Gil-Galad toured the south wing of the palace. It was one of the places where the Dwarven stonemasons were enthusiastically working. Thainren met with the King to explain their progress and together they viewed the blueprints and architectural plans for the Great Hall. Once they were finished their discussions turned towards Elrond, who had endeared himself to both of them.
"I am heartened that Elrond is recovering so quickly. He looked much improved yesterday." Thainren said. "The young one has survived so much, and he is already an able warrior."
"Have you observed him in combat?" Gil-Galad asked curiously. It had not occurred to him that someone so young in terms of Elven development would have experienced a battle. In the count of the Edain, though, this one would have recently reached his majority. Still, Gil-Galad was sure that in temperament Elrond leaned towards his Elvish heritage.
"Elrond is skilled with the blade." Thainren said. "On our trip home we were attacked twice by Orcs. The elf defended himself and others admirably. Already, I would feel honored to have him fight beside me. What he lacks in strength, he more than compensates for with agility and dexterity. Now that his physical development is no longer hindered by poison, he will become a formidable warrior."
"Perhaps we can arrange to see him spar later. Then I can assess his skill. Unfortunately, it is important for him to be well-trained in combat. War is coming, much sooner than I would have hoped. I think it will be upon us in a mere decade." Gil-Galad lamented.
"Is he well enough to spar?" Asked Thainren anxiously.
"The healers said that in a few more days he will be able to participate in all activities. He sneaks away to jog in the morning, despite advice to the contrary. The tutors have kept him busy testing his knowledge this week to keep him away from more strenuous activities." The King smiled. "A week confined to bed was most difficult for him to endure. By the way, I think he will be joining you later."
Xxxxxxxx Days later xxxxxxxX
Elrond and Laeste were just finishing breakfast when Gil-Galad and Cirdan entered. Elrond was wondering what test he would be facing today. Surely, all the subjects he could think of had already been covered. He felt much stronger already. This morning he had again done calisthenics and taken a short jog along the beach. The exercise left him feeling better than he had in several years.
"I hear that you were out running this morning." Cirdan called. "Several people down by the docks were wondering who you were."
"It was a beautiful brisk morning, perfect weather for a jog. I have not been able to do that in awhile." Elrond replied pausing to take a bite of egg. "What exam is in store today?"
Elrond's week had passed quickly. He sat for numerous exams, testing his abilities in math and in spoken and written languages including Quenyan, Sindarin, Khuzdul, and Westron. Other tutors assessed his knowledge in history, science, geography and economics. The councilors and the King were surprised and pleased by how advanced the elfling proved to be. Already, he could aid his King as a diplomat and translator. The King and councilors were beginning to draw up plans for furthering Elrond's education. They were considering having him to come to court two days a week. Merwen was going to start giving him lessons on the law and introduce court practices and procedures.
"Elrond" Gil-Galad questioned. "Who tutored you?"
"Maglor tutored us in many subjects as well as in music. I think that he loved us in his own way." Elrond said, his eyes not meeting his King's. Gil-Galad's sharp eyes could perceive the faintest of shudders passing through the young one.
"Did Maglor give you that harp?" Laeste asked.
"Yes and he taught me to play." Laeste perked up at that admission.
"That I must hear! You must play for me later!" She exclaimed, smiling when the boy blushed slightly with embarrassment at the gentle laughter from the ellyn gathered at the table.
"If you are feeling up to it, I thought that we would go down to training fields." Cirdan said eyeing the boy curiously.
"I have heard from Thainren that you have some skill with the blade." Gil-Galad added. "Given that war is coming, I have mandated that all our citizens receive basic training in self-defense. What type of training have you thus far received?"
Elrond looked suddenly pale as he stared down at his plate. "We were trained to use the sword and bow. I sparred a few times with the men last year and was intermittently assigned to their patrols as the situation required."
"Did you spar often with Elros?" Cirdan probed.
"In the early morning away from prying eyes. Elros is much better than I am with the bow, but we are equally matched with the sword." Elrond admitted. "Maglor worked with us often in an attempt to shield us from the other elves."
Xxxxxxx
Having already donned protective jackets, Cirdan and Elrond walked into the weapons storage house. "What type of blade have you practice with thus far?" Cirdan questioned. Elrond scanned the numerous swords lining the walls and settled on the heavy, double-edged broadsword that the Feanorians were known to favor. He closed his eyes briefly willing the terrible memories aside.
"Maedhros favored the broadsword." He said softly. "That is what they taught us with." Cirdan observed the young elf beside him carefully.
"That is too large and heavy for one of your stature." He pulled a thinner more tapered, blade from the wall that was fitted with an exquisite pommel. Its dimensions were similar to the broadsword, but its weight and balance were more suited to the youth before him. "Might I suggest this." He handed Elrond the blade. "I believe it would be far more appropriate."
The boy nodded calmly as he took the sword. They walked back out into the courtyard. Cirdan could sense a change sweep through the elf before him. "Warm up for awhile. Then we can practice and spar together." A slight shiver passed through the boy, then he nodded submissively and drew himself up to his full height. His face was suddenly masked, and he tightly guarded his emotions. In his concentration, the world around him fell away as he focused solely on the task at hand.
