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On day three of his descent into Heraldic hell, Rodney sighed and opened the door to the salle for his first day of Weapons Training class. He was not looking forward to it one tiny little bit.
In the large mirrored room a huge man with dread-locked hair dressed in dark gray sleeveless leathers and a tiny woman in whites were circling warily around each other, sticks held at the ready in their hands. At some unseen signal they both burst into action, sticks whipping towards each other only to be caught by the other's and swept harmlessly off to the side, time and again. Rodney found himself drawn into watching the battle between the two opponents. Despite their size discrepancy, they were obviously a match for each other, and there was artistry there that even he could see. Rodney was startled out of his hypnotized watching of the fighting when the little woman danced away from the big man's reach and lowered her weapons, bowing at the large man. The man did the same and then they both turned to look at him.
"Um...hi," Rodney said timidly, raising one hand and waving at them. "I was told to report here for Weapons Training?" He hoped that the Weaponsmaster was the woman. At least she wouldn't loom over him while she beat him into a pulp.
The large guy grunted and put aside his weapons as the woman smiled and nodded at Rodney before withdrawing to the other end of the salle. He grabbed a towel and dried his hands before saying, "You Rodney? The guy Cadman Chose?"
"Er, yes," Rodney replied, firmly telling his stomach that it could stop with the flip-flopping right this second. He sincerely doubted that throwing up on someone would count as weapons practice.
The man walked up to him and stuck a hand out. "Weaponsmaster Ronon Dex, Chosen by T'ealc," he said in a low gravelly tone. Rodney reluctantly shook his hand, absently noting the calluses while mentally bemoaning the fact that the universe absolutely hated him. He could stop worrying about dying once he was made a Herald. He'd never survive training with this guy to make it into whites. Oh for goddess' sake, stop thinking that, Cadman snapped in the back of his mind. He ignored her.
Rodney's brain flailed around for a moment and came up with something polite to say from the class he'd just come from, the horror that had been Etiquette and Deportment. "Er, pleased to meet you?" he said, not meaning it to sound like a question, but it wasn't like he really was pleased to meet the man who would probably kill him, so the Etiquette and Deportment teacher could just stuff it if she tried to call him to task for it.
Ronon grinned at him in a manner that Rodney frankly found frightening as he shook his hand, then put his other hand on Rodney's shoulder and pulled him further into the room. Rodney looked around, but saw no other people there, the tiny woman having apparently left. On the one hand that was good, because his utter humiliation would at least be private. On the other hand, it wasn't so good, in that he was going to have the Weaponmaster's complete and undivided attention while he made an complete fool of himself trying to be all macho and weapon-y. He sighed. This was gonna hurt.
Come on, Rodney, he's here to train you. He knows what he's doing. Don't be so frightened that you're going to be hurt, Cadman wheedled.
Will you just shut up, Rodney replied back heatedly. I am not frightened. I am very sensibly concerned for my well being, seeing as how I'm now expected to be Mr. Whitepants McFighter Guy when I have no, I repeat, no talent for it! I have delicate skin, I bruise easily, I have a bad back, exercise makes me wheeze and those are the least of my worries about this class!
Cadman sighed, but said nothing more. Rodney returned his attention back to his teacher slash torturer. Ronon was looking at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Cadman," Rodney said shortly, pointing to his head.
Ronon smirked at him. "Yeah. You had that look."
Rodney blinked. "What look?"
"That my-Companion-is-nagging-me look," Ronon said, and then crossed his arms over his chest. Rodney tried to not be jealous of all the muscles that rippled when Ronon did that. "So," Ronon began, "you have any weapons training?"
Rodney drooped. It was time for the humiliation to begin. "No."
"Hand to hand fighting experience?" Ronon queried.
"No," Rodney said again.
"Hunting experience?" Ronon asked, glowering a little.
Rodney cringed at the glower. He hadn't asked to be here, damn it. "No."
Ronon continued, "Play dodge the ball with other kids when you were little?"
"Oh, hell, no!" Rodney replied, crossing his arms defensively.
Ronon unfolded his arms and rested his hands on his hips. "You ever throw anything at anybody? And hit them?"
Rodney blinked and uncrossed his arms. "Uh, yeah. All the time. I mean, nothing lethal, but you know, erasers, chalk and books at students, paper wads and bread at the other Scholars at the Compass Rose, that sort of thing. It's all just angles and trajectories when you think about it. Oh! And I used to throw snowballs at my sister Jeannie too!" he finished with a double snap of his fingers and pointing.
"Well, that's something at least," Ronon rumbled as he crossed his arms again.
"It is?" Rodney asked blankly, his hands stopping in mid-air. He had a skill that Ronon actually found useful?
"Not really," Ronon replied with an amused look on his face. "But at least you don't have any bad habits I'll have to break you of."
"Oh," Rodney said, crestfallen, his hands falling to his sides. "Uh, that's good, I guess?"
Ronon rolled his eyes. "Go over to the mats," he said pointing at a mat covered section of the floor. "We'll start with teaching you how to fall safely."
Falling safely sounded like an excellent idea to Rodney, considering how often he was likely to be doing so for the foreseeable future. They went over to the mats and Rodney listened nervously as Ronon first described, then demonstrated how to protect one's body when falling. Rodney thought that there seemed to be some sound scientific physical principles behind the process from the way Ronon explained it, and he felt just a tad bit easier about the whole thing. He understood physics. He'd been afraid that all of this fighting stuff would be totally incomprehensible to him. Ronon then motioned Rodney over to the mat. "Now you try."
With a huge amount of trepidation, Rodney walked onto the mat and screwed his courage up to fling himself onto the mat in what he hoped was the appropriate way. He lunged forward only to be stopped by an iron hand on his shoulder.
"You're doing it wrong. You'll hurt yourself that way," Ronon said, and then twisted and tucked Rodney's arms, torso and head into better position as Rodney flushed from all the unexpected bodily contact with his teacher. "Now try it," Ronon ordered with a final clap to Rodney's shoulder.
Rodney obediently fell forward and felt himself rolling all the way over and landing spread eagled on his back across the mats instead of back on his feet like Ronon had done.
"You forgot to tuck your legs," Ronon commented mildly. "Get up and do it again."
Rodney got back up onto his feet and after Ronon pushed all his body parts back into the correct position, fell forward again. Once again he wound up starfished face up across the mats.
"Again," Ronon ordered. "And this time tuck your legs."
Rodney heaved himself back up, got manhandled again, and wound up staring at the ceiling again.
"Again. Tuck your legs." Ronon commanded.
Rodney scrambled back up, was manhandled, fell forward and found himself contemplating the ceiling again.
"Tuck the legs, McKay. Again," Ronon said implacably.
Rodney moaned, got up, and repeated the whole futile process. Again. And again. And again. After about the tenth or eleventh time he'd found himself looking at the salle's rafters, he asked as he lay sprawled awkwardly on the mats, "Um, how long do I have to do this, anyways?"
"Until you get it right. Get up and do it again. Tuck your damned legs, this time," Ronon replied.
Rodney sighed and hauled himself back up off the mats. This was going to be a really, really, really long class.