The Pointy End Goes in the Other Person [Torin]

[Sivan]

68th of Frost, Year 121 Steel
Laurevere Val'Istra's Yard

"You might as well hold the sword as you meditate," Laurevere was saying, "and get the weight and balance of it in your muscles while you speak to these spirits."

The high elf looked dubious about the Dratori spiritwalking tradition, but being half-Siltori himself, he had internalized some of the Hytori views on the cousin races. They were in his yard next door to Sivan's own, though his was barren, the snow swept off the flagstones. Sivan was kneeling there and he looked equally as dubious, one hand under the hilt of Laurevere's katana, the other under its blade. He had thought his neighbor would suggest the shorter wakizashi first, but he had said that came later, to be wielded in the left hand once one understood the larger blade, or wielded when one didn't have enough space for the katana.

Sivan had shrugged and agreed as he was to be the student and not the expert.

"Aren't you cold?" the elf asked, perplexed.

Sivan just smiled. "Khal is squirming around under my clothes, keeping them warm. Geb is..." He glanced toward the wall that separated this yard from his garden, dormant for the season, but much more inviting than this, albeit smaller. There came a pink-pink-pink in the center of the wall as Geb began to happily chip away at the stone, which he would likely use to continue building Sivan's cottage into a tower. Laurevere just stared. "The spirits can be awfully obliging."

He settled into a trance, calling his breath into order as his mind followed suit. It wasn't as though their separate yards had separate spirits, but he was inviting the local spirit who was inhabiting his garden to spread out into this adjoining space. It wasn't hibernating exactly, but it did move more slowly in this season. So too did the spirit of the hive in the Living Grave tree. And while the squealmouse didn't hibernate, it definitely took more naps and only left his house on the warmest winter days to forage for things he didn't offer it from his own hand and stores.

The spirits listened to him and replied. There was a sort of communion, and then one of them pinged a change, letting them all know that the wheat-haired human was nearby. When he came back to himself, he saw Laurevere looking between him and the wall where Geb was going to form a moon gate between the yards.

"My friend is knocking at my door. May I invite him to join us?"

"Of course," Laurevere said with a hint of noblesse oblige. "As you wish, my friend."

"Thank you." He held up the katana, but Laurevere smiled and shook his head. Sivan made a curious face, then carefully rose with the blade and held it awkwardly by his waist with one hand as they went back inside. Sivan continued to the front door, opening it, and peering out to find Torin knocking at his door. He had meant to give him a key, but this worked out anyway. "Torin!" He waved him over. "Come in out of the cold!"

Laurevere's townhouse was much larger than Sivan's cottage, even with Geb's improvements. It was too big for one man, but perhaps not for a noble man.

[Torin Kilvin]

It was not the front door of Sivan's house, difficult to call a cottage any longer, that opened to show his friend. Blinking in confusion for a moment Torin jogged the short distance between the houses and said,

"Hello. Uhm, did you make a friend or is this also part of your property?" Aurin had made comments about buying the buildings around his forge to expand it, if that were ever needed. For the moment it felt like a miracle that he had his home, shop, and duel workplace.

The smith had his satchel, bulging with foodstuffs he'd hoped to share as a lunch, and his staff tied slanted by a strap across his back. It was a good thing that he was so tall, otherwise walking with it there would have been awkward.

"I brought lunch, hoping we could share the midday meal, if you haven't eaten. If you have I can eat quickly. I thought, if you weren't busy, we could practice the things I've been learning from the staff master who has been training me. You mentioned wanting to learn."

It was as he was stepping over the threshold, tentative, not knowing whose space it was entering, that he saw the third man.

"Oh." He stopped his easy flow of conversation and stood up straighter. "I'm sorry."

He looked for a moment like he might step right back out into the street. Eyes moving between the two elves, for this new person also appeared elven, in a way that projected something different than Sivan, the smith looked for clues as to what he should do with himself.

