*I do not own Jane and the dragon or it's characters
Its been a while since I've updated. I've wanted to continue this for the longest time, but other things took precedence. I've updated a few chapters to improve flow and spelling, but I hope to see this through. I'll continue improving it, but for now I hope you all will enjoy.
Chapter 40: Well Matched
He had thought of this before. To risk injury, so that she might respect him all the more for it. If it appeared ambitious, then the truth of the matter is that it was. Yet that did not deter him from this opportunity. It was another introduction to a world that only his father could have dreamed of.
Concerning his father, Smithy could not remember a time when he thought so much of him without the memories being accompanied by grief, but as of late, he had come to realise that his informal training had not been in vain; there was much to be grateful for despite the consequence. For example, as of this moment, he was putting into practise what he had been taught. And underneath his work-worn boots, bits of gravel shifted, and the dust did not have much time to settle before he countered the next strike. At the back of his mind, he could still hear his father yell, 'Stay focused, boy, and do not lower your guard, or else!'
What used to follow such words was not what he cared to remember, and there was much that he could not recall. Nevertheless, unlike his father, the blacksmith was not unnecessarily rough because, while the lady knight could hold her own, he recalled Sir Theodore having said before that 'True knights fight with dignity'. Smithy could not say that he heeded Sir Theodore's suggestion as far as the subtlety of the exercise was concerned, but while it was questionable, albeit refreshing, there would no doubt be bruises painted about his body as though he had been punished for a crime, although he had consented to this. Perhaps this was foolish, but his challenger did not tire easily and was determined to continue, no matter how many times their blows were countered by his own. At times, they were so close, with only their arms preventing their bodies from fully meeting, but with a calming breath, he would persevere.
In these moments, when they were neither friends nor foes, Smithy understood why Gunther was always ready to spar with Jane; her strength and beauty thrived in a competitive environment. To be sure, it was not pleasant to be struck, but it fed his determination to improve. And as the lady knight advanced, forcing the blacksmith to retreat, he took in the brilliance of her eyes, which were illuminated by Jane's growing excitement and determination. "Have you had enough yet?" She challenged.
No, he did not. By no means was he fatigued, and although Jane had managed to land a few smart blows upon his arms and ribs, to have those words uttered with such spirit and passion towards him was a privilege that he did not believe he would experience again. It fulfilled a curiosity that had lingered for so long—the draw of risking injury to be met with the tempestuous redhead. To be sure, it was not simple, for the lady knight was fast and agile and did not hold back, but he managed to defend himself and block many of her strikes thanks to his strength and stamina. The corners of his mouth lifted then, and he blocked the strike aimed at his left. "Have you?" He replied.
The simple gesture struck the lady knight as charming and succeeded in deepening the colour of her cheeks, and for the briefest of moments, Jane thought she would stumble, but she quickly sobered. Maggots, why was he self-assured? Did he not care who would win or that he was not threatened but rather entertained? She could not say for certain, but it was frustrating and vexing in its own right. The frustration was not the kind born of pride but rather of distraction.
Yet, this was her fault, for the idea of sparring this morning had been hers, and considering that his duties were few, Jethro was more than willing to do this with her; Jane had expected it to be a challenge and had expected to come out as the victor by now. As of the moment, they were still in their first round, and for the better part of the match, it consisted of the blacksmith adapting and learning to parry her blows and of the lady knight trying to keep him on his toes. Nevertheless, what they had both learned is that once they recognised the style and pattern of the other's strategy and attack, they were able to coordinate with each other to avoid major injury. Despite the cool bite of the morning, her hair had begun to cling to the back of her neck, and his tunic clung to him, emphasizing his strength and outline of muscle; it was distracting enough to admire the sinew of his arms, let alone his skills. In truth, it did remind her of why she had avoided attachments, but she would have to work through this if she ever hoped to succeed as others before her had.
With equal parts intrigue and pleasure, Jane was persuaded to retreat before striking again with greater vigor. "Of course not." She swung again. "I could do this all da-"
But he easily evaded before knocking the wooden sword from her hand, cutting her words short. To be sure, he did not care to lose, but he had hoped that the match would carry on. For a few excruciating moments, the blacksmith stared into her widened eyes. With how Jane studied his countenance, he wondered what she could see—if there were traits about him that displeased her and if the sparring match had been to her liking. It had not occurred to him that the occasion, circumstance, or day that Jane was having might affect the mood as well as the outcome.
Her shock made him feel bare, and a minor ache of guilt and shame came upon him, but he dared not look away and did not move because he would rather not hide from her as he once did or be passive. It was as though the lady knight could perceive him and unfurl secrets that were left unspoken, but much to his relief, her surprise soon shifted to that of intrigue; he surmised that she had not expected that to happen. Jane, for her part, was impressed, albeit a bit annoyed that she was so influenced by him, providing an opportunity for him to beat her. This would not do, and it provided another reason for her to work on her concentration and self-control.
Regardless, did his talents extend this far? They may have been well-matched, but was there a limit, or was luck on his side? Indeed, there was much to learn about her quiet friend. But she did know that he gave his best effort, and it was to be commended. "You did a lot better this time, Jethro. Have you been practising?"
"Thank you, Jane, but no, I have not. Nonetheless, I believe a rematch is in order." And then, retrieving her sword and extending it back to her, hilt first, he mentioned, "You seem to be distracted this morning."
"No, I am not."
