pro_patria_mortuus | (no subject)

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Bahorel was volubly gleeful at the prospect of learning swordfighting from a genuine medieval English knight who lived and made war with his longsword, and equally gleeful at the prospect of teaching him canne de combat. Enjolras isn't surprised at all by this; it's why he felt comfortable making the offer to Harry Percy in the first place.

This would probably be true even without Bahorel's current level of boredom. As it is, he'd probably leap at the chance to teach canne de combat to a dressmaker's dummy.

(A poor analogy. He's probably already done that, too.)

At any rate, the idea being mutually agreeable and their schedules being largely free, Enjolras and Bahorel and Harry have made their way together to the practice room upstairs.

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Hey, he did that back home! Terrible, the number of people who'll take advantage of an honest dressmaker's dummy if it's not ready to defend itself.

But that was there. Here, he asks Harry "How far have you learned, with this? Is it much like the styles you know?"

Edited 2015-08-22 10:35 (UTC)

"As like as it may be, with the aim so different," Harry replies. He's no less excited than Bahorel-- not because canne de combat holds any special meaning in itself, but because he likes Enjolras, and he's decided he also likes Bahorel (slightly rocky beginnings aside) and most importantly it's something to do. "You cannot stab a man with a stick."

...well, you could, maybe. But it doesn't seem to be the goal.

You'd have to work pretty hard at it, yeah. Or get a swordcane! Courfeyrac will happily tell anyone how cool those are.

Enjolras already gave Bahorel his own perspective on what Harry's learned so far; he doesn't need to repeat it. But asking Harry's own opinion is important too.

"Thine has less movement too, I think, because of the armor?"

It's the impression he's gotten, but he could be wrong about the details. And some of it's style, not to mention the constraints of footing -- few real fights take place on a clear broad floor like this.

(Tu for both of them singly, and vous only for the two addressed together -- the mun is just going to state that categorically now, in advance of the inevitable inconsistency of translation choices. In French, Enjolras is being perfectly consistent!)

It was a genuine question, and he's listening for the answer. But he does add, as a side note: "Percy, wouldst thou rather practice first or watch?"

Edited 2015-08-23 04:07 (UTC)

"Ay, just so," he agrees. And perhaps he elaborates somewhat on the anachronistic and probably slightly nonsensical Shakespeare version of armored combat that he practices.

He second question he considers a moment before saying, "Do you begin, and I shall observe."

Bahorel grins. "Fair enough; but I expect at least one chance against you today." There's a good chance Percy might beat him at this, or at least make him fight for a victory. Strange explanation of combat or no, Bahorel's already gotten the sense that Percy's good with swords.

For now he stands across from Enjolras, who Bahorel is certain is good with singlestick, and looks for a cue-- is this going to be a slow demonstration sort of match, or a real practice?

Enjolras smiles faintly in response to Bahorel's grin, but it's gone by the time they're standing across from each other, sticks in hand and weight lightly balanced on the balls of their feet. Enjolras isn't a merry kind of fighter, even in play; he looks calm, watchful, ready.

"Full speed, I think, at least to start?"

The question is directed at both Bahorel and Percy, and he is (as ever) perfectly content to be overruled.

Harry gives a short nod of agreement: he's interested to see how it's meant to look.

Hey, Bahorel will argue with a lot, but he's not going to argue against immediate escalation! He nods and lifts his own cane slightly in acknowedgement; ready when you are

How it's meant to look is rapid, and full of swift bouncing changes of weight and hands, and very violent.

Their sticks twirl and dart from hand to hand, in feints and figure-eights and whipping slices up or down; not only that, but fists, elbows, kicks, eye-gouges, once or twice a head-butt. Enjolras and Bahorel are both pulling every blow, of course. Without that, they'd both be concussed and broken-boned many times over within the space of this short fight, instead of mildly bruised as they'll be.

It's hard for even an experienced eye to determine who's better. Of course there are differences: they're much of a height, but Bahorel is broader and stronger, and Enjolras more agile. But also they know each other well; there's nothing half-hearted in this, but they know each other's patterns.

There may not be much difference in their skill, but that slight difference favors Enjolras; his speed counts for more in this than Bahorel's strength.

It's a difference that would have grown if they'd both lived on in Paris; there are more than ten years between them, and the balance of time would have been bound to start showing-- and it would have favored Enjolras, too. But here in Milliways there's only their skill to fall back on.

It's enough to give Enjolras this match; a blow to Bahorel's wrist that forces him to drop his own cane, and another to his knees sends him sprawling. He's back up a moment later, laughing with exhilaration, but the match is over.

He waves to Harry. "Taking on the winner?"

