~Legolas trains Lasriel, but not quite the way she wants. Thankfully her friends are there to help. Further north, Thranduil encounters unexpected danger on the road.~

~♕~

"A true hero isn't measured
by the size of his strength,
but by the strength of his heart."

– Zeus, Hercules

~♕~

32. Fight

A blaring sound woke Lasriel up in what felt like the middle of the night. "What on Arda is that?" she mumbled, trying to focus her weary eyes on the shiny, oblong object.

"I borrowed it from Gimli's horn blower. Up you get! Time to practice before I must go to work."

She frowned at him. "If you think this is going to put me off the idea you can think again!"

A few moments later she was ready to go. She followed her husband between the dark houses, drawing in the cool, crispy spring air. It was invigorating, and now that she was fully awake she didn't mind the early hour.

The guard at the gate gave them a surprised look when they passed them, but didn't say anything. Lasriel could feel his eyes on them as Legolas started to jog. "Time for a warm-up. Follow me!"

They ran around the colony, leap after leap, until Lasriel's legs felt like jelly and her lungs hurt. Sweat trickled down her forehead and stung her eyes.

"Hong long must we warm-up?" she managed between labored breaths as Legolas started on the tenth lap.

"At least another mile or so." He seemed completely unaffected by the exertion. "Fighting is hard work and we need to build up your stamina."

"I am not giving up. I know that's what you're hoping for."

"Me?" Legolas sounded innocent.

Lasriel tried to glare a hole in his back as she struggled to keep up. Damn him. So smug he looked, too!

When at last he stopped, he didn't allow her more than a few moments to catch her breath. Lying on his back in the grass, he started a series of sit-ups. "Come on," he urged. "You too. You need strong abdominal muscles for archery."

"Archery? Isn't the bow an attack weapon? I thought you were going to teach me self-defense..."

"Attack is the best form of defense."

Slightly dismayed, she began the sit-ups. She had seen herself learning to fence with an enemy, not shoot him in cold blood. Could she really bring herself to do that?

Soon, however, the ache in her stomach dispersed all thoughts; she had to focus her willpower to continue and not lose speed.

"Need a break already?"

"Nay." She needed to throw up.

He chuckled and flipped onto his stomach. "Good. Then let us do push-ups next. You will need strong arms to draw the longbow."

When he began it looked easy; he bent his arms and straightened them in quick repeat, his movements fluid and graceful. Lasriel tried to mimic him but struggled already after the first two. Was Legolas a machine or an elf? He appeared to be utterly tireless.

"Don't stop," he warned. "This will take forever if you can't keep up the tempo."

"I try." She forced her unwilling limbs to cooperate and raised herself on trembling arms once more before swiftly dropping down, nearly squashing her nose.

"Your stomach is not supposed to touch the ground. Perhaps you do need a break."

"I don't! Stop patronizing me!"

"Or you can admit you can't do everything. You build houses and haggle at the market, but you are no athlete."

"Yet," she hissed.

He sighed. "Can't we just forget this stupid idea? I don't want you to get hurt."

Lasriel had had enough. "I won't get hurt if you teach me! You said you would! But instead all you do is wear me out and I haven't even looked at an actual weapon yet!"

"And you said 'do your worst'", he reminded her calmly. "Perhaps in a few weeks you will be ready to learn sword routines and try the bow, but until then you need endurance and strength training."

"A few weeks? And you will let the mysterious lord wait that long?"

"Thanks to you, I have to. If it only were up to me I would leave as soon as possible and you would remain here, safe and sound."

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe you. Basic self-defense doesn't take weeks to learn; you made that up just to dissuade me."

"Oh, so now you are a fighting expert too. Probably read it in a book, aye? Please, tell me more about how to do my job. Go ahead."

His caustic tone and slightly raised voice was enough to trigger Lasriel's anxiety. It felt like an argument on the way, and despite everything she still hated those. And she was terrible at thinking out snarky replies.

