“Never?” She cannot fathom such a thing. To the Rohirrim, life without leaning to ride is simply not feasible. So much of their lives and their culture revolves around their horse herds. Éomer had learned to ride the same time she learned to walk, or so it seemed. “How did you travel, if you have never ridden before?” Her eyes narrow abruptly, playfully suspicious. “Tell me you have not spent your whole life riding in carriages like some sort of Gondorian dandy.”
Her own cup is likewise refilled, and she spares the serving girl enough attention to give her a little wink before she turns back to her companion. “Well. I suppose you will have to learn. Luckily for you, I am well used to teaching recalcintent youths how to care for their horses.”
"Not once in my life," he confirms with a grin. "But I've also never ridden in a carriage--not like the ones you're familiar with, anyway. There are vehicles like carriages, but they don't need to be pulled by horses because they can move on their own." Her incredulity is amusing, but he shakes his head. "Mostly I used to walk places. Sometimes I fly places. Just depends on how far I have to go."
Her offer to teach him to ride is one met with arched brows and a lopsided smile. "Lucky me," he says. "I suppose lessons begin at dawn?"
Though she tries not to look too stunned, Éomer finds herself mouthing the word “fly” incredulously, though she tells herself she will ask for more details another time. Right now, she just grins at him.
“Indeed they do.”
That is, assuming that she won’t be sent off on another patrol come dawn, but for now, she can promise to teach him with full intent on following through. He will not be smiling so much by the time they are through; Éomer is an exacting instructor and does not go easy on anyone no matter who they might be. It is why the riders under her command are so skilled. She will not tolerate anything less.
Dawn the next morning finds Steve astride Arroch once more, looking fresh as a daisy even after a long night of drinking. Éomer is thorough in putting her men through their paces, but Steve takes direction well and he learns quickly without voicing even the slightest complaint.
When they break for water, he hops down from the saddle and takes the shield off his back so he can have a proper stretch. "What's next?" he asks when she approaches, rolling his shoulders.
Steven's lesson began with the care and keeping of his horse. Éomer showed him how to bridle him, how to saddle him, how to check his hooves for debris, how to groom him, how to speak to him, and the basic commands every rider learns to communicate with their horse.
Only after he could manage those to her satisfaction, did she allow him to actually ride the great beast. Thankfully, for Steven's ego, he is a fast learner, impressing her though she did not voice it, and it feels like it doesn't take long at all before he is carefully cantering through the training course. Leaving him and Arroch to their own devices, Éomer turns her attention to the rest of her riders, putting them a much more intensive training regimen without any hint of mercy for their pounding heads. They should know better than to drink so heavily at all, especially in times like these.
As the éored trains together, Éomer watches Steven approach, that large shield of his finally sliding off his back as he twists to stretch the muscles in his back. She tries not to be too obvious about her staring, but she can't help herself. He is a fine specimen of a man, after all.
"I want to see how you fight without that hammer or that shield," she confesses. It has little to do with real training, and certainly none to do with his horse, but still. She's curious.
Briefly, Steve is reminded of Batroc's taunt on the Lemurian Star all those years ago. I thought you were more than just a shield. It feels like a lifetime has passed since then.
Since he's already put the shield aside, he unties Mjölnir and sets it in aside as well. Resting the latter on the former is a good way to keep anyone from doing too much damage to themselves, so he doesn't worry about them. "You want to spar?" he ask, arching his brows. "Okay. Fair warning: I punch hard." He hopes she can tell that this isn't a thing he says to disparage her, but an earnest warning he would give to any unsuspecting sparring partner. He doesn't want to hurt anyone here without the benefit of the modern medicine he's grown so accustomed to.
Dressed in trews and a tunic, Éomer feels far more comfortable today than she did last night, even if she has had to bind her breasts down once more so they do not disrupt her training. She certainly has a better range of motion than she did in the dress she wore to dinner, and without her heavy armor, she feels far more nimble and quick on her feet and less lumbering and massive. She has gotten incredibly used to the weight of the armor she has worn for over a decade now, but still, it is nice to be free of it for a while.
She just grins at him when Steve warns her that he hits hard, not doubting him for a moment. A man with muscles like that must hit hard.
