Idea popped into my head after purchasing my third sword (which came today - YAY!), and I decided to run with it.
I don't own anything - Dreamworks does, and Mr. Joyce.
Hope you enjoy, and please review! Check out my profile for other Rise of the Guardians stories :)
"Um, North? I don't think this is a very good idea."
"Bah!" North waves a hand dismissively. "Is very good idea!"
Jack rolls his staff between his fingers. "I'm never going to use it, North. I have my staff."
North turns on his heel and points a finger at him. "Ah! But what if staff is lost? Or broken?" He counters.
Jack doesn't really have an argument for that. North grins smugly, and points to the wall.
Jack gazes upon the wall of swords. He finds it highly concerning that a person, and a Guardian of all people, could have a wall set up of over a dozen swords. Since North's demonstration of a few of them, he's wary of what exactly these weapons are capable of.
One catches his eye, a little off to the left on the third row. Simple, easy, without all the complicated gadgets North had put on to 'improve' the weapons. "That one."
North blinks. "That one? Why not this one?" He points to a gaudy one with a gilded handle – he presses the end of the hilt, and a burst of blue fire shoots out of it.
Jack pales. "Er, no thanks. Let's go with the plain one for now."
North shrugs, and reaches up for the plain sword. "Suit yourself."
The sword is handed to him, and he drops it almost immediately. It's a heck of a lot heavier than his staff. "Ow." He says, shaking his hand from the burn the leather caused as it left his skin.
North chuckles. "Is heavy, no?"
Jack nods, eying the man's thick arms and then his own thin ones. "Do you have anything lighter?"
"Hm." North hums, putting his hand to his chin as he looks at the wall. "Is one, but is not special."
"Not special is fine." Jack says quickly. He didn't really want his fingers burned off or electrocuted, thank you very much.
North looks at the wall again. "Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait! I have it!" He turns, running almost directly into Jack, and heads for his study. "Wait here!"
"Um, okay?" Jack calls back as the door to the study is wrenched open. He hears things being opened and tossed to the floor, and watches as a bouncy ball rolls out the door and down into the workshop.
A moment later, North emerges with a long bundle of blankets in his arms. "Come, I must show you."
He leads Jack back to the sword area, and lays the bundle on a table. Gingerly, he peels the blankets aside. In the middle is a slender sword in a simple leather sheath. The metal is some sort of white-silver combination, and the hilt almost glows.
Jack extends his hand to pick it up, but retracts it, feeling like he'd hurt it.
"Man in Moon gave to me. Have not used in years." North explains, as he chuckles. "Was much younger, then. And skinnier." He looks at the blade lovingly. "Was saving for child that never came." He glances at Jack. "You try."
Jack looks at him for a minute before reaching for the hilt and picking it up gently. It's light – much lighter than the other one, and possibly lighter than his staff. The sheath comes off easily, with a slight 'shing' sound as it does so. "Huh." He says, because he can't really think of anything else to say.
North gestures to one of the dummies in the room. "Try."
It's as if the sword is pulling him toward the fake Nightmare. He follows its directions, and feels his arm swing ever so slightly. The top half of the Nightmare falls to the floor and dissolves into black sand.
North's booming laugh echoes in the room as he looks at Jack's stunned face. "You are natural!"
"It was the sword, not me!" Jack tries to explain, and North puts a hand on his shoulder.
"I know. It did same with me. Was best in world – with sword, I was better than best." He grins. "Sword will make you from bad to all right."
"Gee thanks." Jack mumbles dryly, getting another chuckle out of the large-bellied man.
He slices the head off of another dummy, the sword directing his arm and his movements.
The word is repeated over and over, until he's sweating in his hoodie (something he never knew he could do) and North is looking at him approvingly.
"Better. Much better." He says.
"Thanks." Jack pants, and attempts to hand the sword back.
North shakes his head. "It is yours."
"I thought you said you were giving it to your kid?"
The corner of North's lips quirks up. "True. You are like son to me, Jack. You deserve the sword more than anyone else."
Jack can't really come up with anything aside from "Wow, thanks." He pauses before asking, "Do I have to say something sappy too?"
North's laughter is deafening, and Jack smiles, truly smiles, for the first time in a very long time.