Daughter Of Lórien || Book 1||

Ch 25 ~ Swordswoman

The sun blazes at its peak in the sky, its midday heat stirring a soft breeze that whispers through the forest trees as I walk onto the training grounds of the palace, a certain Captain of the Guard grinning at my side. Nëniel had agreed to train with me after I found her in the guard's breakfast hall this morning, pigging out on everything from freshly baked bread to decadent sweets, Tauriel and the other guards doing the same. And though I contemplated reprimanding her for her amusing disregard for table manners, I decided against it and soon joined in the feasting.

Now, a few hours later, we bind our wrists in leather wrappings and swords in hand, step into the training ring.

"Ready, Celé?" Nëniel calls to me, cocking her head as she smirks at me from across the ring.

I return her daring smile. "You're going down, captain."

And with that, I spring at her, and the match begins.

She dodges my attack with ease, dancing away from my blade on nimble feet and spinning on her heel, brings her blade down on me.

My sword halts hers with a clash and I throw her back with a maneuver of my wrists.

We continue on like that, constantly switching between the roles of defense and attack, oblivious to anything but the steel blades we swing at one another as the afternoon sun blazes in the sky.

Nëniel swings her sword at my left flank but I duck and roll away, springing back to my feet only to be met by the unforgiving steel of her blade once again. Our swords cross in front of our faces, silver on silver, and I glance up at the captain, her grey eyes narrowed in concentration. The small drops of perspiration on her brow are the only sign of her exertion as she swings at me again, her movements never faltering.

Though neither do mine.

I push her back with my sword when the blades meet again, putting some distance between us. She stumbles back but then regains her footing, sinking into a crouch mirroring my own as we circle one another.

"You're good," she pants to me, using the momentary break as an opportunity to quickly wipe the sweat off her brow.

Her mistake.

Leaping forward while her defenses are left slightly unguarded, I knock her feet out from beneath her, twisting her sword out of her grasp as she falls. The point of my blade is at her throat before she even hits the ground.

Mild shock swims in her silvery eyes as she stares up at me, lips slightly parted. My blade stays positioned unyieldingly at her throat.

And then the shock is swept away from her eyes as a smile lights up her face.

"Valar, you're damn good," she chuckles, shaking her head in surrender as she accepts the outstretched hand I now offer her. "The best fighter I've ever crossed swords with."

I smirk at her as I pull her to her feet, fatigued, but not nearly as entirely spent as the elf-captain in front of me.

"I've been trained with a sword nearly my entire life," I explain as a light flush colors my cheeks, brushing off her praise. "Probably the same amount of training that you Silvan elves have done with a bow. By now, it's nearly second nature to me."

She scoffs and giving my shoulder a firm grasp, fixes me with her steely, grey-eyed stare.

"And it's shockingly impressive," she says firmly, but kindly. A small smile warms her stern eyes as she shrugs at me. "So do not be embarrassed to accept credit where it is due."

I return her smile rather reluctantly but with no shortage of gratitude as I give her a playful bow. "Well then, I thank you for the compliment, friend."

She winks and giving me another pat on the shoulder, makes her way out of the dueling ring, dark hair swinging behind her as she unbinds the wrappings around her wrists.

Leaving me to stand alone in the center of the empty ring, a reigning champion.

And a champion open for another challenge.

"Train me."

The command comes from behind me and I whirl around to watch the Prince come sauntering into the ring, no doubt after having witnessed the entire match between Nëniel and myself. His eyes are fixated on me, set in harsh determination and- I feel the corners of my mouth twitch up. Admiration, I realize.

He looks impressed.

Though he seems to be trying hard to hide it.

Lowering my sword, I raise an eyebrow at his request.

"Why?" I command, jutting my chin at him.

"I'm training you in archery," he replies, raising an eyebrow and pointing his blade at me.

I study the sword in his hand; an elegantly crafted blade, no doubt fashioned specifically for a royal's use. I watch as he balances it in his hand for a moment, the hilt resting in his palm, before twisting it skillfully in one fluid motion and raising his bright eyes back up to mine.

"And though I hate to admit it, ever since that first duel, I've known that you were good at swordplay," he smirks, his blue eyes sparking as he prowls closer to me. "Better than anyone I've faced before."

I hide my satisfied smirk, placing a hand on my hip while letting my sword dangle lazily in the other as I watch him make his way across the ring toward me. He finally reaches me, his blue eyes looking me up and down as he leisurely twists his sword in his right hand.

And it is the purely arrogant challenge in his eyes that sparks a response in my own.

Faster than he could realize, I duck behind him and bring the pommel of my sword down on the backs of his knees. With a grunt, his legs give out from beneath him and he sinks to the ground, knees hitting the dirt. He makes to get up and return the attack but I lightly touch the lethal tip of my sword to his neck, halting him in his tracks.

"First lesson," I command, keeping my sword positioned at his neck as I lazily step around him, finally letting a smile slip past my lips.

He smirks back up at me, that challenging spark never faltering in his eyes.

My smile sharpens into a wicked grin. "Never underestimate your opponent."