A Clash of Swords (Attn: Elan)

[Cat]

Johan

Johan circled his opponent, watching him, waiting, never taking his eyes off him. They were closely matched, both smaller, both lighter, both more reliant on their speed than strength. They’d already tested each other with a series of strikes and parries, trying to find a weakness, before they’d stepped away and started circling each other again. There’d be a flurry of energy, a blur of movement, the clashing of swords, but it never lasted too long.

And it couldn’t keep going like this; Johan needed to win. He wanted to win. He still had so much to prove.

He pushed the hair from his eyes with one hand, still tightly gripping the handle of his sword with the other. The swords were only wooden, meant for practice. If they’d been real, both he and his opponent would have been bleeding from half a dozen wounds each. As it was, he knew he had earnt a new set of bruises. He couldn’t feel them, but the pain would come later, he knew. Right now the adrenaline was rushing through his veins, pushing him forward, making him feel almost invincible.

The other Ji’val’s sword suddenly came darting towards him, too fast to parry, and Johan ducked and rolled, throwing himself out of the way. He was back on feet in seconds, striking back, thrusting the sword up, aiming for the Ji’val’s throat. The swords met with a clack, his blow parried, before both were spinning away again. Johan didn’t know how much time had passed, but the yard was filled with the clattering and clashing of their swords as they tested and struck, disengaged and attacked, feinted and dodged, again and again and again.

They really were even. Something had to change soon, and change it did.

Johan fell, stumbling to one knee. His eyes widened, panic setting in. The other Ji’val grinned, seeing an opening, and threw himself forwards, dropping his guard. And Johan took the opportunity to move, driving himself forward, up onto his feet, inside the reach of the other’s weapon. Seconds, if that. He reversed his grip on his own sword and smashed the pommel up into the other’s face, breaking his nose… Or that’s what would have happened had he not checked his blow, stopping a hairsbreadth away.

He grinned. “I win.”

The other Ji’val conceded defeat, and the next pair made their way forward. Johan walked to the edge of the training yard and grabbed a drink. He turned, aware of someone approaching, thinking it was the other Ji’val, and then suddenly grinned again.

It wasn’t the Ji’val.

“Have you finally come to meet some potential Warders?” he asked, looking at Jaren.

[Elan]

Jaren

It was a rare afternoon in that Jaren actually found that he had some time between a class and before he had to report to the kitchens for chores. Normally he would have spent that time reading, but a glimpse of the bright sky outside made him decide otherwise. At first he thought of heading to the gardens, but the sun overhead and soft grass beneath him might actually put him to sleep and he’d be liable to sleep through his kitchen shift — not that he’d have minded that, except for the inevitable consequences that would follow such carelessness.

No, best not risk that.

Instead, he headed to the Warders’ training grounds.

Groups of young men and women in Drin and Ji’val uniforms worked with various combinations of weaponry, some even without any weapons at all. Jaren thought briefly of approaching one of the more idle-looking figures to find out who he should ask if he wanted to join a group for a lesson — suitably beginner one, preferably — but before he could decide who looked like the best bet, he spotted someone he knew.

Johan was sparring with another Ji’val and, as Jaren watched, the duel ended in Johan’s favour. Johan and his partner parted ways and another sparring pair stepped up in turn. Jaren headed after Johan as the younger man walked to the edge of the training ground, and as Johan turned to face him, Jaren smiled and waved cheerfully.

“Not purposefully, no,” he replied to the younger man’s question. “I was thinking of trying to find somebody bored enough to teach me, actually.” He nodded towards the rack of wooden training swords. “Not quite sure who to ask, though. Everyone who looks remotely like a teacher seems to be in the middle of, well, teaching, and I doubt they’d welcome the interruption.” Maybe he should come back at a less busy hour. Though… there was someone who wasn’t in the middle of anything right this moment. Jaren tilted his head and his eyes lit up hopefully. “You wouldn’t happen to be willing to teach me?” he asked.

[Cat]

Johan

The question came as something of a surprise, and for a moment Johan just stared as he wondered just why a channeler would want – or need – to learn. The One Power was a weapon enough. He’d heard that with it you could blow up whole swaths of land, and people with it. A sword was like a toothpick in comparison, small, tiny, and pathetic, but who was he to question other people’s decisions? It was up to Jaren what he wanted to do.

