pro_patria_mortuus | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Enjolras is not, on the whole, a man with a great deal of appreciation for the beautiful outdoors. He's a city boy, and a man whose interest is mostly occupied by people, and abstract concepts concerning people.

But Milliways is a very enclosed place, and a very boring place, and there's no city to go walking in here. And Enjolras is also a fairly athletic man, who would prefer a lot more exercise than one easily finds around this place.

All of which is to say: he's out for a walk. At the moment, he's just stopped by the stables.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Do they yet joust, in-- in your time?" He somehow doubts it.

It's a blurrier line in general, in his time: all sports are supposedly a form of training for war. But certain things, like jousting, have slipped into being sport for their own sake.

"No."

Well. In the recent and monarchical past, riding at rings still existed as a considerably more genteel aristocratic game, and got a revival in the United States a little while after Enjolras's day. But he disdains the one and doesn't know about the other.

"Is it common, for thee?"

Jousting is... a thing with knights on horseback. Prouvaire doubtless knows all the details. Enjolras has a vague idea, and never found it relevant to learn more than that.

"Very oft a feast or festival may be marked with a joust. And a trial by combat, or a single fight-- that, too, may pass in the lists. But that is not so often."

He swings his stick up and holds it out in front of him, parallel to the ground, like a lance. "It is no less a test of horsemanship than strength."

Enjolras nods: yes, it would be.

(And thus the province of the very wealthy, the only ones with the leisure and funds for that kind of test of horsemanship -- but he knew that to begin with.)

"And part of war? Or only festivals and -- training?"

"It was once, but no longer." And that 'once' was well before Hotspur was born. "But 'tis a goodly sport, even so."

Fair enough!

No, really, it is. The sport may be practiced in ways thoroughly predicated upon an oppressively hierarchical society, but so is everything in Harry Percy's life; you can work to change your society, as best one person can, but you can't opt out of it. (And it's not as if there's much in Enjolras's day either that's truly egalitarian, either. He knows it.) Enjoying something that doesn't involve actively oppressing other people is totally fair.

He doesn't really have further commentary to make on jousting, but he's happy to listen if Harry wants to talk about it more.

Harry could probably go on about jousting for quite some time, but in this instance, decides to show some restraint.

"Wouldst go on?" he asks, nodding to Enjolras's walking stick.

Enjolras follows his look, and shrugs consideringly. His expression says nah, we don't have to before he follows it with words: "If thou wouldst, sure. We've probably done plenty for one lesson, though...?"

He really is perfectly willing to continue if Harry wants to tire himself out by flinging himself at new techniques until he falls over. But barring that, he doesn't feel any great need to carry on past what's a reasonable practice duration, and a reasonable amount for Harry to absorb at one go.

(Enjolras is not an especially practiced teacher. This lesson could have been more efficiently organized, the explanations occasionally clearer. But he's helped new or less skilled friends very often, and he's got an organized mind, and he was a young man rather than a child when he learned to fight with a cane. So he does have a decent idea of how to go about this.)

Harry's instinctive response is to insist that of course he can keep going, but-- he know, also, it's better to have a short lesson well learned than a long one half forgotten.

He nods. "Then let us end here."

Very well, then. Time to gather up his discarded layers of clothing.

"Any time thou'dst like another lesson, thou hast only to ask. I'd be glad to. And glad to learn from thee thine own techniques, if thou'dst teach."

Okay, he doesn't really expect to be needing skills of armor and longsword any time soon, or possibly ever. But, well -- it's something to do, and it never hurts to broaden one's skillset. And unlike the devastating weaponry of the future, the very fact that it's outdated and unlikely to be of immediate use is sort of appealing; it's something to learn to a pragmatic end, but that end is more keeping in good trim and also talking to Harry Percy about republican philosophy than learning how best to kill people of the future.

"Thou'rt quick to learn this -- I know thou knowst it, but it's so."

"I would be most glad to learn more of thee, and show thee whate'er thou wouldst," Harry says, kneeling to gather together his own bits and pieces.

