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Author Topic: Fighters True and True  (Read 1482 times)

Kay-Meriadoc Brandybuck

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Fighters True and True
« on: July 08, 2017, 01:40:23 AM »
The hobbit grumbled as he peered out the flap in the tent. He ought to be out there with the rest of the fine warriors. He was a warrior just like the men, elves, and dwarves riding off to battle. He wanted to protect the world from darkness and evil just like everyone else. He’d been through just as much as them, if not more – Barrow-wights, Wraiths, Orcs, trolls were all things he’d seen and fought. He lived through all of it. He could live through this battle.

He stomped from the tent. Staying put was no good. He was much too annoyed and much too impatient. He needed to do something – anything. In all frankness, he needed a means to get out on the battlefield because Meriadoc knew that was where he truly belonged. For now, the hobbit knew bidding his time was the best option. There would be a way to sneak out and join ranks; of that Meriadoc was certain.

Coming upon training grounds, he unsheathed his sword. Brow furrowed and a growl escaping his lips, the hobbit charged the practice dummy. He hacked at the stuffed thing. Straw and fabric went flying. The hobbit only stopped when he was huffing. Leaning against his ‘opponent’, he heaved a sigh. A noise startled him from his rest. Standing up straighter, he nodded to the person. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked.

Éowyn

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Re: Fighters True and True
« Reply #1 on: July 22, 2017, 02:28:44 PM »
"Long enough to feel mightily sorry for that dummy, I feel."

Halflings were curious beings, and not simply for their small, ebullient stature and their sure, hairy feet. If anything, the ebullience was a familiar thing in its way, for it was what the Rohirrim could be...no, still were, in fact. Ebullient and generous and bold of heart were her people; they would always be so, at their core, no matter the darkness in the world around them.

Perhaps that was why the little folk found them so appealing. Perhaps it was why she herself, with her spirit waned enough for her world to finally begin chipping a raw, mortal wound at her soul, found them so appealing.

Curious indeed.

But curious or not, Eowyn rather felt there were worse people to come across in her grief and fatalistic, wide awake dreaming than young (was he young though? did Hobbits age like Men?) Meriadoc-- indeed, she wondered with some irony if there could be any better to come across than a Halfling nicknamed such as he was.

"You've learned what you know on the road, I feel. But you've been taught a little technique along the way too, I think." It was a frank statement, but unlike the slight smile she'd managed for him (not quite sincere because of its inability to lift the acute sorrow that threatened to smother her gaze, sincere attempt in itself or not), it was honest and without artifice or malice. Merely a remark made from observation, with Eowyn already taking ribbon from her bodice to tie her voluminous hair behind her.

"Straw figures aren't particularly good at teaching you your feet and your opponent, though." The sword she had been holding-- her own, was placed as gently as a mother with her babe beside the abused dummy, Eowyn choosing instead to take up the nearest practice blade-- a little duller, perhaps, but not enough so to be rendered useless. If anything, she welcomed the challenge it would give her in itself; the need to adapt to a heft and a hilt not her own, and she held it out before her form upon crossing back to stand before Merry.

"Show me your stance. Don't attempt to overcompensate or show off to me -- simply do what you feel you know."


'i've learned that strength is something you choose'

Kay-Meriadoc Brandybuck

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Re: Fighters True and True
« Reply #2 on: September 07, 2017, 03:59:54 PM »
Through the sweat tendrils and splotchiness of exertion blood flow, Merry’s cheeks flared with embarrassment “Ah, I suppose it’s seen better days, hasn’t it?” Meriadoc replied, a dry chuckle escaping with the words. “It wasn’t fair of me to take out my frustrations on a poor defenseless thing. My temper got the better of me. Forgive me, miss.” Bowing his head, he scuffed his toe in the cakey soil. Too trampled by feet it would never do well for growing anything but sparse bits of grass.

What a shame, the hobbit mused. Land ought to be respected and tended too with great care so that bountiful harvests may come up from deep within the soil. Dirt didn’t deserve hoof hardening from feet and hooves. The land didn’t deserve soiled by blood spilt in battle. But that was the fate of this world.

His hobbit sensibilities were showing in his thought process. Land wasn’t something he much considered before now. It was something he took for granted. The young hobbit just assumed every species took great care of the soil underfoot. Even the dwarves tended to the earth they inhabited. Oh, how wrong and naive he was! When he got home, the hobbit vowed to take better care of his homestead.


Head bolting up from the bow, he met Eowyn’s gaze. “Hobbits aren’t fighters by trade. We’re a peaceful folk. You’d more times than not find a pitchfork or a hoe in our hand instead of blade. So, aye, you’re right I have learned my skills on the road. You’re also right that I have been taught how to handle my sword,” Meriadoc replied; chin wobbling a wee bit at the thought of Boromir’s demise. The traditional Buckland brogue, Merry tended to tamper down, tinged the words. Passion had that affect on his accent.

“No, that they do not do. They sort of stand around in one place and don’t do much of anything. A scarecrow’d be a better opponent,” he remarked as he pushed away his grief at the loss of his friend. Even though some time had pass (had it been two weeks or two months, the hobbit was sure), the sadness still lay heavy in his heart. A saddened warrior would not be an adequate warrior the hobbit reasoned. There would be time for mourning, later. Now, it seemed was the time for practice. As Meriadoc watched Eowyn, he eyes shined with rejuvenation and eagerness.

“Very well,” Meriadoc replied. “I doubt you’ve seen my moves before so I warn you in advance.” He plucked his sword from the ground and planted his feet firm against the soil. Toes wiggling to get a good grip on the land, he prepared himself for mock battle. Fingers wrapping around the hilt, he held it up at attention and awaited her advance.
« Last Edit: September 07, 2017, 04:00:45 PM by Meriadoc Brandybuck »

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