Aragorn handed me the most inexperienced, inept group of Men he could lay his hands on. They're green. They're very green. If they got any greener, they'd have leaves.

And they SUCK.

I think it would help if they would listen to me. If they don't listen, and all that happens is they get their asses kicked, they're not learning anything. Well, there are learning a couple of things. Tolerance for pain is an excellent trait in a soldier. And humility's essential.

I spin, kick the sword out of one Man's hands, then kick his feet out from underneath him. Another one comes at my back. He seriously needs to learn to control breathing. He's moving loud enough to wake the dead. I kick one foot back, connecting solidly with his stomach. He doubles over, gasping, and drops his sword. I spin, kick his feet out from underneath him, then kick away his sword.

See? They suck.

The first one reaches for his sword. I step on his wrist. "Don't touch it, Bregil. I think you've had enough for one day."

He calls me an obscene name, and I kick him in the face. He passes out. Yeah, I realize that might have been a bit of an overreaction, but they're starting to piss me off. Starting, hell. They started last week.

I've been doing this for a month. A whole, damn month. The first two weeks I was patient. Then I started to get crabby. Now I'm out and out pissed off.

I plant my hands on my hips and turn so I can look at my Men. "You're terrible," I say, pitching my voice loud enough so that all thirty of them can hear me. "I think that maybe you should all just put down the swords before you hurt yourselves and take up a hobby where you're not allowed anything sharp. Baking, maybe."

"What would a woman know of battle?" one of them calls derisively.

"You forget that this MERE woman has disarmed and defeated every -- single -- one of you who has come up against her," I call back. "That not one of who has made it through my defenses. Half the time I don't even have to draw a blade. Hell, LESS than half the time!"

"You use unfair methods!" another one calls.

I laugh. "Unfair methods? Define for me unfair methods, mi amigo. You think that an Orc uses fair methods? If this were an actual battle, every last one of you would be dead." I turn slowly, gauging their reactions. Most of them look sulky. "The first lesson of battle you need to learn, the one you seem unable to grasp, is that you must never underestimate your opponent. But you all do it. Every time you face me, and you charge recklessly, convinced that THIS TIME, you'll defeat me. Why?"

"One of us shall!" one Man calls. "A mere woman is no match for a true Man of Gondor."

"Show me a true Man of Gondor and we'll try it," I call back. "If that's the case, gentlemen, I fear for the future of Gondor." I take a deep breath. I've given variations of this same damn speech for the past month. "I'm a soldier. Trained by two of the best warriors Arda has to offer. I've seen war, gentlemen, more war than any Man here. And I've survived by learning not to underestimate my opponent. By learning how to obey orders, even if they come from someone I'm not real fond of. Because, first of all things, I am a soldier. Before I'm a woman, before I'm a lady of Gondor, before all else, I am a soldier. And I obey Elessar. I followed him, almost literally, to hell and back, before he was my King. So when you think that you don't like this arrangement, remember that the orders don't come from me. They come from the King. You don't have to like it, but you do have to do it." I walk over, pick up my blades, and strap them back on. "Go home. Be sure to extend some effort tomorrow."

I walk away, listening to them grumble and curse my name as I do so.

111

I storm through the stable entry to the palace, slamming the door behind me. I stop, close my eyes, and take a deep, steady breath, then let out a yell and chuck one of my knives at the wall. Elladan ducks. Fast reflexes, that one.

He straightens, arches an eyebrow at the knife buried to the hilt in the wall, then turns back to me. "Rough day?" he asks curiously.

"Maybe it wouldn't have been if Aragorn hadn't given me the most inexpereinced, inept, greenest group of Men he could find, handed them swords, and sent them out on the unsuspecting populace. They're green! If they got any greener, they'd be TREES!"

He blinks at me. "Did you know you don't make any sense when you're angry."

I try to control my breathing, but it's hard when I'm angry. "Yes, Elladan, thank you." I head for the stairs..

He falls into step beside me. "Do they still not obey?"

I shake my head and pause to yank my knife out of the wall. One good thing about these endless practice sessions? I am building up some serious muscle. Iariel's already complaining about the sleeves of my gowns not fitting. Hence my spiffy new sleeveless tunic. "No more than the listened at the beginning of the month."

"Did you suggest they take up crocheting again?"

"Baking."

"Ah."

"I think crocheting was more insulting," 'Ro says, falling into step on my other side.

