[Closed Post: En Garde]

[timebethine]

Just as Laertes has developed his own routine here--the regular rounds of breakfasts and dinners do much to give shape to his otherwise formless days--he's observed others' routines. Lancelot, for one, always trains at the same time every morning. At times, as he's shuttled back and forth between the clay bed by the lakeside and his kiln, Laertes has ridden Fenyes past the training yard while Lancelot has been practicing, and he'd reviewed the other man's swordplay with a critical eye. Watching him wheel and thrust in the cool grey light of morning, a part of him has craved the challenge of a second duel.

Today, he sates that craving. He strolls up on Lancelot with a thin, sheathed blade in one hand and his rapier buckled at his waist. "Hallo," he calls. "Wouldst thou like to try a rapier?"

Comments

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot turns and smiles to see Laertes. "Good morning, sir. I would."

[timebethine]

Then Laertes passes the second blade over for Lancelot's inspection. In his hands, it's immediately clear how much of the weight is sheath--the rapier is astoundingly light, after a longsword, and answers almost too readily in Lancelot's hands. "I thought we'd try a weapon I've the mastery of," says Laertes, "since thou didst thrash me roundly with a longsword."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Ah, thrash is strong. Thou didst hold thine own." He draws the rapier and holds it out, testing its weight and balance. He looks back at Laertes. "Show me a little of the form?"

[timebethine]

"It's fought high and far--about chest-height, at near the full extension of the arm," says Laertes, drawing his sword and dropping neatly into en garde. He has a dagger sheathed on his other hip, and something in how he holds his back-stretched hand communicates that he's used to wielding the dagger in it as a parrying weapon. "The rapier's best as a thrusting blade; it will cut, and cut like grief if the edge is sharp enough, but it hath not the mettle to hew armor or bone. The aim of it is to score a touch upon the opponent's arms or breast."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot looks him over, then sets aside the scabbard and moves to assume the form, copying Laertes as best he can. "Very well. Show me the thrust."

[timebethine]

Laertes makes his offer low and slow, toward Lancelot's gut rather than his back; he's alert to how Lancelot will answer it, already planning out his counter-parry and riposte.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He follows his instinct and works to deflect the thrust by striking the blade away; it's not very well-balanced, and comes a little too fast, as he's still adjusting to the lightness of the blade itself.

[timebethine]

And there's the counter-parry, circling deftly back under Lancelot's blade to graze his abdomen. "Touch," says Laertes with a smirk.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aha," he says, laughing a little. "I see-- well done."

[timebethine]

Laertes's smile softens. "The style of bladeplay favors delicate passes--I've watched master fencers trade above twenty moves with their blades never straying from a circle the size of thy fist, and each one was as dire a threat as any o'er-eager lunge. A fight with a rapier is subtle; it moves more like a dance than like a march."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He resets his stance and says, eagerly, "Again."

[timebethine]

And this time, Lancelot will see the full flower of Laertes's skill--Laertes knows the physics of each thrust and parry intimately, the fulcrum-point of each sword; he knows where best to begin a counter-parry to flick Lancelot's blade away as though it were only grass. Lancelot can't commit to a thrust but Laertes is already there, anticipating him, answering in a rhythm of parry-riposte. Laertes moves them around the training yard with light and easy steps, all the while smiling like a sunrise.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot is smiling, too, engaged and happy to experiment -- unafraid to take a risk, which is occasionally a bit dangerous, but even with as little practice as he has with the rapier he is skilled enough to watch himself. And, of course, he is a quick learner of anything to do with his physicality. He learns through experimentation and also in watching how Laertes moves, what he does with his blade and footwork. Laertes definitely has the edge on him, and Lancelot won't be approaching his level of skill any time soon, but the whole thing is (he finds) gratifying.

[timebethine]

And when they've lost count of touches (Laertes thinks he had near twenty when the number slipped from his grasp), Laertes will sheathe his blade at last with a burst of laughter. His cheeks are apple-round and flushed like damask roses. He's sweating, shining, breath just a steamy plume on the cold air. "Sir," he says, "thou wilt soon overtake me with the rapier, and then I'll have no reputation at all."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"We all have reputations to maintain, sir," he replies, laughing as well.

[timebethine]

"And thou the perfect knight--but I know thy secret weakness," Laertes says lightly. "Legend reports that thou canst be beaten at pinball."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot gasps then does his best to look mock-scandalized, "Who hast told thee such falsehoods?"

[timebethine]

"There are no secrets in a marriage bed, and so thou wert betrayed," says Laertes mock-dolefully. A shiver goes through him as the wind picks up; his hooded sweatshirt isn't quite warm enough to keep out the stiff breeze. "Art thou finished here? Or wouldst thou go again?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"An thou'rt ready to retire, so am I," easily. He retrieves the scabbard. "And I am sorry to say, but thy husband -- right though he may be that I am not the victor at all games of pinball -- is no great pinball player."

[timebethine]

"A good thing that I set him no challenge for my hand, or I'd be unwed to this day," laughs Laertes as he starts back toward the mansion. "Now, tell me--what in God's name is pinball?" Sagramore, drunk as a lord and spilling out of Laertes's lap in every direction, had been less than helpful in explaining.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs, "It is a-- well. A singular entertainment. I can show thee, but Grantaire is the expert."

[timebethine]

"I'm at thy disposal; my only plans for today were to spar with thee and to make breakfast, since it's Tress's day for supper."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Let us have some coffee, first, perhaps. 'Tis cold out here, though we've been active."

[timebethine]

"Gladly, then--dost thou like Sagramore's Turkish coffee? I can make that for thee."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I don't know that I've had that, exactly, but yes. I'd like that."