trans_9 | (no subject)

"If I don't share half with the house, I have to supply my own tools and materials, and considering I don't intend to charge, I have nothing to share with the house. The tools part is what's tricky, lugging them back and forth."

He slid down the roof to a ledge, and waved his arms before catching his balance again. Fortunately, this little building was close to the ground anyway, if he did fall.

"People here have so little to even give. The most I'd feel comfortable asking for is for lessons on how to do things--nothing material, nothing that could be split with anyone. How could I take away the last possessions people have? For a blacksmith, there's no honor in asking for pay during wartime--especially if that's all you can do to contribute."

Gobber never charged during dragon attacks. And when it was a bad winter, he just bartered for what he needed--some sheep for a sword worth an estate, some eggs for pots and pans.

This was a bad winter, in Hiccup's eyes.

"That's very honorable." It's the sort of thing he'd want to hear from a blacksmith in the Fire Nation . . . if the Fire Nation had unlimited, free food and housing and clothing, like Stacy does. "But nothing's ever really free."

Zuko crosses his arms, wating for Hiccup to rebut.

"It is when Stacy's providing food, housing and clothes."

Ha ha, Zuko, an honorable blacksmith. Your pessimism can suck it.

"If I needed things, I'd ask for barter to get it when I needed it. But I don't need things. See, all you other people are fighting, that's what you're doing. And you're doing it for free. This is what I'll do. And I'll also do it for free. Being useful is my payment."

"It's not free, then. Because you're buying protection with your work. And you mentioned lessons."

Pessimism? Maybe he's just looking for it.

"Which is the right way to be thinking." He scratches the back of his head, considering his words carefully. He's been thinking about this a while.

"We've all got different skills to offer, here. So we should be working with, and learning from, each other. That's how we'll survive, and that's payment enough."

Of course, the question Zuko's thinking now is - if Dustin's price turns out to be too high, will this kid be able to give him a decent product?

"How good a blacksmith are you?"

"I was an apprentice back home--but only because the master blacksmith was probably going to live forever. I was going to be an apprentice until I was forty-five, with how tough Gobber was."

He looked sad, a the thought of Gobber. Was he on board? Did he count as a loved one?

"He taught me everything, though, and he said I was able to make and repair weapons just as good as he did. I didn't really believe him, but trust me, he wasn't the type for praise in general."

He just needed a step-stool.

"But I'm good for quality, not for speed, basically. So with Dustin, what they'll be paying for is a few days cut off." A pause. "Until I get faster."

"Then you can make my next pair of swords."

Since fighting the Grenadiers may cost him a few more pairs.

"I'll teach you something in return."

Or beat up somebody bigger than Hiccup. The Ohm count, in this case.

"Really?" Yay, potential customer.

Hiccup finally climbed down from the roof, his prosthetic slipped on the windowsill, and he fell down and landed on his butt.

"Can you teach me how to fight?"

Can anyone?

Zuko watches Hiccup's less-than-graceful descent, expression progressing more and more into the territory of 'lineface' until Hiccup lands.

". . . maybe." He pauses, eyeing Hiccup more closely, noting the stick-figure limbs in addition to the uncoordinated gait. "If you're willing to work for it." And probably break a few bones in the process.

"I'm getting a better leg," he says. "Soon, hopefully. Then from there, I need to work on, well..." He looked down at himself. "...everything else."

Yeah, that prosthetic is . . . Zuko eyes it for a moment.

"I knew an assassin once who had a false arm and leg."

Which reminds him. Said assassin was, last he knew, still after Aang, on his order. Nice going, him.

At least he didn't mention that part.

"I've never taught anyone who had a false leg. I've never taught anyone." He shrugs. "But I'm supposed to teach someone else firebending anyway. I can't teach you that, but maybe I can teach you regular hand-to-hand."

He pauses.

"After the basics."

Like . . . way, way after.

"Exactly how much basics would there be?"

A pause.

"Because you might want to take that amount and double it."

"I was trying to be polite."

Pause.

"But yes."

"You don't have to be polite. I know I'm...not much to look at."

