The morning sun waved in the gentle breeze passing through the yards. Small wisps of grass, dust and hay blew around, dancing, prancing, flying. Such an elevation invigorated the mind, as if they had a life of their own, and were as old as a young newborn exploring the world. It saddened Flehrad on some days, that the childhood of so many people, and many of his trainees, had been asundered from their lives. The continual work of the Dark one, his minions and those who walked in the shadows killed, maimed, tortured such innocent families, and separated loved ones from each other. Further more, those young trainees burned within, for vengeance, hatred, fear, anger, and other emotions driving their desires of success as a Gaidin. True enough, they would succeed with hard work, and set forth into the world to deliver death and punishment for those who chose to walk the path of black before them. But, once in a while, Flehrad wished they could just play, relax, and be those long lost children again.
Drawing a deep seated breath through his stomach, Flehrad's strength bobbed, and he began his set of exercises. Smooth exhaling, slow breathing as he flowed. Arms, wrists, elbows flexed, snapped, and struck across the wooden man. As the pace increased, so did his heart beat and breathing, but he continued to keep his breathing as deep as possible. Coming to the end of his routine, he struck the chest of the block with both hands, a crack appearing in the wood.
As he completed, and was wiping down with a rough towel, the trainees arrived. Their yet to be hardened expressions always looked eager to learn. Without such enthusiasm, it was impossible to survive the rigors of training and still desire to wear the cloak of all colours, and give their lives to protect another. "Line up" began the lesson.
Once they had all assembled, Flehrad began with his usual briefing address. "With unarmed combat, we are using the strength of our bodies. What affects our strength in battle? It is not food, nor water. It is our wounds, our minds, and our breath." A quiet murmur rippled through the trainees. "Wounds sap our strength, as we lose our precious blood. Our minds can be weak, and fear, and without our breath, we lose complete strength. There is nothing I can teach you about your wounds. Your minds will be strengthened with all the training and field exercises, so today, we will work on our breath." Gesturing to a Gaidin nearby, Flehrad waited until he was close, before punching him in the stomach. Immediately, the Gaidin collapsed to his knees. "Without air in his lungs, he can not fight. Without air in your lungs, you can not fight." Giving a hand up to the Gaidin, Flehrad was not at all apologetic, and waited for the Gaidin to return the blow.
As the blow gathered momentum towards him, Flehrad tensed, and took the stomach punch solidly. A grunt escaped his lips, but he stood standing still. "Your stomach helps your breathing, but you can protect yourselves by tensing your stomach muscles." Thanking the Gaidin, Flehrad continued with the rest of the lesson. Another aspect of breathing, besides attacking the mouth, nose, stomach and throat, is how you use your air. The more air in your lungs, the stronger you are BUT, too much will kill you. Follow with me, deep breathing." Standing balanced, Flehrad called "Inhale!" and drew a slow long deep breath lasting almost ten seconds. "Exhale!" The controlled exhale also lasted ten seconds. The entire group breathed in and out for several minutes following Flehrad's commands. Completing the final set, Flehrad progressed further into the lesson.
"Now that you know about breathing, you must train and keep your breathing deep and long. Today, I want all of the previous exercises on the wooden man done. But, you must concentrate on two things. Speed, the faster you go, the more energy and strength you need. Breathing, the faster you go, the more important to have slow strength giving air. Short sharp breaths will not help you. While some of you practice on the wooden men, the rest will continue to practice your slow breathing rhythms. Begin"
As the groups broke off and began their training for the day, Flehrad absently picked up a blade of grass and twirled the drying green around his fingers. One day, he thought, those trainees will think back, and wish they too could relax and relive a childhood stolen, but, only when they passed their own emotions that drove them.
xxxx
Lain calmly watched the demonstration, wincing in pity when the Master of Arms punched the unsuspecting Gaidin in the stomach. If Gaidin were ever unsuspecting. Lain had done something like this once, vague memories of meditating as a child. But never while exercising. The breathing exercise would be much like that; the wooden man was another story.
Endless hours of practice had assured his speed increased, and his agility a little past his tumbling days; but he had never thought to control his breath.
Heading towards the man, he realized the others had let him ahead, and that he was first. No chance to learn from the others mistakes this time. They could learn from his...
Taking deep breaths, he stepped up to the mechanical contraption, noticing a new crack in the polished wood. He smiled, glancing at Gaidin Flehrad out of the corners of his eyes. So that's what he had been doing. Concentrating on the task at hand, he resumed a fighting stance.
He breathed deep, and leaped forward. Going at a slightly less hectic pace than normal, he noticed his breathing every time he moved. He exhaled as he struck, a trick he had learned from a friend. Inhale, exhale. All other thoughts were swept from his mind as he focused on that one aspect of his being.
Suddenly, he jumped back, narrowly missing a bone-cracking post. Maybe he shouldn't focus THAT much... He stepped forward, more warily this time. Going even more slowly than before, he struck and blocked, breathing in, then out. Not too shallow, not too deep. Every time he noticed his breath becoming quick gasps, he slowed down.
Gradually, after a few minutes, he had worked back up to his regular speed. In, out. Defend, attack. He added in his lower body for the first time this session, remembering to breath out on the offence. A boyish grin broke his rock-hard face as he slowed then stopped, his arms and legs reddened. Surprised, he noticed he wasn't as out of breath as he usually was after such a workout. Quietly, he stepped back, motioning for the next person to go.
He walked over to the other side of the courtyard, whistling a wordless tune and seeming to be floating on air. He loved it when he got better.
Lain walked carefully over to the other side of the courtyard, picking a cleanish looking bare patch of stone. Sitting down, he crossed his legs, placing his hands on his knees. Keeping his back straight he closed his eyes, and breathed.
In. Lain's thoughts drifted back to his family. He still missed them, at times, but his training schedule more often than not left no thoughts in his head except to sleep. He usually was dead to the world before he hit the pillow lately.
Out. He could still conjure pictures of them in his head, but he was worried one day he would no longer be able to. The edged around the figures in his mind were becoming fuzzed, like a drawing left out in the rain. Maybe he would see a carver in the city and have images wrought. He had heard of many Aes Sedai doing that, since they lived so much longer.
In. He thought of what he had become since he came to Tar Valon. When he had stepped in here, he hadn't expected it to be easy- he hadn't known what to expect- but it was hard. He had known that much. He hadn't seen Skye in weeks- apparently they cracked down just as hard in the Black Tower.
Out. Lain considered how far he had gotten. He was currently doing Hand-to-hand; he had heard there was one more lesson, then he would see if he had passed. He couldn't quite remember, but he thought he needed at least one more type of lesson- and then the sword. He had never held a weapon besides a belt-knife or a bow before, and he wondered how it would feel. Would he be bad at it? Would it come easily? He could never become a Gaidin without mastering the sword first. He would have to kill people. The thought had never occurred to him before- now it did. To protect an Aes Sedai with his life, his before hers- that was the life he had chosen. If he didn't fail the training.
Blinking, Lain opened his eyes, surprised to find everyone getting up. The lesson was over. Rising with the others, he brushed off his clothes, and silently left, deep in thought.