Imladris Revisited
By: DLR 2002
Disclaimer: Characters owned by the estate of JRR Tolkien
Rated: PG13 for sexual situations

Chapter 9

Sometime near the end of April, Arwen and Culurien were in the Hall of Healing, receiving instruction from Elrond in the care and treatment of wounds. Arwen was not especially enthusiastic, having no stomach for the sight of blood and the stitching of flesh, (for Elrond had produced some very life-like models for the demonstration) and the thing that sat on the table in front of her had a very realistic looking gash through its 'skin' into which Elrond had poured an excessive amount (to Arwen) of very realistic looking 'blood'.

She felt slightly sick to her stomach, the bread and fruit she had eaten an hour ago, threatening to make a reappearance.

Elrond noted his daughter's discomfort and chose to ignore it, instructing them how to wash the blood from the wound and also how to search it with their fingers to remove any foreign material that may have lodged there.

At this last part, Arwen very near fainted and fell back into a chair. Culurien, with an exclamation of concern, came over and started fanning her energetically.

Elrond sighed and waited, while Arwen's face slowly became a little less green.

"Adar," she gasped, "this lesson is not really to my liking."

"But you must learn it anyway," he returned. "If not from me, then from another, for my patience grows thin with you."

There was no sound for a minute except from the movement of air caused by Culurien's vigorous fanning.

"Stay, I am fine now," Arwen said. She tried a change of tactic. "If you wish to prepare us against the coming threat of war, I would prefer to have some knowledge of sword play and self defense against an approaching enemy."

Elrond raised his eyebrows sarcastically. "You have no stomach for cleaning a wound, but you do have the stomach to inflict one? Trust me; the latter is much more difficult than the former."

"Well, maybe swordplay is too ambitious a skill, but what of archery? At least one is at a distance."

"I have some skill with a bow," said Culurien, "but no speed to speak of. I would like to remedy that."

Elrond sighed, defeated. "Yes, I concede that would be a useful skill as well, but this does not excuse you permanently, Arwen. We will come back to this."

Arwen carefully positioned her face so that Elrond could not see it and rolled her eyes. Culurien bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

"Lindir," Elrond called to the elf that was mixing the 'blood' at the other side of the room. "Will you assist me please, tomorrow morning with the instruction of these ladies in the Art of Warfare?" Lindir raised an eyebrow and studied Elrond's face.

"Certainly, Lord," he said. He could well imagine what these lessons would entail, for he had been with Elrond through many years of conflict with the enemy.

"Very well, then," said Elrond. "We will meet at the stables at eight tomorrow morning. Dress appropriately."

They cleaned up the mess on the table and departed, each to his or her own activities for the remainder of the day.

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Well before the appointed hour the next morning, Elrond and Lindir approached the stables with their hands full, for they had first visited the armory. The horses stood ready, saddled for warfare. The two elves, with practiced hands, began attaching to the animals the various weapons they had carried in, both recalled the last time he had made the same motions, nearly three thousand years ago. The saddles used for hunting were very different, many rode with none for pleasure riding.

Before they had finished, Arwen and Culurien arrived, looking almost masculine in their breeches, boots and shirts. They had their hair tied back after the manner of males. They wore cloaks, for the morning air was chilly.

Elrond wore black leather boots that nearly reached his knees, breeches, shirt and belted tunic and also a long, black cloak. Lindir was similarly attired.

The horses stamped and snorted, wondering if they were going to war, for they had been trained, but had never experienced a battle. Elrond laid his hand on the muzzle of the animal he was preparing and spoke softly to him in Quenya. This had a calming effect on the horse and he turned his head and started nuzzling Elrond's ear.

"I see you have a new friend," said Culurien with a smile. In the several months she had lived in Imladris, she had only learned a small amount of the ancient tongue. It seemed odd that the horse knew more than she.

Elrond accepted the affections of the horse, his hand still stroking its head.

"In battle," said he, "one's life often depends on the love the animal has for its master."

He looked over at Culurien and his heart began to pound as he observed the shape of her legs and hips in the snug trousers. She met his eyes and the expression she saw there made her skin tingle. A warm flush crept over her.

