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-Lady Healer
Chapter 8: Staffs and reflections
Two days after the conversation with Glorfindel and the hobbits, Lillian found herself in the side garden with Legolas, dressed in gray trousers and bluish silver tunic, holding a staff loosely in her hands.
Stopping behind her, Legolas began,
"Your position is wrong. You need more weight on your right foot or you
will overbalance. Your opponent would be able to send you to the ground in the
first strike otherwise." Studying her for a moment with the eyes of a seasoned
warrior, Legolas reached down, griping her shoulder and tugged her slightly
backward and to the side.
Her lips pressed together, Lillian
stumbled slightly backwards. For the past few days the Elven Prince had been
teaching her to defend herself with a staff. And each day they worked close to
three hours. And Lillian's aching muscles were screaming in protest. Though,
Lord Legolas was kind, he was a very strict task maker when it came to
training, excepting nothing less than the best of her abilities. But in those
few days, she had gotten to know the elf better than before and Lillian felt
another piece of her fear chipped away. However, that didn't stop her from
being bloody annoyed at him as the hour went by.
Glaring at the ground, Lillian tried to regain her footing. "Why did you do that, Lord Legolas?"
After she had recovered her stance, Legolas sighed before crouching down behind her. "Testing your balance. If you had paid attention, you wouldn't have stumbled like you did. Instead you would have felt my pull, but remain unmoved." Tapping the inside of her left ankle, Legolas continued. "You need to move this one out a little more. Your feet should be about shoulder width apart." Seeing Lillian's curious look, he explained. "It is one of the easiest ways to gain balance. Now adjust your feet, Lillian." After she followed his instructions, Legolas studied her posture from his crouched positioned. "Not too bad. In a pinch, this position could work. You should have better balance if…" The prince of Mirkwood trailed off as he gently gripped Lillian's left ankle and moved it towards him. "…this foot is slightly behind the behind the other." Standing up, the elf circled the young woman, before nodding to himself. "Much better." Gesturing to her stance, Legolas explained himself. "This is a better stance for staff fighting, because it allows the left foot to balance you better if an opponent tries to force you backward."
Lillian nodded. She knew that she had much
to learn before she would be prepared to fight. She didn't really want to have
to fight. But the mission she was being sent on was a dangerous one and she
much preferred to be able to defend herself if it came to it. However, the girl
doubted that she would ever be a good fighter, she didn't have a real interest,
nor did she have enough stamina. Lillian's interest lay in healing and herbs.
She may had been forced to learn the healing arts, but that had failed to curb
her passion for them.
She could remember the first time she
helped to heal a wound when she was a young child; ten if she was
correct. The wound was minor, a shallow cut, but Lillian could remember
the warm feeling of making someone else's pain ease. But, in a way, healing
others pain did help soothe part of her own. Ever since then, Lillian had tried
to learn what she could of the healing arts from any source available. Most of
the practical parts of healing, she had learned from Liz. But the background
and healing herbs, among others subjects, she learned from books in the
Library.
Often she would sneak down in the dead of
night when everyone else was sleeping, bringing a small candle from the
kitchens to read, lessening the chances of being caught. And there was a time
when she would have been caught, if it has not been for Glenn's subtle
intervention. There was more than one time that she would have been caught and
punished if it had not been for her friend.
It was one of the reasons why Lillian felt
that she wouldn't be a very good warrior, probably only decent at best. She
didn't want to be the cause of another's pain, even the nobles from home. But
she was no saint, and Lillian would be the first to admit it. Even though she
didn't want to be the caused of pain, she would dance with joy if her blood father
and his court suddenly dropped dead. Particularly her blood father. Ever since
Rena's murder, Lillian's fear of nobles grew to new heights, but so did her
hatred for her blood father. Nearly jumping, she felt Legolas's arms around her
as he adjusted her arms and her grip on the staff.
Chuckling, the elf said, "Welcome
back to Rivendell, my lady." After moving her right hand little farther
up, Legolas closed his own hand around her, ignoring her tenseness, and
continued his instruction. "Now, you should have the same sort of grip on
the staff as I do on your hands. Too tight, and you will tire you faster and
decrease your potential. But if you hold it too loosely then your opponent will
be able to disarm you with ease."
