Chapter 100 - Ninety Nine – Renn – Someone Who Loves What They Hate

Chapter 100: Chapter Ninety Nine – Renn – Someone Who Loves What They Hate This mountain was a little... odd to me. It was far flatter than I was used to. Vim and I had been walking for about half an hour now, and honestly we haven't ascended or descended much at all.

For the week it had taken to get here, I had assumed these mountains were rocky and hard to climb... especially since from a distance I hadn't seen much trees upon them.

Yet here we were, walking calmly through what almost looked like a normal forest. Not one covering a mountain.

I'd doubt we were still on a mountain, if not for the massive looming mounting to one side of us and another side showing the world beneath us for as far as one could see.

"I can still smell the smithy," I told Vim as we rounded a large tree. I couldn't see the smoke from the furnaces, or the house, anymore. And that wasn't just because we were walking in a forest. Every so often the trees cleared out enough to give me full view of the sky and its horizon.

"It does have a unique smell," Vim agreed.

I nodded. Today was the tenth day that we've been here, and I still really haven't gotten used to the smell. Sometimes I woke up in the middle of the night, bothered by the smell. Which was funny, since Lellip thought I should be waking up from muscle pains instead.

But honestly I felt fine. The first night I had noticed some aches and pains, but they had faded before I even noticed.

And there were things far more important to worry about than mere body aches and smells...

Vim carried a leather wrap, which was wrapped behind his back. It held a bundle of glistening items. The ones he and Lellip had been forging the last few days.

Swords. Spears. He had also made others, like small daggers and bows but had left them back at the smithy for now.

I gulped as I noticed what was likely our destination. A large field of clovers and ankle high grass. Spacious and even.

Sighing softly, I wasn't sure what to say or think. Vim hadn't exactly been... secretive about what was happening. He had made it clear to others, all the while I stood in the same room listening.

He hadn't exactly told me to my face, but it was clear.

Vim was going to see if I could kill or not.

Or well, if I had the skill to do so properly. In his perspective.

Lellip had been jealous over the crafting of the weapons, but had been genuinely relieved that she wasn't expected to join us this morning. The sight of her groaning in relief as we left, leaving her behind, made me very anxious.

Maybe this would be painful.

Vim walked into the open field of clovers and glanced around. Sure enough he nodded and walked over to a nearby rock. One that stuck out of the earth in such a way that told me it was a genuine part of the mountain. It was probably massive, at least the part that was buried underground.

Here though it was perfect sized for Vim to lay his bundle of weapons up against.

"Vim... I..." I started to speak, to say what I felt my heart needed to... yet couldn't find the words.

I had agreed to learn from him. I had agreed to try. To become like him.

And that very obviously meant I'd need to learn how to protect. In the very literal sense. Not in the form of emotions, or kindness... but with violence.

"You want to learn, Renn. This is one of the things that must be taught," Vim said as he slowly un-wrapped the leather bundle. Its contents made familiar sounds as they clanked against each other. I had heard that pure note in the air many times as Vim and Lellip worked on them in the forge.

Why did they make such clear sounds? It was almost not fair. They sounded like little bells ringing out.

Something so beautiful sounding shouldn't be so... menacing.

Vim hefted one of the swords. I went still as he stared down its edge, to its point.

It didn't have either. He had made them blunt on purpose... but I knew full well that a blunt sword meant nothing in his hands.

The man before me could cleave me in two with that blunt weapon. Likely with ease.

"Take your hat off. And get your tail out. You'll need to feel as comfortable as you can to start, or else it'll ruin you forever," Vim said lightly as he inspected the blade.

My ears and tail shifted at their mention, and I went to oblige. I put the hat onto the rock near the bundle of silver looking weapons, and untied my pants enough to get my tail free. I then retied my pants, a little tighter this time.

After a moment Vim turned and stepped towards me. He shifted the blade and suddenly its handle was being held out to me. For me to take.

I gulped and hesitated, but knew I couldn't.

I knew since three days ago. Since I had watched Vim make that first spear. Since I had heard Pram and her daughter argue in the house, over allowing Lellip to help Vim craft what Pram considered weapons.