Arwen mounted her horse without assistance and was ready to go.  "Well?" she asked, shaking them out of their daze.

Elrond held the stirrup for Culurien while Lindir mounted his horse. He approached his own animal with a few more soft words and a pat on the neck.

They set out down a road that passed through orchards, the trees bright with fragrant flowers. They rode in silence, enjoying the beauty of springtime in Imladris. After a mile or so, the trees ended abruptly and a grassy field opened up before them. There were two large oaks in the center of the expanse, tall, majestic and somewhat out of place.

Lindir rode over to the trees and dismounted. He took two canvas sacks out of his saddlebag and attached them to the trees. Each one was marked centrally with a black dot surrounded by concentric circles. When he returned to the group, Elrond had begun his lecture. "For long range archery, aim is more essential than speed. Take your time, make every shot count." He paused, while he fitted the arrow to the bow. He drew it back and took aim.

The next second the arrow had pierced the center of the right-hand target. Lindir stood ready with bow in hand.

Elrond beckoned him forward. In one swift motion, Lindir pulled back the string and let it fly. His arrow divided Elrond's neatly in half. He caught Elrond's eye and winked as he stepped back.

Elrond decided not to be amused. "If that were an orc, Lindir, that would have been a wasted shot for it is obvious that I have already killed it," he said dryly. "Did I not speak of the necessity of making every shot count?"

Lindir grinned at him and bowed. "All right then," said Elrond, hiding a smile. They stepped behind the ladies and showed them the basics of how to position the bow, although Culurien was already familiar.

"Aim at the targets, please," said Elrond. He stood behind Culurien and looked over her right shoulder to see how she had sighted her target.

"That is not bad," he said in her ear. She was very aware of the warmth of his breath. "Adjust exactly one quarter inch to the left in a straight line." He paused while she did this. Her arm was starting to tremble at the stress of keeping the great bow taut.

"Whenever you are ready," he said and she let go. The arrow hit the target dead center. Culurien let out a huge sigh of relief, unaware that she had been holding her breath. Elrond smiled and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Now Arwen," he said, moving over to her. They waited while Lindir removed the arrows from the targets.

"Go ahead, line it up," Elrond prompted. He looked over her right shoulder. "If you were to let that go right now, you would miss the tree," he said. "You need to line up these sights with the tip of the arrow." Arwen attempted a correction. Elrond checked it again. "That is better," he said, "but you will still be some ways off to the right. Why not shoot a few and see of what I speak."

Culurien had shot a few more arrows while Elrond was helping Arwen. She had no problem with accuracy.

Elrond was impressed.  "Is archery standard training for females in Greenwood Forest?"

"No," she answered, smiling. "It is merely a useful skill that I have picked up."

Elrond looked at her with curiosity. "It is not as though we are talking about sewing, here.  How useful could it be to you?"

"One never knows," she said, as she shot a few more arrows. It was having a use right now, she thought slyly, enjoying his attention.

"That is excellent," Elrond said. He waved Lindir over to gather the arrows, for he had been wisely staying far out of the way while Arwen practiced. When Lindir returned, Elrond sent him to help Arwen aim.

"Come," he said to Culurien and they moved about thirty paces closer to the target. "Now we will talk about speed," he said. "Naturally speed is useful at long or short range, but at long range one can pick and choose one's targets without being chosen for one yourself. At short range with your enemies charging at you, swinging swords, the more arrows you can let fly, the better. It would be nice to hit every orc through the eye with every arrow, but one in the shoulder or in the stomach is just as effective, so we sacrifice accuracy in favor of speed."

He had slung a quiver across his back while they walked closer. There were a dozen arrows in it. When they reached the distance he desired, he had finished his speech. With a fluid, unbroken line of movement, he reached back, pulled out an arrow, fitted it to the string, pulled it back and let it fly twelve times in less than thirty seconds. All of the arrows hit the target more or less centrally.

"When you first begin to practice this exercise," he said, "you will do it extremely slowly, for you want to achieve the entire movement without ever taking your eyes off of the target."

