Notes: this vignette was partially inspired by a conversation with a tumblr buddy and by last Saturday's episode (no spoilers for it).
It started out innocently enough—a conversation in the study where Jamie started bragging about his swordsmanship skills.
"Alexander McLaren taught me e'erything I know," he said. "I've been practicing since I was a wee lad!"
"And I'm sure you're quite good at it," the Doctor said, in calm amusement. "However, I think you'll find that I have been practicing the art for centuries, and, as such, have mastered those skills."
"I've ne'er seen ye touch a sword," Jamie scoffed. "I think ye're just blowing smoke; ye might have been able to master the skills once, but that would've been a long time ago. I bet I could beat ye."
"…Is that a challenge?"
"Aye," the Scot replied, without a moment's hesitation.
Without another word, the Doctor stood up and left the study, returning a few minutes later with two swords resting in golden scabbards that had ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs carved on them.
"I've ne'er seen those before," Jamie said, his eyes widening.
"I obtained these during that fifty-year gap I traveled without you," the Doctor sighed. "In between one of my missions, I spend some time with Pharaoh Sethos the First. I got around to telling him about some of my accomplishments—our accomplishments, actually; he seemed quite interested in meeting you. I told him if I ever saw you again, we'd be sure to visit him; we shall have to set aside some time to do that."
"Ye just walk into a royal palace and talk to a king?" Jamie asked. "How did ye convince them to listen?"
"Apparently, I've made myself a name in ancient Egypt already—well, my future selves have, at any rate. That cricketer self of mine supposedly was close friends with a royal lady, and that other fellow in the bow tie was acquainted with Nefertiti herself. By Sethos's time, they called me 'The Keeper of the Blue Shrine,' among other things."
"Aye, it says so on the scabbards," Jamie pointed out, taking one of them as the TARDIS translated the text.
"Yes," the Doctor said, with a satisfied smile. "Sethos had these issued to me after I told him about some of our encounters with the Cybermen—and how they were especially weak to gold."
Jamie blinked, confused.
"Ye're going to use the scabbards against the Cybermen?"
"Draw the sword," the Doctor said, with a smirk.
Jamie did so, his eyes widening as he realized that the blade of the sword was gold, as well.
"This is amazing," he breathed.
"It's yours, then."
"Really?"
"Yes, well, you're… Assistant Keeper of the Blue Shrine," the Doctor mused. "I expect Sethos intended for me to share one of the swords with you."
"Aye, I'll take it…" Jamie began, and then smirked. "What is this? If ye're thinking that this gift will make me back out of this challenge, ye're mistaken."
"On the contrary, I'm hoping for a challenge—though I seriously doubt I shall have it," the Doctor responded, with a mock sigh.
They headed to the console room, upon which the Doctor brought the TARDIS in for a landing.
"Welcome to the fields of Alpha Arietis," the Doctor said, as he led the way outside to a lush, green meadow. "A rural area where the finest grain is grown—grain that is used for a most unique and flavorful ale in the pubs in the nearby towns."
"We'll have to visit one after our match," Jamie stated. "Loser buys."
"Naturally, naturally…" the Doctor said, holding his sword out in front of him. "Are you ready, then?"
"Aye," the Scot said, mimicking his stance.
"On the count of three, then. One… two… three!"
"Creag an Tuire!"
The golden blades struck each other with a resounding clang—once, twice, a third time. The third time, both swordsmen held fast, trying to gain leverage over the other.
"I almost feel sorry…" the Doctor quipped. "I clearly have an advantage over you on account of my years of experience and faster reflexes."
"What experience? Ye use the sonic screwdriver for e'erything," Jamie said, as beads of perspiration began to form on his forehead.
"And you're already tiring," the Doctor observed.
"Och, nae; this is invigorating," Jamie grinned.
The blades separated, and Jamie now tried to dart around the Doctor in the hopes that suddenly twirling around to parry would cause him to loosen his grip on the hilt. But the Doctor anticipated this, and blocked without even turning around.
"I do believe you're in over your head this time, Jamie."
"I don' think so," Jamie said, slowly retreating backwards into taller grass. He then smirked as the Doctor paused, trying to observe him. "Come on, then!"
The Time Lord arched an eyebrow, trying to figure out what the piper was planning. He knew Jamie would have much experience hiding from the Redcoats in the heather. Sure enough, Jamie was crouching low into the grass, attempting to disappear amongst it.
