Author’s Note: This chapter is slightly shorter than the others, but here it is. Enjoy!
At the sound of the voice, Megiliel stopped, and slowly spun on her heel. In front of her was a tall, slender man, standing in a confidently easy stance. A hood, even in the warm sunlight, mostly obscured his face but the sliver that was visible seemed pale, almost deathly. Whenever he shifted, the man’s cloak shimmered, and Megiliel was forced to focus her eyes to seem him. After waiting a few moments for Megiliel to act, he spoke again.
“My name is Threunis, and yours, I believe, is Megiliel.” He crossed his arms, and paused for a moment before continuing. “With those pointless introductions out of the way, we can fulfill our real purpose for being here.” With a flourish, Threunis pulled his cloak off, scattering the several weapons attached to it to the earth in front of Megiliel. “Defend yourself!”
Megiliel let out the deep breath she had been holding through his “introduction”. While outwardly she betrayed no emotion, inwardly she was jumping with joy. Fighting was something that she could handle, due to the fact that she shared leadership of the Armegil, the elite guards of Gondor, and the King in particular.
Desperately trying to hold in a wide smile, she leaned down, grabbed a long, thin saber, and lunged. The fight had begun.
Eldarion breathed deeply, enjoying the summer evening air. His happiness was heightened by the fact that this was the first time he had been able to see the sky since noon. Eldarion was content to simply sit and enjoy that quarter of an hour that he had before ate his evening meal standing on his balcony. However, what he looked forward to most was the fighting instruction that was to follow. No matter how many times he received his instruction, he always loved it. `And,’ he mused, `I’m becoming quite a fighter besides.’ So he stood there on his balcony and gazed out to the horizon, and smiled contentedly, completely peaceful and happy.
Eldarion’s tranquil stillness was broken by the sound of galloping hooves. He looked down, and saw his fighting instructor, Lintemir, gallop through a side gate of the palace, thoroughly saturated and looking exhausted. The prince wondered why he was so wet, until he noticed the dark storm clouds not very far away. Looking down again, he saw that Lintemir was riding into the courtyard, and turned away from his balcony. He bound out of the room, down a staircase, and out of the building. Before his was Lintemir, slowly climbing off of his horse.
Immediately, Eldarion blurted out, “What happened to you!”
“I was attacked,” answered Lintemir. Upon seeing the look of horror on Eldarion’s face, he lightened the mood by grinning and saying, “You see, those lessons do come in handy sometimes.” Eldarion almost managed something that could be called a smile, but was still too absorbed in his naïve horror that Lintemir had been attacked to be paying much attention.
As Lintemir strode off to get dry, he called over his shoulder to Eldarion, “Do you know where your parents are? I need to talk to them.” Eldarion hurried after him, responding automatically, “They should be in their chambers.” He paused, and then said anxiously, “Why do want to see them? Shouldn’t you dry off first?”
“I need to talk to them about my attacker, as soon as possible. I am not sure about this, but you might be fulfilling your princely duties a bit sooner than you expected.” And with an odd look, and these cryptic words, Lintemir walked quickly away, leaving a very confused young prince behind to ponder his words.