"I was brought up to't," he says with a shrug. Not to singlestick itself, of course-- but he assumes Enjolras will know what he means.

Enjolras does know what he means, and had pretty much assumed it. He nods, without surprise.

"If thou wishest, Bahorel can join us sometime. He'd be glad to learn from thee too, I'm sure, and thou couldst see a fight done at speed. His style's a little different, just by build." As it would be, of course; it's basic martial logic that Enjolras and Bahorel would fight differently, despite being near enough in height.

He's very sure Bahorel would be glad to learn from Harry. Yes, okay, they've had a fistfight at least once, but Bahorel never lets that get in the way of a friendship -- and the chance to learn swordfighting from a genuine medieval knight? Even Enjolras, frequently bemused by the preoccupations of his more artistic friends, is aware enough of Romantic trends to be pretty sure Bahorel would leap at that chance even without his current level of boredom.

"That, too, I would be glad of," he says. "Truly, thou'rt passing fortunate in thy friends. I think I have not known so fair a society as thee and thine."

He doesn't mean 'thine' in the sense of Enjolras as leader, though it may sound that way.

Enjolras, usually sensitive to the slightest hint that someone might possibly be seeing him as a leader or missing an opportunity for democracy, does not in fact take Harry's statement that way. This is because the surest way to bypass all other considerations is compliment Enjolras's friends.

"They're the best of men," he says, utterly in earnest, and probably faintly glowing with the force of his sincerity. "It's a privilege to know every one of them."

"And they are lucky, too, in thee," Harry says. He doesn't know Enjolras that well, obviously, but he figures anyone is lucky to have a friend who will speak of them like that.

Enjolras waves this away, with a small gesture and a small, wry quirk of the mouth. It's not that he's disagreeing -- he knows any of his friends would speak up just as sincerely in agreement about his virtues. But, hypocritically, he'll always be more comfortable giving out praise than receiving it.

After a moment to find a good reply: "We've been proud to strive in brotherhood for the greatest of causes."

What's even better than talking about his friends? Talking about the republic!

"That Javert thought not so," Harry says with a scowl. His disgusted tone suggests that anything Javert thinks is obviously and automatically wrong.

Well, duh.

Enjolras snorts slightly. "Javert and I disagree on a great deal."

Understatement!

(Things Javert and Enjolras disagree on include not only his friends but also the value of friendship, political convictions, the value of having political convictions, basic morality, treatment of other humans, and whether Javert ought to be alive and breathing.)

Harry laughs.

"Why, do you indeed!" he cries in mock-surprise. "O, he is a foul worm, I would I had not spoken his name."

Enjolras... is not actually going to disagree with that assessment at all. The man's a sneaking spy, full of petty cruelty when he sees a chance for it; of course he's a foul worm, and of course it's obvious on short acquaintance.

"He is."

He's opening the door into the hallway now, carrying his coat and waistcoat rather than putting them back on. Going out in shirtsleeves is going out half-dressed, but upstairs at his hotel (however peculiar it is) is a grey area, half public space and half private, and anyway coming straight from a workout is like doing physical work; certain proprieties can be relaxed. He won't go downstairs without being properly clad, though.

"But we can speak of other matters -- or part company, if thou hast other business to be about."

Harry, in a similar state, has much more readily embraced the obvious laxity of dress he's seen in Milliways. Though his dress is still distinctly of his own period, he can indeed be seen in the scandalous state of undress that is a mere shirt.

"No business, I," he says. "And if it stands the same with thee, I am ever glad to speak on any matter thou wilt."

Get ready for more Thinking Through Your Political Opinions 101 over dinner then, Harry!

"Then I'll change my shirt and meet thee downstairs to dine...?"

Hey, it's good for him to be forced to think sometimes!

(And for all that he finds it confusing and slightly frustrating, he finds he can't resist the still-novel and pleasant experience of someone who will actually willingly listen to him talk. Perhaps with time-- and more conversations with Enjolras and Feuilly-- he'll get used to it, but... he hasn't yet.)

"I shall meet thee there."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only