Narrator:
Blackbird and Luther are sitting together one afternoon.
Blackbird:
You know, Luther, I've been thinking.
Luther:
Yeah?
Blackbird:
Yeah. If you are going to give this knightly knight business a real go, then you need to go into training.
Luther:
I already spend half the day practicing -- easy when half the world's ready to beat up on you. Getting real good at that stop cut to the knee.
Blackbird:
Wrong kind of training. Your swordplay's fine, it's the other parts of being a knight you need work on.
Luther:
Wha? Oh. All that chivalry and high manners 'n stuff. I dunno. I just wasn't bred for that, I guess.
[stands up, starts pacing]
Blackbird:
And I wasn't bred to be a Count's daughter, but it worked out that way. I think you can handle it. You're good in a fight. Talking with a noble is just like being in a fight. It's a matter of learning how to handle yourself -- how to attack, how to defend, how to keep your cool.
What do you do when somebody throws a punch at you, like this--?
[aims an arcing blow at Luther's jaw which he reflexively, almost casually, catches on his forearm. Blackbird grins]
Just reflex.
[continues, voice taking on a very mocking, sardonic tone that Luther has heard about a million times before, but didn't expect to be hearing from Blackbird]
You don't have bad reflexes. Probably comes from being so short -- not very far from your brain to your muscles. You'd probably be even faster if your brain wasn't as stunted as your body. It's a blessing in disguise, though: if your brain wasn't so feeble you'd probably realize that you miss half the insults people throw at you. So if you were smarter it would just give the *real* knights twice as many opportunities to rid the earth of an undersized freak with pretensions of manhood.
Narrator:
A moment ago, there was a face here. An animated face, discussing life the universe and everything with his friend. But, no more. In its place is a featureless mask, diamond hard and steel reinforced.
His hand quivers but a moment. Ten years of practice with her Father tell Blackbird that that quiver was an aborted attack.
Luther: [voice a low rumble, anger output rivaling Blackbird's worst days]
My squire has poor taste.
Narrator:
With that, he spins on one heel and walks away.
Blackbird: [following him closely]
You are a sucker for a cheap shot, Luther. Turn around and look at me!
Narrator:
He stops, turns, waits.
Blackbird: [hands on hips and continues]
Do you really think I meant any of that rubbish? Remember what I just said, Luther? It is just a fight with words as weapons. I did not see you getting upset when I threw a punch at you -- you knew I did not mean it. I threw the verbal equivalent at you -- a long slow one you could see coming from a mile away and you let it take you right on the chin.
Luther: [calmer]
Training.
'bird, I've lived with that shit every day of my life since before I was old enough to shave. Easiest way to deal with it is to give them cause to be making very large donations to their parish priest.
Be surprised how quickly an amputated leg or an opened gut will make a person close their mouth.
Blackbird: [sighs. shakes her head.]
No.
[runs a hand through her hair]
You can't go around cutting the legs off everybody who bothers you.
[sees a "why not?" expression appearing on Luther's face]
Wait. How do I explain this?
[pause]
You know how some people, if they are losing a fight, will try to talk their way out of it -- negotiate, beg for mercy, whatever? Well, it works the other way too. When someone has pushed you far enough with words to make you attack them, it means you've lost. They beat you with words and you're resorting to weapons to try to save yourself.
You've got to learn how to win those fights, or at least how to survive them.
Lesson one: Do not lose your head in a fight. Lesson two: Know who your friends are.
Luther: [much calmer]
Right.
Same rules for hand-to-hand.
Blackbird:
Oh, and your squire does *not* have poor taste. He would not be just anyone's squire! Take it back or I will have to defend his honor!
Luther:
No. He has exceptionally good taste, and surpassingly good fortune.
[long pause]
You mean Hesketh does this shit for FUN?
I knew there was something wrong with that boy...
Blackbird:
He does it for the same reason he practices with his lance -- to survive.
It is just a skill. I don't think Hesketh's method of dealing with things will suit your style very well, but it is an interesting question: What do you think Sir Hesketh would have done if I had started on him as I just did with you?
