The Lesson

Mersday, Day 19 of January

Belfalas: Practice Yards

Here upon a wide shelf of land southwest of the city proper, great lawns of grass are kept manicured and cut for the purposes of the Knights. It is here where the great tournaments are held, and in those fair times stands are erected, and banners and bunting unfurled. But there is no tourney this season, and all that keep the watch here now are a few lonely quintains, swaying alone in the wind off the Sea.

The Sea, the Sea! The yards run down gently into the sandy beach of Belfalas, and above them to the northeast, high upon its cliffs, the City of the Princes rises with its marble towers in the gleam of the starlight. The soft rushing of the waves sounds low on the air.

[Arashen(#24692)]

It is a cold, clear winter afternoon. The sun shines down on the practice yard and lending but the barest of warmth. Knots of men, young and not so young, practices their craft in various parts of the yard.

Near the jousting run, the Blue Squire Arashen waits next to the stand of lances. He leans against the stand, his legs crossed at the ankles and strokes the nose of his gray charger.

\"Nice mount. He yours?\" The voice comes from the right of Arashen. There stands the brown and green-clad Ceredir, though only a moment or two before he wasn\'t in that very spot. He wears a self-satisfied grin, perhaps under the impression that he managed to sneak up on the squire. That, however, remains to be seen.

[Arashen(#24692)]

The squire turns his head quickly then smiles when his eyes fall upon the scout. \"Hello Ceredir. He is my steed beautiful isn\'t he?\"

Arashen uncrosses his ankles and pushes away from the stand. \"Have you recovered from sailing?\"

\"Beautiful,\" Ceredir echoes, eyeing the horse without bothering to hide the jealousy in his look. \"Don\'t use horses in Ithilien...too noisy...enemy would hear us...that sort of thing.\"

The Scout frowns, looking away from the horse and to Arashen. \"Recovered?\" he frowns. \"Guess so. Damn ship, tossing about like that. Thought I\'d be scrubbing the deck for a week if I got sick...\" At least his eyes are clear today and he doesn\'t smell like ale or wine.

[Arashen(#24692)]

Laughing, Arashen replies, \"I guess the sea is not for you, then.\"

\"You do know how to ride, don\'t you?\"

\"Uh...yes..sure...I know how to ride,\" Ceredir answers, starting out hesitant on that answer and then becoming more sure of himself. He grins. \"I\'ll skip the sea travel, thanks.\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

\"Very well,\" Arashen says, nodding his head. \"I must warn you that I may not be the best person to teach you to joust. I have only done it once myself. But I can at least give you the basics and the chance to try a few runs.\"

The squire puts his helmet on and swings up into his saddle. Leaning to the side, he grabs a lance from the stand. \"I will demonstrate first.\"

The young Telpekhor kicks his horse and trots over the beginning of the run. Positioning his horse, he keeps his lance pointed up and spurs the horse onward. He reaches a comfortable gallop, lowers his lance and hits the quintain - sending it spinning.

\"I....\" Ceredir blinks, looking a bit surprised--after all, he didn\'t mention jousting and his answer about horses was rather uncertain. But he shuts his mouth rather quickly and watches--looking impressed, in fact, when the squire hits the quintain.

[Arashen(#24692)]

The Blue Squire brings his horse round back to the scout, tosses the splintered lance to the ground and dismounts. \"Use the rail as a guide, don\'t lower your lance until you are 100 yards from the target and keep your eyes open until the last moment.\"

\"But -do- close your eyes or else you\'ll lose one to a stray splinter.\" Arashen hands the reins of his horse to Ceredir. \"Any questions?\"

For a moment, Ceredir just -stares- at the squire. He takes the reins as they are offered to him, looking at the horse and then back to Arashen, blinking more than a few times. \"Suppose so...\" he answers slowly, setting one foot in a stirrup and mounting the horse--not smoothly, mind you. He\'s rather awkward at it, and unless the horse is well trained, it will be that much more difficult.

