Post by Admin on Jan 31, 2021 18:49:04 GMT
Author: Ria
Rating: PG
Summary: A lesson for young warriors.
Disclaimer: The setting and the character are Tolkien's, the weird notions are my own.
Of all the toils he endured during his training as a warrior, Legolas hated falling practice the most. It had started innocently enough with jumping and tumbling games on the soft carpet of fallen leaves, but by the time the snow drifted down to hide them, Maegithil chivvied his students through the same maneuvers along the trees' icy frame of branches. Each time the shivering apprentice warriors managed to complete the challenge he had laid out for them, Maegithil crooked his thin lips in a new moon smile and added a new layer of difficulty.
"Falling . . . practice. Falling practice," the young prince grumbled as he and his fellows raced along the icy slope of the riverbank to reach the site of the day's lesson. He leaped from a slippery stone to a shelf of snow that crumbled under him even as he bounded forward again, trying to outrace the sinking feeling in his gut that Maegithil must have planned it so that they would have to race to their lesson and arrive already winded. One of his companions tumbled down the slope behind him in a puff of snow crystals, but none of the students paused in their race. Maegithil had a variety of nasty penalties for students who arrived late or failed to pay proper attention to his lessons.
"We don't need more practice falling," his friend Laerven gasped out as they made the final sprint up the hill before the falls. "It's not falling we should practice."
Legolas chuckled, forcing the laugh out so that he wouldn't sound as winded as he felt. "Yes, if we become too skilled at falling practice, our esteemed instructor may decide that dying practice is the next step." His friend gave a laugh as weak as the joke Legolas had made, but both relished the distraction from their grueling run.
They broke through the trees just then, to be greeted by a dry grunt of amusement as they reached the top of the slope. "Yes, dying practice," their teacher agreed. "I believe I have just the lesson planned to suit your clever notion, Prince Legolas."
The prince bit his lip, while his friends dashed up behind him in time to wince at his misfortune. Catching Maegithil's particular attention never ended well. Arguing with the instructor could only make it worse, so Legolas said nothing. He drew a slow breath of the frigid air to slow his pulse and studied the hilltop clearing. The twisting stream they'd followed pooled here into a slick of ice that dropped off on its far side, just behind Maegithil. He saw treetops beyond it, but could not be certain how far it dropped below. The air he'd sucked in froze his throat.
The instructor smiled, thin and cold. "You may go first, Legolas. Run across the pool -- mind you don't slip -- then leap the falls. I will warn you, there are some rocks below."
Laerven gasped, "Are you trying to kill us?"
Maegithil noted the outburst with a cold glance but spoke to Legolas. "You have your instructions, Legolas," he prompted.
Legolas took another deep breath, this one shakier than the last, then launched himself into a sprint across the ice. He hoped he could get enough speed to jump clear of the rocks below -- he hoped that he had understood Maegithil's instruction correctly in that he ought to run to make the jump safely. At the last, his foot almost slipped, but he caught his toe against a branch frozen into the edge of the waterfall and used it to hurl himself farther from the frozen cataract.
Rocks, ice, snow flashed up toward him. He tucked himself forward to roll at the last possible moment and splatted into a jarring somersault down the far slope just beyond the boulders that rose up at the bottom of the waterfall. He used his arms to slow himself, but only stopped when he struck a leafless bush -- a thornbush.
Legolas heard a thump from above him and yanked himself free of the bush, standing up just in time to see Laerven send up a cloud of snow as he hit the hollow to the left of the rocks. He helped his friend up.
The next student plunged off the precipice with a howl. He landed only an arm's length from them, spraying them with a new layer of snow. "What are we supposed to learn from this?" Laerven grumbled as he brushed the snow away from his ears.
"Not dying is good?" the fallen elf guessed.
Another student jumped, silent, then cartwheeled through the snow with perfect form. The elegant roll ended with a thud against a tree trunk. He groaned without rising. The other three hurried to his side.
"Perhaps the lesson is that falling isn't the problem," Legolas mused. "We should worry about landing instead."
