AUTHOR'S NOTE
This is a very short chapter. I apologize for that and for the fact that Legolas hasn't shown up in person yet. He comes in the next one! I promise!
ENJOY
"So the wanderer has returned."
Aragorn turned to meet the silent figure that had just approached him. It always amazed him that someone wearing so many weapons could move so quietly.
"Anarkyn!" he said, genuinely pleased. He grasped his former teacher's arm.
"You grace us with your presence at a very peculiar time," Anarkyn replied.
"Yes, I know," he said in his abnormally soft, well-spoken voice," How are you?"
"Same as I've been for the past 2500 years."
There was a hint of bitterness in her last statement that made Aragorn look at the small elf closely. She had taught him everything in becoming a Ranger. He owed his survival to her thorough training. When he has young he remembered foolishly mocking her behind her back once. She had caught him at it and had grabbed him by the collar and picked him up until he was on eye level with her.
"Until you can outfight me, I expect you to respect me," she had growled.
She had dropped him and never mentioned the incident again. Aragorn's sensitive soul had been much chastened by the rebuke. He always had been slightly in awe of Anarkyn after that. In his mind he still was not a better fighter than she was and it still never crossed his mind to question her. Time hadn't touched her at all he saw, except maybe to deepen the aura of impressiveness around her.
"You still see fit not to claim your birthright," Anarkyn said.
"No," he said quietly," I don't know if I ever can."
"You underestimate yourself, boy. I don't. I also know of someone else who doesn't," Anarkyn said with a slight smile.
"Arwen," he whispered to himself.
Anarkyn raised an eyebrow. She suddenly jerked around as the sound of horses entering the courtyard became audible. A Sylvan elf swung himself off of his mount and looked around. He was an extremely handsome, blond warrior elf. He seemed as if he was searching for something.
Anarkyn watched him from where she stood. Her face was a mask, but Aragorn could see her hand tighten around the railing of the bridge until her knuckles were white.
"So he came," Aragorn said quietly.
"So he did," came the reply.
This is a very short chapter. I apologize for that and for the fact that Legolas hasn't shown up in person yet. He comes in the next one! I promise!
ENJOY
"So the wanderer has returned."
Aragorn turned to meet the silent figure that had just approached him. It always amazed him that someone wearing so many weapons could move so quietly.
"Anarkyn!" he said, genuinely pleased. He grasped his former teacher's arm.
"You grace us with your presence at a very peculiar time," Anarkyn replied.
"Yes, I know," he said in his abnormally soft, well-spoken voice," How are you?"
"Same as I've been for the past 2500 years."
There was a hint of bitterness in her last statement that made Aragorn look at the small elf closely. She had taught him everything in becoming a Ranger. He owed his survival to her thorough training. When he has young he remembered foolishly mocking her behind her back once. She had caught him at it and had grabbed him by the collar and picked him up until he was on eye level with her.
"Until you can outfight me, I expect you to respect me," she had growled.
She had dropped him and never mentioned the incident again. Aragorn's sensitive soul had been much chastened by the rebuke. He always had been slightly in awe of Anarkyn after that. In his mind he still was not a better fighter than she was and it still never crossed his mind to question her. Time hadn't touched her at all he saw, except maybe to deepen the aura of impressiveness around her.
"You still see fit not to claim your birthright," Anarkyn said.
"No," he said quietly," I don't know if I ever can."
"You underestimate yourself, boy. I don't. I also know of someone else who doesn't," Anarkyn said with a slight smile.
"Arwen," he whispered to himself.
Anarkyn raised an eyebrow. She suddenly jerked around as the sound of horses entering the courtyard became audible. A Sylvan elf swung himself off of his mount and looked around. He was an extremely handsome, blond warrior elf. He seemed as if he was searching for something.
Anarkyn watched him from where she stood. Her face was a mask, but Aragorn could see her hand tighten around the railing of the bridge until her knuckles were white.
"So he came," Aragorn said quietly.
"So he did," came the reply.