Luther: [deadpan]
Gotten very pissed off, turned beet red, struck a knightly pose and lectured you harshly about harassing [mocking tone] True Nobility. Then he'd probably crawl on my ass for encouraging you by laughing.
[lighter]
I nearly fell on the floor laughing this morning when you and he started with the goose. But, that and this are not the same situation. At least, they didn't seem alike to me.
Blackbird:
No. What I said to you was cruel and mean-spirited. The goose comment was just teasing. Fine difference.
Hesketh might have gotten angry at my words, but I think it would not be very visible. He would weave a wall of words around himself, and bear me down with its weight.
You could try practicing some pompous speeches, but I don't think that is your style.
Luther: [smiles]
Yeah, I've never been very good at looking down my nose at folks.
Blackbird: [unspoken]
Was that meant as a joke?
[spoken]
You'll have to find what works for you. But the first step is to stay in control. Better to smile, laugh, look bored. Anything. But do not look like they've succeeded in goading you. In places where duels are legal, it is acceptable to simply challenge them, as long as you stick to all required protocol. It's the sudden informal scuffles you need to work at avoiding.
[grins]
Luther:
Informal scuffles? You mean Knightly Knights don't get to enjoy a good bar fight now and then?
[Blackbird looks amused]
[Luther scratches head]
Come to think of it, I've never seen Hesketh in a bar brawl. And Richard didn't take my first suggestion.
[pause, sits back down]
I don't know. I'm starting to think maybe all this just isn't worth it.
Hell, if I'd been a knightly sort of fellow all along, I'd not be a knight in the first place. You know?
Blackbird: [smirks]
Well you are a knight, and you are stuck with it, so you might as well make the best of it.
I say, a lot better show on your part if you ruin their expectations and show them you can be just as good as one of the ones that had their mommies to knit them little suits of mail when they were babies.
Narrator:
Luther smiles -- Hesketh's sister probably COULD knit mail, it is an amusing image.
Blackbird:
Besides, there *are* compensations for the loss of bar fights. "Knightly knights get laid."
[Luther's look says "Yeah, right."]
They also get treated with a little respect. Would that be so bad?
Luther:
I have to admit, not being treated like three stone of warm spit at breakfast, was kinda nice.
Blackbird: [unspoken]
Sigh. Here I am telling him to play the game, I ran away from. Is this right?
[aloud]
No. Wait. I take it back.
Luther: [unspoken]
Figures.
Blackbird:
That kind of respect sucks. The kind of respect you get from what your title is, and how you dress and if you talk right.
Luther: [unspoken]
There's a difference?
Blackbird:
I don't want you to be a knight for those reasons. I want you to be a good knight just for yourself. Because good knights know their worth, even if nobody else does.
Luther: [unspoken]
***SHE*** wants me to be a knight?
[engage non-process runout switch]
Blackbird: [hoping this is not going over his head]
If you know your own worth, other peoples' insults do not mean so much. That does not mean you have to take them lying down. But they no longer have any sting. They will not make you angry anymore. You will only feel pity that the speaker has nothing better to say.
[unspoken]
(Are you listening to any of this, Blackbird?)
Do as I say, not as I do....
Luther: [unspoken]
Huh? What the heck is she talking about?
Right. Anchor. Gotta find a nice flowery way to say things. Sure. No problem.
[spoken]
Right.
[pause]
I think.
[unspoken]
***SHE*** wants me to be a knightly knight?
Something here just doesn't make........Richard did say she was partial to folks like me and Ti.
[looks again at Blackbird -- 6-sigma on the beauty scale]
Knightly knights......Right. OK. No problem, I can forgo a bar fight or, uh, ten. No problem.
[spoken]
Yeah, I get it.
Blackbird: [oblivious to the gears churning in his little head]
That's the way! I know you can do it!
[gives him a companionable squeeze on the shoulder]
I'd better get moving. If I'm not careful, Rojo's going to clean the camp out right under my nose. He may not have the best head for coin counting, but he sure knows how to get them tossed in his direction!
Need a Luther link here.