Nodding her head, Lillian tried her best
to remember the prince's instructions, but most of what she had learned over
the past few days was beginning to blur together. Releasing his hold, Legolas
walked around her, stopping when he was in front of her.
"Ok, I want you to hit me as hard as
you can with that staff." Lillian eyes widened in shock. After a couple
seconds she shook her head. She couldn't do that. One of the rules that held
fast in her mind was that a servant could never strike a noble. Such was punishable
by death.
Frowning, Legolas explained. "Lillian I need you to hit me. I need to know how much force you need to use."
Again Lillian shook her head, choosing to
remain silent.
Sighing the elf said, "Do not worry
about hurting me, Lillian. I am a warrior and can defend my self. If I cannot
catch the staff like I am planning, then I will dodge it. Now hit me."
"I can't, my lord."
"And why not?" Legolas
questioned, barely keeping the note of frustration out of his voice.
"Servants cannot hit-"
"That rule does not exist here."
Legolas interrupted sharply, rubbing the back of his head absentmindedly.
Seeing Lillian's disbelief, he said, "If it did I wouldn't have been
smacked upside the head so many times."
Still disbelieving him, Lillian raised one
eyebrow.
"It's true! I tell no lie."
Looking upwards for a moment, remembering a friend from home and grumbling.
"And I didn't do anything to deserve it, either…" Seeing her
skeptical look, he added, "I was behaving like a perfect gentleman that
day."
"What he is not telling you
Lillian," Arwen commented as she walked towards the duo, "was that he
made a prank on her the night before."
The she-elf looked at Legolas as Glorfindel joined them commenting as well. "Bugs in her bed I believe." Studying the two for a brief moment, ignoring Legolas mutter of 'It's not like she didn't start it by putting worms in my drink. Besides we were in our six hundreds then,' and asked, "Now what is the problem?"
"She won't hit me so I can judge her
strength."
Arwen's gray eyes brightened as a
mischievous smile crossed her face. "Allow me to show you how its done,
Lillian." The she-elf gently took the staff from the curious human.
Glorfindel's blue eyes went wide and he quickly retreated from striking range,
knowing what Arwen was planning and having no wish to be dragged into it.
And with an ease that came from many years
of practice, Arwen took two steps forward, swinging toward the other's blond
head. Eyes narrowed in concentration, Legolas raised his hands to catch the
staff while slowly retreating. But Arwen was counting on that. With a twist of
her wrist she changed the direction of the staff and lunged, causing Legolas to
miss the staff and hit his stomach, instead.
As Arwen stepped back, Legolas held his
stomach, gasping, "Your brothers taught you a little too well."
Laughing the she-elf patted the prince on the head.
"Let us just say this is payback for
the three mud baths you gave me last month." Smirking, Legolas tripped
Arwen, sending her to the ground. Before she recovered, the prince threw her
over his shoulder.
"How about we make it four
then?"
"Legolas Thrandulion, put me down!
Right now," Arwen ordered as she banged on Legolas back. Ignoring the
Elven princess, Legolas bowed to Lillian and Glorfindel.
"My Lord, will you please continue
the Lady's training for today? She has about two hours left."
Stepping beside the human, Glorfindel
fought the urge to laugh and answered, "I will."
"Thank you." After bowing again
he started to walk away saying, "I hope you don't mind, Lady Lillian, Lord
Glorfindel, but I have to find a mud puddle to dump this princess in."
Chuckling, Glorfindel turned to Lillian,
handing her the disregarded staff, and saying, "Lets get started."
As the two began working on training they heard a yelp in the distance followed by Legolas's voice. "That was my ear!"
"Put me down!"
"I will, once I find that mud puddle
… ow! Stop yanking on my ear!"
"Then put me down."
"No…"
*************************
It was a cool fall day when the noble from
Gondor stepped onto one of the many balconies in the Elven-home. Resting his
arms against the balcony's rail the young lord looked to the sky as he pondered
on his thoughts. It had been a little over three weeks he had arrived in
Rivendell seeking answers to dreams.
****************Flashback*************
Two days after he arrived in Rivendell,
Boromir found himself in Elrond's study, sitting in an elegant chair. The lord
of Imladris was sitting behind his desk, before him, his folded hands rested
comfortably on the polished wood.
