He'd been there for four weeks - which meant his schedule had changed; even as an initiate he hadn't liked helping at breakfast - when he found the weapons Saale. He stood in the doorway, stunned, watching two men sparing with what looked like quarter staves of metal. He'd seen similar weapons before, but he'd never seen men fight with them. A third man watched them, nodding in some places, and Ben was reminded of his own early training with a lightsaber. He pushed the thought away as the bout ended. "Very good," the man said, the one who'd been watching them. "Cool down a bit, then you're done."
The two men grinned at each other, and Ben thought that they looked pleased. He could only guess that the man gave out his praise seldom. He pushed away from the door, about to go on with his exploration of the large monastery.
"You don't have to watch from the doorway."
His gaze shot up to meet the observer, who was walking toward him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to distract you."
"You didn't," the man said, and offered his hand. "I'm Merrick, weapons master here."
Ben tilted his head to the side. "What do they need a weapons master for?" he asked, and shook the man's hand.
"For those who don't know how to fight," Merrick said. "What's your name?"
"Oh. Ben. Sorry." He flushed slightly. "But I'm not sure I understand."
Merrick smiled, and turned over the hand he hadn't released. "You are able to defend yourself," he said, running a thumb over Ben's calluses, both old and new, before letting his hand go. "You choose not to carry a weapon right now. But there are others who would learn these skills in order to be the new person they are attempting to become."
"Oh." Ben drew back, wondering how much this man might know of him, and how he would know it. Just from the calluses on his hands?
"I have some time right now," Merrick said. "Care to join me on the mats?"
Ben took another step back and shook his head. "No, but thank you," he said. "Maybe another time."
Merrick smiled sadly, looking as if he might understand. "Many residents who have fought before coming here are hesitant to start with something new, afraid that it will start the same chain of violence that they are used to. I hope to see you here again," he said, and returned to his previous spot near the mats in the center of the room.
It was nearly two months before Ben made his way back to the Saale.
He was uncertain, unsure why he'd been brought here. The Force had whispered to him, lured him into the Saale, and he had become so used to listening to that voice that when it left him, he stood in some surprise, staring at the room in front of him.
Merrick was still there, overseeing a sparing match, but these two were not the same. Their movements were stiff, conscious, and they drew him in as the sure movements of the other combatants hadn't.
Or maybe it had nothing to do with the combatants, and everything to do with him.
Merrick was glad to see him. "It usually takes a much shorter time for people to return," he said, meeting Ben halfway between his chosen spot and the door. "I was wondering if you'd left."
"No."
"You have fought before?" The man's confusion came out in his hesitant words, and Ben took a deep breath, throwing off the uncertainty. He was here, and apparently, this was why.
"I have," he said, and smiled slightly. "It's been a couple of months."
Merrick eased as well. "Ever fought with a staff?"
"No."
The other man tilted his head slightly. "Interested in a sparing match?"
"With a staff?" Ben asked.
"No. Blades." He gestured to a rack that held staves, glittering silver in the light, and shorter staves that Ben finally recognized as half a staff - blades. He hesitated, but the Force pushed at him, and he nodded.
"Sounds good."
He soon found himself standing on the mats, barefooted, blade held lightly in his grip. The hilt was different than he was used to, and it was heavier, but that could have been an illusion; he hadn't held anything like this in a while. Although two months was short for him to have forgotten everything.
"I'll start slow," Merrick said, pulling him away from his thoughts.
"Yes, sir."
To Ben's surprise, he meant slow. Ben followed his blows almost clumsily, barely blocking them, not even able to think of striking offensively. He hadn't had to spar so slow since... well, a long time ago. Long before the braid graced his shoulder.
Slowly, the hilt became familiar in his hands, the weight became familiar, and his muscles began to remember what this was like. He stopped blocking at the last second, and launched his own offensive a couple of times. Merrick grinned and his own attacks gained both speed and strength. Soon they traded blows evenly, and although Ben had little need of the Force, it flowed around him, calming him. He resisted the temptation to close his eyes and fight completely with the Force - that would give too much away - but he did remember something he couldn't believe he'd forgotten. That the best move was to tire out his opponent by remaining on the defensive. Master Zichri would be disappointed, especially after the review he'd gotten from the Master two years ago.
The fight had been going for a while, and the combatants had been moving back and forth across the mats. Ben cut down on his offense, biding his time, watching for the signs of weariness. Then he moved in. It didn't take much; almost casually he struck the other man's blade to the side and stepped into the opening it gave. The metal tube was exactly parallel to the floor, just barely touching the man's throat. Ben's body was tucked in close to the other man, eyes meeting his without flinching. The other man's eyes widened in some surprise. "I concede the battle," he said.
Ben stepped back to applause and flushed when he realized it was for him. Unconsciously his thumb moved across the hilt of the blade, seeking to shut it down. For a moment, he was confused when he didn't find it.
Merrick dismissed the watching crowd with a gesture, and moved closer to Ben. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"
"I had a very good teacher," Ben said warily, and handed the blade back to the weapons master.
"One teacher?"
"Considered one of the best."
Merrick considered him in silence. "You teach me what you just did, and I'll teach you to be as deadly with a staff as you are with a blade."
Ben didn't hesitate. "Deal," he said. It would separate him out a little, but he wouldn't be taken for a Jedi if he had a staff .
They shook hands, and Merrick pulled him closer. "That way you won't stand out as Jedi trained," he whispered. Ben stiffened, startled, his old worry about someone being in his head surfacing again before he realized it was absurd, that Merrick wasn't even Force sensitive. Merrick had already turned toward the crowd that hadn't completely dispersed, and Ben eyed him warily, wondering how Merrick had known he was Jedi trained. "We're done here," he said, eyes narrowed. "Elric. Baron. Get to work."
It took him a while to decide that he didn't have to worry about Merrick telling anyone about what the weapons master thought he was. He continued to spend his spare time in the Saale until the next rotation, and then added it to his list of duties. It felt good to have a weapon in his hands again.
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