The Exile's Daughter

The Long Fight Begins

My last uneaten slice of toast was whipped from my hand, and Legolas bit into it jauntily, smiling. We had become close friends in the last six weeks. I found him cheerful and wickedly impish, always there with a warm smile, a ready mind and a shoulder to cry on, too, when I needed it. We knew a little more about each other than we had that afternoon, sitting on the grass and sipping wine. He had told me that there was a lot of pressure on him at home because of the danger presented by Mirkwood to its inhabitants. Travelling with Aragorn was an escape from all that he had seen happen to his people's lands. However, I felt that there was something deeper in his reasons for leaving the Woodland Realm, but I was at least pleased that he told me a little about himself, since he knew far more about me. Perhaps I would know more of his true motivations in time. I said nothing of this as he took another large bite from my toast.

"Legolas, stick to your own food!" I grumbled.

"That sounds like an awful lot of effort", he shrugged, evidently enjoying being irritating. I rolled my eyes and he handed me a buttered crumpet, which was still warm.

"If you wanted toast, why didn't you just bring it with you?" I questioned, swallowing a mouthful of crumpet.

"Because you wanted crumpets, but you couldn't reach them because Lord Elrond was in the way?"

I laughed slightly. "Stop being right!"

"Would you rather forgo your favourite breakfast?" Legolas grinned confidently, cocking an eyebrow. I hit him playfully on the arm and he laughed. "You should be grateful. I fought Bilbo off for this crumpet."

I chuckled, imagining with amused clarity Bilbo's face if he was denied his desired breakfast. "I am grateful indeed! Are all hobbits so vicious around food?"

"Mithrandir says so. Ah, of course-" he smiled as I opened my mouth to ask "- you do not know him yet. He is Gandalf, from Bilbo's story, but we elves call him Mithrandir. I believe he is rather fond of hobbits."

We took a turning into the woods and walked on for a while longer, speaking easily and wandering amongst the trees until the food was eaten, and the sun had crawled up a little in the sky.

Eventually we came to a small clearing, where some weapons had been set leaning against a tree. Aragorn was bending over them, trying to sort them into some sort of order. There was everything I could imagine arrayed before me – daggers and swords of all sizes to one side, with bows and quivers to the other. There was even a spear – what I would be doing with that I didn't like to think. It was more than double my height and looked far too heavy. Beside the pile of sharp weapons were some blunt ones, both wood and metal but without the lethal points of the others.

As we entered the clearing, Aragorn picked up a wooden longsword and threw it to me. I caught it clumsily, surprised at how heavy it felt. "They have steel inside them to get you used to the weight", the man explained, seeing my confusion.

"We thought we should start with something you don't know and move on to refining your archery later once you have a little skill in something else.", Legolas contributed, sitting on the leaf-strewn floor and looking through the pile of weapons while Aragorn gestured me over to him.

He started by correcting my grip on the handle. It was frustrating how long even this seemingly small task took, but Aragorn insisted that good grip was essential for accuracy and speed, so I patiently followed his instructions until he was happy. Finally, after another lengthy explanation of how to hold it in a defensive position, Aragorn faced me with an identical weapon.

However, he frowned, noticing something. "You're left-handed?"

"I can use both hands equally for most things."