091 – Steven Gets Fitted

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 122

We got back on the local Sunday, and none of the shops was open. It was just as well. Rox and I both crashed, hard. So now on the local Monday, we are back in business. Rox is going to her outfitter and magic lessons. I am going to see my outfitter. I have been told that my once-only escort has refused to participate, so I get to go on my own

I wonder how much of a mess we will find on Earth, once we finally get back.

The Mundrl's Outfitters shop smelled of properly cured leathers, layered with tallow from the candles, and a few other scents mingling through. Rolls of fabric and other materials were stacked in shelves that were fresh since his last visit.

Steven had been here long enough to be familiar with the height difference, but he was still a bit uneasy with being the shortest in the room, rather than the tallest. As he walked into the back he passed Master Mundrl helping a customer, both of whom Steven only came to mid-chest on.

In the back room, the boy-elf quickly pulled the box of Steven’s stuff from under the table, and put it on one corner as Steven began unpacking his new stuff which Rox had packed for him. In the top of the pack he found the new gi, it was set aside. Next were a new set of boots, and at the bottom among the replacement toys he found a surprise.

Steven pulled the gun out of the bag and unholstered it, instinctively pointing it in a safe direction. He thumbed the magazine release, dropping the magazine on the table. It was empty. Then he racked the slide, locking the gun open. Nothing came out. It was as empty as when he had put it away when he last handled it. He put the empty open gun back partway into the holster, and set it a bit into the middle of the table. Next he got out the magazine pouch, removed both magazines, and found them empty. In the bottom of the bag, were 2 boxes of ‘carry’ ammo, one full, one partially. These were put next to the gun with the 3 magazines and pouch.

Master Mundrl had entered while Steven was checking the gun, and stood by waiting as Steven finished sorting things. The elf had what looked like a glass disk the size of a quarter on a choker, and a funny earring in his hand. He held these out to Steven.

Steven looked them over, and then tied the choker on centering the disk over his throat. The earring fit more like a single earphone, with a loop of wire that held it to his ear. Master Mundrl adjusted it slightly.

“Now, how well perceive you speech mine?”

Master Mundrl looked what Steven had picked up as questioning. It took Steven a moment to process what he had heard. His right ear with the earphone heard English. His left heard the native elf language.

“I think I understood what you said.”

Steven heard three sets of words; English in his right ear; the native human language that Caspian had taught and magically arranged for him to use as his primary language in his left; and then in a flatter tone, words in the elf language. The disk at his throat vibrated a bit at this. Steven put his hand to it.

“The quick red fox jumps over the lazy brown dog.” This time he made a conscious effort to speak English. There was a slight delay, and then the disk vibrated, emitting more elvish words, which the thing in his ear retranslated. As the day went on, Steven realized that the elf language used conjugated verbs, and their grammar put the modifier before the modified word.

“Interesting.” Steven looked up at the elf, consciously staying in English. “It’s like a little speaker.”

Master Mundrl waved it off. “They should help us to communicate.” He pointed at the gun. “What is that?”

“This is a handgun. A weapon from my own world. Caspian told me not to bring it, the first time. My wife slipped it in this time.”

The elf reached for it, questioningly. “I have not seen a gun in almost two hundred years. May I?”

Steven unholstered the pistol, and handed it over butt first.

“The design from your world has changed. Does it still use chemical powder?”

The gun looked like a toy in the elf’s large nimble hands. Steven extracted a round from one of the boxes, and held it up taking the gun back.

“This ammunition uses a smokeless powder that is ignited by a percussion strike on the primer.”

The elf turned the copper-jacketed hollow-pointed round over in his fingers.

“It is much more efficient than black powder, and less messy.” Steven took the proffered round back and put it back in its box, which was set back aside.

The Master elf looked over the pile of stuff, and looked at Steven.

“I have updated instructions, to outfit you as one of us. But I doubt that would prove practical for you. So. Take from all that is here, and dress as you would. From there I will design and adjust.”

Steven looked over the pile and his box of stuff, then began. He hesitated, then put the holstered gun and magazine pouches on his belt along with all else. He then put his new vest on, and called the Master's attention.

“This holster is designed to be carried under ones outer clothes. I would prefer it to be in this same position on my belt, or forward to the side of my hip on the vest. But this vest is not set up to carry a gun. I did not think I would be bringing one, so I did not bring a vest to carry one.”

Next his vest pack was filled, or the empty pockets designated for their intended cargo. The bag of crossbow bolts was hung from the vest belt. Finally the detachable backpack with one water bladder filled, a second designated, and his bedroll attached, was secured to the vest. The vest was put aside and Steven put his great coat on, then the vest was put back over the great coat. Then the ‘new’ sword belt wrapped around, and the sheath hung. The King’s Sword put in, noticeably loose. The spare water skins were left aside, the crossbow was shouldered, and Steven turned to the elf.

“Good. Now, how do you move when you fight?”

Master Mundrl’s son approached Steven, being closer to Steven’s height than his father. The boy had a set of wood swords, which he set on the table. They stepped into the open part of the room.

Master Mundrl spoke as they moved. “I’m vaguely familiar with your ‘tournament rules.’ If you would abide them, and fight my son?”

Steven shrugged. “O.k. That’s actually what the gi is for. But this way is just as well.”