"I see you are busy, I'm sorry." Returning to looking only at Sivan he said, more quietly "I wanted to talk to you about something else too. I can come back later, if you'll tell me when?"

[Sivan]

"You are welcome to stay," Laurevere insisted urbanely. "Any friend of Sivan's is welcome in my home. I am Laurevere Val'Istra."

Sivan smiled awkwardly, hoping Torin would stay. He held up the elegantly curved blade he was borrowing from Laurevere.

"Laurevere, this is Torin Kilwin, a friend and a local runesmith." Then, to Torin, "He came from Sol'Valen to oversee his family's trade in the city and he brought... well, bad news for me. But now he's my neighbor and when I told him about last season's break-in, he insisted on teaching me the sword."

"If you would like to practice together," Laurevere interjected smoothly, "it would behoove you both to practice against as many different people with as many different weapons as possible. It gives your body and mind the repertoire to counter a myriad of opponents and one never knows who one might be called to fight in this world."

"I have also been teaching him Mythrasi."

"Ah, a man of the world! Then perhaps we could also learn the language of battle while you are here." The elf's words flowed like a mellifluous river, naturally finding the path of least resistance from his mind to the listener's, sounding like a song.

"The lord speaks like a poet, I like a peddler." He laughed at his own expense. "Will you stay, Torin?" It had also occurred to him that the elven lord might become a customer of Torin's, which would be good for his new business.

The house was finer than Sivan's, though still lightly furnished as though he were taking his time filling it with things, or perhaps he was a minimalist when it came to interior décor. Regardless, if he was a lord, he wasn't hiring staff to support him—at least, not yet.

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin gave his best approximation of a simple Hytori hand greeting when he was introduced, unsure if it was the right thing to do but not wanting to interrupt either of the elves as they spoke. When there was a brief break after both names had been given he offered as good a bow as he knew, no attempt at anything fancy, and said,

"Hello. Thank you for welcoming me to your home." In Mythrasi, upon which Sivan explained his knowledge of the language, which suited Torin well. He would still be able to ask for corrections.

Then the language was flowing from the older elf's mouth like rain making little rivulets in the earth. Torin blinked, then close his eyes; running the sounds back over in his mind, trying to make sense of them with the new accent and manner of speaking.

He had just worked out what he thought the Lord had said when Sivan joked to relieve his tension, he laughed, and then cut off his laugh and then wasn't sure if he should have done either so just cleared his throat.

"If Sivan is a peddler, I am a beggar." He was probably not right on the last word, it seemed closer to 'street person'. He had grown used to letting the words come and Sivan correcting him when he was wrong enough not to make sense. Setting his satchel aside and switching back into his native language he said,

"I would be happy to study with another weapon's master, but you should know that I only started last season and I'm not very good yet. Ehm, My Lord." Looking over at Sivan he raised a brow that quite clearly asked if the title was supposed to be used.

[Sivan]

"With words and weapons, one only grows more adept with a will." The elven nobleman let the line sink for a moment before continuing in Common. "You oughtn't to apologize, though. It warms the heart that people so far from Sol'Valen might find our language and culture so impressive as to study it. And I suppose you needn't be too formal here in my home. I am not lord of Kalzasi."

Sivan didn't actually know the man's rank in the Hytori nation and it was uncouth to ask, so he had let himself be led by the man when it came to etiquette.

"Perhaps we should run through the exercises," Sivan suggested slowly, "and work up our appetites?" He thought it best, lest they be sluggish from eating and make more mistakes than they ought to. Laurevere seemed inclined to allow Sivan his suggestion, and led them back into the winter-bare courtyard. Geb, noticing Torin, ceased his work on the wall separating this more spacious area from Sivan's garden, and flew over to flurry around the smith in greeting. "I suppose that means you don't visit them enough," Sivan noted with a smile. "Geb is going to open up a moon gate between our yards. Expand my little garden."

