Feä Bond (Legolas x OC)

The sword

Two days later, the haughty swordsmaster picked her up for what should be the last lesson. Frances, reinvigorated by the compliments she had heard, felt in a cheeky mood.

- "So", she told him as they made their way to the sparring field, "I have heard by some very trusted sources that my fighting skills have GREATLY improved."

- "It is indeed so," said the grim elf, sending her a queer look.

- "Ah!, you could have said so, at least once!"

The swordsmaster stopped in his tracks. Her outbursts were so human, and he was quite eager to be rid of her. Young elflings were much easier to teach that this stubborn second born.

- "Since you started from a catastrophic level of mastership, there was much room for improvement."

The tirade stung her very deeply, and Frances accepted the rebuke without replying. There was so much truth in his words, and yet she could not help but feel miserable. The twins had managed to befriend her, dismissing her inferior skills and grace for her witty spirit, but the swordsmaster focused only on her flaws. Would it be up to him, no human should ever be fighting with a blade. Frances fought this session with the energy of despair. She so badly wanted to gain a compliment that never came, but try as she might she could never be up to it.

In the background, Glorfindel observed. His anger had gone a long time ago, replaced by curiosity. For the incarnation of a prophecy, the lady Frances felt very human. However, after spending hours in sight of the sparring field, he started to understand the bigger picture. Given her absence of fighting skills, it was this very humanity that made her worth. Even Estel, with his elven ancestry, did not use his emotions so strongly. Glorfindel had seen her exhausted and discouraged by the constant nagging of the swordsmaster, and every time she seemed at his mercy it was her will that kept her fighting. Now he understood the role of the Keeper of Time. She was no warrior, even if she could now hold her own. She was a conscience. Frances would bring hope, joy, and ask the very questions that nobody would dare. Glorfindel spared a look for the blade he had forged. The sword would suit her well.

The sparring session finally over, the sword master consented to share a few words of encouragement to a sweating Frances.

- "You have done well, considering your inferior strength and speed."

- "Thank you, I'll take that as a compliment", she answered.

The insult did not really touch home. Yes, she was a second born. Her speed, grace, strength and life were forfeited. There was no need to go against one's nature, no gain in wishing she was different. Frances embraced her mortality with relief.

- "You may."

Then he was gone, and Frances relished in the thought that, at last, she would not face him again. The young lady could endure much, but being the target of such dislike always left her numb. She could not fathom what she had done wrong, why she could inspire such despise. Leaving those sad thoughts behind, she sat on a bench, observing the surroundings. Even in the heart of winter, Rivendell expressed its tremendous beauty. The waterfall's echoes sounded through the valley, and the bright light covered every single tree in a silvery shade. Here and there, some ice crystals glistened in the sunshine, some remains of the biting frost that fell upon the city at night. Frances' eyes closed, and she breathed in the dry cold air. If she concentrated deep enough, she could feel every element of the forest. The young woman relented her inner feeling to the harmony of the woods. At this time of day, the smells started to rise, replacing the icy mantel of winter dawns.

The slight noise of rustling leaves caught her of guard and she started. Glorfindel stood in the middle of the sparring field. His blond hair shone like a jewel in the silvery light, and his natural glow, stronger that the other's, blinded her for a moment. After facing Gandalf and Elrond in the office, Frances though that she could never be intimidated again. Well, she was wrong. The presence of the elf hero from the first age left a feeling of nothingness. She, who had been living for nineteen little years, could not even begin to fathom how the elf could be, think, and live. A pang of annoyance passed through her heart. Would she not be granted a little rest from legendary beings? Her energy levels were on the way to depletion, especially after this ultimate fight with the swordsmaster.