Not Quite a Challenge . . .

[Halethala]

“Un NAS ta” She practiced the word she’d heard him use, not fully knowing the meaning, but guessing it by the tenderness he’d used when saying it. She’d needed to speak “Moy Druk” several times before she mastered the inflections reasonably well, knowing that sometimes a word from another tongue, though exactly the same, could hold a far different meaning if accented in the wrong places. She’d hoped her proununciation of the Nordic word did not mean “My hideously ugly aging uncle who suffers miserably from gout” or something worse . .

She’d finally discovered him snoring lightly in the stables, tipped back rakishly in a weathered old chair that had been banished to the barns. His lingering cold deepened the sounds of his slumber, and she smiled as she settled the weight upon his lap while whispering the word, watching him surface to waking. Careful not to surprise him too much and find his blade at her neck, she waited until his eyes were open and then set her hands upon his knees, looking straight into those captivating blue eyes. “Hullo, love . . once ye finally be over yer illness, ye DID promise me long ago that ye would teach me more of the blade, refine my lacking skills a bit . . The ladies encouraged me to seek out Sgt. Gerben’s excellent teaching, but afore I try such, a bit of polish would nae hurt.”

Then standing, more soberly, she continued, “I dinnae wish to bear arms in the service of our King or anything so lofty, yet since I have some knowledge already, it could not hurt to learn beyond deviousness and trickery to defend myself, or *here she thought of the possibility of wee bairns that may find themselves entrusted to her keeping in the distant future, yet she did not speak of that* whatever else may need defending . .

Besides . . it would help the time pass, eh? Perhaps an amusement ye’d nae wish to miss? Now, take a look at what the Weapons Keeper allowed me to use . . *pointing to the ancient sword that lay across his lap* ‘Twas the smallest he could find, without resorting to a dirk . . though as ye can see, it’s near the end of its usefulness, and perhaps may have garnered a record number of repairs in its service. *She winked at him, awaiting his reply after one of his coughing fits had passed*

((One cannot live on mushiness alone ;D))

[Sinold Bragasson]

Sinold was glad that he risked an eye to make sure that the someone whispering those sweet words of love into his ears was not one of tyrun#s crew here to mock him. Lath’s face fully occupied his field of view one he was risking both eyes and a braod smile came over his lips. Aaah... to be woken like that more often. Sometimes the time until that fantasy would be come reality for good, seemed oh so long, but he would be patient.

“Sooooooooo,” he started after his coughing fit had subsided; at times he wondered how long he would be bothered by that cold. “Ye wish to polish yer skills with a rusty and old sword like that?” he took the weapon from letha’s hand and held it up, examining the piece of metal. Letha had not exaggerated, the weapon was almost dull, had chinks marring its edge, was rusty and very ungainly to look at altogether. “This sword could use some polihsing itself... and no wife of mine will be seen fighting with scrap like that in public!” His eyes twinkled, the wedding sword he was making for Letha would be about the size of the one she had come to him with today, maybe a bit lighter and more like the Norse style than what was commonly found in this land. Sinold knew already that she’d love it, and apart from serving its ceremonial function, it would be a perfectly good sword to use for everyday hacking, slashing and other problem-solving activities.

“Ye shall not be lacking a good sword for long any longer. Tomorrow I will go down to see tyrun. He has some formidable female warriors amongst his crew, maybe they have a spare sword until I can give you a good and new one.” He smiled and then quickly stood, taking a few swings with the old weapon, hoping Letha would not pursue the allusion to a new sword he had made. “Sgt. Gerben indeed will be a good man to teach you... and since I cannae seem to keep ye out of any fray,” he just needed to recall letha’s appearance on the beach when he was sprung by thsoe Frank sailors; what a formidable warrior Letha could indeed become, with a little bit of training, Sinold thought. “It is the duty of a wife to look after a man’s affairs when he is sailing or away on other business, and I want you to be able to defend yourself properly. Yourself and... others under your care.” Sinold didn’ want to allude to his wish for children, and a son, to letha yet. It was much too early, they had just started their way, but the concept of a real family sure was on the Norse’s mind. To have someone to carry on his name and blood line when he would be long gone... He smiled at his future bride and stood, giving the sword back to her.

