I do not own Erestor, Glorfindel, or Lord Elrond nor any of the lands mentioned in this story.

This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained. :)

Curuteith and Narkal had pretended many times to attack each other in the midst of an argument like they imagined such an attack might finally happen. They both thought an elf angered to the point of attacking another would grab the other elf by the throat, or deliver a blow to his face or gut. While one tried this, the other inventive friend would whip out the knife they made and hold its edge to the arm reaching out as if to do him harm. Their new masterpiece had been dull of point and edge as they worked out these moves. They'd only sharpened it once they'd practiced them many times.

They also agreed, if an elf shouted at one they made these blades for "I will squeeze the breath you use to speak such foul false words from your very throat," revealing one of their knives should make the speaker reconsider.

They had also practiced shoving each other as the one shoved first let himself be driven back, but also drew out his blade on the way before holding it out. Both of them thought these maneuvers enough to end encounters with an enraged elf. The twins did not.

Barely had they received their blades before they circled each other like birds over another's kill. Narkal and their other brothers stared wide eyed at them. Curutieth narrowed his at them. "What are you both doing?"

Thalacam answered without taking his gaze off Pelenhen. "You want us able to win with these do you not?"

Narkal replied, "Yes, but only if the other elf charges you mid-verbal-spar."

"What if they draw a weapon first?"

Narkal opened his mouth. Thalacam spoke first, though, completing his brother's thought. "You think we are the only ones making weapons and training with them?"

Curutieth cut in to correct him. "Only your eldest brother and I created the knives and have done all the training til now."

As if not listening to them, Pelenhen darted forward and jabbed at his twin, who hopped back. Narkal's growl made them both freeze. "Stop this! None of us have tried this before! Curuteith and I only tried out how it might be if an unarmed ellon attacked us while the blade we practiced with was still dull! These are sharp! And you practice such deadly actions now?!"

Thalacam rose from his crouch. Pelenhen copied him but did not look back over his shoulder, which his twin was meeting Narkal's gaze over. "Then make us dull blades to practice with brother just like these otherwise. What good are they to us if we have no practice using them? We'd be like babes with bows and arrows."

. . .

"Do you wish to use dull blades first?"

In Imladris, on a bright mid-winter morning long into the third age, Erestor glared at Glorfindel. The Golden Warrior shrugged. "It has been a long time for you …"

"Just attack warrior. You do recall I trained with knives long before you."

"Not so very long," Glorfindel replied. Then the tall armored golden splendor once downed and now returned, bore down on Imladris' steward. Erestor's eyes widened as he missed those early training days even more.

. . .

Thalacam danced around with him. Heat still radiated from forge behind or beside them depending on where they positioned themselves. Curuteith felt moisture bead on his forehead and back. His eyes widened as a practice-blade, as they'd named them, grazed his side from behind. Pelehen slid past him to Thalacam's side, where he turned back to face Curuteith's startled gaze.

Tarman spoke up from where he watched alongside a narrowed-eyed Narkal. "Come now Pelenhen! Thalacam! That was hardly fair."

"But it is possible," Narkal murmured. "In a fight, if one of us pulls out a blade someone may come to our opponent's aid with their own … This is not sport, but practice for survival, we do."

Thinking this true, Curuteith tightened his lips and held out his free forearm covered by a "wrist guard." Upon learning Narkal wished them to first aim their blades as the hand, wrist, or arm of an attacker, the twins had then pointed out this was a brilliant strategy to use against "them" also. They had then requested something to prevent this.

Curuteith already had sheaths for the blades to be worn around the forearm. With some alterations and making each its twin, which he thought fitting considering who'd requested his invention, wrist-guards had come into being. Now they all wore them beneath their sleeves to protect their forearms from counter-attacks.

Pelenhen dove toward Curuteith. He slashed testing the leather. The blade's edge cut neither leather nor but the arm beneath. Instead of dodging back, Curutieth lifted his arm pushing Pelenhen's stabbing one aside and plunging his own knife toward the bare upper portion of Pelenhen's opposite arm. Before the dull point of his practice knife could reach it, Pelenhen drew back. Thalacam dove in at his side. The dull edge of his blade dug into, but didn't cut the shining slick material of Curuteith's sleeve on "his" upper arm.

