Learn to Dance [Attn: Locke]

[Cat]

Johan

No.

Stand and stance were two very different things, at least in Johan’s mind, and his mouth was open before he knew it, ready to bite out a retort. He’d never been very good at someone telling him that he was wrong or was doing something incorrectly, and that feeling had only intensified since coming to the Tower. He felt, almost, that - thanks to his background - he had to prove himself even more. He’d come from nothing. He was nothing. He didn’t have some illustrious title that came with his name. He was a no one, but he didn’t want to be. He wanted to be a someone, and a ‘someone’ never, ever got anything wrong. They never made mistakes.

And yet it seemed he had.

It didn’t help, too, that he was an eighteen-year-old, that awkward age where you were too old to be a child but not old enough to be seen as a proper adult, with an eighteen-year-old’s pride.

Somehow, though, he managed to stop himself before the words left his lips. It never helped to snap. It got you in trouble more often than not, and that was most definitely not going to help him. Still, he made no move to mimic the Aiel. Instead, he crossed his arms, becoming the very thing you weren’t supposed to in a fight – stiff and tense: unmoveable. His muscles locked. He could feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment at apparently getting it so wrong.

“You said stand,” he said flatly, emphasising the last word. There was no grinning this time. He was embarrassed. His pride had been pricked. He’d wanted to show himself off in a great light, and he had failed. “Not stances. Not move. You said ‘how do you stand'.”

[Locke]

Terric

This Wetlander had a lot to learn. Terric would be the one to teach him. “You talk a lot about moving around in a fight,” Terric said, approaching to stand face to face with the younger man. “But your current stance is as rigid as your pride.” His voice didn’t change. He simply slipped his heel behind the Drin’s and struck him high on the chest with his open palm. He caught hold of the kid’s coat so he wouldn’t fall back and hit his head. He did however, release him, dumping him unceremoniously to the stone floor.

“Back on your feet, Johan Ablaer,” Terric said extending a helping hand to the man, “Your pride will make this a long, rough road.” He had agreed to train this boy. Even if his stubborn pride was rapidly growing tiresome. Terric didn’t give up easily on things he set out to do. One couldn’t hope to become an Algaid’d’siswai if they were a quitter.

“No, let’s try this again,” the older Aielman said flatly, “Mimic my stance and I will make sure you’re doing it right. If you continue to try to argue points that do not need arguing, I will have to teach you to fall properly earlier than I expected to.” Most people didn’t realize, but there was an art to falling in such a way as to avoid injury. If Johan Ablaer continued as he was, he would most certainly need to learn that skill. Because even if Terric didn’t knock him down again, there was probably somebody out there itching to.

[Cat]

Johan

He should have expected it, to find himself face down in the dirt (even figuratively, if not literally), because it was what always happened, but, still, Johan couldn’t help the surprise when he suddenly found himself staring up at the sky. Said surprise lasted all of two seconds, before it quickly morphed into a mixture of anger, embarrassment, humiliation, and frustration. He stamped down on the feelings just as quickly, though he couldn’t help but shoot the Aiel a quick glare. If looks could kill… He was fairly sure that his back was now bruised.

It took another moment, but he managed to swallow his pride and take the Aiel’s hand. He was here to learn, he reminded himself, and he had to remember that, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with what was being said. It was a means to an end, and he’d told himself upon coming to the Tower that he’d do whatever he had to in order to succeed. He was going to learn enough so that he could support his family.

“I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he got to his feet. “I shouldn’t have said it.” He managed to keep his tone even, although his pride was still very much pricked, and he was positive that his face was now bright red.

But with those words said, and managing not to glare a second time, he moved into the stance that Terric had shown, and then waited.

[Locke]

Terric

Terric simply nodded. While the pride of youth could be frustrating, the young did little more than shame themselves. He would have to meet his toh to himself in his own time.

From what Terric could tell, Johan Ablaer wasn't a complete fool. Terric walked around the young Drin, inspecting his form. He knew how to hold himself at least. He kept his guard too low though. Terric reached out and raised his students hands slightly. “Protect your face a little more,” he said with a mirthful twinkle in his eye, “People sometimes want to punch you, don't make it easy for them.”

