4. Wrestling with Problems

Annael grabbed at Legolas’s hip with his left hand and brought the heel of his right hand up towards his friend’s chin. Legolas tried to pivot backward, but Annael was suddenly in the way of his leg and he staggered. He quickly hooked one arm around Annael’s torso, hoping to pull Ananel off balance before Annael did the same thing to him. To his dismay, he felt his feet go out from under him, and he landed on the mat on his back. Annael grabbed his right arm, rolled Legolas over onto his stomach, and shoved the arm up behind his back. Legolas tried to keep rolling and slither out of the hold, but Annael put his free hand on the back of Legolas’s head and shoved it into the mat.

“A takedown,” called Maldor from the sidelines. “A sloppy takedown, but a takedown.” His face impassive, Annael put out his hand to help Legolas to his feet, and then the two of them walked to where the master and Galelas, Isendir, and Tonduil stood. This was the last match of this day, the first day of a week of unarmed combat training. It had been a grueling day, under Maldor’s critical eye, and they were all grateful that it was drawing to a close.

“Annael,” said Maldor, “you were too tentative at the end. You should have brought his arm up higher and shoved his face into the mat immediately. He nearly rolled away from you.” Annael nodded.

Maldor now turned to Legolas. “You reacted reflexively and tried to back up,” he said. “You plainly had lost track of where your opponent’s legs were. You need to anticipate what he is likely to do, and if you do go down like that, you need to be rolling when you hit the ground so that you have some chance to get up again.” Legolas too nodded. What Maldor said was true enough.

“All of you pick up the mats and put them away,” Maldor now instructed. “I will see you here in the morning.” He turned and walked toward the masters’ hut. The five of them began brushing dirt and grass off the mats and rolling them up, preparing to lug them off to the storage hut.

“So, Annael,” Galelas began, “you must not have wanted to hurt the king’s son.”

Legolas glanced up from where he was shoving the last turn of a mat into place and saw Annael stand slowly to face Galelas. “What do you mean?” Annael asked.

“I mean that you obviously want to stay on his good side, so you were unwilling to twist his arm good and hard and rub his face in the mat.” Galelas’s eyes were gleaming. He was enjoying himself. Annael began to walk slowly toward him. Legolas jumped to his feet and moved hastily between them. It took a lot to upset Annael, Legolas knew, but Galelas had been nagging at them for weeks now.

“Galelas,” he said, “you know that I am the one you want to provoke, not Annael. What I do not understand is why. I have done nothing to you.”

“You,” Galelas spat, “you are so accustomed to your advantages that you do not even notice them. Was there ever any doubt that you would be a warrior, no matter what your skills? Of course not. Is there any doubt that you will captain troops whether you prove competent or not? Of course not. What the rest of us have to work for, you have handed to you. You make me sick.”

Legolas stepped toward Galelas, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You do not know what you are talking about,” he said coldly. “And what you are saying is an insult to the masters and the troop commander.”

“I repeat,” Galelas retorted, “you are so accustomed to your advantages that you do not see them. If you and I were to fight as equals, with no masters around to set the rules, what do you think would happen?”

“What is going on here?” Maldor’s voice snapped like a whip through the early evening air. They all spun and found him glaring at them. They had been so absorbed in the argument that they had not seen him approaching in conversation with another elf. Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas saw the other elf also watching the scene from the gathering shadows. With dismay, he recognized Ithilden.

“You three,” Maldor barked, indicating Annael, Tonduil, and Isendir, “put those mats away. Now!” Annael sent an apologetic glance at Legolas and then jumped to help the other two do as they had been told. Maldor turned back to Galelas and Legolas.

“I thought that I had made it clear to you that this kind of childish squabbling would not be tolerated. It is damaging to morale and to any possibility of your fighting well together. Galelas, I never want to hear of you and Legolas fighting with no masters around to set the rules. And Legolas, I do not care if you think that someone has just insulted every warrior in the forces of Mirkwood; the next time I see you walking toward another novice with your fists clenched, it had better be on the training field.”

Legolas flushed, and even Galelas looked sobered by the reprimand.

“The two of you will run the warm up course again,” Maldor went on. “If you have energy to quarrel, you have energy to run.” They hesitated. “Go,” he snapped. “I will be waiting here when you get back, so do not be too long about it.”

They set off, pushing tired muscles to repeat the two-league run that they had done that morning. As they started on the course, Legolas glanced over to where Ithilden had been standing, but he was gone. He wondered briefly how much Ithilden had witnessed, and then had to bring all of his concentration to see where he was running in the dusky light and force his tired body through the exercise. They ran in utter silence, both needing all their breath for things other than talk. When they finally returned to the training field, Maldor was still there. He eyed them, as they bent over panting for breath.