"I haven't a green thumb, and if Sivan's spirits want more room, it would behoove us all to cooperate," Laurevere stated plainly. Then, "All right. I have shown Sivan a very few things. Perhaps he ought to try them facing you and you can counter with your staff. He is only going at half speed, so a season's worth of training ought to keep you safe." His smile reached his eyes, but he wasn't quite so warm as, say, Kaus Leukos. But the nobility of the Avialae and the Hytori were categorically different.

Sivan nodded, though he waited for Torin's approval, then awkwardly got into a guard position, the curved blade held in a ready position. Then, thrust, slash, parry. The last wouldn't make sense until Torin understood, and perhaps obliged him with the proper attack for him to block.

[Torin Kilvin]

The smith couldn't have repeated the words that the older elf spoke, but he thought he mostly understood them. Not comfortable enough in the new company to ask Sivan for clarification he would try to remember to do so later. Not sure how, or even if he should respond to what he thought was a compliment, or perhaps thanks for a compliment his learning implied, Torin gave a little nod while looking at the floor.

He was beginning to grow out of the painful shyness of his youth, but when he was thrust into an unexpected situation with strangers it could still wrap him up. Sivan's suggestion was a good one, his large friend had always been better at expressing himself through work than words. Raising his eyes he said,

"That, I would like that." Before following them outside. The garden space was a stark contrast to Sivan's. The arrival of the little sprite, swirling around him in its normal greeting helped resettle him. The situation was safe and normal, new people weren't bad, and he could learn how to behave in ways that would not offend them. Smiling he apologized very quietly to Geb, promising to make more time to come by.

Realizing he had left his staff in the house he stepped back inside quickly and returned with it, leaving his Frost cloak laid over his pack as he did. Squaring off facing Sivan he fell easily into the stance Kala's arms master had taught him; it was the part he knew best. Looking down at his hands on the wooden pole he corrected his grip and then look up and nodded to Sivan. He stepped back at the thrust, then slid back up to block the slash, body beginning to accept that this was a training session and that it knew what to do.

He hesitated briefly before catching on, giving Sivan a tiny smile and stepping up to attack.

[Sivan]

"Good," Laurevere said, a musical lilt to even the simplest of Common words. "Again."

Sivan offered a conspiratorial little grin. Having never learned this in his youth, it felt almost like he was a youth again, playing at swords. But this was real steel and Torin's staff could certainly bash his head in if used correctly, so he tried to smother his amusement. Laurevere wasn't joyless, but he was certainly focused. Sivan supposed this sort of thing had been taken quite seriously in his training, and of course, he appreciated learning from a skilled swordsman. Torin knew of the break-in, and that Sivan had been nervous since, even though this was considered a safe neighborhood for Kalzasi.

Dutifully, the alchemist's assistant repeated the thrust, slash, parry combination. He hadn't the violent vocabulary to improvise yet, but he was learning the steps to the dance. And he was grateful for his dance partner; it helped solidify the movements in his muscle memory better than imagining an opponent.

"Mind your grip, Sivan," he commanded. The elf nodded in response and tried to remember exactly how it had felt when Laurevere had declared it adequate in the teaching. They repeated the combination over and over again. Drilling was necessary, he supposed. Eventually, though, Laurevere called a halt and turned a curiously courteous eye upon Torin. "Would you like a bit more of a challenge?"

The silvery Hytori lord thought he had a grasp of Torin's level of skill, but he thought it only fair to let him practice with someone more skilled in thanks for his help with Sivan. The repetitions might be less helpful for the more skilled student, but a bit of a challenge would help him learn. It seemed a fair trade.

[Torin Kilvin]

Sivan's reactions to the elven lord were comfortable, and, if he was opening a space between their gardens (a space that was sacred to Sivan), then it was probably safe for Torin to let himself relax. At least as much as was required to train properly. A stiff body made for poor reactions, as he had learned over time training with Kala and her arms master.

The fighting pair made their way through the set of moves several more times with Laurevere offering suggestions and corrections until Torin asked to switch. His own versions of the moves looked different and he had to explain them to Sivan so they could find their rhythm again.

