A/N: I've had the first half of this written for sometime, I took time to see if I could length it…my co-author of this story BoL always seems to churn out such long chapters for you, but I struggle to do so when she gives me free reign of where the story goes next…yep, we don't have a story plan! We're just kinda making it up as we go along.
Anyhow, here it is- Enjoy!
"Hot damn!" I whispered, vaguely aware that Rhiannon had said much the same but louder.
I watched with growing interest, my eyes wide and my heart beating fast, as Elrond and Gil-galad fought. Gil-galad wielded his magnificent spear, Aeglos, with such accuracy that if Elrond had been a lesser opponent it would have been lethal. Elrond parried expertly with a beautiful Elven sword.
But that wasn't what had got my attention. It was the fact that both of the Elves before us had removed their shirts and tunics to fight…they did not even wear shoes. It seemed that the only piece of clothing the combatants wore to satisfy propriety and dignity, were a pair of dark blue breeches.
Gil-galad was perfect, in every sense in the word. I have argued many a time what is or isn't 'perfect'; Rhiannon and I agreed that perfection is defined differently by each person. Meaning that each person has a different list of qualities that can make something perfect. Well, Gil-galad filled my criteria for 'perfect'. Those deep blue eyes; rich, smooth voice, that could be so gentle and affectionate, and yet at other times firm and commanding; the well-muscled torso, glistening with sweat…what I wouldn't give to…
I'm babbling again, aren't I? I'm sure you really wouldn't want to know any more details about...um…well, let's be honest and call it 'my obsession with Gil-galad'. But if it were you, You'd feel just the same way. My cheeks must have been so red…
Gil-galad glanced in our direction, and I met his gaze for a moment as he parried Elrond's slashing sword. His concentration was quickly back on the fight and suddenly he took the role of the aggressor, disarming Elrond and ending the contest. His breathing was hard as he and Elrond rested a moment, before giving Elrond a quick nod. A young dark-haired elf ran into the small arena and handed both Elf-lords a goblet of water.
Gil-galad drained it quickly and then headed over to where Glorfindel, Rhiannon and I awaited him. His eyes were on me the whole time, though at the time I was blushing furiously and hoping that I wasn't going to sound half as dumb as I was anticipating…now, I look back on it with a smug smile. I had him enraptured!
"You seem to be more comfortable within the garb of the Elves, Anórmír," Gil-galad said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Thank you, my Lord," I replied, feeling somewhat grateful that I was modestly clothed this time that I saw him. I kept my gaze down cast, looking up every now and again at his face to let him know that I was listening…and also to glance at his well-muscled broad chest. Well, hey! It was at my eye height. *sigh* Gil-galad is gorgeous beyond compare…
"Lord Gildor, as I'm sure you have both gathered, is your instructor, though I understand he wishes to see how much you already know of the sword," Gil-galad informed me…and Rhiannon, but Gil-galad's eyes only left my face briefly to look at my sister.
"Captain Dúmassë, Sergeant Lichmé," Gildor summoned, as Gil-galad stepped aside; Rhiannon and I took some nervous steps into the practice ring. The ring didn't have any fences around it- but the gathering of people watching and waiting for their turn marked the space of the arena beyond question.
The Captain and his equally arrogant fellow marched into the middle of the circle, neither hiding their sneering grins.
"Even if we lose," I muttered quietly to Rhiannon. "I don't care- so long as we wipe those smirks off their ugly faces." Evil gits…what the hell were they doing on our side?
Rhiannon gave me a sideward glance to acknowledge that she had heard and barely perceptible nod. With more confidence than I could ever muster, she strode up to them.
I followed her a few steps behind. Rhiannon had told me how to hold it before orcs attacked us- you know, just before we got 'captured' again- but she'd pretty much left me to figure out how to block and slash. I hoped I did not make a complete fool of myself. Without swords, I'd be fine. I'm quite good at kicking and punching. Back home, most guys found me offensive- hell, a lot of the men here find me offensive- but I don't think it's necessarily because of my attitude. It more has to do with the fact that I'm tall and broad shouldered…I was made for this sort of stuff, really. I could've done without the broad hips though. I find it almost insulting to think that I was primarily made for childbirth. Why me?
Okay, okay…back to the story.
Dumbass attacked me without warning but for gritting his teeth. "Take that you promiscuous wench," he hissed at me.
I easily parried. Either anger was making his moves slow and awkward, or he was just a really crappy fighter. "If you think that I am the only one who heard that comment, you are badly mistaken," I replied mockingly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sergeant Lick-me and Rhiannon have a much swifter paced battle. "An Elf's hearing is far better than a mere mortal, such as yourself, would realise."