He ran over to the tree and removed the arrows, keeping a watchful eye on Arwen. When he returned, he demonstrated the move again, only very slowly, letting her see it inch by inch.

"Very well then," he smiled and sat down on the grass. "Go on."

Culurien was a quick study, fumbling only a little for the arrows behind her back and missing the string with the back of the arrow only about half the time by the end of the first dozen.

"That is it," Elrond said. "Perfect the motion, then speed will come later."

They continued in this manner for a while, with Lindir collecting the arrows and Elrond offering instruction, walking back and forth between Arwen and Culurien.

Finally Arwen threw herself down in the grass. "Rest time please.  My arms are ready to fall off."

Elrond went to his horse and returned with a flask. They passed it around and relaxed, laying on the sweet, springtime grass.

Elrond put his hands behind his head and lay all the way back, staring at the bright blue sky. The day was turning out to be calming and fun, a nice change of pace. He was glad Arwen had suggested it. Ever the task-master though, he was the first to get to his feet.

"Well, Undómiel," he said, "you expressed a wish for instruction by sword and swords we have brought. Will you lie there all day?"

The others stood up. The day was becoming warm and all cloaks and jackets had long ago been shed, leaving them in just shirts, boots and breeches.

"The basic object of sword fighting in a battle situation is simply to stay alive while killing the enemy," Elrond began. "It in no way resembles the gentlemanly 'affairs of honor' or duels of the heart that have been so often romanticized. There are no flashy moves and very few rules. Quite often, nothing more is required than brute strength and a good amount of luck.

"In your case, however, we must leave out the strength factor and add in a few unconventional moves or 'dirty tricks' if you will," he said with a grin. "Lindir and I will give a short exhibition." They took up their swords.

"What we will strive for in this example is to disarm the enemy. There will be no disemboweling today," Elrond said, looking at Lindir pointedly.

"Have no fear, Lord," said Lindir seriously. "I have not felt the desire for blood-lust in some time."

"Thank-you," said Elrond, "that is most reassuring."

They began by circling each other slowly, looking for an opportunity. Soon their swords were clashing together as each one tried to get the upper hand. Finally Lindir, who was a shade taller and heavier than Elrond, knocked the sword out of his master's hand.

Quick as lightning, Elrond spun around on one foot and with the other, kicked the sword from Lindir's grasp. He then grabbed his servant by the shoulders and brought his knee sharply up into Lindir's groin, who bent over in apparent pain.

Culurien jumped up, concerned. "He is injured!"

"Nay, he is fine," replied Elrond. "I did not hit him with my full strength."

"Are you hurt, Lindir?" Culurien asked her friend. Lindir made no response as beads of sweat appeared on his brow.

"This is what I meant by 'dirty tricks,'" said Elrond, as Lindir sank to his knees.  "Although in battle it is customary to wear armor that would protect any vulnerable areas."

At this point, Arwen leapt up, dismayed. "My horse is gone," she exclaimed. "Where is my horse?" They all looked around.

"I will go search for it, Lady," said Lindir, struggling to his feet. He had enough of the demonstrations for one day.

"But he will only come to me," Arwen argued. "Let me come with you."

Lindir looked at Elrond, who dismissed them with a wave. "Both of you go."

Lindir mounted his horse and pulled Arwen up behind him. They opted to search the nearest copse of trees and rode quickly out of sight.

Elrond and Culurien looked at each other.

"You kicked him too hard," she said. "Why?"

"He split my arrow," said Elrond, simply.

She stared at him for a moment, and then started laughing. After a pause, he joined in with her. When they had recovered, Culurien changed the subject.  "You were right, I think sword play is beyond my capabilities, but I would like to know what to do when one comes face to face with an attacker."

"Run," said he.

"Well, obviously, if that is an option," she said dryly. "You know what I mean, if I were trapped, how could I defend myself?"

"Well, I just demonstrated the most effective method," said Elrond, "but it is only useful at close quarters. No doubt you noticed I had to pull Lindir close in order to gain access. Now if someone were to lunge at you with a sword, but miss, you could grasp his wrist, pull him toward you and then use your knee or kick with your foot if the distance is too great." He paused. "Go ahead, try it on me."