He’d never actually taught anyone. Oh, he helped out sometimes with some of the classes with the Drin for wont of anything better to do, but even then he was still following the teacher’s instructions. One on one was completely different, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it, or, at least, be good at it. He tended to falter when the attention was entirely on him.

He bit his lip, glancing behind at the rest of the yard. It was true that there was no one else available to train. He looked back at Jaren.

“Are you sure you trust me? I could accidentally stab you or something,” he said with small smile. “But sure. Grab a sword, any sword,” and that would be a test in itself, “and tell me how much you already know, and we can go from there.”

There was the temptation to go the route that Terric had with him, to run around with sandbags and wait weeks to actually touch the bloody weapon, but he wasn’t that harsh. If Jaren wasn’t fit enough, he would certainly be fit enough by the end of it.

[Elan]

Jaren

“I trust you as much as anyone around here,” Jaren replied, then went on with a grin, “and a sight more than some.” He turned to the weapons rack to pick a weapon but couldn’t resist glancing back over his shoulder to add, “Besides, even if you do manage to injure me, it’s not like Healing is far. I wouldn’t mind getting Healed by an Asha’man, just to see how it’s done.” A pause. “No need to take that as an incentive, though.”

Anyway, swords. ‘Grab any sword’ truly was great advice. Jaren stared at the practice swords on the rack, trying to find something inspiring. They were all swords; sure there were differences in the length and breadth of the blades, but none of them called to him any more than the others. In the end he picked up one with a straight blade, of medium length, with a hilt long enough to accommodate a two-handed grip. He wasn’t going to be using a shield.

His choice made, he turned back to Johan, acutely aware of the younger man’s evaluating gaze. He didn’t exactly enjoy admitting how little he knew, but then, he’d pretty much done that already so his ego could just stuff it. “And what I already know is not much,” he said. “The old man insisted that both me and my brother should know enough to not look like complete idiots carrying a sword, but anything beyond that was a waste of time, so.” He adjusted his grip on the hilt and assumed a ready stance for a moment before shrugging and lowering the sword again. “Some stance, a bit of footwork, a very basic strike or two, mostly against thin air.” Or against a brother several years older and considerably taller. That had gone about as well as one might expect it to.

Spoiler: show

I spent most of yesterday evening googling swords for this and came out none the wiser so have a complete ass-pull of a description xD

[Cat]

Johan

Johan couldn’t help but wince at the mention of Healing. There would, he hoped, be none of that. He had been Healed once, brought back from the edge of death, and that was enough for him. It was not an experience he wanted to repeat, even to see whether there was a difference between been Healed by an Asha’man or an Aes Sedai. Any bruises, any resulting cuts, could be dealt with the normal way.

Taking one last sip of water, he placed the bottle back and followed after Jaren, watching as the other man picked his sword. He could have just given Jaren a sword, true, but he didn’t know what style of fighting Jaren wanted to learn. Fighting with a short-sword was completely different to fighting with a great-sword, for example. Different moves, different stances, a whole different level of strength and skill needed. Thankfully, he had some experience with the sword Jaren picked, and he picked up one to match it before turning to face the other man again.

He arched an eyebrow, grinning. “Do you think you can show me your stance again? How you hold yourself is the most important part. It doesn’t matter how hard you can hit or how fast you can strike, it’ll all fall apart if your feet aren’t right.” He dropped the sword he was holding, which then hit the ground with a thud. “We don’t really need this to start with, to be honest. It’s something extra to think about. The way you stand, the way you hold yourself, really do determine how fast you’ll be, how secure you are, and whether you’ll actually win or lose... It’s not really a stance so much as a series of them that are all connected.”

He stepped back, then, his feet shoulder width apart, one foot slightly in front of other. He stood on the balls of his feet, his knees slightly bent, his weight spread equally over his body. “I can step forwards and backwards,” and he demonstrated, “to the side, all in a matter of seconds, and I remain perfectly balanced and secure and solid. My opponent isn’t going to knock me over and I’m not going to fall over because I’ve lost my balance flinging my sword about. If I was standing like this,” and he stood like he would if he was talking to someone, his feet together, legs straight. “I’d be thrown straight back the moment someone hit me.” He demonstrated that, too, seemingly tripping.

