Chapter 5: Training Day

It was near dawn when King Kiril, King Menethil, King Jotan and Bridgette stood on the balcony, looking east, towards the sunrise.

The four of them stood silent, until the sun was over the horizon. "Am I making a mistake?" King Kiril asked. "I want this celebration, but I'm not willing to have to fight off Nazgul. King Jotan is a valiant warrior -- but he is but one. You can't fight all of the Nazgul by yourself Lord Jotan."

"Men did well enough in the war, King Kiril. They just need their spirits bucked up. The Nazgul don't want to be caught afoot; they pull back as soon as they lose their mount. Men have killed those in time gone by. Yes, it takes a brave man with a steady hand, but I don't think Gondor is lacking in such men. Nor is Rohan. Even dwarves can serve, if we can get distractions like Lady B. provided."

"I was useless against it," Bridgette reminded him.

"If it had been paying a bit less attention, Lady B, you'd have talked him to death. You faced a Nazgul, Lady B. Not many have ever been able to say that the day after. Yes, it's been a while, but not that long."

King Kiril waved to the city walls. "Right now the ballistae and the giant arbalests are being worked on and readied. From now on, the guards will be warned to look up on dark nights, and there will be flares along the walls. We won't be surprised again. The arbalests in particular are much improved since the war."

"King Kiril," Bridgette said, "the Nazgul came for Princess Ilona -- that or it was a huge coincidence that it picked her balcony to attack. I don't think that was a coincidence. I'd like to think about why they would attack the princess. Kirilin has to know by now the marriage has been dissolved. Either he didn't tell his allies, or there is something we don't know about yet, that makes Princess Ilona still important. I don't know enough to even begin to guess."

King Jotan laughed. "Lady B comes from a land where kings can't command dynastic marriages. Lady Ilona, while she was never married to the man who fathered her child, nonetheless the child was recognized as the heir to South Ithlien. I'm not sure of exactly what Kirilin's plans are, but they all seemed centered on getting him named king of an existing territory. Evidently he just can't declare himself King of Minas Ithil and have it count."

King Kiril turned to Bridgette. "Lady B, the death of the prince leaves a vacancy in the succession to South Ithil. His son, recognized by three kings, is legitimate, no matter the circumstances of the birth. You tell us that the baby is a boy, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"So, instead of having an illegitimate heir, there's a legitimate one. Instead of having a prince as a father of a bastard -- not unreasonably going to fight for his son's rights -- once again Kirilin has nothing. The boy is devious and adaptable -- and has a single-minded goal. I'm sure you're right, Lady B -- he wants to be the new king of the Nazgul -- but first he needs to be some kind of king, even to become a Nazgul."

Jotan reached up and put his hand on Bridgette's shoulder. Bridgette turned to him, curious. "What?"

"Tell her, King Kiril."

"You said she wouldn't handle it well."

"I said that yes. When was the last time I knew what Lady B was actually going to do? Tell her."

King Kiril turned to Bridgette. "You faced a Nazgul last night -- one. But they all came."

"That were all here?

"Yes, they attacked the city with a rain of stones, Lady B. I didn't want to burden you with such ill-news."

"What ill-news?" Bridgette asked suspiciously.

"The rain of stones was very accurate. A building housing many people collapsed. A great many were injured."

"Tell her!" Jotan demanded.

"Many were killed. Women, children and men. Hundreds more are injured; not all will live."

Bridgette looked at the three kings for a moment. She swallowed, and looked out at the rising sun. "And you think I will take this badly?"

"I did, Lady B," Jotan said.

"If you knew anything of what my kings have done, you'd shy away from me in terror. One building? My people have burnt whole cities to the ground. They've killed every man, woman, child and beast. They've left nothing but rubble, with no stone left atop another.

"Yes, I take this badly. No, I don't want to fight the Nazgul myself, not even one. Frustrate their plans? Of course! Frustrate Kirilin's plans? I'm even more ready to do that. How do I bring the Nazgul here to talk to them?"

"Lady B, the Nazgul don't talk to anyone but each other."

"Do they listen, if someone talks to them? How would I go about attracting their attention?"

King Jotan sighed. "I imagine if you stood on the highest tower of the city and called out a challenge -- at least one would come. What could you hope to accomplish?"

"Perhaps nothing. They are at war with you, King Kiril. Could they bring other allies to the field?"

"None that we know of," the king replied cautiously.

