#33 - Too Much - Angels Short
#33 - Too Much
She had said: someday you will want to take some lovely girl out on the floor, and then all the combat training you have had will amount to a sweet nothing, for there are other things besides maiming blows and killing throws that every man ought to know.
So Zadkiel had agreed to it, although Duriel privately thought this was because he seemed unable to deny his tiny wife anything she asked. At ten-thirty, instead of on the practice ground they met in the auxillary ballroom where today's lesson was to be taught by his master's fairy wife, who had declared that if a boy were ready to be trained on an undulled weapon he was more than ready enough to learn a mazurka and a landler. Their inagural lesson went as so:
"The first thing you must remember," Jabriel said, merry and low, "Is that the dance is nothing more than moving in a particular way -- and not a very complicated way at that."
Despite his belief that she would never willingly lead him astray, Duriel was skeptical.
"It's all steps."
She shook her head, "You musn't think of it as separate steps. You must think of it as a few simple movements. Here, I'll show you," she looked searchingly over her shoulder and then smiled. "Zadkiel, you will give us a tune, won't you?"
Zadkiel gave her a long, silent answer, and then lifted his viola to his shoulder. Gabriel, who sat at his feet, began to squeal happily when she realized her father was to play. This quite interrupted the tempo of the music and Jabriel giggled helplessly until Zadkiel fixed a solemn eye on his daughter. She stilled almost immediately.
"VERY QUIET," she announced in a rather unquiet fashion, and then lapsed into polite silence, fixing her round eyes on her mother.
"Of course, first the gentleman bows and the lady curtsies, unless this is a festival dance, where you shouldn't worry overly much about formalities," she began, falling into a light, short curtsey. Samand'riel bowed smartly in turn, rising on his toes as he did so.
"Thas because," he offered conspiratorily, "A body is usually dead drunk and so rare remembers to do anything so grand."
Duriel raised an unsurprised eyebrow and Jabriel giggled again, mad and giddy as a gentle soul can be, and then she and Samand'riel situated themselves for the beginning of the waltz.
"The gentleman puts one hand on the back like so, and then the lady puts one hand on the shoulder as you see, and the other two are here," she explained, lacing her fingers through Samand'riel's square ended ones, "The gentleman always leads the dance and the lady follows," she added, nodding down at her feet, trim ankles exposed in a pair of fine red dancing shoes, "The feet begin as so, with the gentleman's between the lady's right here. This is to make his first step easy, so he can lead the lady along."
"And the step comes on the beat," observed Duriel, arms folded over his narrow chest as he watched the entire affair closely.
"Precisely," answered Jabriel. "Six beats in the quick waltz, but you must think of it as only three repeated twice, as that is easier to manage," she nodded and then Samand'riel took his first step on the beat, and the rest followed briskly and breathlessly as she was swept about the floor. After a few turns of the hardwood, Samand'riel brought them both to a rest before the uncertain pupil. She clasped his shoulder supportively and then patted him on the back, "Don't worry. We'll go through again more slowly so that you can see the steps and understand the movement before we try it ourselves."
The viola music did not miss a beat, but over it came Zadkiel's abrupt veto. "He has been trained to analyze movement patterns. If he cannot do it on the hardwood then his life is forfeit on the battlefield."
Duriel ran his hand through his hair distractedly, but did not turn to look over his shoulder at his master, "Just the once through then?"
"That should be more than sufficient," answered Zadkiel, his attention again on his viola.
"Don't think about the turn," advised Jabriel gently as Samand'riel bent down to scoop up his daughter and Duriel took his place a little awkwardly in front of her, "Because it happens naturally. That's where you lead to the beat. And don't concentrate on just your feet. A dance is danced with the whole body." Duriel put one of his hands on her back where it tremored once and was still. She took his hand and settled her other palm light against his shoulder.
"Um. Duriel," said Zadkiel shortly, and his apprentice looked up sharply as if he'd gotten caught with his hand down her dress. However, his master only said mildly, "Don't step on her feet."
With that, he struck up the waltz again, and after a steeling breath, Duriel swept her off, stepped to the right, then toe to heel, the shift of weight, the square and then the forward step, toe to heel again and then the turn true. The turn did happen naturally, as she had said it would, and then it was around again and again, the spill of the skirt as it frothed around her shins, ankles flashing like white pearls. It was almost too soon when they were back before the other three. It was so fast, like the run of his heartbeat, that although he was accostomed to far harder exercise he was almost breathless -- although this was also possibly because of the soft, full brush of Jabriel as she leaned forward and laughed sweetly, her forehead on his shoulder.
"Splendid, Duriel," she said, when she had finally managed her breath again, "You are very good to have understood the steps so quickly," and here her mouth trembled until she lost herself in soft giggles again. "But perhaps next time we will try a bit harder to remember an important facet of dancing."
"What's that?" he asked, mildly embarassed from both the praise and the implication that he had not quite gotten everything right the very first time.
Jabriel stood on her toes to ruffle his hair affectionately.
