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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

63: Fight Practice

Sunday morning, while having breakfast, Gwyn and Gareth told the others about their late night visitor and what he had told them.

“We sat up the rest of the night reading that history book you gave us,” he concluded. “I have to tell you, some of what is there is not what we were taught by our parents. Their version of our history is different and the differences are disturbing.”

“How do you mean?” Zach asked as he ate his scrambled eggs and bacon.

“It’s one thing if minor details are missing or not quite the same, like one version saying it was noon but another version saying it was dawn when a particular event happened. Regardless, the event itself happened, but whole aspects of our history were either lost or deliberately altered. We never knew, for instance, that Lord Námo issued a warning to the Noldor or that Finarfin turned back with some of them.”

“So? I’m not sure I follow,” Zach said.

“Don’t you see?” Gareth exclaimed. “We always had the impression that the Valar washed their hands of the Noldor, at least until the War of Wrath, but that’s not entirely true, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Amroth said. “According to people like Finrod and his sister Galadriel, whom I knew when she lived in Lothlórien, the Valar sent Fëanor and the Noldor more than one warning, hoping that they would turn from their course. That only a few listened and went back means only that the others were too stubborn or too frightened to do so. Finrod said that he did not leave because of the Silmarils. He truly wished to see these Mortal lands and I think he would have been quite content to stay here for all the ages of Arda had fate not had other plans for him.”

“And Lady Galadriel?” Gwyn asked.

Amroth snorted and Nimrodel rolled her eyes while Mithrellas giggled into her teacup. “She was hell bent on ruling us all,” Amroth finally said with a grin. “Kept insisting ellith were as capable if not more so than ellyn in ruling. I have to give Celeborn credit for putting up with her. I think he was the only person not in awe of her and was not shy in putting her in her place when she got too uppity, as Mortals might say.”

There were grins all around. “Well, anyway, that book is a real eye-opener. Lord Námo suggested that when we finished with it we should send it to our parents, oh, and we’re to give their address to Elrohir so he can send them a wedding invitation.”

“Indeed,” Amroth said with a lift of an eyebrow. “And will you be invited as well?”

“Hmph, he didn’t say anything about that,” Gareth replied, looking a bit glum.

Amroth smiled indulgently at the younger ellon. “I will make sure you both receive an invitation.”

“Thanks,” Gareth said shyly.

Just then, Nimrodel gave a small gasp. Everyone looked at her as she grinned, placing a protective hand over her swollen belly. “The babies just kicked in tandem.”

Amroth leaned over and placed a hand on her belly and smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “They are feisty, aren’t they?”

“And they’ll just get feistier as they continue to grow,” Nimrodel said. “I have a feeling they’re going to be a handful and a half.”

“Have you decided on names yet?” Gwyn asked.

“Not yet,” Amroth answered. “We’re still looking. We have plenty of time to decide.”

“Will you give them elvish names?” Gareth asked.

“No, we decided to choose Mortal names since they’ll legally have the surname McKinley. Later, they may choose elvish names for themselves.”

“Sort of like us,” Gwyn said, nodding to Gareth. “Our parents deliberately didn’t give us elvish names and frankly, we never saw the point. In fact, we have no idea what their elvish names are. They refuse to say. As far as they’re concerned, they’re Tristan and Iseult ap Hywel and have been for nearly a millennium.”

“How did you manage to fool the Mortals of those times into thinking you were like them?” Zach asked.

“You have to understand that people simply did not travel very far from their homes back then,” Gwyn replied. “Most people never traveled more than fifty miles from their homes. When we felt we needed to leave a place after a time, we simply did, moving into the next kingdom or just the next valley where no one knew us. Sometimes, like in the late twelfth century and for most of the thirteenth century, we left Wales altogether, or at least Gareth and I did.”

“Where did you go?” Mithrellas asked.

“On Crusade, of course,” Gwyn answered. “We were there when Jerusalem fell to Saladin. We remained in the Holy Land until the fall of Acre in twelve-ninety-one. By the time we returned to Wales, all the Mortals who knew us were dead and gone. Da and Mam had moved three times in the interim and were living in Shrewsbury, which is on the border between England and Wales.”

