Do Not Go Gentle

Goldilocks and Spars

A few days after the lunch-thing Lord Elrond finally started to let me practice with swords. However, if I wanted to practice, then I was supposed to make sure one of his sons or the Lord Glorfindel dude were there to make sure I didn't kill anyone or injure myself.

Normally I would be pissed at that rule because I'm an independent woman and don't need no man, but I was itching for something fun to do.

So, I agreed.

Arwen had given me some training clothes, which consisted of a dark pair of trousers that were some sort of leathery fabric, and a blue tunic. I had to wrap my boobs with some cloth, mostly because the bra I had been wearing when I came here was not fit for training. There were some durable, light boots they had given me. It was like I was in a Game of Thrones episode, really.

The twins, Elrohir and Elladan, with their long dark hair, flawless complexion, and deep blue eyes, were very good looking, but apparently, they were not looking for any long-term females in the relationship department. They were too busy being bachelors and sleeping around to have fun, which was something I never really understood.

But of course, I don't judge. I have no place to do that, not with all the shit I've done.

I was always too busy for relationships in my world. There were too many monsters, gods, and angry titans that wanted to take over the planet. And because I was sent here on a mission to save this world, I don't think I'd have time for romance here either.

No matter what Aphrodite might think.

"Lady Persie, one would think that you would be better at shooting a bow because you are supposedly the daughter of a god," Elladan mocked, as he stared at the arrow that had embedded itself into a tree a little way to my right.

I shrugged, letting the bow drop to my side lazily. "My father isn't the god of archery, boys."

We were at Imladris's archery range. I was down for some sword fighting or something more... physical. Not archery. Definitely not archery.

But apparently, the elves think archery is a way to determine whether someone is a good warrior. At least, that's what Elladan and Elrohir seem to believe.

Elrohir rolled his eyes. "You told us you were supposed to be a great warrior. I am having a hard time believing you after that display, Neneth."

I looked at him curiously. "What the Hades did you call me?"

He tilted his head to the side. "What is Hades?"

I threw the bow across my shoulder and crossed my arms tightly. "He's the god of the dead. My uncle. And back to my question: what did you call me?"

The twins looked shocked. "Your uncle is the god of the dead?" Elladan asked. They shared a look, and a part of me was proud that they seemed intimidated by that part.

A sly grin slipped onto my face. "Yes, he is the king of the underworld, where are the souls go once they depart from their mortal bodies, elf-boys. Now, tell me what Neneth means or I'll skewer you with an arrow."

They were knocked from their shock and suddenly started to laugh. "You are the first to threaten us in centuries," Elladan chortled, clenching his belly with his hands.

Elrohir looked to his brother knowingly. "Were you not threatened by Glorfindel before he left?"

Elladan sobered quickly. "Glorfindel does not count, brother."

Elrohir laughed and shook his head slowly. "Only to you, mellon."

It was fun watching the brothers bicker back and forth like a tennis match for only so long. My ADHD started to kick in, and I found myself swaying from side to side with clenched hands. They kept speaking, but only this time they were using their native tongue.