"Don't be like this," she begged, struggling to hide the tremor in her voice.

"Then stop telling me what to do. I will train you on my terms or not at all, take it or leave it." Legolas glanced at the sky. "Sun is up; I must get to work." He strode off without looking back.

~♕~

The river valleys of eastern Rohan were among the most beautiful places Nimrodel had ever seen. The air was vibrant with life; bees, dragonflies, butterflies, and an orchestra of bird song. Spring had progressed further this far south and the three friends rode over soft, green grass where a myriad of flowers added color. Along the river, flocks of wading birds walked through the reeds in search of frogs and fish, and a couple of eagles circled the blue sky above.

"Look! How cute." She stopped to admire a herd of cows with their young. "That calf cannot be more than a day, at most."

"Interesting breed." Glóin went closer. "Never seen spotted cattle before, and see how short her coat is. Back in Dale, we only have furry, long-horned ones. Here, girl. Sook, sook!"

The cow curiously went closer, sniffing his hand before giving it a lick.

"This one reminds me of Padrandon when he was a baby." Thranduil bent his knees so he could pet a buff-colored calf. "I miss him." Out of consideration for Glóin's short-legged pony he had chosen his horse for this journey and left the elk behind.

One of the cows grazing nearby raised her head. She shook it up and down, huffing air through wide nostrils, and then purposefully advanced on Thranduil.

"Watch out!" Nimrodel warned. The cow didn't look happy that someone had come between her and her young.

Thranduil swiftly turned around and started to back away, palms out. "Calm down, sweet one," he said in Sindarin, keeping his voice low and soothing. "I did not mean to frighten you, my dear. Easy now, easy... Ai!" In his awkward backward walk, he had accidentally stepped on another calf that lay hidden in the grass.

"Mooh!"

Before he could jump aside, a heavy forehead crashed into his arm with an alarming crack as the new calf's mother avenged the injury done to her baby.

Nimrodel didn't pause to think. Grabbing the nearest implement, which happened to be Thranduil's silvery cloak he had left on his horse, she ran between him and the furious cow. "Shoo!" She flapped the cloak. "Go away!"

Glóin acted nearly as quickly. Waving his ax in the air, he scurried forward and dragged Thranduil out of danger.

The cows didn't stay to face the frightening, billowing fabric and gleaming steel. Mooing and lowing in affronted tones they took off at a run with their calves in tow.

"How are you?" Nimrodel kneeled next to Thranduil, who sat tense and silent, clutching his arm. His face was so pale it nearly looked translucent.

"It is broken," he stated needlessly. It was bent twice.

"We need help," said Glóin, equally needlessly. Though Thranduil might manage to ride with a broken arm, it would heal badly without a healer setting it straight.

Nimrodel looked around, scanning the grasslands for a settlement. Where there was cattle, there were usually people nearby.

With a surge of relief, she caught sight of a group of riders galloping towards them. Golden tails on their helmets streamed in the wind.

"You there," called the leader. "I am Éomer King. Who are you, and what do you think you are doing in this land, chasing my cows?"

"Oh no," mumbled Thranduil. "He knows my son. Do not tell him who I am, or this will get beyond embarrassing..."

~♕~

Angry at her weakness, Lasriel watched Legolas leave, tears pooling in her eyes. He could be absolutely horrible when he was in that mood, but she would not give up. She would endure whatever he put her through, and when it was time for the journey she would be ready. It was the only way.

"I can train you," said Cheery from behind her back.

She started, quickly wiping her eyes before turning around. "Oh... That's kind of you, but–"

"You were right; he lied. It doesn't take weeks to learn basic self-defense."

"Nay, Legolas hates lies. He said I need to get stronger to be able to draw the bow and that makes sense, I guess."

"Just because you are married, you don't have to excuse his bad behavior. He was wrong and you know it."

