“Is that the sum of the difficulties with your weapons?” She asked finally.
“… I think so.” I shuffled through my memories of all of my conversations with my fellow marksmen, where we had complained about our weapons. I think I had touched on all the points.
“Hmmmm…” Durithana pondered. “I’ll see what we can do. Let me go see if I can get my help back for this.”
“Then I’ll get out of your way.” I told her, my stomach telling me that it was about time for lunch anyway.
My household fell in behind me as I returned to our home.
“Had I not seen how effective your weapons are, hearing that I would debate whether they were worth the pain,” Tavorwen noted.
“The results speak for themselves.” I admitted.
The rest of the group listened in silence, I had no doubt that they had thoughts, but they kept them to themselves.
Arriving back home, Diamiutar asked how the visit went as she made us all a nice lunch of fruits, cheeses and fresh hot breads. There were a few different cheeses, ranging from a soft creamy cheese with a smooth and slightly sweet flavor to a hard dark cheese with a thick rind that had a strong and lightly salty flavor. Combined with the fruits and the breads, the cheeses were a nice option to mix and match with.
“… so she’s gonna see what she can do with her assistants.” I finished as I continued to munch on the food.
“Am I to understand that this would make a significant difference?” Diamiutar noted.
“It could.” I admitted. “X’Thallion seemed to think my current weapons weren’t good enough. So any improvement could make all the difference.”
The door opened and Anbethir came in, “Alright, we’re almost done. Oh good! The food is ready. Do you mind if I take some to Flendreir? She’s still searching for a few more blades in Master Thomas’s size.”
“By all means, here, let me help you.” Diamiutar offered, and rose, getting a basket.
“Flendreir thinks it’ll likely only take her an hour or so to bring the blades together,” Anbethir explained. “But I need to get back to helping her.”
She took the basket full of food, and walked out the door, picking a green and red fruit that looked like some kind of apple or pear and beginning to eat.
My hand strayed to the blade that had sat on my belt since Durithana had given it to me. I wondered what kinds of blades the maidens were looking for. Now that the moment was here, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of sword I’d use. Flendreir carried two swords, and a number of daggers, but I hadn’t really had a chance to see her fight with them. I’d seen her try to work her blades between the dragon’s scales during that fight, but that didn’t feel like a fair evaluation.
I felt eyes boring into me, and glanced up, catching Ki’Amura watching me with an intensity in her judging gaze that I was unaccustomed to. I maintained my gaze with her until she blinked, then turned away.
I needed to find a way that she was useful, in her eyes. I had one month, and I needed her cooperation to facilitate it. I wondered if that was why she had been my little shadow all morning. Maybe Ki’Amura hoped that I could find a way for her to be useful. A part for her to play. If she was allowing herself to hope, then that was a great step in the right direction.
I mused for a while. I needed to talk to her, find out what she was ‘no good’ at and see what was left. If nothing else, I could find what she would think would make her most of value, and see if I couldn’t train her to succeed at that. Michael Jordan supposedly was terrible at basketball before he just persisted in his practice and training. I wondered how much of a real opportunity she’d been given among the Shadow elves.
The door opened and Flendreir and Anethir returned, bundles in their arms, rousing me from my contemplations.
“Forgive me my tardiness, not many smiths stock weapons in your size.” Flendreir apologized.
“Oh, not a problem,” I assured her. “You’re ready then?”
The two maidens glanced at each other.
“Yes, I think we are, Master Thomas,” Anbethir acknowledged. “Let us go to the terrace. That should give us the space we require.”
Terrace? I didn’t realize we had a terrace.
I followed the elves outside, and around the platforms that wrapped around the thick trunk that was the exterior walls of my home. In the back there was a set of stairs that led me up among the branches. There was a hollow among the crown of the tree, with the top of the tree, where the tree split into much smaller branches, had been guided and worked into a large mostly flat area, with leaves and branches dancing around us in the light breeze. I realized that the branches had all been guided to grow specifically into specific forms, and there were branches along the edge that created something like benches, shelves and a rail of branches. A few combat dummies stood in the center of the terrace.
Most of my household, including Ki’Amura, came to watch.
Anbethir and Flendreir took their bundles and began to lay out the contents on the shelf-like structure of branches.
“Hmmm… We need to start tending to the terrace more.” Heilantu noted with displeasure, and she started looking at branches that were beginning to give the rails, and structures a frizzled look.
“Come, Master Thomas, let us begin.” Flendreir called.