Thainren and Gil-Galad fell silent as they watched the elfling expertly execute intricate practice forms. Elrond's movements increased in speed as he slowly tested the size and balance of the new blade. The slim figure soon adjusted to lighter blade, and his fluid movements were beautiful, resembling more a lithe dancer than a warrior. Cirdan and Gil-Galad exchanged looks of surprise at the youth's proficiency. His forms were obviously biased by the Feanorian's techniques, but his style was unique. To have developed so far would have taken years of practice. Most elves in Mithlond did not start practicing with practice blades until they reached twenty. Thainren just smiled at both the older elves in appreciation and relief that this was to be a friendly practice session and not a life-or-death situation.
"You are beautiful to watch, Elrond, graceful beyond your years." Cirdan's jolly voice rang out. He was attempting to ease the tension in the young one. It was obvious from his masked expression that the elf before him had never practiced for enjoyment. "Shall we spar?"
"As you wish, my Lord." Elrond returned not acknowledging the complement. He stood tall and bowed respectfully. At his full height, he was less than a head shorter than Cirdan, but his slim frame made him look petite next to the comparatively stout muscular mariner.
Cirdan bowed in return and was taken aback when the face of the elf before him sharpened into the unreadable expression of a seasoned warrior. The mariner was careful to keep his first strokes light and even determined not to overpower the young one, who had just recovered from his bout with poison. The aim of this sparring session was to assess the elf's skill.
The councilors and several of the trainers had joined them, surprised to see the youth's grace and agility. His eyes never betrayed where his next move would strike, and he varied his movements, never falling into a cadence that could be anticipated by his opponent. Elrond anticipated Cirdan's moves well, adjusting and deflecting the blows as the mariner's thrusts came steadily faster and stronger. The youth's footwork was quick and even. He danced lightly, meeting each trust and parry as the pace increased. He spun quickly to his right, initiating an aggressive attack across the mariner's opposite side. Cirdan raised his brow in surprise at the youth's audacity; happily meeting the attack with a series of deftly executed defensive maneuvers. The Peredhel had spunk, courage and creativity. With training and strengthening, this one would be a formidable opponent.
The youth was tiring as the sparring session progressed. Cirdan had not expected it to last this long. Already nearly three quarters of an hour had past. Discerning the boy's weariness, Cirdan moved to disarm him more quickly. Elrond retreat backwards in response to Cirdan's forceful cut on the edge of his blade, only just sidestepping the derobement. The movement forced the boy to take the low line in his return thrust. He correctly read Cirdan's attempt to entrap, seeing the Mariner's diagonal motion. But his riposte did not carry enough strength to fully avoid the counter-attack. As the Mariner brought his full strength to bear, Elrond was knocked off kilter and his sword flew from his hand.
The youth bowed, trying to control his panting and then he stood tall. His face betrayed no emotion as he spoke out of reflex in clear, perfect high Quenyan. "What forfeiture does my Lord require?"
Cirdan stared at him, not comprehending the meaning of his words, merely bowing in return. "I enjoyed our session, Elrond. You are skilled beyond your years and perhaps you should continue your training with our warriors, though they are many years your senior."
The King, though, had clearly understood Elrond's fears as well as the reasons that belied his extraordinary skill with the blade. Grief filled his heart at the thought that he had left Earendil's sons at the mercy of Maehdros where they were subjected to such abuse. He walked over to Elrond, placing his hand gently on his shoulder. He spoke quietly in Quenyan. "Such forfeitures are not the way of honorable Elves, Elrond. It is my sincere hope that you will find the Elves of Mithlond are indeed all honorable." Elrond relaxed his carefully guarded warrior mask, relief flowing through him.
"Laddie, you did very well." Thainren patted him on the back and laughed. "You held you own against an elf who is what, ten thousand years older than you." This statement brought a true smile to the boy's lips. "And you complain when I refer to you as little one, when only thirty years lie between us."
"Come Elfling." Cirdan sighed in mock indignation. "A bath and change of clothes are in order."
"Indiriel arrives shortly." Gil-Galad smiled.
The King, councilors and Thainren took their leave while Cirdan and Elrond proceeded to the warrior showers. Elrond was surprised by the size of the lockers and large bathing pool. Cirdan soaped and rinsed and then stepped into the pool. Elrond imitated his actions and sank into the heated waters. Cirdan could not help but notice the boney figure before him.
"I will talk with the trainers later and he will design a course of exercise to help strengthen you. I am sure that Laeste will see that you receive all the proper nutrients and soon you will feel much stronger." Cirdan said. The boy nodded in agreement.
"You are much stronger than I. If you had wanted, the match would have ended much earlier."
"Do not think that I had that much control over the length of the match. You are quite skilled for your age. Remember, the aim of these practice session is to improve your skills. I think that was not the aim of the sparring matches in Amon Ereb."
"No, the aim was to humiliate the Peredhil." Elrond whispered. "I would not have that be the situation ever again."
"You were but a child there. Here it is clear that you are developing and will soon reach your full stature and strength. The Feanorians will no longer have the advantage should you ever meet again." Cirdan reassured him. "The long life of the Elves means that we experience much sorrow and misfortune." The Mariner opened his heart to the boy before him allowing Elrond to sense the depth of this ancient one's pain and loss. "We can not allow ourselves to dwell solely on these experiences as it diminishes our ability to appreciate the love and joy that our spirits were truly created for."