Lessons

[Lady Arwen]

Arwen had been called by her father to return to Imladris, as he had arranged with an acquaintance from long ago to teach her lessons. Arwen could not fathom what she could learn from this elf, this one called Tindomion. Elrond and Galadriel and taught her most everything she knew, from the histories of the world to the kinds of creatures that roamed the world. In all her years she had never needed someone special to be called to teach her anything, and she was puzzled as to why her father sought out a tutor. Knowing that whatever the lessons might hold were something that her father particularly wanted her to learn was helpful, but his messenger did not detail specifics.

She had been in the city for only a few days and already she longed for the golden woods of her mother's family. Imladris was not an unsatisfactory place to reside, quite contrary, it was tranquil and beautiful, but it was not Lorien. In Lorien, Arwen was able to feel the trees, and she could hear their songs when the wind blew at night. She missed those songs, and it kept her awake at night that she could not hear the whispers of the golden leaves.

Her father was waiting for her in his study, and that was where her footsteps lead her. The path was empty save for one or two passing elves, who nodded at Arwen respectfully. She smiled in return, but her mind was absorbed with what her father could possibly want to have her learn that he had her come all the way from Lorien.

[Lady Arwen]

Arwen took the sword in her hands, feeling the weight of it immediately. She turned the blade into the light, letting the tip point toward the sky, and saw what appeared to be faint scrawling over the end of the blade. It was of the more ancient scripts, in a tongue that she was only slightly versed in. So her father wished her to learn to wield a blade, and not any blade, but the blade of her great grandmother, Hadhafang. There was no doubt a history that would be explained as she trained, and Arwen was eager to hear it. Physically she was ready to pick up a longsword and wield it, but mentally she would need strength. So short to having her mother part Middle Earth, Arwen did not have the capacity to swing at another living creature.

Ah, yes, her mother... after the savage attack and her mother's near death, Arwen dreaded that she would never heal and have to part her. She was burdened by the thought that she would never again see her mother, and this above everything weighed upon her mind. She tried her best to avert her thoughts to other matters, but now that her brothers had gone to train in the North, Arwen as all alone in her home. Yes, her father was there, and so were those who served the house, but things were so eerily quiet, so still. Her mother, even in her illness, had brought cheer and light to the house, and it warmed Arwen to see that her mother could smile despite her pain. That alone filled her with hope that things would continue after a tragedy.

"Ada, I do not know what say - thank you - but I cannot find the words to express myself."

She bowed to her father, low, holding the blade across her chest, then turned and bowed to Tindomion, even lower, causing her hair to sweep into her face. She did not move it, but stayed low as she spoke.

"I would be honored if you would teach me all you know."

Then she rose to face him, and stared into his flaming eyes. So it was true what they said about the Nolor - they did bear a fire in their souls.

[Lady Arwen]

Arwen said nothing as her father spoke, though she could see the pain and turmoil pass behind his eyes as if a cloud passed over the sun. There were so many things that he had never spoken of about his past, things that she had no mind to ask about due to their personal nature, things about her mother that she would never find herself questioning. She knew of the lights and darks that he spoke of, yes, though in her mind the specific details were no doubt different than her father's, since she had not found someone to love for the rest of time as he had. Of course, she dreamed of the day that she would awake next to the elf who she had bound her soul to, and how joyous and pure the feeling of love must be - for even though she loved her father and mother and brothers, she knew that a love with someone she had yet to meet would be deep and true.

As her father touched her face lovingly, Arwen was reminded of when she was much younger, when her brothers had gone away to Lorien and she was left in Rivendell, how her father had comforted her. It was warm and kind, and she couldn't help but lean into his kiss on her forehead, allowing herself to remember the feelings of that moment so long ago. He had told her that it was not her time to go alone to visit Galadriel, that she needed more strength before a journey of that sort. Little did she know of the time of the dangers that were awaiting her in the forests, the creatures that would have devoured her alive, nor did she know of her father's fear and relief that she did not press the matter. She had been a good daughter, and she would continue to do so now.

"Ada, I will not fail you." She smiled at her father, her eyes round and near tears. It did not help her that her father was also near tears. "It is an honor that you place upon me this day, and I will bear it proudly."

She turned to her new turo [teacher] and stood straight, so that he might inspect his new istui [student]. She did not know if the lessons would begin that moment, or if she were to be allowed a day to prepare herself, to meditate and rest and gain composure. These questions would need to be asked in time and she would rightly ask them, but she felt that the moment was not right, and so waited.

[Lady Arwen]

A mist crossed her father's eyes which Arwen could not read, and in a flash he disappeared from the room, leaving her alone with her new teacher. She did not know what to say to him, knowing him only by sight. He was a companion of her father, one of the older elves that resided in her father's domain. She knew the history of his people, as it was part of the history of her people, but he was one who lived through it. He had no doubt been near her father when she was brought into the world, and if she was mistaken, then he had known of her coming and wished her father and mother well. Again, Arwen's thoughts dwelled to her mother, and she forced her mind to stray. Now was not the time to grieve, though she would later in her meditations.

She smiled at Tindomion, then gazed at the blade in her hand. The scabbard was not far away, left on the table where her father had left it. This blade was older than she, and for that she could respect it, but it was a bringer of death, a fea thief. The deaths that it took part of were harrowing to think of, so Arwen tried to bring her mind past that, and succeed. It would protect her in a way that her mother had not been protected, and it would allow her to be stronger. She did not know of the dangers ahead of her, since she was not gifted with foresight like her father or grandmother, though she could sense when something was coming toward her, or if the weather were to change a week away. She could also gather feelings from others, which is why it was bizarre that she could not read her father's emotions just then.

