The King's Heart (Thranduil Fanfiction)

Chapter 34

(Rhovanel)

I pace around the garden while waiting for Legolas and Tauriel. They are not late, I am stomping three circles into the leaves. Legolas and Tauriel walk into the garden at precisely at noon armed with short blades of their own.

"Sit, blades on the outside of the circle," I command, pointing to their designated circles. They do as I say, placing their blades directly in front of me. I join them on the ground, crossing my legs and straiten in my back.

"I know you have both been training for a while, and that you know the basic breathing exercises." Both nod. "With that said, I still want to begin these lessons with breathing. Just a brief session. Take a moment, gather your thoughts and your focus, and center your breathing to a calming rhythm."

They both close their eyes and start breathing in sync. I join them and calm my own mind. After ten minutes of soundless breathing, Legolas and Tauriel stand and pick up their blades on my command.

"The most important part of all blade work is to remember that the blade is an extension of yourself," I say, back handing my daggers. I move into my first position, one dagger behind and parallel with my arm, other in front of my face also parallel with my forearm. Legolas and Tauriel mirror me, swiping their blades back and forth.

We go through brief basics for another twenty minutes, then I think they are ready for some fun stuff. "Do either of you know how to disarm your opponent?" Both nod. "Show me," I smirk, holding my blades in a fighting stance. Legolas steps up and tries a very complicated maneuver that I have never seen before, but is unsuccessful in disarming me. Tauriel tries the same maneuver with the same result.

"Who taught you to do it that way?" I sigh, spinning my blades absentmindedly.

"Annoneth." "Nana." they answer simultaneously. Of course, she must have been Legolas's teacher before me and of course she would train her own daughter, I can not believe I did not figure this out sooner.

"There is a much simpler way to disarm any opponent, be they taller, stronger, or faster than you." Legolas and Tauriel are completely engrossed in my lesson. "You simply step to the inside of their defenses and hook your blade up and into their hilt," I say, demonstrating on Legolas. The blade clatters to the leaf covered stones with my single strike. Legolas and Tauriel stare at me like I am the most amazing warrior and have just killed a spider with my eyes closed.

Legolas retrieves his blade and they practice on each other. Tauriel tries first, but does not step close enough, so her blade misses the hilt. Legolas steps correctly, but aims his strike too high and only manages to hit the blade like a normal strike. Tauriel successfully disarms Legolas the second time, and Legolas gets it his fourth try.

"Excellent, both of you. It would help me to see the two of you spar, so that I may see your weaknesses and strengths and base these lessons from there. They nod and turn to face each other. When I give them the command, they start sparring. Legolas is aggressive and strong, Tauriel is swift and agile. Every jab Legolas makes is either parties or avoided by Tauriel, but Tauriel only strikes at Legolas a few times, and both were weak attempts.

"Great work today, you two. I shall see you again tomorrow for another lesson. Same time, same place."

Both beam at me for a moment before horror covers their faces. I turn around to two hulking soldiers with ropes and swords on their hands. Their armor is decorated in a familiar style. They are from Lothlórien. Two servants are running into the terrace, huffing and puffing with their hands in the air, trying to signal the soldiers to stop.

I want more than anything to fight, but I know that it will not end well for me in the long run. I give my blades to Legolas and send him to find his father. As he scampers away with Tauriel, I turn to the maids.

"It will be alright. They would have found me here eventually. I beg, please return to your daily tasks. I can handle this myself. I hear the soldiers crack their knuckles, an uncommon activity for Lothlórien warriors. I turn to look at their faces more closely, and I can see shadows beneath their helms. They are not elves, but large men in Elven armor.

I turn to run, but they grab my shoulders and drag me back. I try to kick away, but one of them wraps a damp cloth around my nose and mouth. After several moments of struggling not to breathe, I gasp and inhale what tastes like pine, but smells more like maple and honey than anything else, and I start to lose feeling in my arms and legs. The larger of the two throws me over his shoulder and struts out of the garden.

We are at the gate when Thranduil storms up and demands my release.
"We have orders to take this Ellet back to Lothlórien, where she will face her crimes," the smaller says in perfect elvish. My vision is fading quickly. I try to shake my head, scream, I try to do anything that would tell Thranduil that they are not who they claim to be. But my body has no feeling in it at all, and my mind is hardly any better.

"I shall follow you to Lothlórien then," Thranduil proclaims, grabbing his cloak.

"No, come in a week's time, that is when the trial shall be. You will be able to see her then," the smaller says. Thranduil doesn't look happy, but he hangs his cloak back up reproachfully.

"What did you do to her? Why will you not allow her to walk herself?" Thranduil asks suspiciously.

"Just an herb for the road, my lord. A precaution to make sure she does not escape." Thranduil is mildly satisfied with this answer and nods for the gates to open. The last thing I see is Thranduil watching us ride away.