"But–"

"It doesn't take much strength to defend yourself. Or height. Mostly it's about knowledge and the correct technique."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Firstly, make sure to remember the four golden targets: eyes, throat, knees, and groin – hit or kick an opponent in any of those hard enough and he will back away."

"Right... eyes, throat, knees and... uh..."

"...balls. Unless it's a female attacker, obviously. Use your fists and your feet, or a knife if you have one. But anything can be a weapon in the right hands." She picked up a stick and gave it to Lasriel. "Now, let's try using a weapon. Pretend this is a knife."

They fought with sticks for a while, and Cheery taught Lasriel different ways to disarm an opponent, with or without a weapon of her own.

"Where did you learn to fight so well?" Lasriel asked when they took a break to catch their breaths.

"They teach us when we are very young. In a mountain full of secret caves, dark passages and men – and as you know, all of us are considered men – it is important to be able to defend oneself. It gives you a confident air, you know? And that works well to forestall attacks." She grinned under her beard. "Actually, I only had to use my skills once in my life, and that was not even in a cave."

"Where was that then?"

"Here. Last night." Her smile became grim. "That other dwarf you hired for well-digging had the nerve to try to get my pants off."

"Gimli molested you? Oh no, that is awful..."

"Nah, nothing like that. We were in the middle of this frankly quite divine kiss when he suddenly stops and demand I undress so he can 'check things are the way you say' – his words. Well, that earned him a lesson he won't forget in a hurry." Cheery poked her finger into Lasriel's chest. "Trust. Trust and mutual respect are the foundations on which love is built. Remember that!"

Lasriel nodded slowly. "I know." She had learned that the hard way too. Just when it seemed everything was going right between Legolas and her, he ruined it by lying to her and treating her like some weak liability who couldn't be trusted to come along on his journey. Well, she would show him differently! "Enough rest," she said a bit grimly. "Let us continue practicing."

Not long afterwards Lasriel managed to kick the stick out of Cheery's hands for the first time, and then succeeded three more in a row.

A surge of pride filled her. "Yes!" she exclaimed. "I can do this!"

"Wohoo! You go, girl!"

"This actually works!"

"Not if you encounter a real warrior." The sudden voice was followed by a blur of hands and feet, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, and before they knew it Lasriel and Cheery lay on their backs with their own sticks aimed between their eyes.

"I yield," said Cheery weakly.

"N-Nellas?" Lasriel managed. "How did you do that?"

"I told you I can fight." She returned their sticks and helped them stand.

"Can you teach us?" asked Cheery, looking up at her with admiration.

"Why?"

"So that if a man tries anything funny we can stab him." Cheery made a suggestive motion with the stick. "Hit him where it hurts, if you get me."

"No. Killing a man will change you. In a bad way."

Her serious reply reminded Lasriel of what Legolas told her the other day. He had said he was no longer the ellon he used to be before the war. Had he killed a man?

He must have. That was what war was all about...

"True, I guess," said Cheery. "But I never killed anyone, so I wouldn't know."

"Trust me; I know." Recently, Galion appeared to always be where Nellas was. "Killing is ugly. Don't do it. Defend yourself if you have to, but then you run. Got that? Run. Self-defense is not about bravery, it is about surviving." His voice was unusually sharp, but then he softened it. "Lasriel, if you go on that journey, please stay out of fights."

"I will try," she replied, a bit baffled over his reaction.

"Nellas are right to say killing and death changes people." He made a wry, sad face, and Lasriel was certain he talked from experience.

"It happened to you?"

"It did." Galion sighed again. "In my youth I had many friends and was betrothed to a sweet elleth. I had dreams and plans; for a house, elflings, perhaps a nice garden... But then war came. THE war of our Age, that involved nearly the whole of Middle-earth. It went on for decades, but in the end it amounted to nothing. Aye, the Dark Lord was defeated, but as it would turn out, not for long. Peace was dearly bought and ended far too soon. And I... I lost my friends, family, my fiancee, and my dreams too."

