So they took the swords outside. Nimue was fairly dancing with excitement, her green eyes flashing with mischief. Maric patiently explained some of the thrusting and chopping tactics.<br/><br/>“But you must begin with the basics,” he said.<br/><br/>Nimue was dismayed that he made her stretch standing up, then sitting down. She even had to lay on her back and hold her feet off the ground while she breathed all the while counting to a hundred. This is not what she envisioned when she saw herself fighting with a sword!<br/><br/>Standing back up, she wiped the grain from the seat of her gown and picked up the wooden sword once more. Nimue couldn’t believe her ears when Maric insisted that she hop from side to side around the area which would be the paddock.  She was huffing and puffing before she was half way around.<br/><br/>.Finally Maric picked up his matching sword and  began to verse her on posture and stance . Slowly, they began to strike, testing the length of Nimue’s reach. Back and forth across the paddock, they slowly parried. Nimue thought her arm was going to fall off. She resorted to swinging the blade with two hands but that didn’t seem to help much. Even though Maric did not strike her hard, the wood still stung when it came into contact with her knuckles or arm. When her blade contacted his, she thought the bones in her arm had shattered.<br/><br/>He had her practice four different techniques for equal amounts of time. While the time couldn’t have been too long a session, the last one seemed to last for a week. Sweat had broken out on her brow and her breath was coming in short gasps, but Nimue didn’t ask to quit. Just when she thought the torture must surely come to an end, Maric raced toward her, tagging her on the arm with the challenge to catch him.<br/><br/>Off they raced around the paddock, when Maric leaped over a pile of logs, he beckoned Nimue to follow. She hoisted her skirts and did the best she could to clear them. Once she tripped and sprawled headlong but was soon up again and off. Maric stopped at a pile of stone, some of them large, other medium size and proceeded to through them, encouraging Nimue to follow suit.<br/><br/>Her hands hurt from clutching the sword. Her knuckles hurt from the contact with Maric’s wooden blade. Her body hurt from the running and jumping. Her skin was raw from throwing the stones. Just when she thought she was going to die, Maric stopped and began doing a series of stretches, nodding to Nimue to follow his lead.<br/><br/>“Were you trying to train me or to kill me,” she groaned as she bent over from the waist and grasped her calves. “Are you saying to be a proper swordsman, I must work like this daily?”<br/><br/>She was rewarded with his beautiful smile. Nimue collapsed onto the grass and covered her eyes with her arm. “I can do this. Unless I die first.”