He broke off and then lunged, hollering. I stepped aside and whacked his back with the flat of my sword. I couldn't help grinning. This was more fun that I'd thought!
Captain Dumbass obviously felt rather insulted by that, and his next flurry of offensive moves were more swift and calculated. I struggled a little, but managed to defend myself well enough.
After several attacks like this, I realised that Rhiannon was standing triumphantly to one side, and Sergeant Lick-me was scowling.
How embarrassing. Not only was I no good at this, and people were watching…but now their focus was drawn completely to my ability to take out Dumbass. Or rather, my ability not to. It was not going well. I couldn't attack him in any way that he couldn't counter, and I knew how bad I looked making such attempts. I had strength, but no skill. Not good…
Eventually he tried an overhead chop and I got sick of the whole business. I dropped my sword and grasped his arms to stop the sword crashing down on my head. I kneed him in his already-tender tender parts and stepped out of the way as he doubled over in horrific pain. I kicked his hand, still loosely grasping his sword. He dropped the sword and pulled his hand closer. Pissed off for a reason I couldn't quite determine- was it because I was humiliated in front of so many people? Either way, I knew Dumbass was the cause of my irritation; I punched his head. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on whose side you're on, my knuckle hit his temple and Captain Dumbass went down like a light.
As I said before, I have a great deal of strength and little to no skill at all, but add anger to the equation and that's a lethal combination. You might have realised by now, that whatever you might think of me, I am not someone to be trifled with.
I didn't bother to check if he was alive or not, just picked up my sword and I headed over to where Rhiannon was. I raised an eyebrow, indicating that I knew she wanted to say something and that she had better say it out loud.
She smirked. "I never liked him anyway."
Gildor came over to me, looking somewhat put off. "Was that really necessary, Anórmír?"
I pretended to think it over. "Yes, I believe it was. You wanted to know how good we were with a sword. The first time I picked a sword up was two days ago, so as you saw, I have very little with it. I did wish to make sure you knew however, that I was no totally defenceless and can hold my own, if necessary." I replied coolly. I was not in a good mood.
Gildor seemed to take this in and calm down somewhat. "We will work on that-"
A blast of a horn sounded, and many others joined in its call.
"The orcs are coming! Prepare for attack! Get to your positions!" Elrond ordered in a loud voice from beside Gil-galad.
"And what are our positions?" I asked, but only Rhiannon heard.
She shrugged. "Who knows? But I've noticed that in war, everybody ends up jumbled and confused anyway, so if we were to join in..." She grinned widely.
I grinned back. "Normally I wouldn't like this- but I'm feeling rather peevish at the moment- and I could do with the practice."
Rhiannon stared at me strangely. "What the hell did they put in your armour? Or is it the undies giving you a wedge…Or that insult about 'wench' or something. I know it made me furious and it hadn't even been directed at me…"
You may have noticed that Rhiannon has the unique about of letting her mouth wander- I mean, in the talking sense- when she's unsure about something. In this case, me.
"Or PMS? Hold on- can Elves get PMS? And is it monthly?"
I raised my eyebrows at her, hoping she'd get the message; she was babbling and wasting our precious time, if we wanted to get to the battle already.
She caught my look, but misinterpreted. "No, seriously!" she added. "This is something we've got to find out about later. Think of it. Imoortal creatures that, from the look of things, don't breed all that often because of length of existence…"
I sighed impatiently.
Rhiannon continued on. "I mean, what use would they have for menstruating once a month? To us, that'd be like bleeding every day of the year! It would be madness, and every Elf-maiden out there would be in a state of permanent annoyance because of it."
But isn't that what PMS stands for? Permanent menstrual syndrome? I had to admit, Rhiannon did have a point; but now really wasn't the time to contemplate the workings of sexual reproduction for Elves. Presumably, there was no end to when an Elf-maiden could have children – unlike human women, who go through menopause anytime between 45-65 years of age – so it would seem a bit mean for it to come so often…and then there was the issue of sex. From what I gathered, Elves lose the inclination for it after sometime…what, so they just get bored with it??
"Eru has to have come up with a better set up than that for the female Elves. Either way…it lays out some pretty nice prospects for us. Maybe they follow the Moon, but the entire lunar cycle, which is 19 years long. That said, what would the-"
"Rhiannon!" I snapped, finally getting tired of her mindless dribbling of crap.
"What?" she blinked as though she hadn't realised my growing irritation.
"Battle? Orcs? Great amounts of bloody death and carnage coming our way?" I reminded her.
"Oh. Right."
"We can discuss the how, where and what-not's of Elven puberty, reproduction and sex later."