Gareth then spoke. “Also, you have to understand that in those days belief in Elves and angels and Faerie was very common and people who learned the truth about us were more willing to accept us, though some of the more narrow-minded either tried to baptize us or burn us at the stake as spawn of the devil.” He gave them a sour look. “We always took care to follow the religious practices of the people with whom we lived so as to not arouse suspicion. We’ve been everything from Catholics to Muslims to Wesleyan Methodists. We still like to attend the occasional church service for the singing.” He gave them a wry look.

The others chuckled. Gwyn glanced at the microwave clock. “Are you still interested in joining us for fight practice?” he asked Amroth.

“Yes, I am. Bring your swords, the real ones, I mean.”

“But why?” Gareth asked. “We use rattan swords in the SCA.”

“I know, but I want you to bring your real swords with you as well.”

“Fine,” Gwyn said. “We’ve got an hour or so before we have to leave.”

“I thought fight practice was at one o’clock,” Zach said.

“Normally, but we’re meeting an hour early and we’ll stop early so anyone who wants to catch the Super Bowl won’t miss too much of it. Kickoff is at two-thirty local time. We’ll probably stop around one-thirty or so. Gareth and I will clear up the breakfast dishes. Anyone want some more tea or coffee?”

They all nodded and a few minutes were spent filling cups and finishing their meal. While the ap Hywel brothers cleaned up, the Wiseman Elves retired to the living room to check the news on CNN and Zach excused himself to Skype Jud, the day and time having been agreed upon earlier, using Mithrellas’ bedroom for privacy. Half an hour later, he emerged to find everyone in the living room. They looked up as he came in.

“How’s Jud?” Amroth asked as he switched the TV to mute.

“Doing okay,” Zach replied as he plopped into a chair with a sigh. “Wish I were there instead of here. Everyone keeps sending me away.”

“And by everyone, you mean Loren,” Amroth said with a knowing smile.

Zach just nodded, leaning back with his eyes closed.

“I know it feels that way, but Loren is only trying to keep you safe. Farrell knows who you are and he’s not above using you to get at Alex. Don’t forget, Derek was sent away, too.”

Zach opened his eyes and grimaced. “Yeah, but at least he’s doing something useful. At least he’s working. I’m just sitting here twiddling my thumbs when I should be helping Loren with Elf Academy. I am his administrative assistant, after all.”

“It shouldn’t be for too much longer, Zach,” Nimrodel said solicitously. “I’m anxious to get back, too. Not that I’m not enjoying myself here.” She turned to Gwyn and Gareth with an apologetic look.

“It’s okay,” Gwyn said. “I’ll be glad to get rid of you lot so I can have my bedroom back. Gareth snores.”

“I do not!” Gareth protested, making a face at his brother and Gwyn made one right back.

The other’s chuckled at their antics and even Zach’s mood lightened. “Well, let’s freshen up and get on out,” Amroth suggested. “And don’t forget your swords.”

“Why do you want us to bring them, though?” Gareth asked. “Except to show them off, we’re not going to be using them.”

“I have my reasons, child,” Amroth said amiably, apparently not willing to explain himself yet.

“C’mon, Gareth, let’s get our gear,” Gwyn said as he stood up.

“I’ll give you a hand,” Zach offered and joined the brothers as they headed for the garage where all their SCA-related armor and weapons were. The three older Elves remained where they were.

“So why the swords?” Nimrodel asked her husband.

“You’ll see. You still up to coming with us?”

“Oh, yes. Misty and I will be knitting baby clothes. We might as well do it there as here and it will be more entertaining.”

Amroth smiled and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Well, gather your stuff. I’ll go give the boys a hand.” He stood and helped Nimrodel up before heading for the garage. Within minutes they were all set. The three ‘boys’ climbed into Gwyn’s car while Amroth drove the land rover with the ellith. Fifteen minutes later they were pulling into the parking lot of the University Park Building where several other cars were already parked. A number of people were milling about, pulling out gear bags and shields and the like from trunks and back seats, greeting one another. When they saw the Elves they were more reticent and shy. Gwyn and Gareth they knew and responded to them as they would any friend, but Amroth, Nimrodel and Mithrellas were different and the Mortals were more respectful of them. Zach, on the other hand, was just another wide-eyed recruit, as one of the fighters had put it, and was treated accordingly.