Steven did not bother to warn up or stretch. He had learned the hard way in the Corps that in most real fights you do not get the time to warm up. In rapid succession he ran through a series of full range attacks and defenses for hand fighting, and then as the boy recovered from the first barrage, Steven put the crossbow aside on the table. It had been a while since Steven had fought with a pack on, but it did not prove a burden.

The older elf watched intently as Steven hit and kicked at the boy, who was doing all he could to defend himself.

Then the older elf handed the wood swords to them, and took The Kings sword aside after Steven unsheathed it. Steven had never been more than a passable fencer. But he could handle a sword with some increasing skill. And as before, the whole point of the exercise was range of movement in his costume, and not to defeat this particular opponent. Steven felt quite warm when finished, and remembered the gi.

“That other costume I have there, that is my practice outfit. With it, I could show you my full range of motion.”

“Very well.”

Steven shucked the vest-pack, untangled the sword belt, and put it down. Pulled his great coat and shirt off and put on the gi top. Then pulled his boots and socks off, and put aside his trousers and donned the gi trousers. Steven then stretched a bit. He put aside the ear piece and choker. The youth could sense a change in Steven’s demeanor as he approached. The playfulness had left his face, and a steady focus replaced it.

Steven quickly learned that the boy did not really know tournament rules. Or that much about melee fighting, until they retrieved the sticks again. Then it was all Steven could do to hold onto his. They found an acceptable conclusion with Steven having caught the youth’s sword, breaking his own, and knocking the boy’s wind out with a solar plexus strike. Both were sweaty and out of breath, and more than slightly bruised.

The elder elf was applauding in satisfaction. The younger elf stepped aside, shacking his hands. Steven put the jewelry back on, still huffing.

“He’s good.”

“Thank you. We prefer armed arts to hand fighting. Having watched you, I ask, would you like a pair of gloves?”

“In the Corps, I always wore a pair of gloves that had the fingers removed below the first knuckle. Unless it was cold weather. Not everyone did, that was just my habit. Then I had a shooters mitten with one finger exposed and piece that pulled over. But since then, all I’ve used was standard gloves for warmth, which I would remove when shooting.” Steven motioned over his hands as he spoke.

“Would you like some gloves?”

“Yes, but before you measure, I think it best to let the swelling subside.” Steven shook his throbbing hands.

The adult elf pulled a stone about the size of a flat baseball from a nearby box. He deliberately dropped it on the table then picked it up and handed it to Steven. “Hold on to this.”

The stone throbbed and vibrated at a high frequency. For a few moments, it was all Steven could do to grip it.

“That vibrates at a very high frequency. I use it to smooth large sheets out, but it also helps bruises, by allowing everything to circulate, rather than settle. My grand-sire uses one for his arthritic hands.”

Steven wrapped both hands around the flat stone. The sensation of it was a new one to him, but quickly his hands loosened up, almost back to normal, and the swelling diminished.

In the mean time the boy had disappeared, as had bits of Steven’s stuff. Specifically his spare BDU trousers, belt, and both vests, the new one having been emptied first.

“Those were taken to be disassembled for use as a pattern,” Master Mundrl explained. “They already fit, so there is no point in measuring anew.”

Steven nodded. “So I just wait here?” He worked the vibrating stone over the backs of his hands and forearms as he leaned against the table.

“Yes. Much of your stuff, there is no use in replacing. But some of it, we can provide native replacements. If nothing else, it will attract less attention.”

A few moments later, an elf woman came in with several cuts of material draped over her arms. Steven recognized some as pieces of his trousers.

“Stand on the platform please.” She motioned to the raised part of the floor. “And remove your trousers, unless you will be wearing them as an under-layer.”

Steven left his gi trousers on the table, stood on the platform, and got a taste of what happened to Roxanne as a small cadre of elfin craftsmen and women worked over his costume.

‘Fortunately,’ Steven thought to himself ‘mine is only a replacement, not a new wardrobe.’

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� c�� �own with you, but I won’t let you get me in any trouble.” Ron looked a bit icy at this.

“My cover is as a ‘detective’. Does that mean that I can go in and talk to Steven? With my assistant?” He looked at Roxanne as said this.

“Don’t see why not, but I have nothing to do with this.”

Rox cut off Caspian’s response. “Fair enough. Do you know just where my husband is?” She bit off the rest of her question.

Ron put his pad down. “I’m probably going to need to ask when I get there. May I presume that you want to retain me to defend your husband, Mrs. Caplan?”

“Mr. Scalegi, I want you to defend my husband, Steven Caplan, against whatever charges he will face. My husband may have another Lawyer in mind to help, but that can be dealt with later. Also I believe Judge Kevan can put you in contact with my mother, who is a business lawyer in the Bay Area, if needed.” Rox was ready to do about anything.

“Very well. I will do so. First, I’m going to make some phone calls. Then I will head down to see your husband in person.” Ron stood up.

Caspian and Rox followed suit, and Cyrril jumped from the back of the couch to Caspian’s shoulder. They all shook hands and Rox and Caspian left the office. Once into the foyer and going down the stairs and across the parking lot outside, the unspoken question was asked by Caspian.

“So, what are we going to do? Our window closes within the next day.”

Roxanne climbed into her truck, and started toward the closest mall as she answered. “I think I need a suit. And we need brief cases. We have to get Steven out of there. The legal stuff can wait. The elves won’t.”

They drove to the mall, and Caspian got a taste of how to shop fast.