Zuko on the other hand, was impressive, now that Hiccup could get a proper look at him. Not by classical Viking standards maybe, but there were skinnier Vikings, built like the twins, that were all wiry muscle, and Zuko wasn't much different.

He also was unusual. Zuko might have caught Hiccup staring at his eyes--not necessarily the scar as he knew plenty of people with burn scars--no, it was the other eye. He was used to growing up around people that all looked very similar. On the ship, he'd started to realize how many different varieties of people there were. Everything from dragon-people to gargoyles, to people with green skin, or darker skin, or slanted eyes--and now he had a chance to really look at one of those different people up close.

There was only curiosity there, though. No fear or judgment.

Zuko stares back, his own expression flat and a little grumpy.

Quick as lightning, he reaches out and pokes Hiccup - not in the eye, but right between his eyebrows. Between the force and the speed, it's enough to get Hiccup's attention. And definitely sting a little.

"Lesson one. The only thing you should be staring at is your whole enemy - not how many scars he has."

Otherwise, your enemy has a window into, well, things like that.

It hasn't occurred to Zuko yet that Hiccup might be staring at his other eye.

"Ow." He rubs his forehead.

"I wasn't staring at your scars. I know plenty of people with burn scars--dragons'll do that to people."

He goes on, "I grew up in the same place with the same people my whole life. Your eyes are different. The only time I've seen people that look you are in books about the East."

He adds, "I'll stop staring, I'm sorry. I'm still getting used to everyone looking...different in different ways."

"I didn't stare at your peoples' eyes when I woke up here."

He snuck several interested glances. Big difference.

Okay not really.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter what your opponent looks like. It matters how he carries himself, how he favors his weight. Whether they're basically human-shaped or not." He steps back, crossing his arms again. "Besides, I'm not from your East. Nobody looks like you in the Four Nations." He looks aside for a moment. "And we don't have any dragons."

The "anymore" is unspoken.

Properly chastised, he stoppe looking.

"Sorry. I said I was sorry. I'm sorry."

"Why are you still apologizing?"

This is less a question, and more a demand that he stop apologizing, because it's annoying.

"Let's get started on basics. Do you know how to fight at all?"

"I can't even lift an ax."

A pause.

"You know, I really think this might be worth two sets of swords..."

"Good, because I use dao."

The translation engine turns that into something like "twin broadswords," but it's still clear that these broadswords are not the kinds Hiccup has had the opportunity to repair before.

"This isn't a lesson. This is rule number 1. Don't apologize. You're new at this, so you're at a disadvantage, but I'm not going to be any nicer to you just because you're sorry about getting it wrong. You're going to fail a lot before you get to the point where I can even teach you how to fight, much less fight well, and when you get to that point, you'll fail even more before getting anything right. So if you have to apologize, do it once, and then really apologize by working harder."

Wow. He's quite the motivational speaker, this one is.

Maybe Hiccup is ready to rethink this whole "lesson" thing.

No, he thought he may have finally found the right teacher.

"I want to learn. I'm already plenty used to failing before finding my way."

Wow. Even Zuko's a little impressed.

"Good." He pauses, assessing Hiccup one more time. "If you've gone this long without learning how to fight, you really are at a disadvantage. In my world, they start teaching us early."

As in, nurses are hired to sing the training songs over the cribs of Fire Nation infant royalty, and three-year-olds are expected to pay attention through two-hour training sessions in forms and stances, every day.

"If you're going to start, it might as well be right away. How early do you get up?"

"It's hard to tell time on the ship, but it'd be close to dawn back home," Hiccup said. "I don't usually need much sleep and I'm used to waking up early."

"Yeah, well, no more sleeping in."

Yes, to Zuko, dawn is sleeping in.

"Meet me in the Sensoriums according to the time on the omnicoms." He considers - "Oh-six-hundred will do for now. Since this IS your first lesson."

He said no sleeping in, but, well, maybe just this once.

". . . I may or may not ask someone else to help you, too. Since he's not a bender, he'll probably think of things you need to know that I might not."

Hiccup nodded happily.

"I'll be there then. I can even be there earlier. And I don't mind learning from new teachers at all."