15min fic #35
Sep. 13th, 2004 12:14 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annarti.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
yrae
Title~ These Guys are Good
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All mine, so there.
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 35. Continuation of that one, but you don't really need background. Hurrah for random characters!
Edit~ ...Erm. Melraan's not the best swordie in the kingdom. He likes to say he is, but he's probably ranked number four at best.
~ ~ ~
Malud’s ears had tuned out of whatever the sword master was saying before he had even begun to speak. Instead, his eyes, along with the eyes of every other boy in the room, were trained on the two murmuring swordsmen standing behind the master. Well, one murmuring swordsman and one mute swordswoman, a wry grin twisting her lips.
Both were members of the Own, a position every young boy who trained to be in the army aspired to, and a position only fifteen of the many hundreds would ever reach.
The man, Melraan, had been with the Own for five years, and part of the highest sword division in the army for two years prior to that. He was considered the best swordsman in the kingdom. Only Nimay contested his position, who was, of course a woman.
Finally, the master stopped speaking, Melraan gave one more remark that forced his intended opponent to roll her eyes, and the two swordsmen parted to face each other across the training ground. Both swordsmen had a confident smirk on their lips as they awaited the master’s call to begin.
Malud frowned, trying to read their postures as he was being trained to do with the other boys in the group. Before they had even begun to fight, he could see what made members of the Own better than anyone else who wielded a sword. As they circled each other so casually, swords hung limply but dangerously at their sides, neither gave away any hints as to what their first move might be. They undoubtedly trained with each other every day, and so already knew each others strengths and weaknesses, but the practice had been so ingrained into their movement that it came naturally.
“Begin,” the master told them in his quiet but commanding voice.
Still the swordsmen circled, eyes fixed coyly on each other, but neither making the first move.
A muscle twitched in Melraan’s left shoulder; one of Nimay’s eyebrows hitched up just barely, and the two swordsmen finally engaged.
A resounding ‘wow’ mumbled through the spectators, causing grins to form on the swordsmen’s lips. They were having fun.
Despite the somewhat amused expressions on the competitors’ faces, they nevertheless fought with spectacular finesse. The two blades flashed so quickly that Malud could barely even see them, let alone hope to identify any of the moves he had been practicing. The moves all came so naturally to them. Malud had seen many instances where professionals made their jobs look so easy—carpenters, sailors, even his mother with her sewing—they all made it look so much easier than it was.
The ease with which these two swordsmen flashed and parried with their blades made it clear to Malud why the aspirations of so many young men were pointless.
If only, the boy thought, then let out a sigh of resignation.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All mine, so there.
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 35. Continuation of that one, but you don't really need background. Hurrah for random characters!
Edit~ ...Erm. Melraan's not the best swordie in the kingdom. He likes to say he is, but he's probably ranked number four at best.
Malud’s ears had tuned out of whatever the sword master was saying before he had even begun to speak. Instead, his eyes, along with the eyes of every other boy in the room, were trained on the two murmuring swordsmen standing behind the master. Well, one murmuring swordsman and one mute swordswoman, a wry grin twisting her lips.
Both were members of the Own, a position every young boy who trained to be in the army aspired to, and a position only fifteen of the many hundreds would ever reach.
The man, Melraan, had been with the Own for five years, and part of the highest sword division in the army for two years prior to that. He was considered the best swordsman in the kingdom. Only Nimay contested his position, who was, of course a woman.
Finally, the master stopped speaking, Melraan gave one more remark that forced his intended opponent to roll her eyes, and the two swordsmen parted to face each other across the training ground. Both swordsmen had a confident smirk on their lips as they awaited the master’s call to begin.
Malud frowned, trying to read their postures as he was being trained to do with the other boys in the group. Before they had even begun to fight, he could see what made members of the Own better than anyone else who wielded a sword. As they circled each other so casually, swords hung limply but dangerously at their sides, neither gave away any hints as to what their first move might be. They undoubtedly trained with each other every day, and so already knew each others strengths and weaknesses, but the practice had been so ingrained into their movement that it came naturally.
“Begin,” the master told them in his quiet but commanding voice.
Still the swordsmen circled, eyes fixed coyly on each other, but neither making the first move.
A muscle twitched in Melraan’s left shoulder; one of Nimay’s eyebrows hitched up just barely, and the two swordsmen finally engaged.
A resounding ‘wow’ mumbled through the spectators, causing grins to form on the swordsmen’s lips. They were having fun.
Despite the somewhat amused expressions on the competitors’ faces, they nevertheless fought with spectacular finesse. The two blades flashed so quickly that Malud could barely even see them, let alone hope to identify any of the moves he had been practicing. The moves all came so naturally to them. Malud had seen many instances where professionals made their jobs look so easy—carpenters, sailors, even his mother with her sewing—they all made it look so much easier than it was.
The ease with which these two swordsmen flashed and parried with their blades made it clear to Malud why the aspirations of so many young men were pointless.
If only, the boy thought, then let out a sigh of resignation.