“You may go,” he told them. “Do not let me see a repeat of this behavior.” He turned his back on them and walked away. Legolas lingered for a moment so that Galelas would have time to get out of the way before he started for home.

***

When he entered the family quarters of the palace, Legolas went first to his room to bathe and try to forget the frustrations of the afternoon. He was so late that he had probably missed evening meal anyway. He might as well get clean before he went in search of food and company.

He entered the family sitting room to find only Eilian there. He was sitting before the fireplace reading, with his left arm extended out in an odd contraption that Belówen had been making him spend time in for the last week or so. It consisted of a cord that attached to pads on Eilian’s wrist and then ran over a rack that had been moved next to the chair and then hung down with a weight at the end. The whole thing stretched his arm out from the cramped position in which the sling held it during the rest of the day. It was probably uncomfortable, but Eilian would not admit to that.

“You are late tonight,” Eilian observed. “You missed evening meal.”

“I asked the servants to bring something here,” Legolas responded. “Where is everyone?” He felt a little shame-faced about seeing Ithilden after his brother had seen him being dressed down at the training fields.

“Adar said that he had to read some reports on a case that will come before him in court tomorrow.” Eilian grinned rather wickedly and added, “Ithilden and Alfirin slipped away some time ago, and I did not think it my place to ask them where they were going.”

Legolas felt himself blush slightly. A thought occurred to him. Perhaps he could ask Eilian what he should do about Miriwen. A servant brought in a tray with cold meat, bread, and wine and set it on a table near the chair opposite Eilian’s. Legolas suddenly wondered what Galelas would make of his being waited on by a servant like this. He shoved that thought aside and ate while he considered whether he really wanted to tell his troubles to his brother. He sighed. He might as well. He was not coming to any useful conclusions on his own.

“Eilian,” he began tentatively.

His brother looked up from his book expectantly. “Yes?” he prompted, when Legolas failed to go on.

“I would like your advice about something,” Legolas went on bravely. Eilian closed his book and gave his brother his undivided attention. “I . . .,” Legolas paused again. This was going to be even harder than he had thought. “It is about my friend Miriwen,” he said finally.

Eilian’s face was carefully neutral. “The one you were with at Ithilden’s wedding?” he asked.

“Yes,” Legolas was relieved that Eilian knew whom he meant. “I have been visiting her at her family’s home for the last few months.”

“Oh?” Again Eilian’s face was unreadable. For some reason, Legolas found that encouraging.

“But Adar says that I need to be careful because I will not be in a position to marry for a long while yet, so I do not want to give her false expectations.”

It was all Eilian could do to suppress a smile. He could absolutely hear his father’s words being spoken in Legolas’s voice. But his brother was too much in earnest to allow for any amusement. “And what do you think?” Eilian asked.

Legolas paused. “I think that maybe Adar is right,” he said in a small voice. “But I like her, Eilian, and I do not want to stop seeing her. And I do not want to hurt her.” He sounded miserable, and Eilian’s heart went out to him.

“It sounds as if you might want two things at the same time,” he said sympathetically.

“Yes, that is exactly it,” Legolas said, relieved that Eilian had understood. “But what am I going to do?”

“Have you talked to Miriwen about this?” Eilian asked.

“No,” said Legolas. “I have stayed away from her. I have not seen her in two weeks now.”

“How often had you seen her before?” Eilian asked curiously.

Legolas considered. “Perhaps twice a week,” he offered.

Eilian blinked. “Adar allowed that?” He was surprised that Thranduil would have permitted such frequent visits between the two young people.

There was a pause. “I do not believe that he knows about it,” said Legolas.

“I see,” said Eilian wryly. Thranduil had always had difficulty keeping Legolas in at night. Apparently things had not changed. Eilian considered. His little brother might not want to hurt the maiden, but he was going to if he were not careful. “You cannot just stop seeing her with no explanation,” he said firmly. “You must talk to her.” Legolas looked unhappy. “For all you know,” Eilian added, “she does not want to bind herself to you anyway.”

Legolas looked as if this possibility had never occurred to him, and Eilian almost laughed at his unconscious egotism.

Legolas hesitated and then blurted, “We kiss.”

“Yes, I suppose you would,” Eilian said matter-of-factly. “If you have done nothing more than that, then I do not think that you have done much harm.”

“We have done nothing more, but I want to,” Legolas confessed, not meeting Eilian’s gaze.

Eilian shrugged. “Many Elves your age are forming attachments that will lead to bonding,” he said. “It is normal to want to do more than kiss. But of course, as Adar says, you cannot.”

Legolas blinked. Eilian made it all sound so easy.

“Talk to her,” Eilian urged, just as Belówen gave a perfunctory knock and entered the sitting room to check on Eilian’s arm. Legolas left the room and went to his bed, feeling as if perhaps he might be able to set things right with Miriwen after all.

