The Lady Gwilith stood, angered. "Send someone to retrieve him!" she commanded of the elf before her. She'd just received news that he had gone to Gondor and sent the rest of the army back to Mirkwood. It seemed as if her husband never came back with the army… he always found one reason or another to stay behind, or another thing he had to do. Mirkwood was left without a ruler.

"The Lord said that his son Ohtar-"

"FIND HIM," Gwilith ordered. "I want Mirkwood's fastest rider to go to Gondor at once!"

Elral bowed. "Yes, my lady." He left.

Gwilith took a deep breath. "Who is the ruler of Mirkwood?" she asked no one in particular. "Sometimes I wonder if it is not him, but I."

~*~

Ohtar took out another arrow and shot it at the target. He hit the mark and raised his arms in triumph. "I did it!" he cheered.

His trainer turned to the target and inspected it. He put his finger on the small black dot that Ohtar failed to hit. "When your father was your age he was able to put the arrow right here when he was riding a horse bareback at full speed," he said. "Again."

Disappointed, Ohtar's smile faded and his victorious arms were put down by his sides. "My father," he muttered. "I don't have a father. He's never here, anyway. How am I supposed to know what he's capable of? I never even see him."

"I know what he's capable of," Nónd replied. "Again."

Ohtar sighed and pulled out another arrow. He took aim and shot it. It landed nearly 2 inches away from the tiny, almost microscopic dot. "I hit the circle," Ohtar reported.

"But you did not hit the dot. I want to see you shoot an arrow into your opponent's eye, not his face. Again."

"I'll shoot an arrow into your eye," Ohtar mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. I just… I'm tired of this. I need to do something different. I've been shooting arrows all day."

Nónd nodded. "Very reasonable." He turned to one of the servants. "Get us two swords."

Ohtar's shoulders drooped. Sword fighting was worse than archery. Archery didn't involve physical activity; it wasn't tiring. Only boring. But with swords he quickly tired and gave up, letting Nónd defeat him. He did not have much endurance.

"Must we?" he asked.

"You need a change, I thought. We must practice with swords sometime."

"But my father never used swords," Ohtar said, mentioning his father only to challenge Nónd to come up with an answer. Nónd shaped Ohtar's training how his father's training was shaped, made him do things his father did, practice in situations his father had experienced. Legolas was what Ohtar was to aspire to be, what he would try to be. Mention of Legolas was Nónd's weakness.

He sighed. "Your father could use one if he needed to, however. He still had training with them, in case the time came where he had no other option."

"But he never needed one. I think we should practice with the arrows."

Nónd smiled. "I know what you're trying to do, young prince. It will not work."

"What happened to your wanting me to be the best archer in Mirkwood, hmm?"

"Prince Ohtar…"

"Tell me."

Nónd sighed. "I don't need to give you a reason. We will practice swords play for a bit." The servant came back with two swords and tossed one to Nónd, and handed the other to Ohtar.

"On my count," said Nónd, as usual. "Min, tad… neled!"

On the count of the Elvish three, Ohtar lunged and struck. Nónd blocked it, then pulled his sword back and returned the strike.

Ohtar blocked it, then spun around and bolted away. Nónd laughed.

"You cannot run from me!" he said. "When you are facing a knight you will not be able to outrun him when he is on his horse."

"Then get a horse!" Ohtar replied, still running. "It will make this more realistic!"

"Come back, Prince Ohtar!" Nónd called, starting to run after him. "You cannot run away from your foes!"

"I am the fastest runner in Mirkwood!" Ohtar answered. He glanced behind him and made sure Nónd was out of sight, then climbed up in a large tree. Not too high up, of course. For he would need to jump down from it.

Nónd came into sight and stopped for a breath. "Prince Ohtar!" he called, thinking he was still in front of him. "Come back!"

Ohtar smiled. He'd planned to jump down in front of Nónd and take him by surprise, but not yet. Nónd wasn't in the right spot.

What he wasn't expecting was for the trainer to keep running after him. He took off, leaving Ohtar in his tree.

The prince jumped down and ran after Nónd, and when he caught up to him gave a cry and struck. Nónd quickly turned, but was unprepared for the sword. The dull tip was against his throat in a second.

"Well played," Nónd said. "But you mustn't run. You need to face your foes no matter-"

"I wasn't running away," Ohtar replied. "It was all part of my plan." He grinned at his sword against his trainer's neck. "Not bad, right? This is the first time I've beaten you."

Nónd's sword flew up and hit Ohtar's, and knocked it out of his hand and to the ground. "What will you do now?" he asked.

Ohtar blinked. Then he turned and bolted.

Nónd groaned. "Prince! Come back this instant!"