He straightened after a moment, a little awkward as he brushed the hair from his eyes. “So, yeah… Could I see your basic stance again, and we can go from there? I’m probably telling you things you already know.”

Spoiler: show

I just vague things… xD It's a sword, you swing it, it hits something.

[Elan]

Jaren 'Graceful as a Gazelle' Marle

Jaren had to admit, if only to himself, that he was relieved Johan didn’t at least outwardly criticise his choice of sword. He’d picked the one closest to what he’d trained with before — 'trained', very loosely speaking — but back then he’d not been given a choice; the bored and overpaid instructor had simply handed him a weapon and that had been that. Thinking back to it, he had to wonder how competent the instructor had actually been; he’d treated both brothers effectively the same despite the difference in size and aptitude.

He was a little disappointed when Johan dropped his sword and said they wouldn’t be needed just yet, but he kept listening to the instructions, nodding at each point; it all made sense now that he thought about it. Setting his sword aside as well, Jaren settled back into the basic stance; feet slightly spread, knees flexible. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with his arms or hands now that he wasn’t holding a sword, but he just copied the way Johan was holding himself as best he could, hoping he didn’t look like as much of an idiot as he felt.

He didn’t try to copy the fake-tripping, though; mainly because he’d likely have landed face down on the ground and, as much as he liked making people smile, making the entire Warder training yards laugh might have been slightly excessive.

“Actually,” he said, flashing a grin to banish some of the awkwardness he felt, “my previous instructor didn’t really bother explaining much, he'd just tell us to do things a certain way. I guess a lot of the 'why' may be intuitively obvious, but it wasn’t to a thirteen-year-old me tripping over his feet just walking, let alone trying to swing a sword.” He truly had been an awkward little thing, growing up.

[Cat]

Johan

Johan wondered what it would have been like to have had an instructor. He had learnt much of what he knew on the streets, through much trial and error, though more through error. He’d long since lost count of the number of times he’d ended up with bruises, cracked ribs, a black eye after ending up in a scrap with the wrong person. It had certainly taught him that movement was a very important thing.

That had been mostly fighting hand to hand, sometimes with his knife, sometimes with anything that he could grab. Sword fighting had never crossed his mind. It was something the rich and nobles did. It had always seemed so refined, so polished and static to him. It had been a surprise, then, when he’d realised that there were a lot similarities and that he was a lot better at it than he thought. Oh, he still wasn’t refined. He preferred to employ dirty tactics more often than not, because fighting wasn’t honourable, didn’t care about that sort of stuff, but he could fight with a sword well enough.

“I think the ‘why’ is important,” he said, looking back at Jaren. The man’s footwork hadn’t been too bad, though there were still things to improve. “You don’t… you learn all the different weaves without being told how or why you have to do it a certain way. Fire first, and then water… I’ve heard,” and he grinned a little, “that some of the weaves are very similar, and that you could accidentally set someone on fire when you’re supposed to be Healing them.

“But,” he continued, “it’s easier to break it all down into pieces. Kind of like learning a dance. You don’t learn all the steps at once and expect to be able to do it straightaway. That’s too much to think about all in one go. You learn enough steps to be able to them without thinking, and then you add in more, and, before you know it, you’re a natural.” He paused. “Imagine someone is attacking. What would you do with your feet? How would you get away and avoid the blows? The basic stance is all well and good, but how would you move on from that. Show me.” He grinned again, still a little awkward and self-conscious. “Imaginary fighters can’t hurt you, at least, and they do what you want. Swap your lead foot, back up, and turn around without losing your stance.”

Spoiler: show

Using THIS video for a guide just so it doesn’t look like I’m making it up!

[Elan]

Jaren

Oh, Jaren certainly agreed that the 'why' was important, and if the channelling metaphor wasn’t flawlessly applicable, it was good enough to drive the point across. Though he’d never heard of anyone setting someone on fire while trying to Heal them. He’d not been taught Healing yet — generally one had to reach Dedicated or Accepted to take that class — but he knew that there was a variety of Healing that used all elements instead of just Air, Spirit and Water, and he supposed that if one messed up badly enough it was possible…

Anyway, channelling wasn’t the topic at hand here. The dance metaphor worked better. “Right, sure, I can dance,” he muttered, tempted to take a few waltzing steps just for the heck of it. The thought made him chuckle, but again, he wasn’t here to make the entire Warder yards laugh and so he refrained.