"Tindomion, I do beg leave of you for the moment. I will need rest and meditation before we begin, as I am not prepared for training." She bowed her head before sheathing the weapon, and stood a moment with the protected blade in her hand. Did she dare leave it, or would she be scorned? Deciding to be brave, she clasped the golden button around her girdle, drawing weight to that side of her body, but she did not care about how she appeared. The weight of the sword made her feel proud, and it caused her to rise in her form and stand tall. Bowing once more, she strode out of the room with more pride than her grieving heart would have allowed her.

[Lady Arwen]

Arwen did not hurry her mediations, nor did she dawdle and linger. When she arrived from her father's study she discovered an elleth's version of training attire spread out on her bed. A rich dark green tunic, snug trousers and a soft brown belt were laid over a noble grey cloak. These were donned immediately by a daughter eager to see her father's wishes fulfilled, and as she clasped Hadhafang to her belt, she noticed a long pair of gloves upon her desk. These were of a dark and earthy brown, and were probably made of the hide of a graceful buck. When she had finally finished dressing for her training Arwen felt that she might be able to succeed in her efforts.

Her meditations followed next, and though Arwen cleared her mind of Rivendell and her father's wishes and swordplay and the name of her grandmother's great aunt, her thoughts strayed over and over upon her mother. Arwen saw the likeness of Celebrain's face in her mind, the soft words she spoke at their final parting, and the pain upon her family since. She understood why her mother had decided to leave, though she could not grasp the concept itself. The Undying Lands would heal her mother's wounds it was said, but why couldn't the love of her husband and children heal her? The whole of Rivendell, the whole of Lorien, loved her and desired her to stay. Her choice to leave, her choice to stay. Arwen was comforted by the thoughts that she would see her mother again when she sailed away, but what if their paths never crossed again? What if Arwen was doomed to never see the light in her mother's eyes again?

Bitterness followed Arwen then, as she breathed in the clean air of the morning. As her tears ebbed and flowed with her breathing, a clear thought came to Arwen's mind. No matter her mother's reasoning for leaving, or if she never chanced to see her, Arwen would continue and be a stronger elf for it. Lessons were learned from those older and wiser, even if there was never a lesson intended to be taught. Her mother's inability to ward off the yrch attack was the cause of her inability to rest in Middle Earth. Arwen did not know of another home and would not leave it until nothing remained to fight for.

After she had finished these thoughts she rose and cleaned her face in cool water, realizing that she was ready to begin her training. The walk to the training grounds was long and proud as the citizens of Rivendell saw their Lady in a new light, a stronger and fuller light. She would take on her master and do her best to learn everything he had to offer.

The grounds themselves were empty, save for a few dummies, and Arwen walked slowly into the clearing for a few paces. After that she stopped, and cleared her throat.

"I am ready to begin."

[Lady Arwen]

Arwen had not known the meaning of physical pain until she had started training. The bearing and swinging of the sword she found herself able to manage. She understood that her fingers, hands, wrists, arms must be tuned to the perfect degree if she were to wield a blade with any proficiency. At the beginning the time of holding Hadhafang seemed nothing, but as the days wore on she found the minutes seemed to stretch on for hours. While her body was training she let her mind rest and wander to thoughts of her mother, her brothers, and her father, how she rarely saw him now unless he came to the training fields and watched her from the side. It was odd to see him so expressionless, so cold and distant. Arwen could only imagine what was going on in his mind, and she spent many long hours thinking of what might be going through his head.

When she was not training her hands, Arwen found herself running back and forth as quickly as possible between two dummies, training her legs and body to be sure in battle. When she was not running or weaving, Arwen found herself deep in silent meditations, supervised by Tindomion. She was not to move from her thoughts, to focus on visions of seeing the battle won, to see herself wielding the blade with fluidness and ease. Quite possibly he knew of her wandering thoughts during her exercises and so punished her by the absolute thought cleansing. When her meditations were over she was permitted to eat a bit of substance and have a cooling drink, but then it was back to balancing swords and running between dummies.

After a few days of this, Arwen was led to a grove where the branches of the trees revolved around the trunks, and the terrain was changed from the firm flooring of the sparring area. Now her feet had to adjust to slime, to mud, to something that would slide beneath her feet. This was a task in itself, but she also had to avoid the spinning branches, which came at her from about her ankles, waist, and head. More than once she lost her footing on the slime or in the mud and received a smart smack on her head from a swinging branch, and it was the bruises on her forehead that compelled her to be faster and jump higher, duck lower, and parry and joust with all her efforts.

Weeks went by like this, and Arwen found herself finally able to take on the ellyns who were also training, and while she did not win many matches at first, she began to make a killing blow more and more often, until there were only a few among those training who could defeat her. Arwen trained even harder, taking few moments to rest. She could feel herself becoming stronger, faster, and it was amazing to her. All the knowledge she had gained previous to this had been so still, and before she was unable to determine when exactly she had learned something until the lesson was completely through, but now... now she could feel it in her hands, her arms, her legs. She was weary, but she felt accomplished, and that was how she could tell she was learning.

Now months had passed, and Arwen had dueled and defeated all but one, and this was the day she felt she must make a fool's challenge - to duel Tindomion, her master and teacher. She knew that it would be impossible to defeat him, but she knew that she would not fully pass her training unless she tried. Only then she would feel that she passed training completely, that she had learned all there was to know, save for a battle against a real foe.

After her daily meditation, when she rose to sup, she turned and bowed before her master before he left the balcony. Her voice, as she began to speak, seemed gruff after the long silence, and she cleared her throat.

"Turo, before you leave, may I beg you to hear me?"