They all trooped into the building, turning on lights and setting up. Those who had come just to watch — mostly the wives and girlfriends of those who were fighting, although there were three or four women who were also fighting — brought folding chairs from a store room and settled in a corner, pulling out embroidery or knitting or musical instruments — a lute in one case, a recorder in another — to practice on while those who would be fighting stacked their gear to the side and began putting on vambraces and greaves and checking their helms, talking quietly amongst themselves. Amroth saw Nimrodel and Mithrellas settled with the other non-fighters and then joined the fighters, lending an expert hand in helping Zach with some older armor belonging to Gareth that was still serviceable. He and another newbie, a shy young man styling himself as Fridrich, would join the others in drill work, but would not necessarily fight in a bout unless Gwyn felt they were ready.

“Hey, Gwyn, why the swords?” Jason asked, he who went by the name of Sir Michael of Norwich.

“You’ll have to ask Ryan,” Gwyn replied, nodding to Amroth tying a vambrace on another fighter’s arm. “He insisted.”

“And the reason for it will become clear eventually,” Amroth said with a smile. “For now, just have a good practice.”

“We always do,” Jason said with a grin, “even when we’re being used to wipe up the floor.” Several of the other fighters chuckled at that.

Gwyn, acting as Captain of the baronial militia, began issuing orders. “Lew, you want to act as a marshal this go around? Killian called and said he can’t make it today. He’s down with the flu or something.”

“Sure,” Lew, otherwise known as Llewellyn ap Daffyd, said with a nod and grabbed one of the tabards with the crossed swords on a green field worn by marshals overseeing the fighting.

“Killian is our Knight Marshal,” Gwyn explained to Amroth. “He and I usually oversee the practices together.”

“I will act as a marshal as well,” Amroth said and no one disputed his right to do so.

Gwyn simply nodded. “We have extra armor if—”

“Child, I have no need for armor,” Amroth said with a smile and stooped down to grab one of the other tabards, pulling it over him as he walked away to check on Nimrodel, happily knitting pink booties and chatting with the other non-fighters. He heard Gareth mutter, “I wish he would stop calling us that,” and grinned to himself. The ap Hywel brothers had seen over nine centuries of life and for the Mortals around them that was a long time but it was nothing compared to the ages he himself had lived, his memory stretching back to a time when only stars lit the skies. Nimrodel looked up with a smile at his approach.

“You look quite handsome in that tabard,” she said in Sindarin as he stooped down to give her a kiss, placing a hand on her abdomen to greet his children. The twins responded by giving a couple of kicks. He and Nimrodel smiled at one another. “How is it going?”

“It’s like dealing with overgrown elflings,” Amroth said, speaking Sindarin as well, and both Nimrodel and Mithrellas giggled.

“Boys and their toys,” Mithrellas muttered, speaking English, and several of the ladies chuckled in agreement while a couple of the gentlemen who were watching the practice along with the ladies rolled their eyes. They were not heavy weapons fighters, preferring rapiers instead, but their practice was on Thursday nights. Most of them also belonged to the university’s fencing club.

“We’re ready when you are, Ryan,” Gwyn called out and Amroth nodded, giving Nimrodel another kiss before straightening and joining the fighters.

Punching bags had been set up and the fighters took turns ‘attacking’ them. Other drills followed while Gwyn, Gareth and Amroth checked forms and offered suggestions for improving an individual fighter’s technique. Amroth paid particular attention to Zach, offering him encouragement. After about a half an hour of this, a list was set up and Gwyn began assigning people to fight against one another. Those who were members of Gwaith-en-Angbor fought those who were not and they did not necessarily win their particular bouts.

