Chapter 3: Capture the flag

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The next few days the routine was almost normal. Each morning Percy took Ancient Greek from from me, and we talked about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which was kind of weird. We worked on helping Percy understand greek fter a couple of mornings, he could stumble through a few lines of Homer without too much headache.

The rest of the day, hed rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something he was good at. Chiron tried to teach him archery, but we found out pretty quick he wasn’t any good with a bow and arrow. Chiron even got an arrow to the tail. Foot racing? No good either. And wrestling? Forget it. Every time the poor boy got on the mat, Clarisse would pulverize him. “There’s more where that came from, punk,” she’d threaten him.

The only thing he really excelled at was canoeing, and that wasn’t the kind of heroic skill people expected to see from the kid who had beaten the Minotaur. The senior campers and counselors were watching me, trying to decide who his dad was, but they weren’t having an easy time of it. He wasn’t as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids. He didn’t have Hephaestus’s skill with metalwork or—gods forbid—Dionysus’s way with vine plants. Luke told him he might be a child of Hermes, a kind of jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I got the feeling he was just trying to make Percy feel better. He really didn’t know what to make of him either.

Thursday afternoon, three days after Percy arrived at Camp Half-Blood, We had his first sword-fighting lesson. Everybody from cabin eleven gathered in the big circular arena, where Luke would be our instructor. We started with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor. I guess Percy did okay. The problem was, He  couldn’t seem find a blade that felt right in his hands. Saying either they were too heavy, or too light, or too long. Luke tried his best to fix him up, but he agreed that none of the practice blades seemed to work for Percy.

We moved on to dueling in pairs. Luke announced he would be Percy’s partner, since this was his first time.“Good luck,” one of the campers says. “Luke’s the best swordsman in the last three hundred years.” I roll my eyes. Luke isn't all that he's good, yeah but not the best in 300 years.

“Maybe he’ll go easy on me,” Percy says hopefully  The camper snorted.

Luke showed him thrusts and parries and shield blocks the hard way. With every swipe, he got a little more battered and bruised. And im getting more concerned but he has to learn the hard way.

“Keep your guard up,Percy,” he’d say, then whap him in the ribs with the flat of his blade. “No, not that far up!” Whap! “Lunge!” Whap! “Now, back!” Whap! By the time he called a break, Percy was soaked in sweat. Everybody swarmed the drinks cooler. Luke poured ice water on his head, and Percy did the same.
Instantly, he looked better. The sword
didn’t look so awkward. Right around then I realize exactly who his dad has to be, but i keep my mouth shut its not everyone's business.

“Okay, everybody circle up!” Luke ordered. “If Percy doesn’t mind, I want to give you a little demo.”Great, I thought. Let’s all watch Percy get pounded. The Hermes guys gathered around. They were suppressing smiles. They’d been in his  shoes before and couldn’t wait to see how Luke used Percy for a punching bag. He told everybody he was going to demonstrate a disarming technique: how to twist the enemy’s blade with the flat of your own sword so that he had no choice but to drop his weapon.

“This is difficult,” he stressed. “I’ve had it used against me. No laughing at Percy, now. Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique.” He demonstrated the move on him in slow motion. Sure enough, the sword
clattered out of his hand.

“Now in real time,” he said, after Percy retrieved my weapon. “We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Percy?”

He nodded, and Luke came after him. Somehow, he kept him from getting a shot at the hilt of his sword. He countered. He stepped forward and tried a thrust of his own. Luke deflected it easily, but I saw a change in his face. His eyes narrowed, and he started to
press him with more force. The sword seemed to grow heavy in his hand. The balance wasn’t right. I knew it was only a matter of seconds before Luke took him down. Then he tried the disarming maneuver. His blade hit the base of Luke’s and he twisted, putting his whole weight into a downward thrust.

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