"Oh, no, no, no! I shan't be falling for that!" the Doctor scoffed. "Do you honestly think you can lure me into an ambush?"
Jamie didn't reply, vanishing completely into the grass.
"I know your patience!" the Doctor said. "You can't stand still for more than two minutes; all I need to do is wait here for you!"
There was no reply, and, so, the Doctor waited. And waited. And waited. The Time Lord tapped his foot against the ground repeatedly in exasperation.
"Oh, fiddlesticks!" he muttered, his face almost in a pout. "That description applies to me, as well…"
Confident that there was no possible way Jamie could successfully spring an ambush on him with his heightened Gallifreyan senses, the Doctor slowly crept forward, towards the tall grass.
"This is a most unorthodox method of swordplay. I feel as though I should mention that to you!" the Doctor started. "I feel as though we should set some ground rules before we proceed any—"
Jamie suddenly sprung from the grass and struck the Doctor's blade with his own in such a way that the sword was sent flying from the Time Lord's hand. The Doctor let out a yelp, having been successfully taken by surprise.
Jamie now aimed his sword at the Doctor for an instant—and in that instant, they had stood in almost the same way as the instant they had met. Satisfied, the Scot lowered the blade, patting himself on the back.
"So much for yer experience and yer reflexes," he said. "Looks like the drinks are on ye. And I'm in the mood for a few good ales."
"What are you talking about?" the Doctor scoffed. "We're not finished yet!"
"Ye're unarmed!" Jamie said, stating the obvious. "Ye cannae win now!"
"Who says I'm unarmed?" the Doctor replied. "Our little competition isn't over until one of us gives up, and I am not ready to give up just yet!"
Jamie blinked in confusion, holding his sword out again, and then stared in amazement as the Doctor produced a spoon from his pocket.
"Let's continue," the Time Lord mused.
Jamie started at him for a moment, dumbfounded.
"Go on, then—' Creag an Tuire,' and all that! Come on!" the Doctor exclaimed.
Jamie was reluctant to do anything, not wanting to hurt the Doctor; he just held the blade outward, hoping to push the Doctor back into a retreat that way.
The Doctor sensed Jamie's weakness, and, with a quick flick of the wrist, used the spoon to knock the sword out of Jamie's hand, just as Jamie had done to him. The piper could only watch as his sword joined the Doctor's on the ground.
"Now then," the Doctor said, smirking. "As this seems to have ceased being a swordfight, I suggest we hold a temporary truce to retrieve our swords and continue after we have accomplished that."
Jamie just grunted in response, and then frowned, for as he had retrieved his sword, he had heard a most unusual "MEEEEH" sound.
"Well, you don't have to make noises at me!" the Doctor scoffed, retrieving his sword, as well. "Be a good sport!"
"I thought that was ye!" the piper countered.
"What…?"
"MEEEEEH!"
"Oh, dear…" the Doctor said.
"Why, what is it?" Jamie asked.
"I just remembered… That sound is part of the territorial display of the giant, long-horned meadow goat, native to Alpha Arietis."
The two of them turned to see the large, hulking ungulate pawing the ground as it glared at them. The goat was about the size of a small car—and its sharp horns were about as long as their swords. The goat proceeded to bleat at them once more.
"They are quite wild and territorial; the locals haven't managed to tame them yet," the Doctor explained.
"When ye say territorial, do ye mean to other goats, or to anything that happens to be in their way?"
"MEEEEEEEEH!"
"Let me put it this way, Jamie: I think an instant retreat is in order!"
The goat lowered its head and charged. Jamie stood his ground for a moment, glancing at the sword in his hands before glancing back at the rapidly approaching goat horns. The local sun's light gleamed almost mockingly off of their golden swords as they ran back towards the TARDIS at top speed.
They made it inside and closed the doors an instant before the goat rammed into the TARDIS, still bleating angrily.
"First a goose, and now a goat; how humiliating," the Scot muttered, and he turned to face the Doctor. "I think I will have that ale now, Doctor."
"Yes, I think I could use one, as well…" the Time Lord sighed. "Oh, I'm just glad Sethos didn't see that…"
"There's just one question, though," Jamie added. "Who's buying the drinks?"
The Gallifreyan and the human exchanged glances, and, without a word, began to cross swords all around the console room as the TARDIS engines huffed in an exasperated sigh.