Another link if you like history: look up historical fencing manuals
Though he will not feature in the story for some time yet, nor will he feature in this story much as all, I'm more than a little disappointed with how the new movies have depicted Beorn. In the book, it spoke of his height, and strength, and hairiness, but did not say he looked as strange as the movies made him. Imagine a hairier, taller Tom Hardy for this story. Thanks for the support. Cheers!
Beaten, though not quite defeated, it had taken a few days after the fight before Thirischon even acknowledged her presence. Jaq found herself secretly grateful for this since she was uninterested in initiating another fight—it seemed that they were incapable of talking to each other without aggravating one another. The fight had cracked her nose (again), bruised a few ribs, and rendered her leg more sore and tense than it had been before. Lasdir feared that it had set her backwards on her recovery but she was determined to heal faster than he expected. She was only now beginning to walk fully unassisted and loathed the idea of having to pull out that cane again; she'd nearly broken it over Lasdir's head when he'd tried to baby her after the fight anyway.
It had been three weeks since her "training day" and in those three weeks her duties in the kitchens had lessened to near nothing while her duties in the armory had increased, with the added bonus of personal training from a number of elvish warriors in the early mornings. Orodion was proving to become a friend-like trainer and she found his sense of humor reassuring; it reminded her of many of her colleagues back on base. Another bonus was that since her training day she was no longer expected to wear the ridiculous dresses they'd first put her in. She was given cloth and a needle and thread and had been slaving over making her own pair of trousers and tunic with Lasdir's help-in reality he was doing most of the work since he typically had to undo everything she did; she'd taken shop in high school and never homeecon.
Her training, in borrowed clothing Tauriel still graciously lent her, consisted of swords, elvish daggers, bows, and even hand-to-hand fighting: all elvish style. Jaq was surprised that, in spite of their limber looks, the elves did not have a more Eastern martial arts method of fighting. Instead, it resembled more of the footwork and "fight dancing" of the Renaissance era French and Italian courts, though if backed into a corner they pulled out the more aggressive styles of Scandinavian warriors. She remembered having to study the development of hand-to-hand combat in officer training school and had found that particular time period fascinating; undoubtedly, it was the last era in which fighting in Europe was fully free of any influence from Eastern fighting styles.
In the month since her unfortunate arrival, she'd lost some muscle mass-due to her lack of incessant strength training like what she'd been doing on base-and her hair was now at an uncomfortable level, hanging just at ear level. In one of their frank conversations, and she highly valued those considering how passive aggressive the elves seemed to be in their communication skills, Lasdir had told her that she'd begun to look more like a female. He hadn't attempted to say that she was an attractive female and she was grateful for that; Jaq knew that by these elvish standards she'd never be considered attractive.
"It can't be done." Jaq now frowned at the elves in front of her, growing increasingly frustrated when, judging from their expressions, they insisted upon not believing her. "As far as I can tell, you have neither the resources nor the capabilities of developing weapons to the same caliber as these." She pointed to the pile of guns, including the grenade launcher, which Thirischon had grudgingly brought up from some vault deep inside the caverns.
Only a few days before Lasdir had informed her that they'd confiscated all her of men's weapons and technology and that, by order of the king, she was to educate them on the uses and functions of each piece. Jaq understood why the king wanted this—anything to give him an advantage over his enemies—but she couldn't seem to convey to Tauriel, Legolas, and Orodion - that her weapons were entirely too complex in design for them to manufacture given their resources, and that the ammunition required for them to operate was too advanced for them to develop on their own-she had yet to see anything resembling gunpowder. If she had to take a guess, judging on weaponry and technology only, she would compare this place with 12th century Europe, and that was being generous.
"We have access to mines," Orodion spoke up, his eyes traveling up and down the length of the grenade launcher, "and have extensive trade routes. Surely we could find alternatives for each of these items in order to create our own form."