"And for the last thousand years they've been in hiding, only now to have reappear. Doesn't that strike you as an odd coincidence?"

Again the king was cautious. "I don't take your meaning, Lady B."

"Kirilin appears with grandiose plans -- perhaps to become King of Nazgul. Do you suppose he might have been -- less than truthful -- to his allies in the last few days? I simply wish to bring them up to date, King Kiril."

"You may proceed, Lady B. I hope you won't be delayed by my grandson's presentation."

"Not if I can help it, sir. Could I have the loan of a young knight?"

"If I may ask, Lady B, for what?"

"He has to have a big sword, look fierce -- and be able to run really fast if things turn bad."

"The first two are not a problem; the third is. My knights pride themselves not running from danger."

"He'll be facing up to eight of the Nazgul; if he isn't smart enough to know when he's overmatched, I need someone smarter. At least someone who can fake looking fierce."

"I have such a man, King Kiril," Methelin said. "A devilish rogue, but not too proud to leave when over-matched. He's twenty-five, Lady B."

"He sounds fine. By your leave, King Kiril."

"As you wish, Lady B. I'd prefer not to have to order a knight to run away when he's by your side, protecting you."

"I'll be protecting him, and if it comes time to run away, he'll have to hurry or I'll be ahead of him. I've met a Nazgul now, face to face. I intend to exercise due caution, but I may upset them a very great deal and if that's the case, I'm going to be looking to myself first."

"My man won't have a problem with that, Lady B," King Methelin said.

An hour later Bridgette was getting her thoughts in order when a young man presented himself at the door to Princess Ilona's apartment.

He was a brown-haired, sunburned young man of about twenty-five, wearing mail and not heavy armor. "Lady B, my King sent me. I'm Sir Weald."

"You!" Princess Ilona said from behind Bridgette.

"Indeed so, Princess. Your father has asked me to defend Lady B."

Bridgette laughed. "Your king is mistaken; your duty will be to look fierce -- my duty will be to protect both of us. Did he explain we may have to make a hasty exit?"

"Yes, Lady B. You are to defend me? From what, may I ask?"

"Princess Ilona, by your leave, may I show the young man your bedchamber?"

"When I was twelve, he pinched me on the bottom!"

"Two truths, princess," the young man said. "You had a pretty bottom and I was very stupid."

"Lady Ilona, your bedchamber?" Bridgette said, persisting.

"No!"

"That would be where the Nazgul appeared?" the knight asked.

"It would."

"Princess, Lady B, I am more than willing to take your word that the two of you faced a Nazgul last night -- hardly anyone in the palace has talked of anything else all day."

"You and I will, if I get my wish, face at least one. Perhaps all of them. I may make them very angry. In fact, I just might make them very, very angry indeed."

"You haven't done anything that suggests to me that you seek your death -- any the death of any others except the enemies of our kings. If you think I can be of assistance, I would be proud to stand at your side -- or flee in abject terror from a herd of angry Nazgul."

Bridgette turned to the Princess. "This man does not meet with your favor?"

The princess turned her head and stormed out of the room.

"Sir Weald?"

"We were betrothed until her father returned from a trip to Minas Tirith and announced Ilona was going to marry Prince Kirilin. I was -- intemperate -- in both deeds and words. Her father has forgiven me, but alas the Princess has not."

"What happened to her is unspeakable horror, particularly for a woman. She was repeatedly raped; Kirilin forced another man upon her, fathering her child. Sir, I beg you, give her some time to come to terms with things."

"I came to terms with 'things, '" he said bitterly. "I know how hard it was for me. I was, however, not betrayed by my family, my so-called husband, and others. I'm willing to run with you, Lady B. But if I was defending Princess Ilona, I'd stand and face any enemy."

"Well, I plan on dealing a hopefully lethal blow to the scum that forced her. Now please, if you would, draw your sword, stand fierce as if you were defending me."

He did and Bridgette grimaced. "That's no good. Hold the blade vertically over your head."

He moved the blade and Bridgette stepped forward. "Let me show you," and held out her hand for his sword.

"You won't drop it now, will you?"

"I won't drop it." She gestured again and he handed it to her hilt first. She lifted the sword above her head, in the classic kendo position.

"What if your opponent goes for your ankles?" Sir Weald asked, trying to sound reasonable.