***

Legolas sat with Annael in the early morning sunshine, waiting for the masters to arrive and start the day’s training. “Am I spoiled?” he asked suddenly.

Annael looked at him surprised and then smiled slightly. “Meaning overindulged, undisciplined, allowed to do whatever you like?” he asked dryly. “No.”

“But what about being waited on by servants and never having mucked out a stable? What about assuming that some day I will captain troops?” Legolas countered.

Annael considered. “I think that what you are is privileged, not spoiled,” he said finally. “You have certain privileges because of who you are, but so far as I can see, your adar sees to it that you have obligations that more than balance them out. I would not trade places with you,” he finished.

“No?”

“Having to wear formal robes and attend your adar’s court regularly would be enough to make me glad not to be you,” Annael grinned. “No offense meant, of course.”

Legolas laughed. “None taken,” he said.

They rose to their feet as the masters approached to begin the day.

***

Maldor’s fist moved toward Isendir’s face, but the novice blocked it with his customary quickness. Maldor grabbed Isendir’s arm, hooked his foot out from under him, and threw him on his back. Maldor stepped back. “That is enough,” he said. “Your block was quick.” Isendir flushed at the unexpected praise from the unarmed combat master and went to sit with the other novices who had been watching the demonstration.

“Legolas next,” Maldor called. Legolas rose and went to face him. “Remember,” Maldor instructed, “I will come at your face some time during this bout. You have to block or get out of the way quickly. I am not going to hit you with my full strength, but if you do not stop me, I will hit you.” Legolas nodded and took up his stance.

He had thought that he was ready, but then he had not expected Maldor to step in and jab at his face immediately. He tried to deflect the blow but was too slow and Maldor’s fist connected with his left cheek. He staggered but stayed on his feet and would have tried to keep sparring, but Maldor stopped the bout immediately. “You knew that was coming. You had warning, and you still were not ready for it,” he said sharply. “Go and sit down.”

Embarrassed, Legolas dropped down next to a concerned looking Annael. “Are you all right?” Annael whispered. Legolas nodded. His face felt as if he had been kicked by a horse, but he did not think he was actually injured. He took a deep breath and tried to watch Maldor working with Tonduil.

Truth be told, Legolas worried about Tonduil. Alfirin’s brother was not particularly good with most weapons, and he did not even seem to enjoy using them most of the time. He only really became animated around the horses. Legolas wondered why he had opted to become a warrior. Just now, he was clearly frightened that Maldor would hurt him. Surreptitiously touching his left cheek, Legolas could not blame him.

Maldor stood studying the novice in front of him. Then with a deliberation that Legolas found shocking, he slapped Tonduil hard across the face with his open palm. Tonduil gasped and put his hand to his face. “Did that hurt?” asked Maldor.

“Yes,” Tonduil choked out.

“Yet note that you are still alive,” Maldor said. “It is only pain. You can learn from pain. It can teach you things that can keep you alive.” He paused. Legolas held his breath. Tonduil seemed to be fighting tears. “Go and sit down,” said Maldor.

Legolas choked with rage on Tonduil’s behalf. “There can be no excuse for that,” he muttered to Annael, unfortunately not quite quietly enough. He looked up to find Maldor regarding him with narrowed eyes, obviously having heard him.

“I am putting you on disciplinary report, Legolas,” Maldor said. “You need to learn to respect the actions of your superior officers.”

***

Thranduil seated himself at the table in the family’s small private dining room. He looked at Legolas’s empty chair.

“Eilian, go and see if Legolas is coming,” Thranduil instructed.

Eilian rose and went off toward Legolas’s chamber to see if he were back from training yet. He did not have to go far, however, before he met his younger brother who was obviously just coming in. He looked disgruntled. What drew Eilian’s attention, however, was the bruise on his swollen left cheek and the black eye that was developing above it.

“What happened?” he demanded, reaching out toward the bruise.

Legolas slapped his hand aside sharply. “Nothing,” he said brusquely. “We are doing unarmed combat, and this was just a training mishap.” He tried to slip past Eilian but found his way blocked.

Eilian paused and then in the most nonjudgmental tone he could manage asked, “Is Maldor still the unarmed combat master?”

“Yes,” Legolas responded unhappily. “Please let me by. I am in a hurry.”

Eilian failed to move. “Adar wants to know if you are coming to evening meal,” he said.

“I cannot,” Legolas returned doggedly. “I have to go clean up and then go back to stand night guard duty.”

Eilian raised his eyebrows. Night guard duty was assigned to novices when they were being disciplined. “Why?” he asked.

“Eilian, this is not your business,” said Legolas rather desperately. “Please, just leave it.” Again, he tried to get by his brother and this time Eilian let him.