"Nothing below the waist, if you don't mind," Steve counters, adding his own rule. He supposes that little else is off limits, so he drops into an easy stance to wait for her to make the opening moves, but she's canny or cautious enough to have the same plan. When a few seconds pass without either of them moving, Steve decides to be the one to take the plunge.
He bolts forward with almost alarming speed, dropping low to try and sweep her legs out from under her.
Even though he warned her about his punches, he never planned on using the full force of his strength against her. He rarely does, against unenhanced humans, not wanting to injure them unnecessarily if he can avoid it. He knows that a punch or kick from him can easily send someone flying, can break bones, even without shield or hammer.
They've drawn an audience even before the fighting really starts. Éomer will yell at her men later, for abandoning their own training to watch her and their new companion test each others' mettle; right now, she has other things to focus on, things like not getting the tar beaten out of her by Steven as he darts towards her faster than a man his size should be able to manage.
In fact, everything about the way Steven fights is slightly too-fast to be believable, his reflexes quick enough that she has had to dodge and weave far more than she intended, his hits coming just a little faster than she can accommodate. Éomer has always been large and strong, and is used to fighting against men her own size, often with longer arms and stronger muscles. It means she has developed a certain fighting style that doesn't seem to fit well against Steven's. For all that he's bigger than she is, he fights almost like she's seen some of the Gondorian rangers fight: acting as if he were slim and small and using speed and agility as his primary weapon instead of brute force.
(He has that in spades, of course, as her stinging cheek can attest. She's probably going to get a black eye from that in the morning, and she only hopes that the answering fist she landed in his solar plexus has returned the favor.)
Apart from a few solid hits, most of the fight is spent avoiding each other or grappling. At one point, he manages to get her feet out from beneath her and flips her easily over his shoulder, forcing her to roll in a somewhat undignified manner to get back up to her feet to avoid being pinned. Her face hurts, her hands are scraped to hell and back, and she's a little out of breath, but she's grinning at him all the same, enjoying herself more than she had expected to.
The men hoot and cheer whenever Éomer lands a solid blow on Steve's person, and while they do hurt, it's never enough to wind him completely. (The solar plexus hit does nearly drops him for a second, though.) Maybe he is showing off a little, his fighting style a little more acrobatic now than usual, but he's not above giving someone a hard time for fun every now and then, especially when it's obvious she's enjoying their little brawl.
He hops back a yard or two, bouncing on the balls of his feet and shaking out his shoulders while she rolls back up to her feet. Sure, he could have pinned her, but then the fight would be over, and where's the fun in that?
"I could do this all day, you know," he calls out to her, "so whenever you start to get tired, all you have to do is say so." He grins back at her, his tone more than a little bit taunting. He expects she knows shit-talk when she hears it, considering the way her men react with laughs and cheers. Most of their shouts of encouragement are in their native language, but some of them speak enough Westron to call for her to wipe the floor with him, or for him to stop dancing around and fight properly.
Might as well give the people what they want, right?
Darting in, he throws a quick sequence of punches and jabs, coming at her with classic judo maneuvers that they've probably never seen before in Rohan.
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no subject
Date: 2019-05-15 03:06 am (UTC)“Never?” She cannot fathom such a thing. To the Rohirrim, life without leaning to ride is simply not feasible. So much of their lives and their culture revolves around their horse herds. Éomer had learned to ride the same time she learned to walk, or so it seemed. “How did you travel, if you have never ridden before?” Her eyes narrow abruptly, playfully suspicious. “Tell me you have not spent your whole life riding in carriages like some sort of Gondorian dandy.”
Her own cup is likewise refilled, and she spares the serving girl enough attention to give her a little wink before she turns back to her companion. “Well. I suppose you will have to learn. Luckily for you, I am well used to teaching recalcintent youths how to care for their horses.”
no subject
Date: 2019-05-15 03:14 am (UTC)Her offer to teach him to ride is one met with arched brows and a lopsided smile. "Lucky me," he says. "I suppose lessons begin at dawn?"
no subject
Date: 2019-05-15 03:27 am (UTC)“Indeed they do.”