"The worm of a Nazgul can swallow a man whole; I think you need to defend more than your ankles," she said drily. "A Nazgul is a former king of men. I seriously doubt his first target would be your ankles either."

He clicked his heels. "I stand corrected."

"There must be a practice room someplace in the palace. Let me show you a few things."

Sir Weald blinked. "You? Show me a few things? With the sword?"

"What, you are incapable of learning? From a wizard of power who might know a thing or two about swords?"

He made a face. "I didn't mean to offend you, Lady B."

"We are wasting time. I have a few things to show you, a meeting with Nazgul and I'm to attend the presentation of King Kiril's first grandson. Let us get on with it."

A few minutes later, they were in an open courtyard, where various men were practicing. Some with wooden swords, others with scabbarded blades. Not for the first time Bridgette wondered where her assurance came from. Yes, she had a first-degree black belt in Tae Kwan Do and was going to go for the second degree this summer. Yes, she'd taken kendo classes at the dojo because it looked wicked sexy.

What made her think she could show a man older than she was, who'd had probably practiced daily with a sword for as many years as she'd been alive, anything about the sword? She grabbed a wooden practice sword from a rack of similar ones and turned to face Sir Weald.

"We each have a magic sheath," she said, putting her left index finger and thumb together in a circle next to the sash of her robe. She slid her sword into the circle. "It's magic, because to draw your sword, you merely open your fingers -- the scabbard never gets in the way, and the sword isn't constrained by the sheath."

He nodded at her left hand. "Lady B, do you hold your sword left handed?"

"No, why?"

"Normally we carry it on the side next to the hand that draws it. It's quicker."

"Indeed. I am ready to draw my blade, Sir Weald. Are you?"

"Yes, my lady..." Bridgette's wooden sword hit him over the heart; he'd had barely opened his fingers, he hadn't moved the sword at all.

He blinked, looking down at his chest. "Perhaps you could show that sword draw to me a bit slower, Lady B?"

She did a kendo sword flourish; it would have been more spectacular sliding it into an actual scabbard.

"Are you ready, Sir Weald?"

He was more wary. "Yes..." he barely had time to finish the word before she hit him on the chest again.

"That was slower, Lady B?"

"No, of course not. One of the maxims that we train by is 'the best defense is a good offense.' That was a little faster, actually. I should have warmed up first."

"You don't come on guard, you just attack?"

"Like I said about offense and defense, Sir Weald. It's very wonderful if you have time to bring your sword ready -- but useless against an opponent who has already run you through. Every move you make should be able to be turned into an attack with any sign of an opening."

"I understand, Lady B."

"Another demonstration. You will come ready, and I will. When you think you are ready to strike, say 'go!' If I stay 'stop' in the battle, freeze. Remember which way you were moving. Assume your defensive stance."

He held his sword ready, as he'd done thousands of time in practice. Lady B. held her sword high and vertical. He calmed himself, prepared himself is best as he could, and said "Go!"

He twisted his wrist intending on hitting her gently in the chest; he wasn't sure if she wore armor; she didn't carry herself like she did...

Her sword came down far faster then his could come up, and they ended with their weapons bound -- his sword point down, and hers the same, on his right.

He wasn't surprised when she called for them to stop. He did and smiled at her. "Our weapons are bound."

"You are foolish, Sir Weald. You have only one move that allows you to survive the next second. What is it?"

He blinked. Their swords were locked, down and to his right. His point was aimed at the dirt, as was hers.

"We are even!"

"Are we? I asked you a question. Only one move allows you to draw another breath ... What is that?"

"I have no idea. Our blades our bound -- you can't strike me!"

"Is that a fact? Is what direction are you pressing my blade responding to my attack?"

"Up," he said hesitantly, understanding he'd made a mistake, even if he didn't know what.

"Where will my sword hilt be, if I lift it an arm span straight up?"

He swallowed. "I'd be spitting blood."

"You would, Sir Weald. Would you characterize that strike as hard or incidental?"

His honor forbade him from lying. "Hard."

"And where do you suppose our blades would be next? Mine inches from your throat and yours feet from my body."

"I would be dead, Lady B. Lady B, you are the master. How do you defend against this?"

"I'm willing to think it would be unpalatable to you. You step back two or two and a half steps. Carefully. Stumble on the battlefield and you're dead.

"Another question for you to think about. Why are you out of position?"

"You struck down, pushing my blade away from its target."

"You are stronger than I am ... Why didn't you over power me?"