\"Do I...\" He frowns again--distracted by trying to control the horse, which he is not very adept at. \"Helmet? lance?\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

\"You did not bring a helmet?\" Arashen asks, clearly puzzled. He pulls his own off, his long black hair spilling to his shoulders, and hands it up to the scout. Gesturing to the rack, he says: \"The lances are there.\"

\"Use your knees, he\'s spirited. You have to be firm with him.\"

\"Why would I bring my helmet?\" Ceredir answers, puzzled. \"Didn\'t know we were going to wind up doing this.\" He shakes his head, squinting at Arashen--and still trying to gain control of the horse, which is tossing his head.

Finally, he gets the beast under control, then dons the helmet, gets himself a lance, and turns the horse\'s head to trot it out toward the run--the horse tossing its head again and not cooperating with him. Ceredir is in his browns and greens, the insignia of a Black Tree clearly visible.

[Arashen(#24692)]

\"You asked me to meet you here today and teach you to joust...\" Arashen says, his puzzlement deepening. \"Don\'t you remember this?\"

\"You need a helmet to protect you from flying splinters.\"

\"I what?? I mean...I did??\" Ceredir once more stares, fighting with the horse as it dances around. Then he shakes his head slowly. \"Don\'t remember that,\" he frowns.

Deliberately, he concentrates on trying to work with the horse, which is eager to get out to the run. Scout and horse trot out on the run--the horse, feeling the inexperience of the rider, heading out far faster than Ceredir would like. Flying by the target, he jabs at it with the lancing, missing wildly--and then the horse stops suddenly, rider going one way and rolling onto the dirt, lance flying another.

[Arashen(#24692)]

Shaking his head, Arashen sighs deeply then walks over to the fallen Scout at an easy pace. He holds out his arm, grinning: \"That was good, brother - until you fell off the horse. Now get your lance and try it again.\"

\"Do you truly not remember asking me to teach you to joust?\"

[Laeghen(#10683)]

\"He will do no such thing.\" comes a voice from the side of the practice yards, and soon, the green clad Ranger Laeghen Carmayar steps forth. Grey eyes taking in both parties, the Ranger\'s head shaking as he regards both. \"Squire.\" he states, eyes falling upon Arashen for a moment a flicker of a sneer appearing upon his lips. Then, his eyes slowly turn to regard the other. \"Scout...\" he says, his words low and dangerous. \"We have matters to discuss.\"

Ceredir stares up at the sky a few seconds, muttering a string of curses to himself. \"Uh....\" he frowns, still on the ground, though propped up on his elbows now. \"Did I ask you when we were at sea? Cause I was feeling rather poorly then,\" he winces, rubbing the back of his head. \"Though not as poorly as now.\"

No sooner does the Scout reach for Arashen\'s offered hand and pull himself up, though, then Laeghen appears. \"Uh..yes...sir...\" His answer is uncertain.

[Arashen(#24692)]

Releasing the scout\'s hand, Arashen steps back - his grin disappearing. He assumes his typical impassive look save for a slight narrowing of the eyes when Laeghen sneers. Incling his head sharply, he replies: \"Ranger.\"

Then crossing the short distance to his straying charger, the Squire retrieves its reins and leads it back.

[Laeghen(#10683)]

\"I have heard tell of a Scout causing all sorts of problems within the city.\" he states, his words low, his tone threatening. Stepping closer, he does not even spare a glance towards the retreating Squire. \"Tell me, /Scout/. Who should I look to to find out the name of this man who has so sullied the name of Ithilien?\"

\"Problems? There...there were no problems, sir,\" Ceredir stutters an answer quickly. He frowns. \"Wasn\'t sullying the name of anything...just trying to clear my own,\" he mutters next.

[Arashen(#24692)]

The young Telpekhor watches silently. If he has any particular reaction to the scene playing out before him, it does not show upon his features - though his eyes more often fall upon Ceredir than the older Ranger.

[Laeghen(#10683)]

A frown creases the Ranger\'s brow, and Laeghen steps closer still. \"You would lie to me, Scout?\" he asks, his words hard. Reaching to his waist, the man draws forth his blade, his eyes remaining upon the man. \"If you wish to engage in fights, then I can oblige you.\" Stepping back, the Ranger intakes a breath. \"Step forth, and show me your worth.\"

\"What?! No..!\" Ceredir shakes his head, stepping back a pace from the Ranger. \"No..that\'s not it, sir. The fight..that was with my father. It...family matter...\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

Eyes widening somewhat, Arashen backs away from Ranger and Scout to give them room. His charger tosses his head in protest at being forced back but responds at last to the Squire\'s firm hand on his bit. \"Draw your sword, Ceredir,\" he mumbles under his breath, watching the scene intently.