Rating: PG
Summary: A lesson for young warriors.
Disclaimer: The setting and the character are Tolkien's, the weird notions are my own.
Of all the toils he endured during his training as a warrior, Legolas hated falling practice the most. It had started innocently enough with jumping and tumbling games on the soft carpet of fallen leaves, but by the time the snow drifted down to hide them, Maegithil chivvied his students through the same maneuvers along the trees' icy frame of branches. Each time the shivering apprentice warriors managed to complete the challenge he had laid out for them, Maegithil crooked his thin lips in a new moon smile and added a new layer of difficulty.
"Falling . . . practice. Falling practice," the young prince grumbled as he and his fellows raced along the icy slope of the riverbank to reach the site of the day's lesson. He leaped from a slippery stone to a shelf of snow that crumbled under him even as he bounded forward again, trying to outrace the sinking feeling in his gut that Maegithil must have planned it so that they would have to race to their lesson and arrive already winded. One of his companions tumbled down the slope behind him in a puff of snow crystals, but none of the students paused in their race. Maegithil had a variety of nasty penalties for students who arrived late or failed to pay proper attention to his lessons.
"We don't need more practice falling," his friend Laerven gasped out as they made the final sprint up the hill before the falls. "It's not falling we should practice."
Legolas chuckled, forcing the laugh out so that he wouldn't sound as winded as he felt. "Yes, if we become too skilled at falling practice, our esteemed instructor may decide that dying practice is the next step." His friend gave a laugh as weak as the joke Legolas had made, but both relished the distraction from their grueling run.
They broke through the trees just then, to be greeted by a dry grunt of amusement as they reached the top of the slope. "Yes, dying practice," their teacher agreed. "I believe I have just the lesson planned to suit your clever notion, Prince Legolas."
The prince bit his lip, while his friends dashed up behind him in time to wince at his misfortune. Catching Maegithil's particular attention never ended well. Arguing with the instructor could only make it worse, so Legolas said nothing. He drew a slow breath of the frigid air to slow his pulse and studied the hilltop clearing. The twisting stream they'd followed pooled here into a slick of ice that dropped off on its far side, just behind Maegithil. He saw treetops beyond it, but could not be certain how far it dropped below. The air he'd sucked in froze his throat.
The instructor smiled, thin and cold. "You may go first, Legolas. Run across the pool -- mind you don't slip -- then leap the falls. I will warn you, there are some rocks below."
Laerven gasped, "Are you trying to kill us?"
Maegithil noted the outburst with a cold glance but spoke to Legolas. "You have your instructions, Legolas," he prompted.
Legolas took another deep breath, this one shakier than the last, then launched himself into a sprint across the ice. He hoped he could get enough speed to jump clear of the rocks below -- he hoped that he had understood Maegithil's instruction correctly in that he ought to run to make the jump safely. At the last, his foot almost slipped, but he caught his toe against a branch frozen into the edge of the waterfall and used it to hurl himself farther from the frozen cataract.
Rocks, ice, snow flashed up toward him. He tucked himself forward to roll at the last possible moment and splatted into a jarring somersault down the far slope just beyond the boulders that rose up at the bottom of the waterfall. He used his arms to slow himself, but only stopped when he struck a leafless bush -- a thornbush.
Legolas heard a thump from above him and yanked himself free of the bush, standing up just in time to see Laerven send up a cloud of snow as he hit the hollow to the left of the rocks. He helped his friend up.
The next student plunged off the precipice with a howl. He landed only an arm's length from them, spraying them with a new layer of snow. "What are we supposed to learn from this?" Laerven grumbled as he brushed the snow away from his ears.
"Not dying is good?" the fallen elf guessed.
Another student jumped, silent, then cartwheeled through the snow with perfect form. The elegant roll ended with a thud against a tree trunk. He groaned without rising. The other three hurried to his side.
"Perhaps the lesson is that falling isn't the problem," Legolas mused. "We should worry about landing instead."