3. A Novice’s Day

Legolas looked cautiously around the half-open door of Eilian’s room. His ears had told him that someone was in the room, probably one of the healers, and he did not want to interrupt anything. Eilian had been home a week now, and his wound was healing rapidly, but the healers were still worried about his arm.

Belówen stood next to the bed. He was in the process of removing the splints from Eilian’s arm. Eilian glanced over at the door and saw Legolas. “I can go away and come back later,” Legolas offered.

“No, come in and talk to me,” Eilian ordered. “I need someone to distract me while Belówen does vile things to my arm.” Legolas approached the bed.

Belówen looked up at him and smiled. “If your brother is very good, I may allow him out of bed today, so see if you can help him behave.” He held Eilian’s wrist in his left hand and began running his right hand up Eilian’s forearm, his fingers probing delicately.

“Why are you still home?” Eilian asked. “Are you not late for training?” He carefully did not look at what the healer was doing.

“We have had night archery drills for the last three nights, so we are starting late today,” Legolas answered.

Belówen now picked up Eilian’s arm and stretched it out straight, watching his patient as he did so. Eilian’s face paled somewhat, but he made no other response. “How did the night archery go?” he asked.

Legolas smiled slowly. “It went very well,” he said happily.

Eilian smiled too. He had been startled two years ago when he realized that his little brother could outshoot him with a bow, at least on the training field. And that undoubtedly meant that he could outshoot the other novices too, even those who were older. Eilian was sure that any archery training was going very well indeed.

Eilian suddenly gasped as Belówen held onto his wrist and twisted the forearm slightly. Legolas looked at Belówen, alarmed. The healer immediately stopped what he was doing and laid Eilian’s arm gently back on the bed. He slid the splints back into place and began to tie them around the forearm.

“You are doing well,” he said soothingly. “You may get up and begin moving around today. We will rig a sling for your arm so that it will be protected.” Eilian briefly looked as if he meant to ask questions, but his delight at being allowed out of bed immediately outweighed any worry he might feel.

“Excellent!” he cried.

Legolas laughed at his enthusiasm. “I must go now,” he said. “Wait until I come back to help you if you decide to move any furniture or clear stones out of the river.”

Belówen raised an eyebrow wryly. “Sound advice,” he said, fearing that his patient might indeed be inclined to do something intemperate.

“Go away, brat,” said Eilian happily. “Perhaps I will come and show all you novices how to swing a two-handed axe.”

Legolas departed for the training fields, feeling decidedly light-hearted. He trotted up to the spot where the novices assembled and slid into line between Annael and Tonduil. “How is Eilian?” asked Tonduil. He had seen Eilian when he and his parents had come to visit his sister, Alfirin, and he knew how worried the royal family was.

“He is better,” Legolas had time to answer before the novice masters emerged from the hut next to the training field and began sorting the young warriors-in-training into various groups for their assigned daily tasks. The five youngest novices were sent off on a two-league run through the trees and over a series of hills. Legolas attacked the exercise with pleasure. He liked running. He liked the feeling of his muscles working and the warmth that spread through them as he settled into the training regime. Annael ran beside him, his long legs moving seemingly effortlessly. Tonduil’s movements were more dogged, as he followed a few paces behind.

Ahead of them ran Galelas and Isendir. Galelas was big for an Elf and did not particularly like running, but he was also competitive enough that he consistently ran at the head of the pack. Isendir, on the other hand, was small and quick. He probably could have outrun them all, at least in the short term, but his desire for Galelas’s approval kept him by the larger novice’s side. He knew better than to outdistance Galelas if he wanted to stay friends.

The five of them ran at the pace they knew was expected – fast enough to make them breathe hard but not so fast that they would be wrung out at the end. The run was both conditioning and warm-up. But the real work would come after they had returned to the training fields. Today they were to work with archers’ short swords.

Thelion, the blade master, was waiting for them as they completed the course. “We will spar today,” he said, “pair by pair, with the winner of the first bout fighting the odd one out and then the winner of that bout fighting the winner of the second one.” He held out a pouch and they all drew colored tiles out of it. Isendir and Tonduil drew red tiles; Galelas and Annael drew black ones; Legolas drew the single white tile. Galelas, Annael, and Legolas dropped to the ground by the side of the roped off practice field, while Isendir and Tonduil chose blunted practice swords from the rack. They took up stances in the middle of the field and, when Thelion gave the signal, they began to spar.