That is, assuming that she won’t be sent off on another patrol come dawn, but for now, she can promise to teach him with full intent on following through. He will not be smiling so much by the time they are through; Éomer is an exacting instructor and does not go easy on anyone no matter who they might be. It is why the riders under her command are so skilled. She will not tolerate anything less.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-15 03:45 am (UTC)When they break for water, he hops down from the saddle and takes the shield off his back so he can have a proper stretch. "What's next?" he asks when she approaches, rolling his shoulders.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-15 04:19 am (UTC)Only after he could manage those to her satisfaction, did she allow him to actually ride the great beast. Thankfully, for Steven's ego, he is a fast learner, impressing her though she did not voice it, and it feels like it doesn't take long at all before he is carefully cantering through the training course. Leaving him and Arroch to their own devices, Éomer turns her attention to the rest of her riders, putting them a much more intensive training regimen without any hint of mercy for their pounding heads. They should know better than to drink so heavily at all, especially in times like these.
As the éored trains together, Éomer watches Steven approach, that large shield of his finally sliding off his back as he twists to stretch the muscles in his back. She tries not to be too obvious about her staring, but she can't help herself. He is a fine specimen of a man, after all.
"I want to see how you fight without that hammer or that shield," she confesses. It has little to do with real training, and certainly none to do with his horse, but still. She's curious.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-15 05:06 am (UTC)Since he's already put the shield aside, he unties Mjölnir and sets it in aside as well. Resting the latter on the former is a good way to keep anyone from doing too much damage to themselves, so he doesn't worry about them. "You want to spar?" he ask, arching his brows. "Okay. Fair warning: I punch hard." He hopes she can tell that this isn't a thing he says to disparage her, but an earnest warning he would give to any unsuspecting sparring partner. He doesn't want to hurt anyone here without the benefit of the modern medicine he's grown so accustomed to.
"Got any rules, before we start?"
no subject
Date: 2019-05-16 03:06 am (UTC)She just grins at him when Steve warns her that he hits hard, not doubting him for a moment. A man with muscles like that must hit hard.
"Don't pull my hair," she warns.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-16 12:24 pm (UTC)He bolts forward with almost alarming speed, dropping low to try and sweep her legs out from under her.
Even though he warned her about his punches, he never planned on using the full force of his strength against her. He rarely does, against unenhanced humans, not wanting to injure them unnecessarily if he can avoid it. He knows that a punch or kick from him can easily send someone flying, can break bones, even without shield or hammer.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-17 12:34 am (UTC)In fact, everything about the way Steven fights is slightly too-fast to be believable, his reflexes quick enough that she has had to dodge and weave far more than she intended, his hits coming just a little faster than she can accommodate. Éomer has always been large and strong, and is used to fighting against men her own size, often with longer arms and stronger muscles. It means she has developed a certain fighting style that doesn't seem to fit well against Steven's. For all that he's bigger than she is, he fights almost like she's seen some of the Gondorian rangers fight: acting as if he were slim and small and using speed and agility as his primary weapon instead of brute force.
(He has that in spades, of course, as her stinging cheek can attest. She's probably going to get a black eye from that in the morning, and she only hopes that the answering fist she landed in his solar plexus has returned the favor.)
Apart from a few solid hits, most of the fight is spent avoiding each other or grappling. At one point, he manages to get her feet out from beneath her and flips her easily over his shoulder, forcing her to roll in a somewhat undignified manner to get back up to her feet to avoid being pinned. Her face hurts, her hands are scraped to hell and back, and she's a little out of breath, but she's grinning at him all the same, enjoying herself more than she had expected to.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-20 09:40 pm (UTC)He hops back a yard or two, bouncing on the balls of his feet and shaking out his shoulders while she rolls back up to her feet. Sure, he could have pinned her, but then the fight would be over, and where's the fun in that?
"I could do this all day, you know," he calls out to her, "so whenever you start to get tired, all you have to do is say so." He grins back at her, his tone more than a little bit taunting. He expects she knows shit-talk when she hears it, considering the way her men react with laughs and cheers. Most of their shouts of encouragement are in their native language, but some of them speak enough Westron to call for her to wipe the floor with him, or for him to stop dancing around and fight properly.
Might as well give the people what they want, right?
Darting in, he throws a quick sequence of punches and jabs, coming at her with classic judo maneuvers that they've probably never seen before in Rohan.