Sep 22, 2010

The Art of the Sword

I figured out a way for me to get posts written up faster. I've been taking the journal to work with me to translate during my lunch break, and then I come home and type up the rewritten entry for you. So I should be able to post more frequently now.  Here is day eight:

Stellas 21, 296 e.m.
Day 8,
I awoke this morning in pain. Why are all my days filled with pain on this journey? My weak muscles screamed as I forced myself from the bedroll. If I had known learning the sword would be this painful, I would've found some way out of it.

Once I was up and had started making my way stiffly to the morning fire, Daeroth met my glares with a knowing smile.

"Hurting this morning are you?" he asked, unmasked amusement in his voice. As my scowl deepened at his tone, his smile widened. "Good. I was worried that I wasn't working you hard enough." He then walked away, leaving me spluttering in wordless anger.

Kyrainna added to my glares at Daeroth's back as she passed him. "He shouldn't be making you work so hard right after your recovery. I tried talking him out of it, but he's very determined. Now, let's see those muscles." After examining me (shirtless I might add) with an exact and practiced eye, she nodded slowly and said, "I think you're fine, other than a little soreness. It's hard to tell with humans though." She shrugged and went to help pack up. Oh yes, she's very reassuring.

Once again, our day's journey passed without incident. We are making excellent time, and may even reclaim the time we lost at Salindil.

We made camp early in the evening, and once again Daeroth insisted that I practice using the sword. My protests were more vehement this time, as my muscles were still searing like the fires of the forge, but pain is apparently not an excuse. I, the great merchant about to make history, was for the second time bullied into learning the "art" of the sword.

This time, Daeroth added a simple thrust to my lessons. Parry and thrust, parry and thrust, over and over for what felt like hours. When we were finally done, I was left with just enough energy to check the amystium and write about today's events. Not nearly enough to put the amystium, journal, ink well, or quill back in the wagon, so I guess I'm sleeping with them at my side tonight.

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.

Aigon Silverwind,
Tired and Aching

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