(Untitled)

[taishar_malkier]

Moiraine came to the House of Arch tonight. She listened to their news, with crisp agreement for Nynaeve's furious snappishness about Zuko, and gave her own in very careful terms. She would be spending the night, because tomorrow she planned to meet with a friend to provide aid for her own world. Yes, Nita fights against the Shadow, and Moiraine

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[taishar_malkier]

Rand was being taught for survival in the first lesson too. But he didn't know it yet, and he didn't know it in his bones for a long time afterward.

And that makes a very great difference.

The wide stretch of lawn a few yards away from the door will work well enough. There are piles of half-melted snow and sludgy puddles of mud to avoid, but that's an ordinary new spring to Lan, and a fine evening tonight.

"Most forms work as well with one hand." He's studying the younger man. "That sword is balanced for it, and light enough. Not every horse is trained to be ridden through battle without a hand on the reins, and you aren't the first man to have to adapt. I would have taught you more of the variations if I had had more time for it."

"You have quick wrists, and you're strong. That will help. All the same, there are a few forms that won't work for you now, and you need to learn what they are. Learn it well, or you'll try one in the middle of a battle. Others you can compensate one way or another."

"What you need most, sheepherder, is practice. Get the patterns into your head and your body. Leopard in the Tree." There's no change in his manner or his impassive deep voice, and no pause, when he adds the order for the most common stance preparatory to drawing.

[flame_and_void]

Rand's eyes train on Lan as the older veteran talks. He listens closely, and nods here and there to accentuate the salient points.

Then the stance is given.

Without hesitation, he's standing in the high form, thumb having already tugged loose the peace-knot at the blade's hilt, body turned to the side to minimize any frontal striking points the enemy might go for.

"Fortunately, so far as we both can tell, time is something that we actually have some of here."

[taishar_malkier]

Lan grunts in agreement.

Rand is right, and that time is a very useful gift. Perhaps even vital.

This stance is fine; it's the next, with the sword in Rand's hand, that he's expecting to bring problems. "Fan in Silk." The first drawing motion he taught Rand, and the most basic.

[flame_and_void]

One-handed, the sword comes out, and he lets his arms do the work, drawing up and out in one smooth process.

Except that it isn't as smooth, because he doesn't have the second hand to support the weight of the blade once it leaves its sheath. It isn't perfect, not by a long shot, but he manages to move through the motions one-handed, as close as one might otherwise. His eyes narrow, but he manages to hold at the end of the form, blade pointed up and away from the body, hands down low.

[taishar_malkier]

"It could be worse," is all Lan says, blue eyes narrowed and studying.

Could be worse isn't enough for these stakes, and they both know it.

Which is why Lan takes half a step closer to shift Rand's hand on the sword, change the angle of his wrist and guide his other arm into a more balanced position. "Don't think as if your other hand will be there. It has to be balanced all the way through, just with this."

[flame_and_void]

"Guiding, but not supporting." He looks at the hand placement, feels it, soaks it in. "Acting as a counterweight."

He steps back and practices the form again. It's more fluid this time, but it's obvious that it will take many more practices to get to where he used to be.

[taishar_malkier]

"Yes."

Lan steps back, watching impassively as Rand repeats the form again, and then again. Only when he's satisfied with the progression does he give the next form. And then, eventually, the next.

None of them will be perfect today. That's not the goal; the point is for Rand to learn how they should feel, and how to get to that point.

[flame_and_void]

The day passes as the forms are continued, and well into the evening as the lights of the bar come on and illuminate the trainer and the trainee.

Having long ago shed his shirt to remain cool, Rand stands passively. The void is there, as is the flame, and naught else.

He moves with fluid sureness, stepping through each movement with intent and action. The sword cuts through the air, but it does not yet sing.

[taishar_malkier]

It will. Not today, not tomorrow, but it will.

Eventually, Rand will stop for the night. He'll tie hilt to scabbard again with the peace-knot, and they will talk more. About Forsaken, and war, and developments in the bar and in the world beyond.

For now, though, the lesson, and the old familiar dance of sword-work. There's a great deal to relearn, but here they at least have time.