“Alright, a little excercse might be good for me. I haven’t practiced in a long while, it’s time I get back into the habit... lest you beat me up in the pits some day soon!”

His arms went around Letha’s shoulders, reeling her in so he could give her a tender and quick kiss, then leading her towards the trainign pits. This would be fun, he knew it. If only his body would cooperate and not throw another coughing or sneezing fit.

[Halethala]

She'd known he'd not like the sword, but was a bit puzzled at his words about a new sword . . she merely meant to use this one for sparring a bit, that was all . . She'd gotten used to not carrying one, since the guard had been so tight and vigilant lately. Even the shopping trip had seemed very safe with Lord Hawkmoon and the men that had accompanied them. She would get soft and useless in no time, unless she found some ways to sharpen what little skill she possessed.

Leaning in closely as he draped his arm about her shoulder, her arm encircling the girth of his waist, she choose her words carefully . . *Sinold, there be so many dangers that seem to lace the paths before us all . . nae only at Windstorm, but in all of the land. Perhaps a sword in a woman's hand would only tempt fate more . . . and yet, it were pressed upon me unwillingly, thus one has to wonder if fate already has it's path laid out, beckoning us onwards . .

Then smiling up at his teasing words, she merely shook her head. "Nae, I will ne'er beat ye, e'en iffen I could . . Ye'd be miserable to live with iffen such were to befall ye . .

Reaching the pits, she drew a deep yet nervous breath. Removing her cloak, she stood dressed in her old traveling diguise . . well worn dark navy blue woolen breeches paired with a cream colored cotton roughshirt and faded leather belt cinching in the oversized outfit. Pushing the sleeves up above her elbows and tying the lacings securely, she kicked off her footwear and dug her toes into the sand of the pit. Turning to face Sinold, she spoke. "I cannae help but question all I've been taught . . . I know oft'times a wee bit of knowing be worse than a blank slate.

Taking up the old, scarred hilt, she flipped it twice in her palm, weighing it as if choosing an apple at the market. She'd already held it to test it's balance and to feel it's heart, so the motion was more a nervous reaction than anything. Watching him settle in before her, she almost lost her nerve. What was she thinking! . . he would laugh when he saw her deficits, and she would have all she could do not to strike out with unfair trickery, her usual survival tactics, the only thing she really knew well enough . . but she wished an honorable teacher . . somehow she knew he'd find the patience to be one with her . .

"Remember, this be nae a competition, Deorheorte . . go easy on yer poor Letha . "

[Sinold Bragasson]

Even though he was not in the best of shapes, this sparring invite by Letha made Sinold's heart giddy. Yes, he didn't like woman bearing swords and larger weapons. To him it was unwomanly. But he also had seen Letha jump into the fra to help hi at the beach, and he knew her heart was at least partially that of a warrior. With her, over time, he had grown used to her fondness for the sword, and thus was feeling less and less inclined to chide her for her desire.

On the contrary - didn't he keep calling her his shield maiden? And what was a shield maiden with her weapon? No. The sword looked right in Letha's hands, it looked proper and even, if he was honest, made her look very desirable to him. Very… attractive.

"Have no fear, I don't wanna kill my bride. I still have plans with you!" He grinned. "We will go slow. Not because you're a woman, that now has nothing to do with it. I just want to make you confident with your weapon again. I… like you with a sword, Letha!"

Sinold smiled and then took his own weapon, a training word he had taken from the wall of the pit, made a few exploratory slashes into the air and then let the weapon drop to his right side, at a ready. "Come, lets do some basic move. Parry my attacks, and be as hard as you can."