I walked over and looked over the spread of blades laid out on the shelf. There were a couple of lightly curved blades, a pair of short curved daggers, a long thin rapier, a longer thicker blade that looked like it was to be wielded two-handed, and a shield.
“Now, each blade is involved in one or more combat styles, and between the two of us, we utilize most of them.” Flendreir explained. “Is there one that appeals to you?”
I looked over the table, and first picked up the two-handed sword. Its weight felt good in my hand. And while I could tell it had weight, it was far easier to lift than I expected.
“Uh…” Anbethir grimaced, “That is the one sword style that is near impossible for an elf… We can try to teach you, but neither of us can actually practice it. The weight of the sword is too dangerous for us.”
I set it down, “Then, I guess we can start with one of these.”
I picked up one of the slightly curved swords, somewhere between a scimitar and a katana. Smaller than a katana, and clearly meant to be one-handed, but not nearly as curved as the scimitar.
Flendreir stepped forward and drew her matching sword, “The first thing to ensure you are gripping your weapon correctly.”
My natural grip, like holding a baseball bat within one hand, was adjusted by my maiden carefully to be looser, with the hilt of the blade being angled in my hand putting more of the grip into my first three fingers and and thumb.
“Now, we’re going to start with the striking dummy. This is a simple exercise.” Flendreir did a series of slashes on the dummy. “Let’s start with that.”
I took a deep breath and released it, before trying the slashes Flendreir had demonstrated. Each slash was a wide arch with my arm, using my thumb to guide the blade. I basically swung the blade in a path like the infinity symbol with a circle on each side of my body, with one circle leading into the other.
All the elves tried not to laugh at my clumsy attempt.
“I… Master Thomas, forgive me, but…” Abethir chuckled, “Why are you flailing like that? I must insist you take this seriously.”
I sighed, “I AM taking this seriously. This just isn’t something I’ve ever done before.”
“But surely you can do better than that.” Flendreir pressed. “Just watch where your blade is traveling, ensure your blade is aligned to strike the target with the sharpened edge, not the flat or even an angled blade.”
I sighed and slowed down my drill to ensure that my blade alignment was correct.
Concern clouded the faces of all the elves.
“Is… Is that really how slow you have to move to do the drill properly?” Anbethir asked, more earnest this time.
“Yeah.” I confirmed. “I mean, I know with enough time and practice I could get faster. But you all seem able to just move so much faster than anyone I’ve ever known, without even trying.”
I lowered my blade. “Speed seems to be your thing, but from my conversation with Durithana earlier, I think my durability and strength is mine.”
Flendreir and Anbethir exchanged a look.
“What do you mean?” Flendreir pressed.
I sighed, “How many stones can you lift with one arm?”
Flendreir seemed surprised, “Well, I can lift around 8 stones. But most blades are only a stone, and that’s the heavy ones.”
“What about this one?” I asked, referencing the two handed sword.
“Okay, that one is about two stones.” Anbethir admitted.
“While I admit, I have been working to maintain my physical strength in my role back on my home world, and I wasn’t the strongest, I could do a single arm deadlift 90 lbs… er, what is that, like 35 stones?” I retorted.
The elves sat blinking.
“… 35 stones… with one arm?” Creadean gawked. “So you could lift me with one arm? I am about 32 stones.”
“Come, sit down.” I told her.
The elves all watched with interest as Creadean sat at my feet.
“If I were to lift you by your belt, would that be a problem?” I asked.
“I’ve used it to secure climbing ropes before, so it shouldn’t be,” Creadean explained. “So that should be fine.”
I reached down and grabbed the front of her belt. I made sure to lift with my legs, but to my shock, it was far easier than I expected, lifting her from the floor. Creadean jumped as she was lifted from the floor, and she grabbed my forearm to steady herself. I lifted her and I stood fully. She’d said she was about 32 stones? So around 80 lbs? She felt much lighter. I tried and found I could easily curl her, lifting with just one arm.
“By the Father…” Flendreir breathed.
Her reference reminded me of my meeting with X’thallion.
“As the Patriarch of the Exalted Host, I shall bestow upon you a boon of strength.” The god had said.
Interesting, I thought.
“Your point is proven!” Creadean squeaked. “You can set me down now.”
I lowered her and let her get her feet underneath her. Once Creadean was steady, I released her belt.
“That didn’t even look difficult for you.” Flendreir noted.
“No. I think… I think I’ve gotten stronger since I came here.” I noted.
“Sister, with such strength–” Anbethir began.
“Yes, I know.” Flendreir cut her off, deep in thought.
“But how will we–” Anbethir interjected again.