Learning the Oberhau

1587-10-25
Hermit’s Clearing, Blackwood

Dawn found me awake and empty of song. The hermit passed me a length of ash and watched how I stood. He named the first strike the over-hew, descending from high to low, and set my feet before he let me move.

Hips first. Then shoulders. Hands last. The line fell through the center and the point did not wander. He tapped my forearm when I muscled the cut and let the silence correct me when I did not.

We worked in slow time. He stepped in with a branch and I met him on the center line, blade between us, weight under me. When I reached he stopped me. When I crowded he said nothing and the measure said enough.

Between sets he spoke of old books whose plates I could recite but had never felt. He would not name Lychenar, yet the verse was there in how he breathed before he moved.

By noon my arms trembled. The clearing held its quiet and a far tower beat the hour like a metronome under the pines. I wrote what I could remember:

• heel before hand
• hips turn, hands follow
• cut through the man, recover to guard
• keep the center, keep the rest

The ache is good. The line is cleaner than when I began.