A/N: I don't own anything. Never have and never will. Please R&R
Ada--father
My Little Fighter: prologue: Eager Little Fighter
The clash of swords rang throughout the courtyard of the White City. The sun beamed brightly, bouncing off the white stone making the city shimmer in the light. It was a beautiful day in the prosperous city. The sun shone down on father and son sparring with each other.
King Aragorn, lord of Gondor, was testing his son's battle skills. Eldarion was losing miserably to his father. He hadn't practiced like he was told to. He wasn't ready for the test. Aragorn could see this.
Eldarion successfully blocked a few strikes, but one surprise swing from the left had him up against the courtyard wall. He dropped his sword, surrendering. He looked up at his ada's disappointed face. "You haven't been practicing," Aragorn said.
Eldarion smiled innocently. "I didn't…have time?" He said, though he more asked it. He had no hope that his father would believe the answer.
"Or you didn't want to?" Aragorn asked, sheathing his sword.
"Maybe that one," Eldarion muttered as he picked up his sword.
"That's what I thought," Aragorn said. "What were you up to then?" Aragorn knew his son didn't like fighting. He believed there was no use for it, but sword fighting is a skill he needs, whether he likes it or not.
Before Eldarion could answer there came a small voice from across the courtyard. "Ada!" Aragorn turned to see his youngest running toward him. He bent down as the little girl ran into his arms. He scooped her up, kissing her cheek.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked her.
"I wanna fight too!" she said.
Aragorn chuckled. "Maethoriel, you are much too young," He said to the five-year old.
"So? I wanna!" She whined.
"When you're older," Aragorn said, motioning for his son to follow him inside.
"What about now? I'm older now," She said hopefully.
"No. In a few years time," he said.
"But that's forever away!" She complained, laying her head on her ada's shoulder.
Aragorn chuckled. "You're an eager little fighter aren't you?" Maethoriel giggled and nodded.
She had always been a fighter, and Aragorn knew she always will be. She was the smallest of all his children. She had come too soon. She was much too small when she came into the world. The little girl had fought many illnesses over her five years of life. The only time she escaped illness was on summer days, though one illness lurked with her. It always had and it always would. When she wasn't sick in bed, when Maethoriel would play too hard, her breathing would become scarce and shallow. These attacks would become very frequent during the summer months. She always had to be watched. And that was one of her problems.
She always wanted to do things too big for her. She was unlike her older siblings. Eldarion and her two sisters were quite content with doing things the right size for them. They never wanted to do anything big. They were quite lazy.
Inside the throne room Arwen stood with their other two daughters. Falathiel, the eldest daughter looked relieved to see her father carrying her sister. "There you are!" She exclaimed to her sister.
"We were looking all over for you," Miriel added.
"Did you escape from your room again?" Aragorn asked the little one.
Giggling, Maethoriel nodded. "She gets that from you," Arwen said taking her daughter from her husband. "I see you didn't want to take your nap."
"I don't like naps," Maethoriel said.
"I can see that," Arwen muttered. The child really was a handful at times.
Please review. I do enjoy reviews. They make me happy.