Sinold knew he would be clearly enjoying this work-out with his future wife, and had difficulties stopping to imagine what games they would be playing in bed and elsewhere once they would be married.

[Halethala]

In attempting to study his face as one would a true antagonist, for a fleeting moment she considered tossing the weapons aside and cradling his face between her hands . . this was going to be harder than she imagined! How could she ever truly wish to harm him, even in the pretense of sparring? She would have to envision another in his place, find some sense of urgency and seriousness in order to make this work . . She lingered several moments longer than he expected trying to gain some perspective, until he almost questioned if she were alright. Finally, she nodded an affirmative that they should begin. She drew a deeply drawn breath, her smile no longer there upon her face. It was a fine balance between remaining in the present and yet calling forth the past, a mingling that could prove dangerous for her. Or him . .

She bent slightly, her eyes fixed upon his eyes, trying to read their intent, yet realizing one could not trust them entirely. A good fighter was a good actor as well, fooling a lesser opponent with false signals and mis-read movements. Yet she had to begin somewhere. Rising upon the balls of her feet, moving lightly with a spring to her steps, she braced them in an offset balance to give herself more options for movement, and began to parry his strikes once he began. Almost insultingly easily anticipated at first, once he saw that she could manage well enough, he began more in earnest. She kept her movements ever so slightly delayed and close to her, not reaching out for his obvious feints and tempting swings, so that she would not easily be left open. . .

She steadily gave ground to his advances, not entirely realizing she was doing so. She was being over-cautious, she knew, still feeling him out . . trying to see if he had a pattern to his swings. There didn’t seem to be any, but soon she began to be more confident, and her parries came with less delay. When she realized at last that they were nearing the edge, she attempted to stand her ground and even gain a bit back, meeting his blows almost simultaneously, as hard as she could, until she found a fury rising in her that cost her a mistake, leaving her open to the force of his blow . .

Leaping back suddenly, she immediately set the point of the blade into the ground as a signal to halt . . Her breath slightly labored, she forced Sinold’s face to the surface again, and awaited his words . . .

[Sinold Bragasson]

Had this been any other opponent... Gerben maybe, or one of Loxley's Rangers, ...Sinold would not have hesitated to bring down his sword when the last opening presented itself to him. instead he had hesitated, thus giving Letha the moment to step back and halt the spar. More and more confident had she become, fiercer and more well-deflected had her defense become, as if she was fighting a true enemy. Was she still angry at him for dallying with Bethy? Or for that ill-fated boat trip? Some women held grudges, of that Sinold was only too well aware. There had been a case in his village where a woman had slain her husband for a wrong that had occurred many years ago...

But when Sinold looked at Letha again, closely scrutinizing her face, he thought, for brief moments, to see more. Something dark, hidden deep within her... something that could become very lethal. Her stopping was a well received break, the still lingering, even if abating, cold had left Sinold quite breathless at Letha's forceful blows against his sword. He stood, his sword rammed into the ground before him, hands resting on his thighs, his breath labored, his eyes fixing her with a slightly questioning gaze.

"Yer quite beautiful when yer's enraged, d'ya know that? And ye would do honor to any group of warriors you'd chose to join up with... and I feel my property and our children already quite safe in yer hands!" Pushing himself up, Sinold still looked at Letha with that scrutinizing glance. "Ye amaze me more and more, unnasta! If any man who tries something with ya is met by just such resistance..." Now he grinned and picked up his sword again, holding it out in front of him. "Your defending moves are powerful and quite accurate, and when paired with an immediate follow through attack would be most lethal I reckon. Now...attack me and I'll show ya what I mean.. And... go easy on this cold-ridden warrior, eh?"

He hoped this little jest would lighten the mood again. After all, this was not a battle for life and death but rather an enjoyable play between them. And Sinold found that the more time he spend with Letha in the pits, the more he would get to know that part of her she liked to hide from him and others so much.

