Ithildin - Legolas x OC

Chapter 1: Arrival to Rivendell

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A light breeze brushes a few strands of my silvery-white hair into my face, but they go ignored as I twirl a sword in each of my hands and maintain my balance as my feet dance on the stone beneath. My forest-green eyes are trained solely on the one across from me, waiting as they anticipate my movement.

He steps forward, bringing his sword up and clashing heavily with one of mine. The sound echoes around the open area and causes a few birds to scatter from their posts in the branches above. I swing my left sword towards him, but he deflects it with a strong force, my weapon dropping from my hand and I'm left with only one, now making the fight even.

I twirl to the side in time to narrowly miss his swing, grunting in annoyance when I face him again and lunge. We spar for a short time, our footwork moving in sync with our eyes narrowed in focus, neither of us having the upper hand until he suddenly falters. It's a small movement, his back foot shifts as he tries to regain his balance—something that would usually go amiss, but my keen, Elvish eyes spot his mistake instantly, giving myself an opening to disarm him.

Spinning my body to gain enough momentum, I kick his torso hard and send him to the ground with a frustrated grunt. He lays unmoving as I rush forward and bring the tip of my blade to his chest.

"Do you yield?" I ask—not at all breathless—and smirk as I regard my brother, Elladan.

He releases a breathy sigh at his defeat before nodding reluctantly, and I help him stand to his feet after sheathing my sword, both of us turning when we hear slow clapping.

"Ada." Elladan and I greet our father with a nod of respect as he walks towards us in the training courtyard, an amused look on his face.
(Father.)

"How long have you been there?" Elladan asks warily as he retrieves his sword from the ground.

"Long enough to watch my eldest be defeated by my youngest." Our father answers, but it isn't until he says, "Again," with a raised eyebrow that I erupt with laughter.

"It seems he will never learn." I smile at my brother innocently as he glares at me.

"I prefer it when you spar with Elrohir," he huffs.

"Only because he's a worse fighter than you are." I scoff, and my father chuckles at our quarrel.

"Why is it that your passion flows towards a sword more than to your duties?" Father asks me, "Ever since you could walk you preferred spending your time in the armoury than with your sister and the other Ladies of the court."

"A Lady's conversation keeps no one's attention, but when I converse with my bow or my sword, I never get bored." I answer him truthfully just as our steward Lindir hastily approaches us.

"That's the worst rhyme I've ever heard." Elladan laughs as I push him away.

"Herald Elrond!" Lindir bows before my father, who has a concerned look etched onto his face. "Lady Arwen has returned and requests your presence as a matter of urgency."

Father nods and follows him back inside to where my sister waits.

Leaving my brother behind I quickly follow the two, "What happened?" I ask, "Was Arwen injured?"

"No, my Lady," Lindir replies, "but she is in the company of a Hobbit, who was attacked by a Ringwraith."

"A Wraith? Attacking a Hobbit...But—why?" My face scrunches up in confusion.

Arwen had left two days ago in search for Aragorn—a man whom she's been in love with for years—for fearing he was in danger, but she has now returned without him, and instead with an injured Hobbit?