Legend's Apprentice

Test

I was learning an awful lot about climate change from Dr Reynaud. He had the rare gift of being able to explain complicated science, synthesizing information from different fields into a cohesive, coherent narrative that informed without prejudice or condescension to the reader. And he encouraged my questions if I was unclear about something I read while proofreading, or even if I just wanted to know more. The days passed with work, time with my uncle at the embassy, and evening and weekend activities with my friends, including some of the girls I'd met at the luncheon.

It didn't seem like much time had passed until it was time to go home. I went a little early and celebrated the Fourth of July too. Being in different places had done amazing things to my relationship with J. When I came home we did a lot of things together and just generally got along better, much to the bemusement of our parents. I was sorry to go back to the city, almost.

But for better or worse--and it was mostly better--my life was in the city now, at least for another year. It was nice to spend the hot summer days at my desk in the nice air-conditioning--never savagely cold, which was a relief--even if I struggled with the work sometimes. The articles he did for popular publications were fine; they were written for an audience of beginners like me, for the most part. It was the articles for the scholarly publications that took the most time and energy, but even then, we were making good progress getting his work ready for submission.

At Systema practice, things changed. I had a good workout with my uncle, both weaponless and with the plastic knife substitutes, and then I spent the rest of the time helping him teach. It was surprisingly satisfying, especially when the student reached a milestone, like Thor not dropping his gloves in the boxing practice. The off-duty guards came down to watch, and I think peer pressure goaded both Loki and Thor to progress. Loki was doing better than Thor with Systema, mainly because apparently when he fought, he usually used his magic rather than a weapon or his fists, so he had less to unlearn.

One afternoon, Thor brought down his wife for an introduction. She spent a lot of time on Asgard, where Thor's father was taking an active interest in the development of her son Magni. She was tall, of course, and beautiful with dark eyes and hair. Sif was mentioned in the Avengers bio, but not discussed in much detail, so it was interesting to meet her. She might be a mom now instead of a warrior, but she kept herself in condition and I felt it would be a mistake to underestimate her abilities.

Apparently, not everybody felt the same. While Bucky was speaking with her, I heard a couple guards who had come down to watch the practice being all judgmental about women who had the audacity to try to rise above their place. One said that at least she was fulfilling her purpose, having birthed the next royal heir. I looked at them with dislike. The rude one looked me up and down and said it was a lesson I should learn too. My voice trembled with the anger I was trying to suppress when I told them that that wasn't the way things worked around here. Thor and Sif looked over at the sound of conversation and my uncle just narrowed his eyes a little. Loki, that troublemaker, said perhaps I should demonstrate the abilities of Midgardian women, and one of the pig Asgardians pushed himself off the wall and said he wouldn't mind showing me my place. Thor inhaled preparatory to a bellow, but Sif laid a hand on his arm and said she wouldn't mind seeing this. Feeling like I had something to prove, I moved the mats off the stone floor and piled them to the side. Uncle Bucky helped, and made the stipulation that the bout would be over when he said so. The guard smirked, assuming that the direction was for my benefit. I shook out my hands--I had wraps on but not boxing gloves-- and stood ready for the guard.

The thing about the Asgardians is that they think their size is all. Don't get me wrong, it was work to fight them, but it wasn't as hard as you'd think it should be. And their toughness was nice for me--I could throw everything I had against them and not worry about the damage. I had a fun moment where I kicked the guy in the gut. It wasn't quite a "This is Sparta!" moment, but really quite satisfying. The damage was overall pretty minimal. Except when the guy grabbed my braid and swung me around with it; my next blow broke his nose. Oops. And then I brought down my heel on his Achilles, a favorite move of mine, and finished it with a blow to the groin when he staggered. That was an approach I agreed with my aunt whole-heartedly. The guard collapsed to the ground, not sure whether to clutch his nuts or his nose, and Bucky immediately halted the bout. I spat out my mouthguard--I hadn't needed it this bout, but there's no point in taking chances--and asked if the other guard wanted to try his luck.