“I will have the kitchen send some food to your chamber,” he called after Legolas’s departing back.

“Thank you.” Legolas disappeared into his room.

Eilian paused to speak to a servant about having a meal sent to Legolas’s chamber and then returned to the dining room. “He is not coming,” he reported, anger tightening his voice. “He had just returned home, and he has to stand night guard duty.” He looked accusingly at Ithilden. “His faced is badly bruised. Maldor’s methods of teaching unarmed combat have apparently not changed much since I was a novice.”

Ithilden stiffened. Eilian was coming dangerously near criticizing his choice of novice masters. “I trust that you did not criticize one of the masters to Legolas,” he said, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

“Of course not,” Eilian was impatient. “Why do you allow Maldor to continue to teach the novices?”

Ithilden was obviously trying to keep his temper in check. “Maldor is a very successful teacher,” he said.

“I do not like him,” said Eilian flatly.

“You do not have to like him,” Ithilden was becoming openly heated, and Alfirin put her hand on his arm. “His appointment is my choice.”

Eilian ignored his brother’s rising ire. “He once broke Gelmir’s nose,” he put in, naming a friend who now served under his command in the southern patrol.

“Eilian,” Thranduil’s voice contained a warning.

“Let me do this, Adar,” Ithilden snapped, not so much as glancing at his father. His angry gaze was fixed on Eilian. “Has Gelmir been hit in the face since then?” he asked.

Eilian too looked angry. “Of course he has,” he responded shortly.

“Did he quit the fight and run away?” Ithilden persisted.

“You know that that is not the point!” Eilian cried.

“It is the point,” Ithilden insisted. “Maldor does not deliberately hurt the novices but he does not always pull his punches either. He believes that students who are hurt in safety will be able to tolerate it better in a real battle, and I cannot say that he is wrong.”

There was a moment’s silence. Eilian thought that Alfirin looked appalled. “Why is Legolas standing night guard duty?” he asked abruptly.

“Eilian, this is Ithilden’s responsibility, not yours,” Thranduil put in, obviously exasperated.

Ithliden spoke over his father’s voice. “I will not get disciplinary reports until tomorrow morning, so I do not know. But even if I did know, I would not talk to you about it any more than I would talk about such a matter to the family of any other novice.” They glared at one another.

“Enough!” Thranduil finally made himself heard, slapping his hand on the table hard enough to make the dishes jump. “There is to be no more discussion of this matter here. If it is really business between captain and commander, which I doubt, you may take it up tomorrow in Ithilden’s office.” They turned to their meal in uncomfortable silence.

After a moment, Alfirin asked, “Were you busy in court this morning, Adar?”

Thranduil made an effort to collect himself. “No,” he said. “There was a complicated property dispute, but very little else.”

Abruptly, Eilian pushed back his chair. “I am tired,” he said, “and obviously ill-humored. With your leave, Adar, I think that I will retire.” Thranduil nodded, and he left the room.

***

Legolas woke with a start. His innate sense of time told him immediately that he was later than he should have been. The night guard duty had left him with far fewer hours to sleep than he usually had. He leapt from the bed and scrambled into his clothes.

He was still buckling his belt as he hurried down the hall of the family quarters, only to find Thranduil blocking his way, in an echo of Eilian on the previous evening.

“Adar, I will be late,” he said impatiently.

“Then you should have started earlier,” said Thranduil, unperturbed. He grasped his youngest son’s chin and tilted his face to the light of the crystal lantern on the wall, examining the already-fading bruise. “Are you hurt elsewhere?” he asked in a neutral tone.

“No. Adar, please!”

Thranduil released him and stepped to one side. “Go,” he said.

Legolas took off at a dead run. Tardiness this morning would be a very bad idea indeed.

***

Ithilden scanned the disciplinary report that had been on his desk when he entered his office. “Insubordination,” it read. Perhaps he should not be surprised; he had heard Legolas be insolent to Thranduil on occasion. But he had never before had any weapons master complain about Legolas’s attitude during training.

He thought about the scene he had witnessed the other evening. He had been startled to see Legolas and Galelas apparently squaring off for a fight. What had gotten into his little brother?

He rubbed his temples. Perhaps he was overreacting because this was Legolas. At one time or another, most novices had trouble with the strict discipline of the training. They needed to learn to follow orders, and the lesson was a hard one at their age. It was the rare novice who never had to be reprimanded.

He thought of his quarrel with Eilian over Maldor. He believed that he was right in his judgment of the unarmed combat master, but Eilian was normally a good judge of character so their disagreement troubled Ithilden. Alfirin was unhappy over what she had heard about the master, he knew. She worried about Tonduil, who had startled his family by deciding only a year ago that he wanted to be a warrior.

He sighed, signed the report, and tossed it aside.