Instead he focused on what Johan was saying. Swap your lead foot, back up, and turn around without losing your stance. That didn’t sound too complicated. Keeping his knees flexible, Jaren brought his left foot forward, trying to keep his weight properly centered. That was trickier than he’d have expected; he thought he was probably leaning forward a little too much and tried to fix it as he backed up again. The steps themselves weren’t too difficult, though he still had to think about every move and felt slow and a little silly. Was that Nasrin and Kaira sitting on a bench some distance away, watching? No, he needed to focus on his feet and where to put them, not on Novices who may or may not be there.

To finish he brought his lead foot to the side, turning to face away from Johan and — seeing as the sword was still on the ground — punched the imaginary attacker’s face in the air. Somebody somewhere clapped — sardonically, Jaren thought — and he turned back to Johan with a small grin. “I would have you know, Johan, that I dance a lot better than this,” he said. “Honestly. Maybe music would help.”

[Cat]

Johan

“You’re a lot better than me, then,” Johan replied with a grin. He was impressed with Jaren’s footwork so far, and, if he danced even better, he had to be a bloody good dancer. “I can’t dance at all. Take me to a ball and I’d probably just humiliate myself. Besides, you don’t need music. You’re doing well enough as it is, and a lot of fighters prefer to find The Void rather than prance along,” and his grin widened a little, “to an imaginary fiddle.”

He took a step back, still feeling awkward, still not entirely sure what to do and say. It was one thing to be instructed, but another thing entirely to teach someone else. It was a lot of responsibility, and he didn’t want people to turn around and say he had done a bad job, or, the Creator forbid, get Jaren hurt. He turned back to the Soldier.

“But, I want you to repeat that footwork another ten times,” he continued, “and move faster each time if you can. A lot of the time winning comes as a result of speed. If you’re faster than your opponent, you stand a better chance. You can strike them first and get away before they have a chance to retaliate.” He smiled again. “Literally dancing around your opponent and getting them to chase you is a good way of tiring them out, and then they’re too tired to fight effectively.

“Do that, and we can actually look at the sword. I could be horrible and be like some of my instructors and make you run laps, or even run around the ground with sandbags, but…” He shrugged his shoulders with another grin. “I’d have to come with you and I’d rather not. Instead, once you’re done with the footwork, you can tell me how you’d attack with your sword. Some swords are used to stab and some swords are made for slashing. Which do you believe you picked up?”

[Elan]

Jaren

Jaren returned the grin. “I’d be happy to teach you,” he said. “To dance, I mean. If you ever feel like it.” Partly he just wanted to see how Johan would react, but he was also completely prepared to follow through on the offer. It was the least he could do to repay the Ji’val for the time and effort he was putting into teaching him.

The point about the Void was a good one, though, and Jaren wasn’t sure how he hadn’t thought of it before. After all, he’d first heard of it from fighters, and only upon coming to the Grey Tower had he ever associated it with channelling. Well, he’d never claimed to be the sharpest, uh… the sharpest sword in the weapons rack, he thought with a chuckle.

But for now, more footwork it was. He still didn’t feel particularly fast, but wrapped in the Void — and explicitly ignoring the fierce glow of saidin beckoning to him at the fringes of the Void — he didn’t have to think every move through and after a few repeats he was able to do it faster without tripping over his feet.

By the end of the ten repeats he didn’t quite feel as though he could dance around an enemy and tire them out, yet, but he could perhaps see that it was possible. He wondered if he could make do with the limited floor space in the room he shared with Marten and keep practising later. Not if the other Soldier was in, though… Light, no. Maybe he could also start running up and down the myriad stairs around the Tower, to build up endurance? Soldiers and Novices practically had to run to classes often enough as it was; nobody would look at him askance, they’d just assume he was late for something.

He bent to pick up the wooden sword again and considered Johan’s question. Stabbing, slashing… “Is 'both' not a possibility?” he asked.