4/17 The Archer and the Swordsman, take 2

I vividly remember the day I met the archer for the first time. He was wearing an expensive forest green cloak with a pattern I couldn't draw or describe. He could easily blend into a crowd of other archers if he wanted to, but I would soon learn that wasn't his goal at all. Instead of a bow, he was awkwardly holding a sword too large and too heavy for him, and I clearly remember him walking over to me, nearly dropping the sword against the table where I was seated, and then managed to sit down across from me with the same grace and elegance as if he was in the company of the queen.

"I want to be a swordfighter," he said. "Any way possible."

I was thrown back in surprise. Such a man looked like he had never fired an arrow let alone held a sword in combat. 

"I'll be moving across the seas to take training from the best swordsmen in the whole world in only a few short months. Until then, will you train me?"

Any reasonable swordsman wouldn't dare bother with something so arduous, but there was something about this archer that caught my interest. He walked with grace, always seeming aware of exactly what was around him.  This was no ordinary archer. 

So with no reluctance, I stood up and looked him square in his dark eyes, and agreed to be his trainer. With only a few short months until his journey to the other continent, he needed all the training he could get.

It was his knowledge of swords that first drew my attention, even if he could barely hold one. 

At last, the training was to begin. 

But, that was the point. I couldn't will the archer to be a swordsman anymore than someone could will a fish to swim on the land.