This was the third hour of arguments and it appeared to be circling back enough so that a fourth would begin. When she'd first been given access to the weapons and informed of the king's interest she'd slowly taken apart each weapon, explained the parts—cleaned them as she did so, as they hadn't been cleaned since her arrival—and demonstrated how to use them. She'd even requested parchment and quill and, after breaking three quills, had managed to draw out basic schematics to aid in her explanations.
In all this, she'd tried to make explicitly clear what each part was made of, what was required to make them, as well as part of the process of manufacturing them in her world. She'd hoped, apparently in vain, that with these detailed explanations the elves would give up and back away. It seemed the opposite was true, however; Orodion looked beyond eager to try to find materials similar to the metals used for the guns, Legolas was still studying her pistol, a curious frown on his face, yet to say anything, while Tauriel kept her gaze steady upon Jaq, her eyes disbelieving. Lasdir was not present; he'd been called away to the healing halls to look after one of Tauriel's men who'd been wounded in the last patrol. Thirischon was leaning against the fall wall, watching them quietly as he sharpened his dagger.
Jaq rubbed the back of her neck, "I mean no disrespect to the skills of your people. I have seen many skillfully made weapons while I've been here. However, these weapons are beyond the talents of even your most skilled blacksmiths. Each of these weapons requires a specific machine in order to make its parts to the exact precision that they are at. If anything is off then the weapon is useless at best and at worst could explode in the user's arms."
Thirischon grunted from across the room, drawing Jaq's eyes. He was, it seemed for once, not glaring at her, but his gaze was still far from friendly. Their fight had drawn up a tentative truce between them, or at least it seemed that way until one of them finally spoke to the other. Legolas finally put the pistol down and crossed his arms with a frown, obviously deep in thought. Tauriel glanced over the table of weapons again but continued to refrain from touching them. She had been the least interested, aside from Thirischon, in touching or interacting with the weapons. It seemed that she shared a distrust and dislike for them with Thirischon. Orodion continued to move the grenade launcher this way and that, weighing it in each of his hands, before he set it down again.
"They are all excessively heavy and cumbersome." Breaking her self-imposed silence Tauriel spoke. "They do not seem fit for use in our forest but more suitable for open spaces or in defense of fortresses."
Thirischon grunted again, "Must I be the one to remind everyone here of the state this one," he pointed to Jaq with the point of his knife, "and her men were in when we found them? How useful had these weapons been in defense against the Orcs? If we had not come upon them when we had she would be as her men, dead, buried, and forgotten."
Jaq ground her teeth together. He just had to put in that last jab didn't he? The bastard. Not wanting to break the truce, without a specific time and place in mind during which she could thrash his ass, she turned her attention to Tauriel and chose to ignore Thirischon's attempt to break her cool.
"You are right in your assessment, Tauriel. These weapons are heavy and with the ammunition required for them to work, even heavier. If you rely on stealth and speed only a few of these weapons would be of use for you. Even then, it would be difficult to be as accurate as you are now with your bow, with these alternatives, unless you are willing to damage the forest along with the destruction of your enemies." She pointed to the grenade launcher. "These weapons were not made with conservation in mind. They were made for the most efficient manner possible in killing an enemy. If that means destroying the lands or buildings around the enemy then the ends justify the means and so be it."
Legolas unfolded his arms and stepped away from the table, "I will discuss this with the king." The bells alerting them to the change in time echoed through the halls then and they each paused in silence until the sound died away. "Jaq you will come with me." He turned on his heel and made for the door.