"I have no wish to hurt you," she said, amused.

"Then do not make contact," he said, giving her a sidelong look.

They practiced this a few minutes until Elrond finally said, "all right, that is enough already. Lindir is avenged." They both laughed.

"Here," Elrond said, "this is something different." He gathered up all the cloaks and jackets and made a soft mattress of them on the grass.  "I will show you several tactics for knocking a person off his feet that do not require strength."

He positioned Culurien with her back to the mattress. He then stepped forward a pace, quickly positioned his left foot behind her left foot and gave her a gentle push on the shoulders.

She was on her back on the mattress without ever realizing what had happened. He grinned at her bewilderment.

"Surprise is very effective as well," said he.

 "I hope that works just as easily on you," she murmured and it proved to be the case. Next he stood with his back to the mattress and she faced him.

"Approach me," he said. In a seemingly simple move, he neatly tripped her and managed to stand aside as she fell on the mattress, face first.

"Oof," she said, "that was a good one, show me."

He demonstrated what to do.  "Now we will try it."

She effectively tripped him, but was unable to get out of the way as he fell. She hit the mattress first and he fell heavily on top of her.

"Are you...?" he began.

Their eyes locked together and then suddenly, they were kissing. It was not a tentative first kiss, nor was it a gentle, lingering kiss. It was a kiss built from long winter months of flirtation, innuendo, repressed feelings and sexual tension. At once it burst into a white-hot flame of passion. 

He deepened the kiss and their tongues collided, the sensation leaving them both shaking with desire.

Culurien made a small noise and Elrond shifted his weight to keep from crushing her. Their lips separated and they looked at one another for a moment. They kissed again, drowning in the huge wave of feelings that engulfed them.

His lips left hers and he tasted the skin of her face, kissing her chin, her ear, her neck; his mouth leaving a hot trail over her flesh. His hands were all over her breasts, caressing them through the thin shirt. She sighed with pleasure and his hands moved lower.

Suddenly her eyes opened and she became aware of what he was doing. She struggled to free herself and sat up.

"This is wrong," she whispered.

"Wrong?" Elrond gasped for breath, extremely flushed. "How do you mean, wrong?"

"It is improper," she answered, moving away from him. "I would know what you were offering me before it goes any further."

He eyed her warily.  "I do not understand you."

"Then I will spell it out for you," she said. "Are you offering me marriage?"

He was unable to meet her eyes.  "You know that is impossible."

"I do not know it," she said. "If my marriage can be annulled, why cannot yours?

"I cannot annul my own marriage," he said, a little annoyed.

"What of Celeborn?"

"He cannot do it either, for I am above him. It would take no less than an edict from Manwë,* which is, under the circumstances, impossible." He was starting to look sulky.

Culurien regarded him for a long minute.  "So, in other words you offer me nothing."

Elrond did not look at her.

"You would have me as your doxy, then?"

"Do not put it that way," he said, his eyes flashing.

"You would prefer a more polite term? All right, mistress, then." She waited and he said nothing.  "I have spent these last months trying to regain my self-esteem and reputation. Now you would tear them down again with one stroke?"

"Culurien, what is the point of marriage, mostly," he said, angry as well, "but to legitimize any heirs, which in this case would be entirely unnecessary."

She stepped two paces quickly to him and slapped him hard on the face.  "How could you be so cruel?" she asked through clenched teeth, her eyes filling with tears.

He stood, stunned, his hand slowly raised to his cheek.  "Linariel," he whispered. "I am sorry."

She had turned on her heel away from him and paid no heed.

Arwen and Lindir could be seen coming across the field at a trot. She reined in her horse in front of Elrond.

"Adar," she asked. "What happened to your face?"

"We were practicing more defenses and I fell," he said, staring ahead with vacant eyes.

Culurien mounted her horse.

"You two go on home ahead," he told Arwen. "There will be no more lessons today. Lindir and I will stay and clean up."

Elrond stared after them as they rode off.

"Eru Menelesse,"* he whispered with great anguish. "What have I done?"

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* Author's note: Elven marriage laws my own
*God in Heaven