I'm finally back! Thanks for persevering for so long. Updates should be once a day regularly now, as per usual.
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After her first "lesson" with Tondfael, which she lost by a little way to her embarrassment, they ate a quick lunch of some vegetable soup and then returned to the courtyard again for another teaching session. The Dúnedain never saw her King during that time, and presumed – nearly correctly, as it turned out – that he was talking with Celeborn and Galadriel. Mithmír was glad for the constant activity: it kept her mind from wandering to Legolas. Tondfael had promised that she could see his sword when she managed to better him in a test, so there was a great incentive to try her hardest.
'Take off your gauntlets and shin-guards,' ordered Tondfael, stripping off his own. 'And do you have any other, lighter clothes you can wear? That tunic looks quite heavy and you'll get very hot under the sun…'
'Unless you wish me to learn in my undergarments, Tondfael of Galadriel,' replied Mithmír with a chuckle, 'there is nothing I can do about it.'
Tondfael shrugged and took off his own shirt sinuously, his well-toned chest rippling as his muscles moved. Here was one elf who was even more physically impressive than Legolas, Thranduil's son. 'Well if you get too hot,' he said in reply, 'there is nothing I can do for you but suggest you dip your head in a water-barrel. That will cool you off.' He winked.
'I shall follow your advice if I do get too hot,' agreed Mithmír, eyeing the water-barrel to her left as if sizing up the possibility. 'But what do I learn that shall be so hard?'
He looked at her with a cheeky twinkle in his eyes. 'It will be very trying for you, my lady. I do not know whether you are strong enough to do it…'
'Try me!' She said heatedly, desperate now to know of what her cousin spoke.
He moved to her side and took her sword from her. The movement awakened deeply-ingrained reactions, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself attacking him with a reflex action. She felt naked with her sword and daggers taken away; but managed to stand still. Tondfael nodded encouragingly.
'Good. You have to learn to trust others: namely other Aratirith and the one you guard. Your faith in them must be absolute.' He laid her weapons down on a low table reverently, careful not to cause them any harm. 'You must face this lesson with no armor and no weapons; with only your fists for protection – and those you cannot use. There shall be no need to fight.'
Mithmír couldn't say she liked the sound of this test. Her face must have showed her distaste.
'You have to pass this test,' he said simply, shrugging a little, the movement fluid. 'It is very important – you're too violent and rash now, that needs to be remedied before you can make your vows.'
'Violent? Rash?' She asked, with incredulity bordering on anger. 'I used to be, but that's changed over the last few years… I'm pretty controlled now, compared to what I used to be!' Her single, thick plait swayed erratically behind her head – Tondfael had persuaded her to tie her hair up, so it didn't get in the way.
He raised an eyebrow critically. 'And the way you're acting now? That isn't overly angry, is it?' He smiled at her in a way that was incredibly perceptive, but kind.
She lowered her eyes and nodded meekly. She knew when she was beaten. 'Teach me, then.'
'I was even more headstrong than you, once, and I'm an elf,' he said with a friendly grin. 'So much for calm and collected. Now, then: sit down, cross-legged,' he said softly. She did as he asked. The stone ground was smooth under her. She shifted till she was comfortable, and then looked at him expectantly. 'Now then,' he said. 'It is one-thirty in the afternoon. Your lesson in patience is this: you must sit still, and silent, till three-thirty. That's two hours. Consider yourself lucky – I had to do four, under my father's guidance.'
Mithmír was shocked to silence. Sitting still for two hours? The idea was ludicrous! She had never been very good at not doing anything, at being silent.
'The only movement you can make – bar breathing and blinking – is to move your arms and legs around a little, once every quarter hour or so,' he said. 'What you must not do is begin to do anything to occupy the time – fiddling with your fingers, getting up and running around, talking to anyone or anything like that.'
'Why do I need to know that skill?' She asked, managing to find her voice. Fighting she could deal with, but this was a completely different art, and one she had no finesse in.
'You have it better than I do,' he said in reply. 'Though I don't mind my lot at all. You won't have to live with Aragorn – only come if he calls you, go of your own accord on special occasions or at times of danger, and visit in a friendly manner at least once a month unless there's a specific reason why you can't. I, however, am with the Lady Galadriel always. Patience is essential. If my Lady is in a meeting, I must stand – or sit, but that is rare – beside her, without drawing any attention to myself by fidgeting or making a sound. And the councils of elves can be long indeed.
'The same applies to you, of course,' he continued with a grin. 'If you are accompanying King Aragorn to an important conference, you must also stay unobtrusively by him. It is vital that you learn the skills needed for those long hours of silent stillness now.'
'But what will I do?' Mithmír asked. 'I can't just do nothing.'
'I sing songs to myself – silently, of course, only in my head. Or I imagine the people in front of me naked.' He winked again. 'That always works for me. Maybe that'll work for you, too.'
'That's hardly an elf-like thing to do!' Exclaimed Mithmír in wonder, a laugh in her voice. She couldn't imagine it of the serene, elegant race somehow. The twins Elladan and Elrohir, her rather close friends, were nearly as cheeky, but they were different from this High Guard. Talking of the twins, now she understood the other two elves – not of their kin – who stood near them always with long swords…
'I have barely passed my thousandth birthday, cousin Mithmír Rochiwen,' he explained. 'I am still a young man, barely older than a boy. I am not quite a completely chaste elf yet.'
'Elves are never chaste, no matter how old they are,' replied Mithmír, thinking of Legolas. Chaste was hardly a word that could be used to describe him, and he was a little over two-thousand years old. The very thought made her head spin – such an age was nearly incomprehensible.
'True,' he said with a clear laugh. 'But now, be still. I will go and only return in two hours – but if you break the rules, I shall know.'
She knew his words weren't empty. Doubtless the charismatic elf had many hidden friends who would happily keep an eye on her silent ordeal in the courtyard. She watched him wave and walk away, whistling infuriatingly.
There was no one to imagine naked. And suddenly she couldn't remember any songs.
It was going to be a long, long afternoon.
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That was a slightly random chapter. Ah well. Please review!
