, but there was little to commend besides that. The shingle hung on like a post-it-note on a bulletin board, still rotating slightly on its axis as Rook took a flying leap off the roof and pattered off to fetch their teacher.

“Already?”

The Yladian joined them on the roof and shook his head regretfully. “This is no good, boys.” He turned to the red-haired Felis first. “Sean, Rook, you have to work together, like two hands in combat- sword and shield, cloak and dagger. Each of you has strengths and weaknesses. If you work as one, you can weave your strengths together.”

The silver-haired swordsman showed them all the other places in the roof that needed to be fixed before he turned to go again. “Not so quick this time,” he tossed calmly over his shoulder, “Discipline. Teamwork. Consistency.”

Not quick?

Once the elf was gone, Rook kicked the roof in great frustration. Another line of shingles fell off.

“&@%#!”

 

As Sean stared blankly at the fallen shingle, his mind raced. Yeah, teamwork is essential. He turned to his partner. "Okay, try to take it slow. Make sure the nail is in all the way before going on. Unless you'd like me to use the hammer?" He climbed down from his position, retrieving the fallen shingles. "We're a team. We look out for each other."

 

He did not want to work with Sean. He did not know Sean and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Rook had to share his training with this red-haired cat boy!

Sulking, sulking, Rook the Quick!

As Sean went to collect the shingles Rook had kicked off the roof, the masked man tried to learn his lesson. Sword and dagger, work together. Fine. They would!

Rook thrust the hammer out at Sean, looking away. After a second, he brought himself to look the Felis in the eye, and bobbed his head in a small nod. Yes... they had different strengths. But they could overcome their shortcomings if they relied on one another. For now.

After that, Rook pattered up and down the roof, scoping out places that needed to be mended with his sharp eyes while Sean did the mending until everything was done.

When their teacher came back, the elven man did not praise them. He gave a nod, however (a nod like Rook’s nod, a nod that said “all right then” and “it’s time for action”) and handed each of them a stack of pails. “The spring is in the woods, about ten minutes down the road,” he said, pointing. Rook jangled his buckets angrily, questioning. “Yes, you have to fill them all. Get going, you two. Don’t forget to work together.”

 

As Sean was handed the pails, he let out a small chuckle. "Whatever you say." He turned to his partner. "Seems like you don't want to do this? How about we make it a race?" He crouched down into as much of a starting position he can get with a stack of buckets. "Let's see who can fill the pails first!" He gave a reassuring grin. "If we have to do this, might as well make it fun!" He began to run down the road. "Better keep up or I'll win!"

 

Rook looked up at the prospect of a race, brightening considerably. He bobbed his head eagerly, quickly flicking out his rapier and drawing a line in the dirt for them to start at. Sheathing his blade again, Rook grabbed his stacks of buckets in both hands and struck a pose at the ready, looking at Sean and counting down from three with the fingers on one hand.

3... 2... 1...

And then he was off in a pailjangling footpatter with a cartoon-like trail of dust in his wake, matching Sean inch-for-inch as the two apprentice swordsmen raced towards the forest spring.

Ten minutes? Hah! They would make it five minutes, or even two minutes!

 

As Sean watched his partner draw a line in the dirt with his rapier, his face formed into a wide grin. Always care... Always. As they took off, matching each other step for step and leaving a trail of dust, Sean finally felt alive. Around four minutes in, Sean got an idea. What if I use my fire magic to propel myself forward? He quickly slid one of the pail piles onto his forearm and tried to open his menu.

Oh yeah, right, I can't use my interface.

Sean looked up from his hand and lack of interface. Already, the spring was in sight. "Wow, we're making great time!" Sean literally slid into a stop next to the spring, getting two pails out and haphazardly dipping them in at the same time to get a good amount of water in them.

 

Runrunrunrunrun!

His tongue clicked on the roof of his mouth as the two apprentices raced one another, feet a blur down the little path. After they reached the spring and Rook skipped to a stop, flapping feet winding down like a clockwork toy at the end of its cycle, he felt tired but also re-energized after the frustrating roof-fixing exercise. At such a rate they would be back with the water-pails in no time (with perhaps time before sunset for some sparring...)

WEEP! Reality was not so kind! Rook tried to carry four full-pails at once and immediately splashed them on himself, looking down sadly at his dripping legs and sandals. It would have to be two at a time.

Thus began the annoying chore of running back and forth from the spring (but not too-quick! Or the water spilled, and Rook arrived with two pails only half-full to a Yladian shaking his head) with buckets of water, to and fro, splash-splash-run.

By the end, Rook had tied his heavy black hood around his waist and his sore-scarred neck glistened with sweat, his jerkin drenched. The swordsman’s back and shoulders burned like he’d been beaten from the effort, hands trembling. He was not used to bearing so much weight! His rapier and dagger were fast and light by comparison...

When Rook put the last two buckets down, his arms sprang back as light as feathers. “Wheeew!” A faint whistle came from beneath the mask as he looked around for Sean. Having competition and a rival during the chore had helped motivate him to carry on despite the strain, and he was grateful to the catboy.

Looking at the pair of youths, seeing how hard they’d tried, the silver-haired elf smiled. They’d had enough for one day, he’d decided. Long ago, perhaps, he would have had them slave away through day and night, break them down completely before he built them back up again from the ground. But he was old, and merciful, and perhaps he saw something in the pair he liked. A spark.

“Well done, boys. We’ll weed the garden tomorrow, I think you’ve been patient long enough. Now— it’s time. Take up your swords. Your real training begins now!”

END THREAD​

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