"In the future we will strive to remember the beat."
She had said: someday you will want to take some lovely girl out on the floor, and then all the combat training you have had will amount to a sweet nothing, for there are other things besides maiming blows and killing throws that every man ought to know.
So Zadkiel had agreed to it, although Duriel privately thought this was because he seemed unable to deny his tiny wife anything she asked. At ten-thirty, instead of on the practice ground they met in the auxillary ballroom where today's lesson was to be taught by his master's fairy wife, who had declared that if a boy were ready to be trained on an undulled weapon he was more than ready enough to learn a mazurka and a landler. Their inagural lesson went as so:
"The first thing you must remember," Jabriel said, merry and low, "Is that the dance is nothing more than moving in a particular way -- and not a very complicated way at that."
Despite his belief that she would never willingly lead him astray, Duriel was skeptical.
"It's all steps."
She shook her head, "You musn't think of it as separate steps. You must think of it as a few simple movements. Here, I'll show you," she looked searchingly over her shoulder and then smiled. "Zadkiel, you will give us a tune, won't you?"
Zadkiel gave her a long, silent answer, and then lifted his viola to his shoulder. Gabriel, who sat at his feet, began to squeal happily when she realized her father was to play. This quite interrupted the tempo of the music and Jabriel giggled helplessly until Zadkiel fixed a solemn eye on his daughter. She stilled almost immediately.
"VERY QUIET," she announced in a rather unquiet fashion, and then lapsed into polite silence, fixing her round eyes on her mother.
"Of course, first the gentleman bows and the lady curtsies, unless this is a festival dance, where you shouldn't worry overly much about formalities," she began, falling into a light, short curtsey. Samand'riel bowed smartly in turn, rising on his toes as he did so.
"Thas because," he offered conspiratorily, "A body is usually dead drunk and so rare remembers to do anything so grand."
Duriel raised an unsurprised eyebrow and Jabriel giggled again, mad and giddy as a gentle soul can be, and then she and Samand'riel situated themselves for the beginning of the waltz.
"The gentleman puts one hand on the back like so, and then the lady puts one hand on the shoulder as you see, and the other two are here," she explained, lacing her fingers through Samand'riel's square ended ones, "The gentleman always leads the dance and the lady follows," she added, nodding down at her feet, trim ankles exposed in a pair of fine red dancing shoes, "The feet begin as so, with the gentleman's between the lady's right here. This is to make his first step easy, so he can lead the lady along."
"And the step comes on the beat," observed Duriel, arms folded over his narrow chest as he watched the entire affair closely.
"Precisely," answered Jabriel. "Six beats in the quick waltz, but you must think of it as only three repeated twice, as that is easier to manage," she nodded and then Samand'riel took his first step on the beat, and the rest followed briskly and breathlessly as she was swept about the floor. After a few turns of the hardwood, Samand'riel brought them both to a rest before the uncertain pupil. She clasped his shoulder supportively and then patted him on the back, "Don't worry. We'll go through again more slowly so that you can see the steps and understand the movement before we try it ourselves."
The viola music did not miss a beat, but over it came Zadkiel's abrupt veto. "He has been trained to analyze movement patterns. If he cannot do it on the hardwood then his life is forfeit on the battlefield."
Duriel ran his hand through his hair distractedly, but did not turn to look over his shoulder at his master, "Just the once through then?"
"That should be more than sufficient," answered Zadkiel, his attention again on his viola.
"Don't think about the turn," advised Jabriel gently as Samand'riel bent down to scoop up his daughter and Duriel took his place a little awkwardly in front of her, "Because it happens naturally. That's where you lead to the beat. And don't concentrate on just your feet. A dance is danced with the whole body." Duriel put one of his hands on her back where it tremored once and was still. She took his hand and settled her other palm light against his shoulder.
"Um. Duriel," said Zadkiel shortly, and his apprentice looked up sharply as if he'd gotten caught with his hand down her dress. However, his master only said mildly, "Don't step on her feet."
With that, he struck up the waltz again, and after a steeling breath, Duriel swept her off, stepped to the right, then toe to heel, the shift of weight, the square and then the forward step, toe to heel again and then the turn true. The turn did happen naturally, as she had said it would, and then it was around again and again, the spill of the skirt as it frothed around her shins, ankles flashing like white pearls. It was almost too soon when they were back before the other three. It was so fast, like the run of his heartbeat, that although he was accostomed to far harder exercise he was almost breathless -- although this was also possibly because of the soft, full brush of Jabriel as she leaned forward and laughed sweetly, her forehead on his shoulder.
"Splendid, Duriel," she said, when she had finally managed her breath again, "You are very good to have understood the steps so quickly," and here her mouth trembled until she lost herself in soft giggles again. "But perhaps next time we will try a bit harder to remember an important facet of dancing."
"What's that?" he asked, mildly embarassed from both the praise and the implication that he had not quite gotten everything right the very first time.
Jabriel stood on her toes to ruffle his hair affectionately.
"In the future we will strive to remember the beat."