He stepped closer, concern colouring his voice. "Yes, you are. Is something the matter? Can you tell me?"
"I am fine." She sighed. "Truly, I am, but I confess that I am not used to seeing you like this. It is different, or rather, you are different."
At her words, he raised his brows, confused as to what she was about. "Different? How so?"
The lady knight had hoped she would not have to elaborate, but sensing his continued concern, she rubbed at the back of her neck and confessed, "Well, there is nothing all that different about your face, and perchance not so much your clothing, but in your general countenance. Outside your duty," Jane admitted, "you are more at ease, and it is pleasant to see you like this."
What followed was an alarming flush on her face that took a few minutes to subside, albeit a little. The blacksmith was gratified that Jane's affection for him, as well as her attraction, made him all the more winsome to her, but it would not do to be distracted in a sparring match. He was tempted to laugh, but as much as her colouring amused him, he did not dare do so in front of her fellow knight. "I see."
"Otherwise, it was a well-fought match."
In truth, while Smithy consented to spar, he did not believe he would have done as well as he did, but he was proud of himself and honoured that Jane wanted to face him again in the yard. Any other man might have felt intimidated, but if his experiences on the farm had taught him anything, it was that a woman could continue with equal, if not greater, tenacity than a man. If his mother had ever met the lady knight, she would have been proud. "It was a pleasure. Though I suppose now you would rather spar with Gunther. He appears to have been waiting for a while."
And by a while, it was more probable that the raven-haired knight had fallen asleep when he had been relieved of his night watch duties. Despite this, the lady knight did not want him to go. "But Jethro, I would rather spar with you."
That was one of the few rare opportunities that they would have to be together. It did not escape the blacksmith's notice that the lady knight had searched his face and was eager to listen to his reply. The soft face that peered up at him seemed to tempt him and to be in want of a soft kiss, but he was aware that it would not be wise to express all his affection for spectators to judge. "We will have more opportunities in the future. I cannot be of much assistance yet to provide the sort of exertion you crave. In time, perchance, when I am more disciplined, I shall be ready."
Her marked disappointment did not escape him, but he added, "However, I do look forward to our next match."
"Alright," She acquiesced, "I suppose I have kept Gunther waiting long enough."
Glancing at the raven-haired knight who was leaning against the stone, busy with ruminations, Smithy stated, "Then I shall go. I prefer not to get in the way of your duties or your comrade."
"Will I see you at the morning meal?"
"No," He answered, "I will be busy for the better part of the morning. Your father wanted to test me on how much education I had received."
"Education?"
"Yes, I have had no formal education, as you well know, but Jester has taught me to read a little over the years. What I know is not enough to ever succeed in reading a book or in writing a letter, but I would not mind learning how to do so."
How different would he be if he had had a higher birth? She imagined that he would not have had a shortage of ladies yearning to be his woman, though he might have still been talented in horsemanship and might have spent his days travelling from land to land if he was not in want of money. And if that were to occur, would he still care for her? Jane imagined he would. Though, had not his upbringing made him into the man he was—into the man she loved?
Suppositions were unsubstantiated until proven otherwise. And as he handed her the other wooden sword, Jane wondered, "Will I see you later?"
With a nod, he softened, "Of course. At the midday meal."
Jane watched him walk away, and it was Gunther who interrupted her thoughts. "I see that your sweetheart knows how to handle a sword well enough. I wonder how he would fare against me."
This earned him an eye roll. "I daresay he might prove to be a challenge. You are as strong as he is."
"That is because he tends to use his dominant hand. On the battlefield, that is not always a luxury."
To be sure, Jethro may be courageous, honourable, and strong enough, but the prospect of such a man hardening his heart and stepping onto the battlefield appeared to be too great a burden. "True," She answered, "but my hopes are that it will not come to that."
For her sake, Gunther hoped for the same. It might have been his fatigue that contributed to his softening or the displeasure of seeing his comrade distressed, but he expressed, "You are serious about this. You care for him that deeply, frog rider?"
Tilting her head at his statement, she nodded. "I do."
"Then I suppose you will eventually get married."
"That supposition is correct, but we had only just come to an understanding. The thought of marriage is… it is too soon for it."
Gunther kicked a small stone, vexed at the prospect of losing his sparring partner. The possibility of matters becoming complicated to the point of frustration was not appealing. He recalled how troubled she had been years ago over the misunderstanding that had occurred between them and how it nearly cost him their friendship, but what of now or in the foreseeable future? It was all uncertain.
"Bat bladders, Jane; does your mother know?"
"If she did, we would not be having this conversation now, would we? No matter when word reaches her, I will be held captive, perchance in my tower no less."
"And let me guess, it will be guarded by that giant green lizard of yours?"
Despite herself, she smiled at his attempt to brighten the situation. "Who else but green lips? But in all seriousness, it does not matter what my mother thinks because it is my life and not hers. Maggots."
"Then I suppose it is a good thing Smithy will be leaving. He will not be in the way of her wrath." And as though it had occurred to him all of a sudden, he wondered, "What about you, Jane? Will you be alright? I thought she had in mind for you to marry someone of title or prestige."
"Trust me, I have already thought about that. When the time comes," She sighed, "I will resolve it. For now, are you going to keep talking, or are you ready for me to wipe the yard with you?"
With that smirk that suited him as much as it was vexing, he readied his position: "I thought you would never ask."