[Laeghen(#10683)]

\"Do you deny me!?\" roars the Ranger, his eyes flaring at the youth\'s impertinance. \"You have three seconds to draw your sword, Scout, or we shall see how well you defend yourself unarmed against an armed opponent.\" Glancing at the lad\'s hip, Laeghen then brings his sword up in a defensive posture watching and waiting.

Another two steps backwards at the Ranger\'s words, but anger flashes in Ceredir\'s eyes, too--his glance flits to Arashen at the Squire\'s words, and then back to Laeghen. Then, planting his feet to stand his ground, he draws his sword.

[Arashen(#24692)]

The Blue Squire gives a subtle nod of his head to the Scout and continues to watch the pair impassively.

[Laeghen(#10683)]

\"You need to learn your place, /Scout/.\" states the March-Warden as he steps closer to the lad. \"While you wear that uniform, family matters are nothing. You are a soldier of Gondor. There is no place for your whining or excuses.\" Another step, and his longsword leaps out towards Ceredir\'s left hip. \"While in that uniform, your actions either promote or sully the name of Ithilien. Family business be damned.\"

The blade hits Ceredir\'s hip, stinging at the hit, but not drawing blood--so that the Scout looks puzzled and makes no move to hit back at the Ranger. He frowns. \"Yes....sir.\" There is a slight pause in between those words, anger still burning in his grey eyes.

[Arashen(#24692)]

A sharp exhalation of air escapes Arashen\'s lips and he purses them in frustration. He shifts his weight impatiently from leg to the other. Sensing his master\'s mood, the gray charger tosses his head again.

[Laeghen(#10683)]

\"You really are stupid.\" comments Laeghen as he steps back a moment. \"If you\'re going to fight, FIGHT!\" he yells in the scout\'s face. \"Instead of standing there like a poor excuse for a pell pole.\" Again, he steps in, and once again his sword sweeps in. This timme, it is aimed for the youth\'s sword arm turning the blade so that the flat strikes at the last instant.

\"Son of a...\" Ceredir\'s temper snaps suddenly as Laeghen\'s blow forces his sword arm down, but he bites off the curse. Angry, he lunges forward, thrusting his own sword toward the Ranger\'s stomach.

[Arashen(#24692)]

Ceredir\'s sudden surge of fighting spirit elicits a nod of approval from the Squire. Arashen brushes aside a long strand of wind-blown hair and continues to watch the sparring match.

[Laeghen(#10683)]

Easily sidestepping the thrust of the blade by Ceredir, Laeghen shakes his head. \"You have chosen your company well.\" he states, casting a flickering glance towards Arashen. \"Your compatriot is nearly as pathetic with the blade as you.\" Once again stepping in, the Ranger\'s sword comes in a downward stroke aimed for Ceredir\'s left shoulder.

Yet, at the last instant, he shifts his right foot forward, his arm subsequently positioned beyond the original target, and his right elbow snapping from pointing towards himself, to pointing outward. Doing this causes the blade instead of coming in a downward stroke, to a sweeping motion, striking in from behind the Scout. It\'s aim: The back of Ceredir\'s head.

[Arashen(#24692)]

A ghost of a smile touches the Blue Squire\'s lips at the left-handed compliment but it is quickly gone. In its place is a look of concentration as Arashen watches the experienced Ranger\'s impressive move carefully.

The Scout is too slow, blade hititng him in the back of the head, his face burning red from the humiliation of it. \"Shut up!\" he growls at the Ranger, bringing his own blade down now, hard and fast toward Laeghen\'s sword arm.

[Laeghen(#10683)]

His arm withdraws, though the keen eyes of the Ranger do not miss the fact that Ceredir did not turn the blade. \"Shut up?\" he asks, his words cold. \"You dare tell your superior to shut up?\" Shaking his head, his sword sweeps up betwixt the two combattants, ere it changes direction, brought in a quick snap, aimed for the Scout\'s nose.

Again, the blade is turned to the flat, though there is no mistaking the intent of the older man.