Tarman shook his head. Narkal turned his head slightly to stare at him and say "Your turn."

Both twins and the other onlookers froze. Cuturteith, breath coming slightly quicker. He straightened, nodded at the twins, and stepped toward Tarman and his friend. He held his head slightly higher as Narkal's oldest brother slipped past him to take his place. A slight smirk came to his face as he watched Tarman do far worse against the twins than he, receiving twin stabs by dull blades in the same instant several times.

. . .

Ages later, Curuteith did not smirk upon the flat area of dead-brown grass still covering frozen earth, Glorfindel had prepared for them to practice upon. For a third time he found himself flying through the air. He barely managed to twist around enough to land on his feet. He winced at a dull throb slammed through his hip. "Elrond will not thank you if you put me back in bed again."

Glorfindel grinned though it failed to lighten his deeper blue than usual eyes. "Yes he will Steward of Imladris. He'd far rather have you his patient forever here at home than to be lost along on the journey you are determined to take."

Erestor ran at his sparring partner. Glorfindel danced out of the way. Erestor turned in time to catch his opponent's blade on his own and redirect it away from himself. Instead of retreating, Glorfindel pressed back and chuckled. "There is some of the speed and cunning of one who helped create these techniques."

Erestor backed away out of Glrofindel's reach while breathing heavier than he had in decades. "You fight more like Tarman or Narkal himself."

Tossing his blade and catching it instead of chasing his opponent Glorfindel's smile did reach his eyes this time. "The latter, at least, I will take as a compliment."

Erestor shook his head. "You tall broad elves! Always pressing down your full strength upon us shorter and slighter ones." Nonetheless, he plunged in hoping to land a glancing blow against the bigger elf's mithril coat. Glorfindel blithely caught and brought down his blade to block it.

"Do not blame us for using the gifts given us when we fight. A troll you will find even taller and with an even heavier fist."

Erestor turned and glared. Now Glorfindel did back away a few steps his grin still in place. "Do you wish to take a break? If you were human, you'd have needed one long before now."

Erestor shook his head, but spoke before charging again. "How I pity Estel, when he must begin training with you."

Glorfindel's grin fell away as he parried his friend's blow and replied. "Pity him if he doesn't train with me."

Erestor grimly nodded even as they pressed each other's blades against each other in a lock. The steward almost groaned. He knew he'd have to break first. Glorfindel shook his head. "Paper, house, and diplomatic work have not prepared you well this past age for what we might face in the east."

"It was all necessary work, and I thought the great wars long over."

"Yet, there are still tall and strong trolls, swift and cunning werewolves, and numerous orcs yet left in the land!"

"True, but I have not had more need to face them before than to prepare to care for those who had."

Glorfindel thrust his arm and blade upward, breaking the lock. Then he dove forward, dropping his knife to the ground before grabbing a startled Erestor's wrists. He pushed them back while leaning over till his nose almost touched Erestor's. "And since you came with us to these shores, I and many other warriors have been grateful for that. But those skills will not save you from an attack."

Erestor stared up into blue eyes a moment before nodding. "That is true."

Glorfindel released his hold and stepped back, bending down and picking up his blade without breaking eye-contact. "I have never disparaged your work back in the tents, in the forts, or here in our lord's house Erestor. But if we must travel through the Misty Mountains to meet your goal, I will not let you leave this Valley unprepared, even if I re-injure you in the midst of such preparation, and you must recover and train all over again."

Erestor frowned, but then fell back into a fighting stance and went still waiting to be charged. Glorfindel shook his head. "No, the day is almost half-way through, we break for a light meal. Then, we train with swords."

Erestor grimaced, but relaxed and followed the Golden warrior back toward the houses in the midst of a light snow.

So, what do you think?

God bless

ScribeofHeroes