I knew this moment would come since then.

And not once did I ask him to reconsider. Not once did I voice my opinion on it.

I had no right to argue now... but...

"Vim... I've never wielded a sword," I said softly.

"I know. Yet you've held a bow, I believe," Vim said.

About to reach out for the sword, my hand came to a stop mid-reach. "Huh?" I glanced at the man who had somehow known something that he shouldn't.

He nodded. "Right? Maybe not for war and battle, but to hunt at least, I'm sure," he said.

Gulping lightly I nodded. "Most my life... before coming to the Society... But that had been to hunt," I said softly. How had he known? It was how I had fed myself. How I had fed all of those who had been with me.

"This is also hunting, Renn," Vim said gently.

I shook my head. "People aren't animals, and I don't eat them," I said.

"Funny."

I ignored the many obvious quips he could have given, especially to me with my ears and tail.

A long moment of silence followed... and Vim said nothing but he did smile. With that smile he nodded to the handle, pushing it closer to me.

Taking it, I wanted to complain but couldn't. Especially since this was the first time I had actually touched the weapon myself.

Wrapping my hand around the handle, I felt the strange wood that Lellip had carved for it. The material was smooth, but it had ridges and little twine pieces of leather inside the grooves. To make it easier to hold.

Vim released the sword from his end, and suddenly I felt its weight.

It wasn't much at all.

Hefting it, I stepped back a step from Vim. I knew he'd never allow himself to casually get stabbed or cut, but I still worried over accidentally hitting him with it as I studied the blade.

"Why's it so light?" I asked. I had thought it'd be heavy. The people over the years I had seen use them had always done so... slowly. Implying they had been heavy for them.

"It's not. A human man would actually be holding it with two hands right now, especially if it was their first time lifting it like you. A woman probably would have let the point fall to the ground," Vim said.

Turning the blade a little every which way, to get a better look at the thing... I wondered if that meant I really was that much stronger than most humans.

"The ball at the end is the pommel. The handle is that or hilt, depending where you are in the world. The two wings above the handle, where your hands are, is the guard. That one's a cross-guard. It's actually not to guard your enemies blade from cutting off your hands, but to guard your own hands from your own blade as you lunge it into your enemy," Vim explained as he stepped forward and pointed at each thing he spoke of.

I quickly nodded, even though most of this wasn't new. He had told Lellip the exact same stuff as they had worked on them together. Had he forgotten I was standing right there the whole time?

It had been enjoyable. And part of the reason why I probably felt so calm about this even now, as I held it in my hands.

Watching Vim teach Lellip had been...

Well to sum it up it made me teary eyed. Sёarᴄh the Novёlƒire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

"After the guard is normally a blunt section. Intentionally left blunt so you can grab it if you need to. Obviously the whole thing is blunt this time, so..." Vim shrugged as he pointed to where the blunt section probably ended on a normal sword.

"Lellip complained you didn't let her decorate it," I told him.

"These are tools, nothing more. Decorate your home, not what kills," Vim said sternly as he stepped away from me.

I gulped at his suddenly strong tone. He hadn't liked my comment at all.

Maybe that was why Lellip hadn't actually complained to him, but to me and in private. She had known he would have gotten upset.

A little odd, considering he usually so firmly believed in the ideal of free-will. Was it not fee-will to do what one wanted?

Obviously not when it came to weapons, it seemed.

"Lift it up straight. Make the point reach my nose," Vim ordered.

Blinking, I realized we were already starting.

Great.

Doing so, I felt silly as I tried to point the swords end at his nose. I felt absolutely ridiculous as I shifted my shoulders and arms, trying to find the right position.

Once I did, I tried to imagine my own stance. My legs were too close together. My body too shrunk into itself. My arms too outstretched.

And the fact that even I could tell all of that, told me how bad I probably looked to Vim.

"Lower it now. Take the point to my stomach," he said.

I obliged. This was easier, since I only had to lower it straight down and didn't really need to change how I was standing or holding the thing.

"Now my groin," he said.

I blinked, but knew why he had said it. Stabbing there was probably very effective.

