Faikar - LotR

CHAPTER FOUR

Stray wisps of hair tickled her forehead and she brushed them back, only for them to spring forward again a moment later. Her cloak lay draped over the wooden fence surrounding the dirt and grass training area, her swords in their scabbards and her boots - with her long socks stuffed inside - sitting beside it. The area was silent, save for her breathing and soft footwork. The occasional sigh from the breeze through the leaves could be heard if she paid attention to it. Sweat glistened amongst the pale skin of her forearms, droplets rolling over the raised skin of scars that littered her flesh.

Thankfully, her preferred training ground was barren of life. She was in a foul mood and didn't particularly want to deal with the repercussions of someone getting offended by something she might say.

Hands as knives, fingers extended and joined, she shot out and retracted her arms, slashing and cutting the space in front of her. Hips twisted and lunged with the movement, small patches of grass catching in between her toes as her feet slid through it. Sliding and hissing, air escaped through her bared teeth in even and controlled pants, timed with the specific motion of her body. The outlines of lean muscle could be seen against her dark trousers as she made her way through her katas; squatting, kicking, and turning.

An uncomfortable shift in the air caused her skin to prickle but Nárhína never broke form. She knew someone was watching her but they were too far away for her senses to accurately pick out. If they wanted her, they could come get her.

Gods help him if it's Glorfindel.

A slight twinge in her stomach came with the name.

As her arm swung above her head, she increased speed and shifted into more complicated steps, her long red braid whipping through the air.

She didn't need to be thinking about him. She shouldn't be thinking about him. What happened earlier was a mistake, one she knew neither would make again. They both knew the friendship - if it could be called that - was built on a certain type of rivalry. She knew nothing about the elf lord except what was already public knowledge and the same went for him. She could count on one hand how many actually knew her and none of them would ever betray her trust in such a way as to be slipping secrets.

She had a list why she and Glorfindel wouldn't work.

However, she wasn't going to think about because it shouldn't even matter.

Then stop thinking about it.

Swearing under her breath, her fingers curved and tightened into fists as she switched styles, moving from Crane Dance into Falling Stone. The harsher and more complex kata relied more on offensive close-range combat than the graceful, evade style sword-play that Crane Dance favored. Elbows came up with force, her breath changing slightly with the heightened intensity as she continued the technique and slammed her bare forearm into her would-be-attacker's trachea.

Nárhína bent low on her left leg, right leg extended, and twisted, fingers pressed into the earth to anchor herself as her body swung around. Shooting up with even more speed, her right leg curved upward, completely vertical and for a moment she was frozen; only before driving her foot down into a skull crushing heel strike and flipped backward.

Breathe. And again. Go.

The difficulty with Falling Stone was that it was not meant for endurance. Heavy blows with as much intensity as possible, no weapons - just your own body in any way you could manage it. This was the survivalist's way. Fight and give it everything you had.

"My Lady!"

Her toes landed a hairsbreadth away from Lindir's throat. She held her position, red eyes boring into his and she watched the small up-and-down motion of his laryngeal prominence.

She knew Lindir was sneaking up on her but still she felt a presence at her back. It rankled that she couldn't identify who.

"Lindir. Interestingly risky for you to interrupt during another's training period."

"Well, yes - usually I wouldn't bother you but news has just arrived and you are needed in Lord Elrond's study."

Finally.

Nárhína put her foot down, and watched as Lindir let the tension drain out, his body relaxing and falling slightly.

"Very well, you may relay that I will be there soon." He bowed slightly and left, his pace quick.

Taking a moment, Nárhína let herself just breathe. Training had helped, even the small amount of meditation eased the stressors on her mind. Yet there was still so much to worry about and she felt it as a creature on her back, claws dug in, it's maw open and laughing as she tried to knock it loose, but to no avail each time.

She walked slowly, shaking out her body as she went, her version of stretching. Reaching her belongings, Nárhína dressed with haste, gathering both her cloak and swords as she finished with her boots.

The walk to Elrond's villa was quiet, considering it was dusk and most residents were having supper, this was not a surprise. The fact that it was so late, however, was. She spent more time at the training grounds than she anticipated and it was not like her to be so unaware.

The air was cool as it played upon her sweat slicked skin. She did not particularly want to go to a council of the Fellowship - if her assumptions were correct - dirty and haggard from training but the request was important enough that it needed to be handled at the soonest opportunity.

A soft hum reached her ears, as she stepped into the marble hallway. Her eyes alighted on the tall dark oak door at the end and she could make out the mesh of muffled voices. Two newcomers, along with Elrond and Gandalf.

Reaching his study, she shouldered into the thick door and pushed through, uncaring of appearances or a graceful entrance. She wished to know what she needed and be done.

"Auntie!"

Twin voices of a deep baritone caused shivers to slink up her spine. Before the identical elves could set one hair out of line in her direction, she had a sharp nailed finger pointed forebodingly in their direction.

"Don't even think about it. I have the utmost patience for you boys but it's run out early today." The two adult elves merely pouted before smiling and sitting back down. She was always slightly astonished at how childish they remained, especially considering who their father was.

"Didn't we see an elf in a similar mindset, brother?" A corner of his mouth edged up in what could only be determined as sly. A matching one formed on his brother's.

"We did, didn't we? Glorfindel seemed to be a tad bit flustered today as well." And they sat there, stinking up the room with their self-satisfied attitudes and smug implications.

Children!

Still carrying her cloak and swords, Nárhína nodded a greeting to the Grey Wizard and Elrond before stopping and bowing her head between the twins.

"One more word from either of you - unless it is legitimately important - and I will tell your father that the real reason why he had such a terrible and sudden bowel movement years ago, was because his darling boys slipped Senna into his morning tea." With each word, whispered from her mouth for their ears only, their faces paled marginally until two stark white, wide eyed, and gaping elves were staring back at her.

"Elladan, Elrohir?" Elrond's voice was tinged with humor but with notable question. She knew he had no idea what she said, he could only see the reactions of his sons and base his thoughts off of that.

Her adopted nephews gained their bearing, albeit slowly, and detailed their findings - a black horse found dead on a river bank and in another territory, a tattered black cloak.

Small, but a window of opportunity nonetheless.

"They will have fled to Minus Morgul to recover." Her husky timbre cut through the quiet after the twins revelation and was met with a nod from the wizard.

"The time has come," his blue eyes drove into hers, "for our journey to begin."

A/N: I used "katas" above and this is a term used in martial arts. The styles or forms that my OC is using are completely made up by me - if there is a kata that goes by either of those names, it was not my intention and purely coincidental.