I shrug and push open the doors to the apartments. "I'm running out of hobbies where they're not allowed anything sharp."

Elladan sprawls out on the couch. "Let me see, what has she suggested?" He seems to think about it for a moment. "There was the pastry chef, crocheting, embroidery --"

"Yes, but then she said the only ones who could take up embroidery were the ones who knew which end of the needle to use," 'Ro points out.

"And there was horse-breeding, hawking -- no, she took that back because she was worried the birds would peck them to death -- and also dancing."

Yes, I can get nasty. I pull the rest of my pins out of my hair.

"And she did suggest that the one who kept dropping his sword become a chambermaid," 'Ro finishes.

OK, very nasty. But after I've had to deal with the same rude comments, bumbling attempts at swordfighting and crude pawing I've had to deal with for the past month, I get kinda evil. OK, very evil.

I unstrap my blades and lay them on the little table by the window. "I know I've been nasty. Hell, I've gone out of my way to be nasty. But so have they. You have to be rude and violent just to get their attention."

Elladan leans forward, wrapping his hands around a glass of wine. "We do not doubt your leadership, Kayli. You have done quite well for yourself. Eventually, the men will come to trust you, and learn to follow you."

I shrug. "Whatever you say, 'Dan."

I reach up and run my fingers over the chain around my neck.

"You miss him," Elladan says quietly. Yes, sometimes he actually has tact.

I smile slightly, toying with the rings. "More every day," I say softly. "The good thing about being out there and kicking ass is that for awhile, I don't think about him."

'Ro laughs. "He'd enjoy seeing it!"

I grin back. It's not much of a grin, but it's the best I can do right now. "Hell, I enjoy it."

Elladan stands up. "We'll see you at dinner, then?"

I nod. Elrohir walks over to me and lightly touches the chain around my neck. "You should accept his offer."

I stare at him blankly. "What offer?"

He just smiles that mysterious, grandson-of-Galadriel smile and walks away.

Have I mentioned that I hate Elves?

111

They still suck. Nothing has changed since yesterday. And the sad thing is they really ARE trying. But they have learned something else -- how to duck.

Tosun is facing me right now. His hands are shaking, and he can't seem to hold the sword still. Ye Gods, he's just a kid! If he has to shave, I'll eat your hat. But I bet he does -- twice a week, whether he needs it or not.

I sigh and stick my sword into the sand, falling into a crouch. I pick up a handful of sand and run it through my hands, rubbing it into my palms. Ever wonder why sometimes in movies, you see the warriors who use swords rubbing dirt into their hands? It's to dry them out, get rid of sweaty palms. It's a neat trick I picked up from Aragorn.

I sigh, stand, and pull my sword out of the ground. I wave it at the group of sweaty, exhausted Men around me. "Go home, boys. I think we've had enough for today."

They wander off, grumbling and sulking. Tosun, the one who keeps dropping his sword, just stays sitting in the dirt as they walk away. He picks up his sword, lifts it, then very deliberately drops it. He smiles at me wryly. "Figured I might as well do it on purpose."

I walk over and crouch in front of him. I stick my sword back in the sand and pick up a handful, rubbing it through my hands again. "Your palms sweat," I say quietly. "And make the hilt of your sword slippery and hard to hold onto." I drop the sand and dust off my hands. "Sand."

He stares at me blankly. "Sand?"

I nod and stand up. "Rub sand on your hands. It'll dry out your palms and make the hilt of your sword easier to grip." I pick my sword back up and start to walk away.

"My Lady?"

I turn back, casually turning the sword over in my hands. "Yeah?"

He pauses for a moment. "I had heard that you were truly fearsome, and this I have seen for myself. But...I never expected you to be kind."

I stare at him for a second. "How old are you, Tosun? The truth, not what you told the recruiters."

He blushes and stares at his boots. "Sixteen."

I sigh. "I was right."

"About what?"

"You don't shave."

He smiles a bit sheepishly. "I do too." He rubs one hand over his smooth cheek. "Twice a week."

I laugh. "Whether you need it or not."

He shrugs. "I keep hoping it'll make something grow." He looks up at me. "They're wrong about you. You are a good leader. And very kind."

I smile slightly and shrug. "Don't get used to it, Tosun. I'm usually a bitch." I stare at him for a second, watch as he picks the sand up and rubs it over his palms. "Do your best, Tosun. That's all I'll ever ask." I sheath my sword and start to walk away. "Of any of you."

TBC...