"To face the loser would better befit my skill," he replies, plainly impressed. It's not at all like what he's used to, but he can still tell what skill looks like, particularly now that he's learned the basics from Enjolras.

He straightens from his place leaning against the wall to come join them.

Bahorel laughs. "Then at your pleasure, Sir Percy!" If it's teasing to use his title, it's entirely friendly. And hey, Harry'll get to hit him with a stick soon!

Well, in that case, he'll take no offense.

He takes a moment or two to settle himself-- remember the weight of the cane, how it moves-- before giving Bahorel the nod that he's ready to begin.

While his quick reflexes and instinct for the general movements of a fight serve him well, and while he does seem to have remembered the things Enjolras taught him quite well, they can only get him so far when set against Bahorel's vastly superior skill and size.

In a real fight, Enjolras would have kicked the cane away. (In a real fight, the amount of damage both of them would have taken from some of those blows would have shortened the fight significantly -- although the winner would very likely have been facing other people too, during and after, in a general mêlée.) Here and now, he's scooped Bahorel's cane up instead, in order to pass it back to him.

"In the next match, he'd likely have been winner instead."

Percy doubtless knows this, Bahorel certainly does, but it's worth saying all the same.

Anyway. He steps back to watch, out of the way.

Bahorel takes the cane from Enjolras with a nod of thanks, and waits for Percy to signal ready, then leads off with a couple of simple feints; enough to let Percy strike back, and give Bahorel some idea of what the skill level is in this match.

His skill in canne de combat is-- well, rudimentary.

But his skill in combat broad applies: he can dodge a blow and strike one too, and he's fairly quick and very strong (though of course he also knows better than to strike hard enough to cause real harm). He can hold his own, at least, and plainly knows enough to keep himself safe should Bahorel pick up the pace.

All right, then! Bahorel grins, and does pick up the speed-- considerably. Watch your head, Harry!

..And everything else, too. It's really not a very refined style of fighting.

He doesn't last a great while longer after that: the speed, and the quick shifts of weight particularly are the things least similar to his usual armor-clad style. A quick series of blows makes him stumble and lose his grip, sending both Harry and the cane to the ground.

"Well done!" Bahorel means it; Harry is learning fast, to keep up even that long. He offers a hand to help him up, not because Harry likely needs it-- really, he probably doesn't-- but because it's the natural thing to do, in a practice bout.

Harry takes it-- and doesn't need it, but he recognizes the purpose of the gesture.

"I shall need a fair deal of practice yet," he says, bending to retrieve the cane.

"Thou hast the idea, though," Enjolras points out, from the sidelines. "Not yet put in practice always, but already thou'rt improved from last time."

He's got an idea of what the cane and his feet are supposed to be doing, even if making sure they actually do that at speed is a work very much in progress.

And said work does progress, at least a little, as the afternoon does. For all that he recognizes and accepts the hard work necessary to become good at anything physical-- certainly more than he understands that the same principles must be applied to ideas-- it's been a long time since he's been a beginner. Though his immense respect for Enjolras (and Bahorel, too, increasingly) goes far to curb his natural impatience, and certainly any that does sneak through is directed only at himself.

It isn't all matches. There's plenty of drill-work too, for Harry's sake, to teach him good habits instead of only improvisational approximations, and towards the end a two-against-one bout. Harry, of course, takes to that far better than most; his tutor was the chaos of the battlefield, not a fencing-master teaching the rules of dueling.

By the time they break for good, instead of only for a quick gulp of water or one person's turn to watch, all three of them are sweaty, somewhat bruised, and looking their own individual variations on tiredly cheerful. (Some of these variations are more obvious and exuberant than others.)

Obvious who's obvious, Bahorel is always bouncing on his heels like that(What? All right, very often. Especially after a fight, or a lot of them.).

But yes fine, it's probably time for a real break. "If we must stop, I'm taking lunch; you're both welcome to join me." He considers the state of everyone in the room. " --And to clean up, too; my rooms have space enough. And if we make ourselves convincingly presentable, we may avoid alarming any of our good doctors."

Though a fussing-over from Joly is probably guaranteed by a few of the more obvious bruises.

Edited 2015-08-27 02:56 (UTC)

It's only the fact that Enjolras and Bahorel are nowhere near the same size that saves him from a dry comment about attempted makeovers on both of them. (Enjolras is well aware that if he ever hinted that he was willing to take fashion advice, he'd have a measuring tape around him and Bahorel rummaging through his closet before he could blink. He has no intention of ever inviting this.) But a shirt or a cravat is about the only thing either of them could borrow from the other.

Lunch with friends, and the use of a sink with soap and water, sounds like an excellent plan, though.

"Gladly," he says with a smile, and glances at Harry. Percy, you in?

Edited 2015-08-27 03:58 (UTC)