Amroth watched them all with a clinical eye. Even though he wore a marshal’s tabard, he let the Mortals call the shots. Wearing the tabard gave him the opportunity to be closer to the action than normally would be allowed any non-fighter. While Gwyn oversaw the practice, he did not fight, although Gareth took a turn at fighting in single combat. Amroth watched the younger ellon win his bout, though it was obvious to him, if not to the Mortals, that he was deliberately holding back. After about an hour or so of individual bouts (Zach and Fridrich were allowed to fight against one another with Zach managing a ‘lucky’ shot that won the bout), the fighters took a short break before they would set up a melee to end the practice. Most of them ambled over to the spectators to visit, people handing them water bottles and towels. Amroth went to Nimrodel, now working on blue booties while Mithrellas apparently was working on a pink bonnet.

“When will you reveal the reason for having the ellyn bring the swords?” Nimrodel asked in Sindarin.

“Soon, before we finish,” Amroth replied, sitting on the floor beside her.

“Zach seems to catch on fairly well,” Nimrodel commented, never stopping her knitting.

“With more training he should do well enough,” Amroth allowed. “At the moment, it’s all a game to him, something to amuse him while he languishes in exile.” He looked up at his wife, casting her an amused smile. She smiled back.

Soon enough, the break was over and the fighters went back to donning helms and picking up their weapons. Amroth joined them; Zach did as well. He and Fridrich were allowed to join in the melee, though no one expected them to survive past the first five minutes or so, but everyone assured them, rather jokingly, that “dying was half the fun, and we’ve all done that at least once”.

As predicted, neither Zach nor Fridrich lasted very long, but Zach lasted longer than anyone expected and Gwyn was seen congratulating him on surviving as long as he had. He and Fridrich stood together watching the other fighters, comparing notes. Amroth had a feeling that the two young Men were becoming friends and hoped that would help Zach accept being in Fairbanks instead of in Wiseman.

Finally, the melee ended and people started to remove armor and get ready to leave. That was when Amroth stepped over to Gwyn and Gareth and said, “Bring your real swords and come with me.”

The two ellyn hesitated, giving Amroth searching looks. Then Gwyn shrugged and bent down to retrieve his sword and automatically started to pick up his helm and a shield. Even though he had not fought, the older ap Hywel brother was wearing armor like all the other fighters.

“No helms or shields,” Amroth said. “You shouldn’t be wearing such bulky armor either. Take off the plate, but leave the vambraces and grieves. Zach, you and Fridrich give them a hand.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch as Zach and Fridrich complied with Amroth’s orders while Gwyn and Gareth just stood there. Once they were free of the armor, Amroth motioned for the two younger ellyn to move onto the floor and face one another.

“We don’t fight each other,” Gwyn said, speaking Sindarin, “not where the others can see.”

“But they need to see, child,” Amroth retorted, speaking Sindarin as well. “Trust me on this. I’ve been at it a lot longer than either of you. I want these Mortals to see what Elves can do. You’ve been holding back, Gareth, and that’s commendable, but ultimately you are merely doing yourself a disservice. When the Dagor Dagorath occurs, will you hold back? You cannot afford to fall into that habit. It is far too dangerous. Now, show me what you can do. Show them what you can do.” He gestured to the Mortals standing or sitting around watching, and then he stepped back, giving the two brothers room.

“Lay on,” he called out, switching to English, and the ellyn fell into en garde stances and began circling one another.

“This should be good,” Amroth heard Zach say softly to Fridrich and hid a smile.

Suddenly, Gwyn made his move and there was a collective gasp from the Mortals as Gareth side-stepped his brother’s attack and the two of them went at each other at a furious rate.

“Man, and I thought those two guys from Wiseman were good,” Amroth heard one of the fighters say to another, his voice full of awe, and realized the Mortal meant the sons of Elrond. The Sinda snorted to himself in amusement even as he kept a close watch on the two ellyn fighting. Gwyn and Gareth were excellent fighters but they still did not have the long experience of the Twins or the benefit of having been taught by Glorfindel. Elladan and Elrohir had been fighting with rattan weapons and Amroth doubted that they had exerted their full strength or skill during their impromptu fight, however much it might have looked it to the others who witnessed it.