"You wished to speak with me,"
asked the Elven-lord, but his voice revealed it was more of a statement than a
question.
"Yes, my lord I came here seeking
your council and the unraveling of hard words, for it is said that your might
is in wisdom, not in weapons." Taking a moment the young noble gathered
his thoughts, choosing his words with care, "On the eve of a sudden
assault a dream came to my brother in trouble sleep; and afterward a like dream
came oft to him, and once to me." Taking a breath, Boromir used the short
moment to study the Elven-lord. However the only change in the elf's expression
was one raised brow. "In that dream I thought the eastern sky grew dark
and there was a growing thunder, but in the West a pale light lingered, and out
of it I heard a voice, remote but clear, crying:
Seek for the Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul spells
There shall be shown a token
That Doom is near at hand,
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,
And the Halfing forth shall stand.
"Of these words we could understand
little. And we spoke to our father, Denethor, Lord of Minas Tirith."
Boromir paused, feeling the gaze of the Elven-lord sharpen. He wasn't sure if
it was his imagination or not, but the master of Rivendell seemed to be sitting
a little straighter than before. But, Boromir could, now, understand why many
people felt intimidated under the intense stare of an elf. Boromir felt like he
was a young child again, under the knowing watch of a parent after some mischief.
Shaking himself mentally, the young noble brought his thoughts together.
"My father gave me these words; That
Imladris was an old elvin name of a far northern dale, where Elrond the
Half-elvin dwelt, greatest of lore-masters." Boromir, paused, as he leaned
back in his chair, before he continued, "Seeing our desperate our need, my
brother was eager to heed the dream and seek for Imladris; but since the way
full of doubt and danger, I took the journey upon myself. Loathe my father was
to give me leave, and long have I wandered roads forgotten, seeking your house,
of which many had heard of, but few knew where it lay." Again
Boromir paused, taking a breath as he finished his explanation, leaning forward
as he did so. "Do you, Lord Elrond, have insight to the question that
bedevils my mind?"
Nodding the Elven-Lord stated calmly,
"Your brother and your dreams speak true, Boromir of Gondor. But I will
not speak the answers here." Holding up a hand, Elrond stopped the
interruption that younger noble was about to make and continued. "Your
questions will be answered at a council held within the week, which you are
invited to. Until then, enjoy your stay in Rivendell."
Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, but
content knowing that his question will be answered, Boromir rose to his feet,
bowed, and left the room.
*****************End Flashback***************
Boromir closed his eyes, shaking free of
the memory. Since that day he saw many things that he once never believed he
would. For only hours later, he had seen the shards of Narsil, the very sword
that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand.
And it was there, the he first met
Isildur's heir. The son of Arathorn, Aragorn. Though Boromir knew it not, then,
the man had held his curiosity. However, he had felt unease at the dark man's,
gaze. But at the time, he had thought, that perhaps, he had found a possible
friend or an ally in this Elvish city. But when the man's heritage was revealed
at the council, Boromir wasn't sure what to think of him.
He felt betrayed, in a way. This Aragorn
was a full-grown man, yet, he ran from his duties, when he should be in Gondor,
ruling. The king return would renew the hope of the people, Boromir knew that.
But if this person, this Aragorn, was so small a man then that he would run
from his responsibilities, then Gondor truly needed no king.
After the council, though, Boromir had
gotten the chance to observe the quiet man a little more. And as much as he had
seen, Aragorn didn't cringe from his duties. At the council he was the first,
after the wizard, to volunteer aid to the Fellowship. And at this very moment,
he was scouting the surrounding areas for enemies and safe paths for travel. A
person, who feared his duties, would not have done such. But, if this man did
take his responsibilities so seriously, why did he not return to Gondor when he
reached adulthood?
Boromir knew that a change of power; even
then, would not be an easy one. His father would not have given up control
without a fight. But in the end, the right thing for Gondor would have been
done. Now, Boromir wasn't sure if Aragorn was what Gondor needed or not. It
would be up to the other man to prove his worth. To prove worthy of being
Gondor's king, for Boromir would not let it fall to anyone else.
Boromir opened his eyes as the sounds of
battle reached his ears. Looking down he saw he saw three elves, two male and
one female, and with them was the other being that haunted his thoughts of
late, the human lady, Lillian.