"Hm. Now lift it all the way back up, and swing it down slowly. Same movement," he said.

For a tiny moment I pondered what he had just asked me to do.

Swing the sword.

Slowly lifting the sword back to the first spot, to where the sword-point pointed at his nose... I then took a small breath and slowly swung the blade. I tried to keep it in the straight line he had just taught me, but knew the moment I swung that I had failed to do so.

"Again. This time put force into it."

Hefting the blade, I squeezed the handled tight and swung it with more force.

This time I heard the blade go through the wind. It made an odd sound.

"How am I supposed to hold it? It slipped a little that time," I asked as I moved my hands around a little.

"You'll either figure that out or you won't," he said plainly.

Frowning at him, I knew for sure that he knew exactly how to hold it. Hadn't I seen him just holding it? What had he been doing...?

Well he had only held it with one hand for one... but I wasn't comfortable yet with that. I didn't want to swing it harshly and fling it out, hitting him.

But he had held it a little different... and not just because it had been with one hand.

I closed my eyes for a moment and remembered the way he had held it. Then I thought of that time near that river. Before we had returned to Ruvindale, before we had found the Sleepy Artist ransacked and empty.

He had held a sword then too. Not his sword. Not this one. But a sword. From a knight.

He had hefted it and swung it. Twice.

Slowly moving my fingers, I replicated the way he had held it then. At least to the best of my memory.

Once done I opened my eyes and nodded. That felt a little better. All I had done was adjust the way my thumb laid against the handle, and my other hand.... But it still felt more secure now.

"I'm a firm believer in experience being the best teacher. So..." Vim shrugged as he suddenly lifted the other sword.

Wait... what! When'd he get it!

Quickly looking to the rock, I noticed it was in fact gone. He had picked it up and I hadn't noticed.

Impossible!

"Wait...!" I started to speak but Vim neither listened, nor cared. He stepped forward and raised the sword.

Although blunt... although I knew he actually wouldn't hurt me... my heart still skipped a beat as I stepped back away from him.

He looked focused. Serious. Dangerous.

Vim the protector stood before me, with a raised sword. His eyes were dead set onto mine, and he was... He!

Then he swung.

Turning my body, instead of the blade itself, I allowed his blade to land upon mine.

Which was a mistake. It hit with such force that the blade shot backward towards me.

I firmed my grip, and steeled my arms and back. It brought my own blade to a stop, mere hairs from my face.

"Careful Renn. Don't make me feel bad about scarring your beautiful face," Vim warned as our blades scraped onto each other. He wasn't really pushing into me, but it still felt heavy. Forceful. Demanding.

"Then don't do it in the first place!" I shouted and pushed his sword away and stepped back.

Suddenly I was sweating, and breathing heavily. I took in deep breaths of the mountain air, and noticed the sudden lack of the distinct smell and taste of the nearby furnaces.

I was so focused on him I didn't even notice that stink. Great.

Shifting the sword, I took another deep breath... and realized I was smiling.

"I'm coming again. This time from your right," Vim warned as he stepped forward.

I nodded, and shifted my body. This time I kept the sword's handle a little closer to my chest. It felt better to block that way.

And worked better to. This time my sword didn't get pushed back much.

Yet my heart still went into my throat when he swung his sword at me.

And did again and again, each time following that.

After a quick three blows, I hurriedly stepped back and almost fell over. Luckily Vim didn't swing at me a fourth time as I coughed and lowered the sword. It was suddenly very heavy.

"Lower the blade a little. Imagine the tip of your blade as an extended finger. Keep it leveled with your own arm," he told me.

I gulped, and tried to do what he told me. He was basically telling me to see the sword as an extension of myself right?

Shifting a little, I nodded to tell him I was ready to try it out.

He didn't nod... but he smiled as he swung again.

Which wasn't fair.

I was smiling too.

So I understood why he would.

But him smiling, and looking so happy, only made it all the harder to be scared of him.

And I wanted to be scared of the man he was right now.

I needed to.

I needed to fear the art of killing.

I needed to hate it.

Not love it.

Which seemed impossible, since it was obviously something he himself loved too.

And how could I hate what he loved so dearly?