Their styles were really quite different, Legolas thought, as he watched critically from the sidelines, knowing that he would have to spar with the winner. Tonduil tended to wait for attacks and then defend against them, using each of his parries to start an attacking stroke of his own when he could. But the smaller, quicker Isendir was very difficult to reach. His primary defense against any attack was simply to move out of its way. He seldom needed to block any of Tonduil’s moves, having moved to attack from a new direction before they had struck home. The bout was over quickly. When Isendir touched the tip of his blade to Tonduil’s ribs, the loser of the match looked surprised and then dismayed.

Thelion was an exceedingly patient teacher, however. “Good use of your agility, Isendir,” he said. “Tonduil, you have good control of all the attacking moves, but you need to use them more aggressively. You cannot let your opponent control the match like that.” He worked with Tonduil for a few minutes, serving as the target for series of moves that he encouraged the novice to make. Then, seemingly satisfied, he signaled to Galelas and Annael, and they took their place in the training area, as Isendir and Tonduil came to sit next to Legolas. This match promised to be more interesting because both combatants had strengths, and it was not easy to predict which was likely to do better.

Annael’s sword work was a joy to watch because his moves were very graceful and controlled. Galelas, on the other hand, tended to use brute strength to push aside an opponent’s weapon and come in close for a kill. This match lasted longer than the previous one, but Galelas managed to back Annael against the rope at the edge of the field. Then he came in with a wicked-looking horizontal swing. Annael turned into it and blocked with the base of his sword, using his left hand to support his right wrist in the struggle with Galelas’s greater strength. However, the force of Galelas’s blow drove Annael’s sword back into his own body. “That is a kill,” called Thelion.

The two of them walked back to where the others were gathered. They were both obviously winded. “What did you do wrong when you parried that horizontal attack, Annael?” the blade master asked.

“My arm was too close to my body,” Annael said promptly.

“Good,” said Thelion. “You will not let that happen so easily again.” He signaled to Legolas, who now rose to face Isendir, the winner of the first bout. He eyed the smaller novice, knowing full well that it would be dangerous to underestimate him. He set his feet, bent his knees slightly, and shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. “Go!” called Thelion.

The two of them were in instant motion. Legolas moved in as quickly as he could, having already decided that quick stabbing attacks were his best course of action with this agile opponent. He tried a straight thrust, turning his wrist and extending his arm, but Isendir had moved to his right, and Legolas had to parry quickly. The two of them danced around one another, with Legolas trying to read Isendir’s body to see where he would be next. Finally, he feinted, and then quickly drove a blow to catch Isendir who was dodging the false move.

“Good!” called Thelion. “That is a kill.”

“Good move,” said Isendir grudgingly under his breath.

“Thank you,” said Legolas in surprise. Because Galelas and Isendir were friends, Galelas’s hostility to Legolas usually meant that Isendir was barely civil to him. The two of them walked back to where Thelion stood.

“Now Galelas and Legolas,” said Thelion.

The two of them moved to the center of the training field. Galelas’s back was toward Thelion, and he now smiled spitefully at Legolas. “Get ready to land on your backside,” he said in a low voice.

Legolas clenched his teeth. He had no intention of letting Galelas’s remarks distract him from what he was doing. They took up their stances and, when Thelion had given the signal, they began to circle warily around one another. But it was not in Galelas’s nature to wait for long. He thrust quickly and Legolas parried, snapping his sword up against Galelas’s blade and then trying to step in close under the other’s weapon. Galelas was having none of that, however, and although he was forced back, he kept his sword pommel down so that his weapon stayed between them. He side stepped and swung again, a move that Legolas parried easily.

The two of them now sparred, with neither seeming to gain much advantage. Finally, Legolas thrust toward Galelas’s chest and Galelas blocked the move, pushing Legolas’s blade to the side. Seeing the opening, Legolas moved quickly in under Galelas’s blade, allowed his own sword to circle around, and thrust in again at an angle. The tip of his sword touched Galelas’s ribs. “A kill!” called Thelion.

Galelas was glaring at him so fiercely that Legolas stepped back in surprise. This was weapons training! Surely Galelas knew better than to let personal animosity interfere on the training field. They stared at one another for a moment, and then Galelas turned and walked back toward the blade master. After a moment, Legolas followed. Annael and Tonduil were both grinning at him, although they tried to hide it. They were not supposed to favor one combatant over another in these training bouts. Isendir’s face was a correct blank.