The brothers were evenly matched, though he thought Gwyn had a slight margin in his favor, which stood to reason, since he was older and more experienced, but Gareth was holding his own and it was obvious to Amroth that the brothers sparred often enough with each other to keep themselves in fighting trim, but he thought they both could use a bit more polish in their techniques. Glorfindel and Finrod and the others would see to that, he had no doubt.

“Hold!” he shouted after the brothers had been fighting for about ten minutes.

The two fell back almost immediately, sweat pouring down them though neither was breathing particularly hard. None of the Mortals moved or made comments, most of them looking a bit stunned.

“Grab some water,” Amroth commanded, “then come back, but this time bring your rattan swords.”

The brothers complied and Amroth was pleased to see Zach and then Fridrich rushing over with water bottles to give to the brothers, who nodded in gratitude. Amroth, meanwhile, was picking his way through several rattan swords, finally choosing one that was the right length and feel. Gwyn and Gareth traded their steel swords for rattan and rejoined Amroth on the floor. “Attack me,” Amroth ordered. “Singly or together, it does not matter.”

The brothers hesitated for a second and Amroth could sense their confusion. “Trust me,” he said in Sindarin. “I know what I’m doing. Now, attack when you’re ready.”

The brothers began circling him and Amroth kept his sword loose and ready to counter any moves the other two might make. Suddenly, Gareth attacked from behind even as Gwyn started to attack from Amroth’s right side. Amroth was already moving before Gareth had taken a single step forward and then the swords clashed and they began fighting in earnest.

“Jace, Dan, you’re marshals with me,” Amroth heard Lew call out and the three Mortals hurried to take up positions at strategic points around the fighters. It was totally unnecessary, as far as Amroth was concerned. Neither he nor the brothers would go near any of the spectators, but he understood Lew’s concern and found it commendable.

The three fought for a good fifteen minutes before Amroth was able to disarm Gareth, sending his sword flying, forcing him out. Gwyn did not last that much longer as Amroth fought him into a corner and then managed to knock the sword from his hand. There was a moment of absolute stunned silence and then Zach started clapping and soon everyone else was too. Amroth stepped away from Gwyn with a smile, allowing him to retrieve his sword.

“Man that was awesome,” Fridrich exclaimed as he and everyone else gathered around the three Elves.

“Told you,” Zach said, grinning.

By now, even the spectators had joined the crowd around Amroth and the brothers, many of the Mortals commenting and asking questions. Amroth simply gave his sword to Gwyn and somehow managed to slip out of the crowd to where Nimrodel and Mithrellas still sat, both of them smiling.

“You’re slowing down, my love,” Nimrodel said. “It took you longer than it should have to disarm them.”

Amroth smiled as he bent down to give her a kiss. “I was giving them a sporting chance,” he said, winking at Mithrellas, who giggled.

“No doubt,” Nimrodel said with a knowing look.

“Shall we go?” Amroth asked and offered his hand to Nimrodel.

Zach came over then. “Great show, almost as good as the one Loren gave us.”

“You did very well yourself,” Nimrodel said. “You seem to be a natural fighter. I’m sure with more training you’ll be quite good, even Gwaith-en-Angbor material.”

“You think so?” Zach asked shyly.

Amroth clapped him on the shoulder. “Of that, none of us have any doubt. I’m going to take Della and Misty home. You want to come with us or go with the others?” It was customary after fight practice for the Scadians to go to Molly Malone’s for a drink and some fellowship. Zach was spared having to answer when Gwyn came over.

“Lew’s invited us over to his place for pizza and to catch the Super Bowl. Are you interested?”

“Zach I’m sure will love to go,” Amroth said and the young Man nodded. “I’m going to take the ellith home so Della can rest. We can catch the game there.”

“Okay. We’ll be back later and then you can tell us what the hell that was all about.”

Amroth nodded. “Have no fear of that, Gwyn ap Hywel. Enjoy the game.” With that, he took Nimrodel’s arm and the two waved good-bye to the Mortals with Mithrellas joining them.

Gwyn shook his head at the retreating figures and then turned to Zach. “C’mon. Give us a hand and we’ll be on our way.”

“You got it,” Zach said enthusiastically and fifteen minutes later everyone was gone and the building was empty once again.





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