Disclaimer: I think that a truly great writer can get other people's imagination flowing. Thus does J.R.R. Tolkien. I just own my own imagination.





Chapter 6: Tough training...



Legolas crossed the inner courtyard and the hall. He walked through the outer courtyard and came to the stables. He knew where Aragorn's training field was and had no trouble in finding it in the dark. Behind the stables was a rough terrain. This was where Aragorn's men trained when they were in the capital. It contained several swivelling training dolls, different targets, some pools with beams over them for practising balance and lots and lots and even more lots of mud. 'A perfect place to get yourself completely covered with mud and forget about everything in the world. Which is exactly what I want to do' Legolas thought with a grin. However, even before he could see the field his sensitive elven ears picked up sounds of heavy breathing and groaning. Somebody was training and by the sounds of it exhausting himself. Silently Legolas approached. In the light of several fires in steel baskets he could see a man. A flicker of metal and then with great speed one of the training dolls was thrust several times with a sword.



So much for a rough and solitarily training! Normally Legolas would like some company or an opponent for training, but not tonight. He decided to wait and see if the man was almost finished. He turned around and without any effort climbed the nearest tree and sat down on a branch. The soldier on the training field had now lowered his sword and was carefully whipping it with a piece of cloth. He set the sword against a rack and sat down on the ground crossed-legged. Legolas noticed that the warrior's feet were bare. This was strange. He never saw a warrior sit down on a training field or, for that matter, fight on bare feet. No, that was not entirely true, a smile crossed his face, he did see some of his friends battle on bare feet, but that had been Merry, Pippin, Sam and Frodo: hobbits! Hopefully this sitting down was the ending of the training session...



Alas, the warrior below was on his feet again and began to move his arms slowly and precisely. It looked like slow-motion martial arts. Legolas's attention was now completely attracted, for he, being a warrior himself, saw the supreme control of the movements. The skill of this warrior could not be overlooked. Yet, Aragorn never mentioned anybody this skilled in his troops, as he would likely do. 'I definitely want to match this man someday but not tonight.' Legolas thought. It did not look as if the man was nearly finished so Legolas lowered himself from the tree and with a sigh began to retreat to the palace.



He took a path through the gardens this time. Tall trees towered over him. He was just looking up at them, wondering if there was another place to fire some arrows, when he stumbled and nearly smacked face-down on the ground. "Faeg ungol o eryn!" he exclaimed. [Something like: bad spider of the woods]. This just was not his night! For an elf to stumble! Where did his senses go? He got up again and searched the source of his unelvish behaviour. There was a small bundle on the path. He kicked it with his boot. It was soft. He picked it up. It was some kind of cloth. Legolas took the cloth to a nearby torch. It was velt in a green shade. I have seen this fabric before, he thought. He took a better look and then suddenly remembered. This was like the fabric Thûlocuil wore at dinner. Perculiar!

Looking better around him Legolas saw in the back lightening from the nearby training field that filtered through the stems of the trees, another bundle and some things on the path. He collected them. Examining them carefully his earlier conclusion was confirmed. This was the silver-grey lace overskirt that looked like a tunic, she had wore over the dress. The other 'things' turned out to be two silver-grey shoes. He remembered her outfit for it had made him wonder: velt was a fibre that he had never seen on an elf. It was more earthly, more something Hobbits would wear. . . For the second time this evening his mind went to his short friends. And then it clicked: velt dress - bare feet: the amazing warrior on the training field could be no other than the elven maiden he met at dinner!



"Lost dôl!" he scolded himself. [Empty head]. This was not possible... and yet... With a resolute look on his face he replaced her things on the path and returned to the branch he sat on earlier. Here he stayed and observed her until she finally retreated. By then he had his conclusion conclusively confirmed: she had removed her helmet once or twice to wipe the mud from her face and he had been able to distinguish her face and brown hair on these occasions.



In the light of the same torch he used for his examination of the clothes he saw her picking up her garments. When she passed the torch he could see that she was completely covered with mud, exactly like he had planned to get.



A/N: 13 September 2003: last changes in spelling.