“Good job, Legolas,” said Thelion approvingly. “You did the right thing not to try to push past his guard. Good fight from you too, Galelas.” He swept his glance over all of them. “We are through here,” he said. “I think that you have some free time this afternoon. You would do well to use it to practice with one another. In the meantime,” he grinned, “I believe that you are supposed to be mucking out the stables.”

Cleaning the stables where the warriors’ horses were kept was a traditional daily chore for the youngest novices, so they were not surprised by his news. But they groaned good-naturedly anyway, mostly because Thelion seemed to expect it. He laughed. “Go,” he said. And the five of them headed off for the stables.

Galelas charged on ahead and walked down to the far end of the stables to begin work. After a moment’s hesitation, Isendir joined him. Annael, Tonduil, and Legolas started work from the near end. “What was Galelas saying to you out there?” Annael asked in a low voice, as they cleaned out the manure.

Legolas shook his head. “He is angry all the time, and I have no idea why.” He settled to their task and let the rhythm of the work distract him from thoughts of Galelas. Mucking out stables was a task he had never done until becoming a novice six months ago. He had cared for his own horse, but stable boys had cleaned Thranduil’s stables. He found, however, that he did not mind it, and he knew that Tonduil, who loved horses, sometimes found the time spent on this chore to be the best part of the day. Tonduil and Annael both thought it amusing that Legolas had never shoveled manure before and had teased him about being spoiled. By unspoken agreement, the three of them had not told Galelas and Isendir that Legolas had previously been spared this task.

The two groups of novices worked industriously for a time, and then, still holding a pitchfork, Galelas approached the younger three, with Isendir trailing behind him. “We will leave you three to finish up here,” he said with a shrug meant to show his indifference to their reaction. “Seniority should have some privileges,” he added, smiling offensively.

The other three glared at him. “We are all supposed to do the mucking out,” Legolas said, rather heatedly. Off the training field, he had no intention of tolerating any nastiness from Galelas.

Galelas set the prongs of his pitchfork in a nearby pile of manure and flicked it at Legolas’s boots. “Your boots are filthy,” he said, an unmistakable challenge in his voice.

“Galelas, get back to your task immediately.” They all jumped at the unexpected voice of Maldor, the unarmed combat master. Legolas spun toward the doorway to find Maldor’s stern gaze directed toward him. “And, Legolas, it is not your place to tell other novices what to do. You are just another novice, and the youngest one here at that.” He looked at them all. “You will finish the task in silence,” he added.

His face flaming, Galelas moved back to where he and Isendir had stopped and began to work. The others, too, turned to their task, working industriously until Maldor left, evidently satisfied that they would continue. None of them said anything further, but when they had finished, Galelas deliberately bumped against Legolas on his way to their mid-day meal in the novices’ common room. This was not going to end well, thought Legolas unhappily. Galelas was too determined to pick a fight.

***

When Legolas returned home for evening meal, the shortest path took him through one of the palace gardens where, to his delight, he found Eilian sitting on a bench with Alfirin. His arm was still splinted and supported by a sling, and he looked tired, but at least he was out of bed and getting around.

“Should you be out here?” Legolas asked.

Alfirin smiled knowingly. “I have already asked him that question,” she said placidly.

“You both sound like Adar and Belówen combined,” said Eilian cheerfully, “and I mean that in the most insulting way possible.”

Legolas laughed. “You do seem better,” he admitted.

“He will be returning to his bed shortly,” said Alfirin firmly. “He has done enough for today.”

“Yes, Nana,” Eilian responded. He sniffed the air and then wrinkled his nose at Legolas. “You are planning to bathe and change before evening meal, are you not?” he asked. “I am sorry to tell you that you smell like an unclean stable.”

Legolas made a face but kept the story of the quarrel in the stable to himself. “I am on my way to do that now,” he said and left them.

***

Legolas strolled along through the trees on his way to the cottage of Miriwen’s family. He savored being out of the palace in the spring night with the inky sky over him bursting with stars. Until he had become a novice, his father had not allowed him out of the palace at night without permission, but the novice masters sometimes required his presence at night, and Thranduil had told him that he no longer needed to ask each time, for he answered to the masters now. Somewhat uneasily, Legolas had chosen to believe that this meant that he could go out at night whenever he liked. Thranduil had assumed that Legolas saw Miriwen only on the green in the company of others, and Legolas had let him go on thinking so, but in reality, he had been to see Miriwen often in the last few months.