"The War of the Last Alliance?" Lasriel guessed, feeling a wave of sympathy. No wonder he had seemed so unhappy when she first got to know him.

"Aye. It was after that, I started to... well... look too deep into the wine cup, so to speak." A blush crept up his cheeks. "I no longer wanted to be a warrior so I asked my new king – Thranduil, who had just been crowned after the death of his adar – to give me another task. He made me his butler, and as you can imagine that was not helpful in my... state."

Nellas wrapped her arms around him. "It is alright to be sad."

"Well, things are looking up lately." He gave her a warm smile that brightened his whole face. "The memories took long to fade, but now I am finally beginning to create new, happier ones."

"Aye, memories of war and evil don't go away in a hurry." Legolas unexpectedly joined them, carefully avoiding to look at Lasriel. "And that is what my wife wants to expose herself to? On a journey south, she could encounter men who have been warriors all their life and shy away from nothing. I have met pirates once before and know what they are like."

"What are they like?" asked Cheery curiously.

"Cruel. Full of hatred. Dark of heart." Legolas spat out the words. "Black Númenóreans, they are sometimes called, or Corsairs from Umbar. Men with elvish descent who turned to Sauron of their own volition and aided his cause throughout the war. When we defeated them at Pelargir, we freed the slaves they had kept chained to the oars of their ships. The stories those poor men told us..." He broke off with a shudder. "Like I said, such memories are slow to fade, and until King Elessar's men have defeated the last Corsairs I don't want Lasriel anywhere near the sea."

"Then don't fight them," said Nellas. "Take fast horses and flee at first sight of danger."

"A warrior doesn't flee."

"Says who?"

Legolas opened his mouth, then closed it.

"See? You have no commander now. You are not at war. Let your king deal with the pirates while you focus on the trees." She smiled. "Also, you will not be alone. You will have me to protect you."

"And me," said Galion.

Legolas opened his mouth again, possibly to object, but a strange sight made him once again shut it without a word. Someone came crawling towards them on all fours with a bunch of pointed stones in one hand.

It was Gimli with a bouquet of stalagmites.

"Cheery, my rock dove, my sweet amethyst," he panted. Now that he had come closer, Lasriel noticed a telltale swelling under one of his eyes. "Remorseful I grovel before you, begging you to pardon me. I promise to never again doubt your word. Please, accept my heartfelt request for forgiveness!"

Cheery crossed her arms. "Quit the parody. You expect me to take such an apology seriously?"

Grinning a bit foolishly he put the stalagmites at her feet. "I kind of hoped you might?"

Her mouth became a thin line. "Think again."

His smile waned and he looked dead serious for once. "I have been an arse, Cheery. I am sorry, truly. I'm just not very good at this whole, uh, emotion business." He shifted uncomfortably. "You know I had only Papa Glóin when I grew up and he... well, to be frank, I don't think he ever liked me much. But I like you. For real. And honestly, I don't care what's under your pants." He stretched out a hand that was not entirely steady. "Friends?"

It became very silent.

Then Cheery's beard started to twitch.

"Are you laughing at me?" asked Gimli suspiciously.

"Yeah!" Bursting out in roaring convulsions, she grabbed his hand and helped him stand. "Get up, you silly old man. You look like an idiot." She kissed him straight on the mouth. "But lucky for you, I happen to quite like idiots. Thank you. The stalagmites are adorable."

It warmed Lasriel's heart to see them embrace. She glanced at Legolas, but quickly looked away when she realized he was doing the same thing.

"Lasriel?" he mumbled.

"Hm?"

"You promised me something yesterday."

"I did?"

"Aye. You were going to teach me chess." There was an unfamiliar vulnerability in his voice, as if he was afraid of her answer.

It reminded her of Gimli with the stalagmites. Bringing a peace offering.

"Oh, how forgetful of me! Of course I must be true to my word."

His relieved smile when she put her hand on his arm melted away the last of her annoyance from earlier. If he was willing to bury the hatchet, so was she.

