The Prince's Visions

Chapter Seven

“Sword fighting?” I squeak out in fear.

    Lady Galadriel smiles amusedly at me. “Why, of course! You must know how to defend yourself should the need ever arise. And who knows, you might even learn to enjoy it,” she tells me as we walk down a cobblestone pathway through the forest.

    I can practically feel the blood drain from my face. Sure, girls learn sword fighting easily in Lord of the Rings fanfiction, but this is real life! Before I was diagnosed with cancer and started homeschooling, I was always the laughing stock in Physical Education. Think of all the sports or P.E. games you can: kickball, soccer, softball, basketball, football, volleyball, dodgeball, or even frisbie! You name it; I couldn’t do it! I’m the one who always falls down or gets hit in the head by the ball. I, at least, thought I would get out of any embarrassing sporty things here in Middle Earth. Thought wrong. Maybe I’ll get stabbed and all chances of embarrassment will die with me.

    Lady Galadriel laughs lightly and studies me with her piercing gray-blue eyes. “You will be perfectly fine, my dear. The only ones who will be on the practice field this morning are you and your instructor,” she reassures me.

    My eyes narrow in suspicion as I spot a blonde haired elf standing on the practice field several meters away from us. “Who is my instructor?”

    Galadriel’s lips quirk up into a mischievous smile. “Haldir, of course.”

    My eyes almost pop out of my head. I stop abruptly and Galadriel does, too. “Haldir!” I exclaim in absolute mortification before lowering my voice, “Haldir? I-I can’t do this. He hates me! And I do not know the slightest thing about sword fighting!”

    “That is why you need practice, so you can learn. I am sure he does not hate you. It just takes him a while to warm up to people, usually,” she says with the mischievous smirk still on her face.

    I stare at her in disbelief. “B-but, I… I… ugh,” I sputter out ridiculously, my fingers coming up to tangle in my mane of red curls out of frustration.

    Galadriel remains as patient as ever. She raises one of her perfect blonde eyebrows.

“You do not understand! I have never been good at these types of things! I was born a dancer! A dancer! Not a sword fighter!” I say, thinking back on my favorite hobby in my past life.

    Galadriel lays one of her hands delicately on my shoulder. “Eilonwy, will you please just try this? I promise it will not be as bad as you fear it will be,” she says soothingly, like a mother giving her child courage.

        I look back out at the practice field and see Haldir swinging a gleaming silver sword around with amazing skill. This is one of those times that I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole. I sigh and meet Galadriel’s gaze. “Alright, I will try, but I’m not promising that Haldir will remain in one piece by the end of this,” I say, only half jokingly.

        She smiles broadly. “Then let us begin the lesson,” she says and leads me down the pathway towards Haldir.

        He turns and watches us approach, his intense gaze trained on me. I see his eyes travel down my body and back up, taking in the sight of my training outfit which consists of a silver tunic with a black belt around the waist, black trousers, and black boots. I immediately tense up when his brown eyes meet mine. “‘Quel amrun,” he says to me.

        I shift uncomfortably and look to Galadriel for translation. She smiles at him kindly, “Good morning to you as well, Haldir. Thank you for joining us this morning.”