Without thinking, Ceredir puts up his left arm to block the blow, but again he is too slow, and the flat of the blade hits, bloodying his nose. The blow stuns him for a moment so that he stumbles back from Laeghen.

[Arashen(#24692)]

Arashen\'s attention is now solely on the Ranger and his technique. He watches the man closely, with slightly narrowed eyes - assessing, evaluating noting everything from each move to the position of his feet and body.

[Laeghen(#10683)]

\"Come On!\" bellows the Ranger at the Scout. \"You pathetic piece of orc meat!\" Again, the Ranger\'s nimble feet slide over the earth below. Dropping to hie left knee, his sword comes in a sidelong swipe, aimed at the Scout\'s left knee. And, as the rest of the fight, his sword is yet again turned to the flat ere striking.

\"I am NOT orc meat, you...\" Ceredir manages to bite those words off, but then he struggles to keep his balance as the Ranger\'s blade slams into his knee. Swinging wildly, he brings his own blade down toward Laeghen\'s shoulder--though this time, it -is- turned to the flat.

[Laeghen(#10683)]

The blow is taken, and it stings his shoulder as it lands. Yet the Ranger does not lose his concentration. Gritting his teeth, the more experienced man bounds to his feet, and as he does so, Laeghen punches out with his sword hand. This time, it is his fist wrapped about the hilt of his blade as opposed to the flat of the blade aimed for the young Scout\'s nose. However, the Carmayar does not pull his punch.

Ceredir\'s head snaps back with the blow and he sprawls backwards into the dirt, more blood running down his face now. He wipes it away with the back of his left sleeve, glaring up at Laeghen, but taking a few seconds to try to focus his eyes. His sword is still gripped tightly in his right hand.

[Laeghen(#10683)]

\"Pathetic.\" mutters the Ranger, shaking his head and turning from the youth. \"If I hear of /any/ more indiscretions, expect similar.\" Glancing over his shoulder, he adds, \"Only, it shall not be the flat of my blade I shall be using.\" Words passed, he looks towards Arashen, though no words are spoken to him. Merely another shake of his head is offered, before Laeghen makes to move off.

[Arashen(#24692)]

\"Ranger!\" Arashen calls out to the departing older man.

\"What of my father?\" Ceredir calls out angrily, then scrambles to his feet, following the Ranger. He turns for an instant at Arashen\'s words, but goes on with his own. \"The man calls himself a Knight, yet he\'s a heartless bastard who won\'t admit he sired me.\"

[Laeghen(#10683)]

Pausing in his stride, Laeghen turns about to regard Arashen. Then, Ceredir approaches. Considering the Scout\'s words first, Laeghen\'s lips twitch in the hinting of a smirk. \"Then, he is a true Knight.\" he states calmly, before stepping by the lad towards, Arashen. \"What is it, Squire?\" he queries as he closes half the distance.

[Arashen(#24692)]

The Blue Squire falls silent when the Scout and Ranger again exchange words. Until, that is, Laeghen approaches him.

Arashen inclines his brow respectfully. \"You are good at your craft. You fight differently than the knights.\"

The Scout\'s eyes narrow at that answer, and just for an instant as Laeghen turns his attention to Arashen, something other than anger--deeper than anger--flashes in his eyes. But his voice is respectful, if shaking, when he next speaks.

\"Sir, when do we leave for Ithilien?\"

[Laeghen(#10683)]

\"I am aware.\" states the Ranger calmly. \"Is there a point to this epiphany of yours, or are you merely speaking for the sake of not appearing dumb and mute?\"

To Ceredir, he answers, \"Once we are finished here.\"

[Arashen(#24692)]

The Blue Squire laughs. \"Yes. Let us leave it at that, then.\"

Smiling a lop-sided smile, Arashen tugs on his horses reins and turns away - heading towards Ceredir\'s errant lance lying in the dust a few feet away.

[Laeghen(#10683)]

Watching after the Blue Squire, Laeghen shakes his head, muttering something less than appropriate under his breath. Then, the Ranger makes his way from the practice yard.

Blood is still running freely down Ceredir\'s face, though he ignores it. He nods at the Ranger\'s reply to him, then resheaths his sword as the man leaves. \"Going to go clean up,\" is all he mutters to Arashen before he, too, leaves this place--his pace much hastier than Laeghen\'s.