All the characters seen here are my own, but the places and situations are all Tolkien's.

"Attack me …"

Lathwinn and her four brothers raised their eyebrows at Celuant. They had noticed the last few days he'd been working feverishly over a stone, chipping it with another, sanding it, polishing it till it shone. They had even noticed it had taken on the form of a long knife over that time. And they had seen he'd wrapped its hilt in the same deer-antler-hide cloth they made their shoes from, but they had not expected this.

Lathwinn spoke first. "Are you sure you are up to that yet?"

The ellon she saw before her had been getting stronger, but there was no doubt his back had been wrenched and body pushed to limits no elf wanted to think about in Morgoth's mines. His spirit had not seemed up to the task of helping his body reach its full healing potential yet since, and who knew how much was even possible if it ever did? Now, he wanted to spar?

Lathwinn continued her questioning watching the ellon stand before her with his newly crafted knife held loosely in one hand his other hanging lax and feet spread apart. "What would the point be, Celuant?"

"Come and see."

Lastannan cleared his throat and stepped forward from his sister's side "Let me try first."

He strode up to the ellon, one eyebrow raised curiously. Then he swept out his antler-knife. The Noldo met it with his of stone. Lastannan's eyes widened as he felt the difference in how the blow shook through his blade and into his arm. He was also not prepared for the sweeping motion the other elf made, which forced him back.

Lastanan made a leap out of his of his retreat from Celuant's attack. He continued to hold his own blade up in a defensive posture, but there was respect in his voice as he began to circle his opponent. "You have fought with knives before!" His opponent smiled at him.

"Me next! Me next!"

Lathwinn ran up to Celaunt, who had circled to the point his back was then to her. Lastanan, facing his sparring partner and his sister, tried to stop her with a warning growl. "Lathwinn …"

From the feeling of air being displaced behind him, Celuant knew her brother's warning was ignored. He turned, meeting Lathwinn's deer antler blade with his stone one. Instead of looking shocked, Lathwinn giggled into his face. Then she disengaged herself and ducked forward into his defenses. As his eyes widened, Celuant took a great step back, catching one of her arms. Lathwinn leapt up to spin in the air.

Celuant let go. If he had not, his hold would have dislocated if not broken Lathwinn's arm. She landed before him and gave him a wide smirk. Three of her brothers stood behind her scowling with their arms folded over their chests. "She does that to us in sparring matches too. It is most unfair."

Lastannan spoke behind his once sparring partner, who had somehow become his sister's. "You could not have known he would do that like us, Lathwinn."

She continued smiling even as her answer showed she'd heard. "I knew."

Celuant shook his head at the elleth. "Why practice that move at all in a sparring match? In a real battle, an orc would never let you go like that."

Lathwinn continued to grin as she shrugged. "Not unless I slice through their wrist tendons first." Her face grew harder even though she still grinned. "Sometimes I do that." Then she darted forward trying to get inside his defenses again.

Celuant found himself doing all in his power to deflect her blows. Finally, his blow came so swift and hard on her blade the latter shattered. Lathwinn, smoothly pulled another from somewhere on her person, or maybe one of her brothers or one of the others who'd gathered to observe their match since it started, had thrown one to her. Celuant had been so busy looking at the damage his stone blade had made to her antler one, he hadn't seen where her next weapon had come from. Lathwinn kept dancing about and lunging at him. He broke two more of her blades.

Tiring of their match, Celuant smacked his blade into hers in a way, he now knew would break it, and then made a lunge at her grabbing one of her arms as he did so for good measure. They both went down. Lathwinn grinned up at him. A ringing sound filled his ears.

Celuant glanced down at the blade his own had met in her hand. He saw his own reflection in a smooth, metal, flat surface. "Where did you get that?"

Lathwinn shrugged in the grass. "From some friends."

Celuant frowned as he rose to his knees over her. "You mean I have slaved over this stone blade, the past two days, with you, Sarnin, and others only bringing me food and drink, and you have all had metal blades this whole time?"

Lathwinn frowned. She rose to her feet before replying. She even put a hand on her hip as her other still held onto the metal blade. "I said no such thing. 'I' have a metal blade I bring out 'only' on special occasions. None of my kin, let alone my people, will take it from me. You 'slaved' over nothing. We let you work alone and brought food to you as you worked. You chose to make that excellent blade."

Celuant sucked in a breath, but nodded, face cast down and eyes shut. "You did, and I did, I am sorry."

Lathwinn's gaze softened as she looked down at the back of his head. "Apology accepted."

Then she turned and strode away. Suddenly, Celuant was surrounded by ellon, and a few elleth, of Ossiriand, all wearing knives on their person, all staring at his and asking him about him how long it might take him to make one for him, did he have all the needed materials, could they help him look for them, and did they come in only one color?

Celuant looked around at all of them listening in silence for a moment. His plan had worked. Then he looked over the crowd. A sad face looked back at him from among the trunks of young trees. Deep, ancient eyes stared at him from a pale-cream face with locks of dark brown hair falling in waves around it. Celuant's narrowed in wonderment. Something about this had upset Sarnin for some reason ...

What do you think?

God Bless

ScribeofHeroes