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Subject: 'Combat'


Author:
Faeirex and Legolas
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Date Posted: 22:04:40 06/13/02 Thu

Robed from head to toe in pale green, a slim band of gold at her brow, Faeirex stood looking over the White City. The gleaming icicle walls shone in sunlight, an almost dazzling brilliance.
But they were brilliant like a glacier. Bright white from a distance, cold and untouchable. But up close they were dirty, they held treacherous cracks. They were freezing.
The White City was beautiful, but the beauty was a façade. Underneath, it concealed all the problems of any other city. Except in this city, the heat was about to be turned on.
And it would melt.

She moved through the city, walking the same paths as its people, passing the same buildings, smelling the same aromas. Yet she did not move there really, she didn’t belong. No matter how long she stayed there, she would never be like they were. In some ways, she was glad. She could leave all this squalor behind if she wished, and escape. They couldn’t. In some ways though, the thought made her sad. She had never belonged anywhere, and never would. She would always be set apart.

The close-set buildings gave way, opening out into a large expanse of space at the foot of the city. It nestled into the no-man’s land between the houses and the wall. The training grounds. Now one of the most familiar parts of the city to her, it felt safe, almost like the home she didn’t have. The warriors here accepted her as who she was. They didn’t expect her to dress up in unnecessary finery, or behave as a noblewoman. It was a place where she could be herself. Legolas was here, as she knew he would be. Treading quietly, so he wouldn’t hear her, she approached.
“Lle desiel voristim?”

Legolas jumped at the sound someone speaking. He knew who it was instantly- even if he hadn’t recognised her voice, who else had a light enough step to sneak up on him? He released his grip on the bowstring turned to face Lómódë. A light frown of concentration came to his face as he tried to work out what she had said. Finally, comprehension dawned. “Uma.”
“Quel. Lle merna aut n’ataya yamen’?”
Oh no, more words. Some familiar, some less so. The frown this time was one born more of aggravation. He hated not knowing the answer. Eventually, he was forced to give in.
“I’ve got ‘Good’, and ‘Do you want to go’, but I don’t understand the rest.”
“Do you want to go to a different place,” she supplied. “The training grounds are all very well for archery or swordplay, but they may lack something when it comes to studies of language. I thought somewhere quieter might be more appropriate.”
“Amin naa lle nai, arwenamin.” He bowed, a teasing grin coming to his face.
“Auta miqula orqu!” she responded quickly, the usual look of embarassment at being addressed by him in such a formal manner leaping into place.
“Ah, we’re down to feeble insults now, are we? I’m disappointed in you, revered teacher. You know, if you spent as much time teaching me as you did insulting me, I might actually learn more.”
“Ar’ manka lle mone vee’ sailuume’ no’ hiraya vee’ umlle no’ tiln’nur bethtyal, lle nauva queln hirao. Nan’ amin caelaya mani amin merna?” she flashed back, secure in the knowledge that he would not be able to translate her words.
“What did that mean?”
“You don’t need to know.”

Legolas smiled wryly. He couldn’t win here, they both knew it. Unless…
“So what’s Quenya for ‘I can’t stop thinking about you’?” he asked, staring coolly into her eyes. “ ‘Your beauty and your vulnerability touches my soul in ways you cannot imagine.’ ” he added, determined to push this as far as he could. He watched in satisfaction as she blushed and averted her eyes.
Score one for him.

Smiling self consciously, Faeirex backed off in defeat. “Ok, you win this round.” she admitted, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender.
“I’m delighted to hear it, arwenamin.” he told her, with a courtly bow. They stared at each other for a what seemed like an age, before dissolving into laughter, the episode forgotten, from her mind at least.
For Legolas however, it had given him an idea…

*****

And the conversation goes as follows:

"Are you ready to continue to learn?"
"Yes"
"Good. Do you want to go to a different place?"
"I am yours to command, my Lady."
"Go kiss an orc"
"And if you spent as much time on studying as you did on pointless wordplay, you would be a better pupil. But will I have what I want?"

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