[Halethala]

“Sinold!” . . she spoke with a bit of exasperation . . “Ye’re toying with me. Iffen I were anyone else, ye’d nae be so liberal with yer praises, nor so unwilling to take advantage of my mistakes! One learns nothing save to grow overconfident on fair words alone . .” she stopped then, realizing she may sound a bit thankless, her face softening into a smile at last, grateful that he was at least not harsh with her* I’ve none the power ye have, surely ye’ve held back . . How can I expect to meet blows that in reality will rapidly overwhelm my strength, however much it may prove? Prudence dictates I would need to score quickly and accurately, for an extended fight would surely be my doom . . already my muscles protest . . they’ve been too long without working them such as this.

She laughed then, coming close to tuck a stray lock of his blonde curls behind his left ear affectionately, “Quite a pair, eh? Ye with this longsuffered cold, and me grown soft here playing lady . . She looked down with a blush to her face, and when her eyes again met his, they were completely sincere, shining with emotion. “ Though I daresay it’s nae been all bad to be allowed such luxury. One could easily get used to being coddled and pampered . .”

“Ah, but enough of that . . are ye rested enough to continue?” Assuming he was more than so, she set herself before him yet again, lifted her blade across her torso levelly, and then realized how little she knew of being the one on the attack. She simply began to thrust several upwards swings, trying from both the right and the left, stepping into each effort gingerly. Frustrated that he of course would meet each handily, she resorted to more daring attempts, both hands tightly gripped on the hilt. She smiled a little as she feinted a hard, straight swing to his left shoulder, stopping short and immediately changing the trajectory to attempt to come under his parry . . . but her face had betrayed any attempt for surprise, and he deftly defended himself . .

“Arrrggghhh . .” she spat! “What am I to do!”

[Sinold Bragasson]

"Be unconventional, Letha! Play dirty... I know you can play dirty, I've seen it. Use that to distract your opponent and then strike at him! Come here.." He took a step closing the distance between them, then enveloped her in his arms, placing a kiss onto her head before releasing his love again. "I am not holding back on you... not much at least." He chuckled. "And I love seeing you as a lady of this court, as much as I love the warrior in you. both has its place and none should be neglected."

Sinold could clearly feel her frustration and stroked her hair once more. "We are here to train, to learn from each other, right? Show me what you can do, Unnasta. Yes, in a fight you'll not hold out long against a man, so fastness and cunning must be your primary weapons, and your sword an extension of them. You are cunning, I know you can be! Be fast on your feet, try getting on my backside and then strike... Don't worry about me, I'm not made of clay although this cold at times made me feel like a giant glob of mucus. I already know I wouldn't want to have you as my enemy on the battle field, my lovely shieldmaiden. Now, let's continue?"

Sinold spun around, swiping his sword in the air playfully and taking a few steps back to regain distance to where Letha was standing. Then, facing her again, he grinned and suddenly took a few long steps towards her again, spinning around her right until he was in her back, then slapping the broadside of his sword against her bottom.

"See? It's easy to do, it enrages the opponent and gives you the opportunity to land a good blow... don't you agree, beloved?"

Again he flashed her a smile, teasing this time, hoping to have fanned her ire just enough for her to get into her play dirty mode and show him what she really could do!

[roland]

I will remember your lessons to Letha when we cross swords little Brother. LOL

[Sinnny]

(You would NOT, my bloody bro! ;D)

[roland]

Oh yes I will and for every little bruise, pain, or even drop of sweat thee give her thee will have ten times that much..LOL... Got to get you up to fighting strength

[Halethala]

((*g* IF he survives ME . . *hugs BroRo*))

Curious, she’d followed him around as he circled, yet not quickly enough . . jumping indignantly in spite of herself at his cheap swat to her derriere, the expected fire in her eyes sparking his way. She whirled around to her left as he spoke to her, the opposite direction he was tracking, using the flat of the blade in a hefty thrust into the dirt and gravel of the floor of the pit, scooping in deeply and flinging it upwards. Peppering his whole body, some of it spewed up into his face. She cringed at abusing the blade like that, even though it were only an old one. Cringed too as the tiny projectiles struck him . . but grinned just a wee bit as well, since this seemed to be what he wanted from her . . deviousness . .

