Lord of the Rings Fanfic- The Tale of Evelyn

Sword Fighting With My Elvish Mentor

   My hands shook. It was scarcely morning, but my hands wouldn't stop shaking. I willed my hands to stop. Today was the day that I have waited for so long. Nothing will get in my way. Swiftly, I packed my belongings. All I had brought with me were my favorite book, another set of clothes, and a countless array of weapons. I was always over- cautious but that quality was the reason why I was still breathing.

Slowly, I changed into my clothes. A tight blouse hued with blue draped over a pair of black pantaloons-- the silk useful in what harsh climate we had to scavenge. I finally went to the final stage of hiding my weapons in my clothes. I strode over to an old trunk carved from mahogany. Lifting the chest open, I stared proudly at my weapons. While most lasses my age stare at naught but jewelry, I stared at naught but weapons.

They gleamed in the light as I turned them over one by one. Everything ranging from a bow to a broadsword and a great number of daggers of all shapes and sizes.

I stared at my reflection. I was unrecognizable from the girl who was wearing the silver dress. The girl I saw was lethal and dangerous who will stop at no costs to get what she wanted. I removed several daggers. People may say that a sword has the most strength and durability, but each of these daggers had saved my life in many dire circumstances.

I ripped a length of cloth from my bedsheets. Cunningly, I tied the strip around my calves on my trousers. I slid three daggers into it. These were as light as can be but would leave a very agonizing puncture to the unfortunate victim's skin. Next, I held three of my bronze knives up. These I stuck into the inside of my cape, which was the color of molten silver.

They were just standard knives that would cause enormous pain if someone like me, who knew all the pain spots, stabbed someone with it. Slowly, I took out my sword. It was forged by the elves who gave it to me as a present in gratitude of rescuing them from the foul orcs. It was my pride and joy. My last and final weapon was a seemingly ornamental hairpin, though it bore cruel recollections that I could not share to anyone. Twisting the pin, it revealed a sharp, thin blade that glittered menacingly. 

   It was with this weapon that I would vanquish the evil that was stirring once more- the evil that took everything from me. I concealed this weapon in my hair by tucking it into my braid. The hilt, thankfully, was embossed in silver which gave the impression that the dagger was just a hair ornament. Before darting out the door, I hesitated. I then reached for my bow and my quiver of arrows. Although I was horrible in archery, Legolas would probably bawl like a child if I didn't bring one. Plus, if shooting did not work; I could always use the arrows.

***

  I took a deep breath. The air had a tinge of dampness which cooled my cheeks. My boots barely made a sound while I treaded on the grass. Iridescent droplets of dew clung on the grass like diamonds and a slight breeze billowed through my raven hair.

  Today was a perfect day for sword-fighting. Rivendell unfortunately did not seem to have a training arena of sorts, so I had to settle for a clearing in the middle of the woods. I drew my sword out of my scabbard.

  Pretending that there was an orc in front of me, I swung. Fortunately, I had a pretty vivid imagination. I could almost feel the acrid breath of the orc as it panted and the crimson blood spraying on my face.