Stepping back, Terric assumed the same stance opposite him. “You're looking good so far. Now we will hold this stance. For how long? Oh, until I say otherwise. It builds character. Assume the Void if you can. It will make this easier.” Following his own advice, Terric fed his extraneous thoughts to the Flame. He floated alone in the Void, vividly aware of his body, the stones beneath his feet, and the man standing across from him. Breath steady, Terric settled into his stance.

[Cat]

Johan

Johan wanted to ask if Terric had any experience with people wanting to punch him, because it very much seemed like he would have, because right now punching the Aiel in the face seemed like it would be one of the most satisfying things ever, but, once again, the Drin somehow managed to stop himself from giving a voice to his thoughts. If nothing else, he was learning a lot about self-control. His hands twitched, and he plastered a far too fake smile on his face, inwardly still seething. The joke definitely hadn’t helped.

There was absolutely no chance of entering the Void. It was something Johan struggled with on any normal day, let alone a day where he was discovering that maybe, just maybe he had made a mistake when it came to asking for lessons. He preferred to keep in full contact with his emotions. Anger helped him to fight, and fear kept him going. They both added fuel to the fire. But, again, he didn’t give a voice to any of his thoughts. Instead, he kept his face blank and stayed as still as he could, remaining in the stance, sheer stubbornness and determination not letting him move. He said nothing.

Just waited and concentrated on simply breathing.

And waited.

And waited.

Let Terric think he was floating in the Void.

[Locke]

Terric

Johan Ablaer was a stubborn kid, no doubt about it. Maybe one day, he’d grow a little bit of wisdom to complement it. Until then, Terric decided that he would do his best to make sure the boy came out on top in the scraps he’d invariably find himself in. Slowly and steadily, much like pulling cactus spines, he was learning. He was completing their sandbag runs without the need to bend over wheezing. He could hold the stances much longer without his legs trembling as well. Once he’d gotten past the mental blocks around intentionally falling, and his assertion that simply not falling was a better path, he’d taken to break falls like a natural.

Now, after weeks of basics, Terric decided it was time to move his student to the next phase of training. They started the session like any other, running along the perimeter wall and through the gardens with heavy sandbags on their shoulders. Occasionally, Terric would have them do lunches or high knees or any of a number of exercises. Terric didn’t want to wear him down too much though, they were almost ready to start having fun.

He brought them to a stop in one of the more isolated corners of the garden and set the young Drin to practicing standing on one leg. Terric had come out to this clearing earlier to stash two sets of practice spears and bucklers. He returned, giving one set to the Drin and strapping on his own buckler.

“I’m going to show you how to actually attack and defend now. Before we begin, tell me this,” he gestured at the spear and buckler, “Which one do you attack with and which do you defend with?”

[Cat]

Johan

It was sheer bloody stubbornness that kept Johan going. His mother had always taught him that once you started something you saw it through to the end, and it was those words that he repeated in his head every time he saw another light-forsaken sandbag. Even if he had apparently made a mistake, he had chosen that mistake, and he therefore had to deal with the consequences and see them through. He had, though, taken to imagining that the sandbag was Terric’s head, which made getting to the end of the run and dropping it extremely satisfying and rewarding, especially because he wasn’t gentle. The thud when he threw it to the ground made him feel better every single time; since he couldn’t actually punch the Aiel, slamming Terric the sandbag into the ground was the next best thing.

Johan was currently, once again, cursing the Aiel, his lineage, and anything else that he could think of as he stood balancing on one leg, the Void once again in a galaxy far, far away. He could have stopped the moment the Aiel left, but what would be the point of that? He wanted to prove that he could do things, after all. Cheating would get him nowhere and, with his luck, the moment he put his foot down would be the moment Terric came back.

He was glad, then, when the Aiel did eventually return, although he couldn’t help but glance at the buckler and spear he suddenly found in his hands. He tore his gaze away and looked up questioningly.

Now? Finally? They were going to finally get to use them? If he hadn’t been so shocked he would whooped with glee. Although perhaps this was some kind of Aiel joke. So close, and now I’m going to take it away… and he’d find himself with an armful of sandbags once again.

“That’s a trick question,” he said, when he’d finally recovered enough from his shock, although he was unable to keep the suspicion from his voice. “Both can be used as a weapon, and both can be used to defend. You can strike an opponent with a shield, break his nose, stun him, and you can lift the spear to deflect a blow.” He shrugged his shoulders, and then grinned. “Anything’s a weapon, remember? Motto of the Rahad.”

