Syrion Forel: You are late, boy. Tomorrow you
will be here at midday.
Arya Stark: Who are you?
Syrion Forel: Your dancing master, Syrio Forel. Tomorrow you will catch it. Now pick it up. That is not the way, boy. This is not a great sword that is needing two hands to swing it.
Arya Stark: It's too heavy.
Syrion Forel: It is heavy as it
needs to be to make you strong. Just so. One hand is all that is needed. Now
you are standing all wrong. Turn your body side face. So. You are skinny. That
is good. The target is smaller. Now the grip... Let me see. The grip must be
delicate.
Arya Stark: What if I drop it?
Syrion Forel: The steel must be part of your arm. Can you drop part of your arm? No. Nine years Syrio Forel was first sword to the Sealord of Braavos. He knows these things. You must listen to me, boy.
Arya Stark: I'm a girl.
Syrion Forel: Boy, girl... You are a sword, that is all. That is the grip. You are not holding a battle-axe. You are holding...
Arya Stark: a
needle.
Syrion Forel: Just
so. Now we will begin the dance. Remember, child,
this is not the dance of the Westeros we are learning... the knight's dance, hacking and hammering. This is the Bravo's dance...the water dance. It is swift and sudden. All men are made of water, do you know this? If you pierce them, the water leaks out and they die. Now you will try to strike me. Up! Dead. Dead. Very dead. Come. Again, faster.
this is not the dance of the Westeros we are learning... the knight's dance, hacking and hammering. This is the Bravo's dance...the water dance. It is swift and sudden. All men are made of water, do you know this? If you pierce them, the water leaks out and they die. Now you will try to strike me. Up! Dead. Dead. Very dead. Come. Again, faster.