Tonight, however, would be the first time he had seen her since Eilian had been brought home. He had spent his evenings sitting with his brother and then had had the night archery drills, so he could not have come to see her in any case. But he had also been troubled by what his father had said about not giving Miriwen or her parents false expectations. He did not want to believe that he should no longer see her, but he had not been able to work out how he should behave. Today, though, was Miriwen’s begetting day, and his longing to visit her had drawn him out of the palace.

Her family’s cottage was small, but her parents had always made him feel welcome, and tonight was no exception. Although they usually sat in the warm, fragrant kitchen, tonight they gathered before the fire in the small sitting room in honor of the occasion. The room was scattered with books and papers, for Miriwen’s father was a scholar and tutor to several elflings. Miriwen’s baby sister, who was crawling about on the floor, seemed to be particularly attracted to the crinkly paper. Legolas scooped the child up and swung her overhead, giggling, as her father rescued his papers.

“Alfirin is with child,” he told them happily, bouncing the baby on his knees. She grabbed for his braids, and he laughingly let her tug on one.

“That is wonderful!” Miriwen’s mother cried. “The king must be thrilled.” She was bustling around setting out honey cakes for them. “I will send Alfirin some of the tea that helped me to feel better when I was carrying this one.” She paused to drop an affectionate kiss on the top of the baby’s head.

“One of the elflings I taught today has a new baby in his household,” Miriwen’s father told them, savoring the sweet cake. “He claims that he cannot do his lessons any more because the baby keeps him awake at night.” They all laughed.

Legolas did not stay late, for they all had to be up early in the morning. Miriwen’s parents never allowed them to go out together alone, but they usually did allow her to walk outside with him and say good night. The open door behind them flooded the path with light, and they drew aside into the shadow of a lilac bush that was now in full bloom.

“I have something for you,” he said and pulled a small package from his pocket. He watched her eagerly as she slipped the paper aside, revealing the necklace he had gotten from the silversmith.

“Oh,” she exclaimed. “It is beautiful. Help me to put it on.” She turned her back to him and held her hair to one side so that he could put the chain around her neck and fasten it. As his fingers brushed the nape of her neck, he felt her tremble slightly. Or perhaps it was his hands that shook. She turned toward him. The little oak leaf had slid inside the high neck of her gown, and she tugged the fabric down slightly so that he could see it. He hesitated a second and then bent to kiss the base of her throat. The cool silver of the oak leaf mingled with the warmth of her skin under his mouth. He could feel both her pulse and his own racing wildly. Her hands had been on his shoulders and now knotted themselves into fists in his tunic.

He pulled back and looked into her wide, dark eyes. Her lips parted slightly and he bent again to touch them with his own. She tasted of the honey cakes.

“Miriwen!” called her father’s voice from the doorway. “It is time to come in now.” Legolas loosened his arms reluctantly as she pulled away from him. She smiled sweetly, pushed one of his braids out of the way, and stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. Then she was gone, into the house. The door closed behind her, shutting off the stream of light from inside.

There was a bench against the side of the house on which the family sat in the evenings in fine weather. Legolas dropped onto it now, inhaling the heavy scent of the lilacs and waiting for his ragged breathing to return to normal. He leaned his head back against the wall of the house. He wanted to live in a cottage like this, he unexpectedly thought, reading books peacefully by the fireside or sharing his small news of the day with a wife and children. But he wanted to be a warrior too. He had always wanted to be a warrior. He wanted to serve Mirkwood as his father and brothers did.

He closed his eyes, knowing that what he really wanted right now was Miriwen. His body told him that every time he touched her. He thought that, perhaps, he was learning to love her. He was not sure and there did not seem to be anyone he could talk to about this, except possibly Annael, and Annael was just as inexperienced as he was. For a fleeting moment, he considered talking to his father but decided that he already knew what Thranduil would say, indeed what he had said already.

Why could he not be a warrior and have Miriwen too? Ithilden was married and would soon have a baby, and he commanded Mirkwood’s troops. But Ithilden had waited centuries to marry, he reminded himself, until he no longer spent most of his time on the battlefield. He had reason now to think that he would be present to share the raising of his children with Alfirin, and that Alfirin would not be left a young widow.

Legolas briefly envisioned Eilian, who had a reputation for flirting lightly with a succession of pretty maidens. For the first time, it occurred to him that his brother’s capricious romances might not be what he would choose, if he had a choice.

He feared that when it came down to it, for him there was no real choice either. As Thranduil’s son, he had been bred to duty.

The last light went out in the cottage. He should not have come here tonight, he thought miserably. He should not have given Miriwen the necklace. He should not have kissed her. What was he going to do now? He rose unhappily from the bench and started home.