Jaq followed more out of habit of following orders than out of a desire to spend any more time with the elf than she had to. Lasdir was the closest she had to a friend; Tauriel was turning out to be more tolerable than she'd expected; Orodion was a constant reminder of her colleagues back on base and so she enjoyed her time with him. Thirischon, she assumed, still hated her guts and but now rarely looked for opportunities to belittle and goad her. But so far, out of the elves she'd yet to spend significant time with, she found Legolas not exactly bad but not exactly good either; pompousness came in waves with him and while she couldn't deny his leadership capabilities she could most definitely judge him on his inability to express himself properly. She'd only been there around a month now and in that time she'd expertly picked up on the tension that stood between him and Tauriel. It seemed to be one-sided however, as Tauriel was none the wiser-thanks in part to Legolas' inability to communicate in that fashion. Jaq, for the good or bad of it, had yet to have significant amounts of interaction with the king and so had not been given an opportunity to change her opinion of him from "arrogant asswipe" to anything else.
"The king wants you to attend the banquet tonight." Legolas spoke once they were in the corridors outside the training area.
Jaq frowned. She always attended the banquets as there was no other way to get food for dinner. Typically she sat with Lasdir in a secluded corner where it seemed the other healers and "pacifists" sat. It was well enough away from the central area where the entertainment played out and so she rarely got to see the majority of what sort of things occurred there-not that she minded in the least. There, she was far enough away to never draw the attention of the king or his nobles. As the only human in the realm, or so Lasdir said to her, if she'd been spotted by any of the visiting nobles there was sure to be gossip circulating-and not the good kind either; the kind that got people hurt. Thus far, nothing of that sort had happened and it seemed she was in the clear.
"I always attend the banquet." Jaq moved to walk closer to Legolas' side so that her voice wouldn't echo off the walls as they began to pass various elves going about their daily business.
She saw Legolas' lips twitch, in either a frown or smile she couldn't tell, "You will sit at the king's table tonight. You will not speak of where you have come from or of these weapons either." He stopped suddenly and turned to face her. "In fact, you will not speak unless spoken to."
"Excuse me?" Jaq felt her tolerance of bullshit plummet. "Unless spoken to?" When Legolas folded his arms across his chest and stared down his nose at her she lowered her voice and growled, "If I'm supposed to keep my damn mouth shut then why in the hell does the king want me to sit at his table?" Legolas raised his eyebrows at the use of her expletives but she didn't care; best get them out now instead of later when it could cause more problems. "If he expects me to be the next dancing monkey for the entertainment of his guests then he can think again. I don't mind being seen as expendable should I ever be sent out on patrol. I understand that concept, and I even respect that." She watched as something strange, almost like guilt, flickered on Legolas' face in response to her words. "But I am a fully thinking and feeling, fully functioning and responsive living creature here. I will not allow your father, the king, to parade me around as if I were an oddity to scoff and laugh at."
It was as her words dissipated between them that Jaq realized that the elves that had been moving around them in the corridor had since stopped and were staring at the two of them with gaping mouths. This exact moment was why she typically tried to keep her temper in check, and she had a fierce one if she didn't try. For one, when she lost it it brought entirely too much attention to her. For two, it, in a twisted way, proved Thirischon right in his negative assessment of her capabilities. For three, it jeopardized what she had managed to accomplish thus far. And four, well she had very little interest in spending the rest of her days locked in a cell in the dungeon of a strange elven cavern fortress.
"Did you or did you not compare yourself to that of an orphan, living off of the mercy of the king?" Legolas' voice was just as low as hers had been when he finally replied. Jaq gnashed her teeth and nodded. "So I would be correct if I said that you will do what the king instructs you to do, when he tells you to do it, in response to his magnanimity?"
"May I know of his intentions at least?" Jaq chose not to answer his snide rhetorical question but countered with one of her own.
He studied her a moment longer before he turned and started down the corridor again, not bothering to see if she followed, "An elfe will be sent to your chambers this evening to assist you in preparation for the banquet. You will comply with her ministrations without questioning." Jaq frowned. Just what the hell did that mean? Legolas stopped them, just outside the door leading into the royal rooms. He tipped his head up and stared down his nose, again, at her. "Not unless spoken to." He disappeared behind the door after that, leaving Jaq alone in her frustration and confusion.