When their teacher called a halt and asked if he wanted to try something more challenging Torin's body went into a defensive posture automatically. Not the fighting stance that was defensive, just the normal way his body tucked into itself when someone he did not know suggested, however innocuously, that they fight. He had no idea what sort of person he was dealing with. Would the elf try and punish him for some imagining that Torin was lording his greater skill over his friend? If Laurevere was as skilled as his competency in teaching implied, neither Torin nor Sivan would be able to stop him if he decided to beat Torin around the yard, or even worse. The plan was laid for Aurin to give him the Rune of Semblance the next evening and it would need to be delayed if he were injured.

Glancing around the yard for an excuse not to engage that would not offend the elf offering the challenge his eyes caught on Geb, back to working on the wall that separated the two gardens. If Laurevere tried to hurt Torin, Sivan could call on his sprites, or even Exael to intervene. Trusting his friend to keep him safe he met Sivan's eyes before saying,

"Alright, what should I do?"

[Sivan]

Laurevere was rather a good teacher. He corrected without shaming and wasn't shy about offering praise and encouragement when it was merited. Sivan seemed to do well with it, and while he wasn't as relaxed as he was when it was just Torin and Destyn, he didn't seem bothered by the man's presence, nor his vaunted title. The elf only raised his eyebrows and smiled when Torin looked at him, but he tried to project encouragement as well. He was curious to see how Torin fared against someone who had actually trained.

Sivan ceded the elegantly curved blade to its master.

Laurevere switched hands and held it diagonally toward the ground, not taking any sort of martial stance.

"A light spar, perhaps?" he suggested. "I will only attempt to disarm you, but you may attack as you please. Working with Sivan has given you more grounding in your fundamentals, but you have enough skill to begin improvising, and you will learn different things sparring with someone more skilled." He paused, fine brow furrowing, as he glanced at Sivan. "No offense intended, Sivan."

"Oh, none taken. I have only those skills you have been so kind as to impart." He smiled in self-deprecation.

"Then you might learn something watching, as well." His brow smoothed out and he offered Torin a diffident smile. "Shall we?" He was solicitous and waited for Torin to assume any sort of martial stance before he would do the same. The smith seemed to be a retiring sort and from all he had heard from Sivan, the man was honorable, talented, and a loyal friend. He was glad Sivan had that and he would certainly do what he could to help Torin improve his skills, the better to keep both young men safe. The world was a dangerous place as Sivan had recently found out quite personally.

He was as good as his word, attempting only to disarm Torin, this time not distracting him with commentary; that could wait until afterward if the man seemed responsive to it.

[Torin Kilvin]

The smith nodded again as the older elf moved into the position the younger one had been taking up. Raising his guard, it took Torin a few moments to realize that Lord Laurevere was waiting for him to attack. The assumption in his head had been just trying to keep his weapon in his hand and stay on his feet. When the stillness and the words filtered through into the blond's mind he tucked his chin and flushed sheepishly.

Reassessing Laurevere's stance Torin made a feint attack, stepping forward briefly and then back, testing the defenses. This went on for a few minutes, as the smith tried to assess the other man's level of skill. All such testing that he was capable of was passed, so, eventually, he just started trying things, combining things.

Over the next half-hour he spent as much time trying to catch his staff, or having to bend down to pick it up, as he spent with it firmly in his grip. It was educational, certainly, if also somewhat embarrassing. The feeling was no bar to learning for Torin, but he did glance at Sivan once in a while with chagrinned looks asking for commiseration.

By the time he called for a halt he was sweating despite the frozen season, and panting a little as he walked over to where he could take a long drink of water.

"I think I'm done for today. Thank you for your instruction." This was directed, politely, to Laurevere, with body language which still was unsure if he should be making a bow or not.

When the pair of younger had said goodbye and were making their way back to Sivan's house the smith explained what he had come to tell: That he would soon be receiving a cardinal rune. Over the meal in the cozy cottage there were many questions, and answers, even laughter shared between friends at the foibles of learning and growth.