[Locke]

Terric

“Exactly,” Terric said in a voice tinged with pride. This kid would do well. Hefting his spear and buckler he said, “Yes, you can strike with every part of the spear. A simple thrust, a strike with the butt, or even clubbing somebody with the shaft. A good rap across the knuckles will cause most men to drop what they’re holding.” Terric demonstrated each technique as he explained.

“If you're feeling aggressive, you can jab your opponent in the throat. Today, though, we will start simple. Offensive and Defensive attitudes. In the Offensive attitude, you stand with your spear extended towards your opponent and right foot forward.” Again, he demonstrated. “I prefer the defensive attitude. Your shield side is to the enemy. It's a cautious stance, but you protect your vital bits. The best defense, however, is to simply not be where the blow is coming. As a Gaidin, you might not always have that luxury. Now, do what I do.”

Terric began to demonstrate how to shift between defensive and offensive attitude explaining how they incorporated the footwork they had previously covered. Then they added basic attacks to the mix. A basic stab from low or mid. An overhand stab, lunges and thrusts. “Spear fighting is simple, it's brutal, it's effective. Algaid’d’siswai don't wear armor into battle. We rely on speed, aggression, and flexibility to win our battles. Overwhelm your enemy but be ready to dodge out and find another vector of attack if things don't go according to plan.” They continued drilling basic strikes blocks until the next bell.

[Cat]

Johan

Speed, aggression, and flexibility? Johan gave a soft, amused snort at that. That was how he had he always chosen to fight. He didn’t have the strength or the size to be able to rely on sheer force, and so had always depended on his speed and agility to keep him safe and alive and away from harm. It seemed that apparently he had been born in the wrong country; that apparently he should have been born in the Aiel Waste, although that thought made him want to laugh. He couldn’t quite imagine himself with red hair, pontificating about toh . It was simply too ridiculous.

It took a moment for him to focus back on Terric, draw his mind back to the present, and when he did his heart sank ever so slightly. It appeared that they would be going through more drills. He’d hoped, after being given the spear and buckler, that they would go straight into fighting. The best way of learning, he had always found, was to be thrown straight into it, straight into the deep end. That way, you had to learn or else. There was no other option. Oh, he’d ended up with hundreds of bloodied noses and black-eyes before he had finally learnt the correct way to fight back, but he’d gained a lot experience and learnt how to trust himself and know how he’d react in that kind of environment. Fancy footwork and forms showed him nothing. Knowing his luck, the moment he faced an opponent everything would fall apart, he’d panic, the spear would go flying and he’d find himself with another spear in his guts.

He managed, though, to swallow his disappointment and force himself to copy the Aiel’s moves. Stab, lunge, thrust. Overhand, underhand, backwards and forwards, up and down. Again and again and again.

He was glad when he heard the bell eventually sound. Next time, he hoped, they’d finally get to sparring.

But apparently Aiel really enjoyed their drills.

[Locke]

Terric

They spent the next few weeks practicing combat drills in between their regular cardio and static exercises. Long gone were the sandbags. Instead, Johan learned to run with spears and buckler. They raced through the gardens, dodging roots and branches. Their paths took them up to the walls and back down.

One spring afternoon, they paused near the Guardsmen’s practice yard. After running his student through sets of pushups and situps, Terric pulled him off to the side. “I know how you must be feeling. I’ve been in your place before. There is a lot to take in. Don’t worry about trying to remember everything when the time comes. Our bodies are smart. Far smarter than we are. If you drill something long enough, it becomes natural and your body does it without having to be told how to.”

Gesturing over to one of the empty sparing rings, Terric said, “Grab your spear, I’ll show you what I’m talking about.” Stepping over the rope, he let himself fall into a comfortable middle guard. “Land three hits. It doesn’t matter where you get hit, the fight isn’t over until you surrender or land three hits on me. Or if I say so, but that should go without saying.” He gave his student just enough time to take his place opposite him before rushing. He wasn’t trying to hit him, each spear thrust passed wide of their apparent target, he just wanted the younger man to feel threatened, to act. “Come on, Johan Ablaer, show me what you have learned.”