Throughout his stay here, Boromir was
witness to the wisdom of the Elves. Yet he failed to see the wisdom in sending
a woman on the quest of the one ring. It was not a woman's place or
concern. He could remember, clearly, the first time he had met her. She was
quiet and very timid; she had acted as if she wanted to scurry and hide in the
shadows to escape his notice, even more so, when his title was given.
Boromir frowned as his thoughts deepened.
Lady Lillian didn't appear strong in either actions nor appearance. Though she
was pleasant looking, it was obvious that she was in poor health. The woman was
too thin. Boromir may not have been able count her ribs beneath her fine dress,
or the suspiciously warm cloak she had worn, but her face had been gaunt. It
seemed that the elves had taken her in. He was sure that she had a rough life,
and felt pity towards her.
When the Lord of Rivendell had announced
that Lady Lillian was joining the Fellowship, Boromir felt shock and anger rise
up in him. How could the Elven-lord, who is said to be one of the wisest, send
such a fragile person on a dangerous journey? And when Boromir rose to argue
against such a decision, he wasn't the only one. But no matter what was said,
the frustrating elf had a counter argument.
Sighing, Boromir watched as the three
elves tough the young woman how to fight with a staff. He wasn't sure why they
weren't teaching her the sword, but there was probably a reason behind it.
There often was with Elves.
Walking inside, the noble made a silent
promise to himself. Lady Lillian didn't wish to go on the journey, which was
made obvious when she ran from the council. She didn't have the skill or
experience for combat, though the elves were teaching her how to fight. And
that was the right thing to do. At least then she would have some defense. But
as a man of Gondor, he would do his best to protect her on this journey. Even
if it cost his life, it was the right thing to do.
*****************
Nearly a month had passed since Frodo was
brought to Rivendell, wounded. And since then, many things had changed for him.
A weight had settled on his shoulders and Frodo wasn't quite sure if he was
ready for such a burden. As the young hobbit wondered through the halls of the
Elvish city on a mild morning, his mind raced with thoughts of the past.
Earlier that day he had visited Bilbo, who
had wished to give Frodo two items. Sting, a sword forged by the Elves and a
Mithril shirt. It was a pleasant conversation, though serious, until Bilbo saw
the ring. Frodo nearly shuddered at the memory. The elder hobbit had scared him
that morning. He had never seen him act that way before; it was like Bilbo had
morphed into a monster.
But, Frodo knew the reason for the change.
The influence of the ring. The ring had a powerful hold on those who listened
to its whisper. It changed part of his uncle. And it changed Gollum too, or so
Frodo heard. It caused Frodo to wonder. What would the ring do to him?
Sighing, Frodo walked to the front garden,
and laughed at the scene before him, his spirits lightening. There, his fellow
hobbits, each taking turns, teaching Lillian to dance. The young ring bearer
had to admit that it did look ridiculous. Though Lillian wasn't tall by human
standards, roughly five feet and five inches, to a hobbit she was. It was
amusing to see Pippin, who only came to her waist, attempting to dance with
her. And from his point of view, Lillian wasn't that bad at it. Her footing was
steady if a little hesitant. But they appeared to be having fun. Merry was
teasing Pippin about something or another and Sam was telling tales and poems
during the break of silence.
Most importantly, Lillian was smiling.
During the time Frodo had known her, Lillian proved to be a quiet person, who
kept what she felt to herself. And during their first meetings, smiles or
laughter from her was very rare. But everyday since that first meeting, the
hobbits made every attempt for her to join them when they saw her.
Slowly, they drew her out from behind her
quiet wall and she began to talk and laugh more. And Lillian started to put on
more weight, thanks to the many hobbit meals they forced down her throat. As
the days passed, she began to look healthier. She was beginning to shine. It
was dim, but now, she was starting to accept a part of life that she denied
herself before.
"Frodo, would you like to join
us," Lillian's quiet voice asked, interrupting his thoughts. Nodding, he
joined them in the fun. And for hours, they played. Pausing only for meals the
group talked and played, enjoying the day. Until they saw three figures enter
the Elvish city. And they recognized them. The twin sons and Aragorn.
The scouts had returned. And with their
return, the quest was about to start.
__________________________________
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The next part should be posted either late Wednesday night or early Thursday morning.
The next chapter: The struggle of an exile king.