Turin ran up the paths of Menegroth, weaving in and out of the crowds of elves moving along,
He had woken in his Talan to find a note from Thingol pinned to the trunk of the tree that he was residing in. It said for him to meet in the central training area fifteen minutes before the time that he woke up.
His foster father rarely called for him, and he hadn't been in the training area since he was ten, the note he received was neatly written out by a scribe and was stamped with the elaborate seal of the king.
Dripping with importance, Turin felt the need to make an effort this one time.
Finally he reaching his destination, he saw that he was not the only to be summoned, but he was the only one not standing at perfect attention.
Thingol looked at him reprovingly,
"You are late foster-son, did you not receive prior warning from your friends?"
"No Lord." replied Turin, glancing down the line at Mablung who was staring apologetically at him and Beleg who seemed none too happy with whatever the were doing.
"As I was saying," continued the elf lord, "Today is simple, the course is thirty leagues, whoever returns before nightfall passes, things get more challenging tomorrow."
Thingol left, taking the hand of Melian and the two left the soldiers.
"What's going on?" asked Turin
The moment that Thingol turned around most took off into the trees.
"It's our annual physical." answered Mablung, taking off at a light jog closely followed by Beleg and Turin.
"What?" Turin was unaware that such a thing existed, "but I've been doing this for years without having to do this."
"It's actually every one of our years, every Yen that is."
"So every 144 years?" confirmed Turin
"Right." answered Mablung
"I'm living here in a great part of the century." grumbled Turin
"On the up side," grinned Beleg, "Mablung actually has to do some work."
"Hey," started the Heavy Hand, "I not only took part of the Hunting of the Wolf,"
"In which you hid behind a bush," shot Beleg
Mablung ignored the archer and continues, "and I was part of the Battle of Unnumbered tears"
"Okay," Beleg coaxed, "every few years you do something heroic, but face it, your day to day life is quite laid back."
Mablung looked affronted, "being the chief errand runner of Thingol is no easy job!"
"You're the only errand runner of Thingol," pointed out Turin, "and fetching him milk isn't exactly a tiring job."
Though they were at the end of the procession of running soldiers and practically walking, Mablung was completely worn out before long.
"This...is...insane...I...can't...go on..."
Beleg grinned at the heavy hand and triumphantly heaved up his friend who collapsed on the forest floor, "I told you you were getting flabby, come on Mablung, we leave no man behind."
Turin seemed a skeptical, "Mablung, it really hasn't been too long a jog."
Mablung looked a little disbelieving,
Turin however checked the map that they were given, "it hasn't been a quarter of a league, geez Mablung, elves are supposed to have this insane endurance."
Mablung was completely spent, leaning heavily on Beleg, he didn't look like he was running anywhere.
"You guys'll have to carry me."
Beleg dropped him friend and whirled around, "What?"
Turin was considering the idea, "Well we can't leave him here to get eaten by squirrels, and he's in no shape to run..."
Beleg was not amused, "Turin, you can't seriously be..."
The Strongbow noted the mischievous gleam in his friend's eye and saw him take out a long piece of rope.
"You know what Turin, I agree, we ought to pay Mablung back for that time in the sub-tal"
Mablung wasn't liking the maniacal note in his friend's voices, "Guys, it's okay I can run..."
"No," said Turin smirking, "we'll take you with us, hold onto this."
Turin tossed one end of the rope to Mablung who caught it by instinct.
"Rhiach, I shouldn't have done that..." muttered Mablung,
Both Beleg and Turin and their hands on an end of the rope, Mablung, holding onto it in the middle, and immediately the two at either end sprinted off, with Mablung clinging on for dear life.