CHAPTER 4: PATIENCE AND RESPECT

“Oh, Ada – you are here – finally!” the elfing said to the tall elf entering his bedroom, uninhibitedly showing his excitement as he jumped on to his bed where his friend was already seated. “Now we can continue with more stories!”

His father raised an eyebrow. “And a good evening to you too, ion nin,” he said wryly, though he could not help being a little amused. “I am happy to see you too – both of you.”

The elfling’s playmate had the decency to look sheepish and return the greeting, but the younger elfling continued to speak in blissful ignorance.

“It has been ten nights, Ada!” the elfling added with puckered eyebrows and a barely concealed hint of annoyance in his tone. “The tale of Belen and Túrin is getting old by now!”

“Well, tithen pen, grown-up elves have tasks to take care of elsewhere, you realize,” his father reminded him, the note of amusement leaving his voice. “I had to be away, as you know. I informed you before I left, did I not?”

His son lowered his eyes to look at the bed linen instead of his father’s face. “Yes, Ada,” he admitted meekly.

“And I did say you could ask someone else for your bedtime story.”

“Yes, Ada,” the elfling repeated, his head still bowed. “But no one tells stories about the two friends as well as you do.”

At those words, the elven father checked the admonishment on the tip of his tongue, and looked mutely upon his son, not knowing whether to say something about the need to be patient – or to delight in the sincere compliment his son had paid him.

In the end, the elf decided to do both. He broke into a smile and sat on the bed next to his child.

“Hannon le for saying that, ion nin. It is wonderful to know your ada is good at something!” he jested, and started to  pick up his young child to place him on his lap.

But the elfling squirmed, gave a look of horror and looked sidelong at his playmate in embarrassment.  “Ada, not now!” he hissed, and his father laughed. The older elf settled for brushing the back of his hand along the smooth cheek of the child.

“Oh, so you have grown up in ten days, have you?” his father teased, earning a small glare from the elfling.

“The story, Ada, saes,” his child demanded, both to change the subject and because he felt he had waited too long. “Any story about them!”

“Ai, very well,” Adasighed resignedly. After a moment’s pause, he said: “But you could learn much from the patience of Beleg when he taught Túrin to use the bow and arrow.”

The two elflings exchanged a look of surprise.

“Túrin did not know how to use them?” the older elfling asked. Every elf he knew was already familiar with the weapons by the time they were his age, though the size of the bows they were given increased as they grew older.

“I am certain he did before he came to reside in Doriath, but the Edain are slower to attain certain skills than we are,” the elven father replied, thinking about some humans he knew. “And that is because they do not possess the same abilities the Edhel were born with. It would not be right to scorn them on that score.”

The two elflings nodded as they pondered the older elf’s statement.

“The adan would have been more at ease with the sword, and indeed Túrin was sometimes called Swordhelm by those who knew him well, although he was better known as Dragon-Helm, and he later named himself Dread-helm,” the elven father continued. “You must also remember that Beleg was the Strongbow – greatest in skill among all who lived in his day. He had much to teach his friend, and the bow he used was no ordinary bow either.”

-------------<<>>-------------

“Although the bows used by the elves of Mirkwood were not as long as those of the Lothlorien archers, they were larger and longer than any I had ever been given in Imladris,” Aragorn told his grandchildren who were once again listening to the king narrate his experiences with Legolas. He chuckled and recalled: “He had quite a time trying to teach me how to use his well. And it took some teaching!”

“He had to teach you?” Greenpea asked in surprise. “But I thought you knew everything.”

Aragorn smiled at the little boost his grandson had given his ego, but he had to tell him the truth. “I have seen and done much in my lifetime, Greenpea,” he said, “but, no, I do not know everything. No matter how long we live and how much we learn, there is always something new to learn, and we must be humble enough to acknowledge that. Why, even Legolas keeps learning, although he has lived for more than a thousand years – ”

“Yes, Dada told me his age,” Sweetpea interjected. “He is old!”

Aragorn could not help laughing. “Yes, sweetheart, he is old compared to humans, but he is still a young elf among his people. Still, there are things he knows and can do better than I can, and like I said, he taught me – very patiently – to shoot with his bow.”

“Why, Grandfather? Was it difficult?”

“Well, it was not that difficult to shoot with that bow,” Aragorn replied, “but when you are trying to use an arrow to split an arrow stuck in the center of a target, it becomes considerably more difficult.”

“What do you mean?”

Aragorn explained with his hands, how Legolas could shoot an arrow in to the center of a target and then shoot another one into the exact same spot so that the second arrow would split the first.