~♕~

"Checkmate!"

"Congratulations." Legolas tried to sound unconcerned though he really hated to lose, and this was the third time now.

"Thank you. I may not be an athlete, but at least there is one game you can't beat me in."

"Yet." He smirked.

They had been playing chess in their bed, now Lasriel put the pieces away with a yawn. "Perhaps time to sleep? We had a very early start today."

Her words ignited a slight pang of guilt; he had not been his best self that morning.

She put an arm around his waist. "Thank you for tonight. I had fun playing chess."

"Me too." Despite his losses, he realized it was true. Doing things with Lasriel was increasingly becoming a favorite pastime, and then he wasn't even counting sleeping together or kissing. And he had to admit her tactics and skill were impressive and made him strangely proud of her.

Perhaps bringing her on the journey was not such a bad idea after all? Like Nellas said, they could take fast horses and stay out of trouble.

A fresh wave of guilt over his behavior filled him. He should have just told her what he felt instead of wearing her out like that. And then he rudely walked away, ignoring her disappointment and pretending not to have noticed her tears. She deserved better treatment from her husband.

A line from his book 'A Couple's Guide to a Happy Marriage' came to him. Never part from your wife in anger, and never go to bed with a dispute unresolved. He had been terrible at following that advice.

"You are quiet. What are you thinking about?"

He stiffened. She deserved his honesty – and an apology. Problem was, he was bad at both. But this time he owed it to her.

He recalled Gimli's humiliating act earlier and shuddered. Not like that.

"I was thinking about this morning."

"Oh."

"I shouldn't have treated you like that, nor walked away. You were right; I could have taught you self-defense sooner, but... I wanted to stop you. Make you change your mind. Aye, you were right about that too."

"But why?"

He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to meet her gaze. "Because I was afraid. Not only that you would experience battle and death, that was... an excuse, I suppose. The truth is... lately you have come to mean a lot to me, and I don't think I could take it if I were to be alone again. I know, that is a selfish reason, I see that, but... And I guess, come to think of it, you probably don't want to be left alone either."

"I don't," she said with emphasis. "Why do you think I am so insistent about coming along? I am afraid too! I don't want you to be killed, or hurt, or get out on that island and perhaps find a boat and sail away from me..." The sentence ended in a sob.

She wanted to protect him, even risking her own life for his well-being. For some reason that realization made him almost cry as well.

"Then we should go together," he decided. "If we travel together, we die together and can be rejoined in Aman. That is the way it should be."

"Thank you," she sniffed.

He stroked her damp face, wiping away the tears while at the same time bracing himself for the apology he knew she deserved, but that was so very hard to utter. "I am sorry for my behavior this morning."

"I forgive you." She smiled through her tears.

"Thank you." He kissed her smile, relieved that he had said the words, and even more relieved over her reaction.

They lay in each other's arms in silence for a while. Then Lasriel rose on one elbow, stroking his face like he had done with hers just then. "Legolas... about what you said earlier – of the war, and the bad memories and all that. If you ever feel the need to talk about it... or just complain or whatever... then I will be here to listen. Always." Her eyes were full of compassion.

Suddenly his heart felt too big for his chest. "Thank you."

It struck him that he had not married the wife he thought he wanted – but thanks to the wisdom of the Valar, he had married the wife he needed.

The next few moments he pondered over a way to clothe his feelings in words without sounding like the prince from 'Gone With the Elf'. Then he got it.

"Lasriel?"

"Mm?"

"Remember my marriage guide book?"

"Ugh, aye." She snorted.

"It really has it all, but there is one piece of advice it is missing. In the chapter about choosing a wife." He edged closer, looking deep into her eyes, losing himself in them.

"What might that be?"

"To choose someone you can have fun with, whether you go to the market or play chess... Someone who will be your best friend. Someone you can respect and look up to, and... learn to love."

A/N:

*Happy sigh* :) Also, thank you to everyone who has brightened my day with your sweet comments!