"Ok."
We were about to head off in the direction that everybody else seemed to have rushed off to- the clash of steel on steel and much noise made it clear where the battle was being had- when we were stopped.
"Where do you think you go at this time?" an all-too familiar voice asked. Rhiannon looked ready to melt.
I look at him as though he were stupid. "Would you care to take a guess?" I skipped the formality, partly because I'm not comfortable using it, partly because Glorfindel was interfering with our plans.
"You are not yet ready to join the battalions," he stated flatly, clearly as unimpressed with our antics and we- well, me at least- of him. Rhiannon looked ready to throw him on the ground and ravage him then and there. I had to admit, Glorfindel wasn't too bad looking in his armour. But somehow I think Rhiannon might've had problems getting it off. She never seems to pay attention when Glorfy is our instructor for something.
"You need everybody you can get!" Rhiannon retorted hotly, forgetting her fixation on Glorfy for a moment. I don't know why we were in such a temper, but we were and it showed.
"We need you both alive!" Glorfindel countered sternly. "Get yourselves away from the battle- to the tent you were in before when I showed you how to put your armour on."
Rhiannon opened her mouth to say something, but I had an idea. "Don't, Rhiannon. Lord Glorfindel is right. I know where the tent is. Let's go." I pulled Rhiannon away in the general direction of the tent from which we had come earlier.
Unfortunately, Glorfindel must have heard more of our conversation that we'd realised or he'd gotten to know just how good at evading orders we were; he escorted us all the way to the tent. I'd hoped that he would be fooled and that the raging battle would have been his first priority, leaving us and going to make his way to wherever he was supposed to be right now, but apparently two Elf-maidens were more important than a war that needed everybody to be in the right place at the right time. That irritated me just a little, but if I was going to maintain my innocence- One does owe a certain amount of loyalty to One's acts and lies- then I would have to go by what Glorfindel insisted.
When we reached the tent, Glorfindel pulled back the flap and turned to us with an expression that spoke all too clearly that any arguments would not be accepted.
Rhiannon baulked and I found myself in the position of having to step round her to perform my act of obedience. I glanced over at my shoulder to see Glorfindel look her sternly in the eye and say to Rhiannon, "Get into the tent, Minaimîr."
Rhiannon lowered her gaze and meekly stepped into the tent behind me. I couldn't believe she'd actually taken orders from someone…I don't order, Rhiannon about. I make strong suggestions and she comes to her own conclusion whether she's willing to go along with it or not. And in this instance, I knew that Rhiannon had refrained from argument and stepped down for the first- and probably only- time in her life.
Glorfindel dropped the tent flap, leaving us together in the tent.
I crossed my arms. "And what do we do if the enemy gets into our tent?" I scowled, letting the sarcasm drip from my voice. "Stay here, my Lord? Or should we remove ourselves to another tent?" At least he hadn't taken our weapons from us.
I turned to glare at Rhiannon.
"What?" was her innocent reply.
It wasn't too much longer before Rhiannon and I peeked our heads out the tent flap and looked in opposite directions. Then we looked back at each other and nodded. We crept out of the tent, despite the fact that the place seemed completely deserted.
"Where to now?" Rhiannon asked as I led us further away- in the opposite direction I'd guessed Glorfindel had gone in- and that meant away from the arena.
"To the edge of the Elves' lines," I explained. "Furthest away from us is the armies commanded by Anárion younger son of Elendil. Then is Isildur's command, and then Elendil's himself. We were stationed in Gil-galad's camp, which is directly next to Elendil's. But because the Elvish army is so wide spread, Gil-galad has entrusted part to Círdan, who also commands with the Elves of his own city among those of Lindon. Beyond Círdan there is a gap, for the Elves of the Woodland Realms do not wish to join the Alliance as such, but they do heed the call to arms against the Dark Lord."
Rhiannon followed me, almost seeming to pay attention for once. I supposed there might come a time when she needed to know this and thus it was important to her that she learn it. And Glorfindel wasn't around to distract her, so she could give her conscious attention to the matters at hand.
"We're headed for the Elves under Lord Círdan's command. We won't be recognised among them, and after it's all done, we can slip back quickly to the tent, hopefully before Glorfindel or any others are aware of it."
"Nice plan," Rhiannon gave me rare praise. "How did you find all that stuff out?"
"While you were drunk and Glorfy was taking care of you, Gil-galad led me around the camp of the Last Alliance. So I have a vague idea of where things are and where we need to be. We're almost there."
We strode past the line of tents and looked over the battle before us. We stood dumbfounded, gaping in awe, and for a moment, I questioned what we were doing.