-------------<<>>-------------

“It is well nigh impossible without a great deal of practice – and a certain gift for it, as Beleg did,” said the elven father, “but when you persist in challenging yourself to do it, you find your aim improving tremendously.” 

The little elflings exchanged another look, and the elven father grinned. He could imagine what they were thinking: We must learn to split arrows with arrows.

-------------<<>>-------------

“Several elves of Imladris could do that, but none as consistently as Legolas,” Aragorn recalled.

“What is… consistently?” Greenpea asked in his usual unabashed manner.

“He could do it again and again in the same way,” his grandfather explained. “All the other elves at Imladris would often miss.  They were not as skilled as the archers of Mirkwood, including your granduncles.” He chuckled again, shaking his head at the memory of how he could never match the accuracy of the elves. “I was never able to hit the bull’s eye very often, let alone split arrows like that, and because of that, I was sometimes teased.”

-------------<<>>-------------

“You can imagine how the elves of Doriath may have been amused by the man’s slow progress,” the elven storyteller said to his two listeners, “but Beleg ignored the naysayers and kept guiding his adan friend.”

“You need to keep improving your aim so that you can protect yourself and others in your company,” the Strongbow told Túrin. “Your life and those of your companions may depend on a single arrow shot into a tiny target.”

So the Strongbow would spend many hours a day correcting his friend’s stance and arm movements, no matter how much some of the other elves scoffed at their efforts.

-------------<<>>-------------

“Yes, Legolas has always been as patient with me as Beleg was with his human friend,” Aragorn asserted. “Oh, he can get angry – furious in fact – at times, but it was never because he had to teach me something.”

“Did you ever teach him anything, Grandfather?” Sweetpea asked suddenly.

Aragorn considered her question for a moment.  

“Yes, I did, sweetheart,” he replied at length. “Have you ever seen the white knives Legolas carries?”

“I have!” Greenpea cried excitedly. “They look sharp.”

“And they are,” his grandfather agreed. “So they are not to be treated as toys by anyone, is that clear?’

Greenpea nodded. “But can Legolas use them?”

Aragorn smiled. “Yes, he can, because he is a grown-up, and he knows how to handle them,” he replied, “but he only uses them when he has to defend himself and those he protects. That is what he uses his weapons for, and he is very skilled with them. But he was never too comfortable wielding a longer, heavier sword – ”

“So you taught him!” Greenpea guessed, his eyes lighting up, glad that his grandfather was also skilled with some weapon.

“Yes, Greenpea, I did,” the king replied, smiling. “And he was ready to learn.”

“Were you also patient with him, then, Grandfather?” Greenpea wondered.

Aragorn laughed and ruffled his grandson’s hair. “I believe I did my best,” came the reply, “but you will have to ask him whether he agrees!”

“You are a great swordsman, and he was a great archer,” Sweetpea observed dreamily. “Like two heroes in my story books, Grandfather!”

-------------<<>>-------------

“Swordhelm and Strongbow,” said the younger elfling, a faraway look in his bright eyes. “Do you think they learned from each other, Ada?”

The elven father looked at his son with affection and pride before he replied quielty. “That they did, ion nin, for true friends find something in each other that they can learn, and learn from.”

-------------<<>>-------------

“Good friends always respect each other,” Aragorn said firmly to his two grandchildren, looking from one to the other. “They see strengths in the other person that others may not see, or choose to ignore.”

-------------<<>>-------------

“And I am delighted that you realize that, ion nin,” said the elven father generously.  

The elfling blushed and studied the bed linen again.

“You may have grown up a little in the ten days I have been gone, tithen pen,” his father said fondly. “Soon, you will be too old for me to pick up and swing around,” he jested, though a note of sadness could be heard in his voice.

The little elfling lifted his head and looked at his father’s wistful smile. Then he looked at his playmate for a moment – but only for a moment – before he turned back to his father and climbed onto his lap.

“I am not grown up yet, Ada,” he whispered, throwing his ada a mischievous smile. “You will have to wait patiently for that.”

-------------<<>>-------------

“When will I be old enough to use a bow and arrow, Grandfather?” Greenpea asked plaintively.

“And I?” Sweetpea chimed in.

Aragorn laughed and pulled them both to him, enveloping them in a warm hug.

“Not for some years yet, little Peas,” he answered fondly. “But when you are, I will make sure you get the most patient teacher of all.”

Sweetpea squirmed free and lifted her wide eyes to meet his. “Who is that? You or Legolas?”

Aragorn laughed again. “You will find out when the time comes!” he said with a broad grin and a wink.

And the chuckles of a king and his grandchildren played melodic notes on the music of the breeze that blew into the nursery bedroom that night.