Blinded only momentarily by the dirt, she followed through on her countercircling of him, and rapidly swung low at the back of his knees . . lightly, so not to hurt too much, just enough to buckle them forwards. (I trust we’ve donned leather armor or well-padded practice pads?) As he was somewhat off balance now, she shoved her left shoulder against his side, hard, and collapsed on top of him . .

“I wished to learn from ye more honorable ways to fight . . yet ye be right . . In my case, it be my cunning rather than any skill that will mean my coming out alive from any encounter. And more than a bit o’ luck . . “ Poking at him playfully to make sure he was ok, she added, “Well, ye DID ask for it, ye know . .” smiling close to his face.

[Sinold Bragasson]

Letha was now laying on top of him which cause the most pleasant and embarrassing reaction in Sinold… surely she must feel his passion clearly, as his blood began to pool in his nether regions despite his prone position on his back right now. He hadn't been with a woman for two months now, or was it longer? And how long still to the wedding? To their first night together when he could show her how he truly loved and adored her? Would she be able to keep up with him in that night, a she did here in the pits?

With a sudden move, Sinold rolled the both of them over, now him laying on top of Letha, his hips pressing against hers… surely she must feel it… how he longed for her.

How totally irresponsible and wrong!

Quickly the Norse got up, helping Letha up a well, never leaving his eyes from her, only hoping she might not think too badly of his wayward bodily reactions to her closeness.

"You are devious… I knew it. And that is the way for you to go in a battle… " He looked at her for a long moment. "Forgive me if I made you.. uncomfortable with what my body did. I just … long for you."

Sinold looked down on his hands, feeling like a little boy all of a sudden who was bested by a beautiful woman to whom his body was powerless .

[Master Sergeant Gerben]

*He stood there at the border of the spectators area of the pit, glancing down on the pair in the sand. A small smile curved his lips. Discipline... Sinold... he murmured, almost without sound. You need more discipline.

His hand was on the hilt of his sword. A matter of habit. He didn't move. Didn't disturb the lesson going on. Instead he kept his gaze on both. A veteran he was, who had grown up from entering the ranks as a lad to the experienced veteran. He had climbed the ranks on loyalty, skill and discipline. Adding his experience to it as the years grow.

A father and a grandfather he was. And by now a seasoned warrior, with an eye for the skills of young recruits, and a mind to pick out weaknesses, flaws and strengths. He simple stood. And looked.*

[Halethala]

She was certain she’d heard the ziiing of the tenuous little thread snapping as she realized with a tiny sadness that there was a price to be paid for moving beyond playful friendship. Yes, they’d perhaps done so long ago, yet until now she’d not fully realized what a power she wielded over his manhood, and how unwise she’d been to provoke it as she’d done. This was more her fault than his . . . her quickened heartbeat spreading heat to her face, she backed away in a fear of herself, more than he. Soon, there would be no shame in being alone with him . . Soon? It seemed a lifetime away . . Until then, she would need to keep her distance, show discretion and respect for his all too natural inclinations . . ensure she nae provoke him beyond what was reasonable . . . how on earth, she had no idea . .

Shaken, dismayed, greatly aroused herself . . a jumble of emotions buffeted her, disabling her tongue all too readily. She couldn’t keep contact with the intensity in his eyes, perhaps yet again misunderstanding what they were speaking to her, and with great difficulty, she turned to leave him . . . the “lessons” had come to an end . .

“Forgive me, my Love . . surely it be nae wise to continue . . “