*。☆。
★。＼｜／。★
˚ ₊ ♡ ❰ BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ WHAT LIES AHEAD  ❫ ❞
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ACT TWO  ── audentes fortuna iuvat 🏹 ⁺⑅

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CHILDREN OF ARDA DUOLOGY  ⋆ ☄.
♯ ❝ EITHER ONE WOULD DO ❞
CHAPTER SIXTEEN ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
˚ ₊ ♡ the third age ─── year 3018
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━━ ˚ ₊ ♡ 🏹
❝ 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙨𝙚 ❞

*✧ ─── GYDA KNOWS MANY YEARS AGO, HER FATHER STOOD WHERE SHE STANDS NOW. ON THE BRINK OF A WAR, THE MAP OF MIDDLE-EARTH SPREAD OUT ON A LARGE OAKEN TABLE, CANDLES LIT TO CAST A GLOW OVER THE WEATHERED parchment despite the light that filters through the stone archways spread across the walls. In a strange sense, she feels at home, standing with her hands clasped behind her back, calculating gaze wandering around the roads and paths—many of which she has walked before.  Here she knows what to do, to formulate plans, speak of tactics, but for the very same reason her thoughts also drift to things she know nothing off. Her father had marched from Lindon to Mordor with his High-King by his side to face Sauron in the Last Allegiance Between Men and Elves, watched as Gil-Galad had been struck down, where in the battle for good, for light, he had met his own end for the sake of protecting her.

The legacy she carried, the vow she kept suddenly became all the more real. For if the fate of Middle-Earth depended on it, she knew Elgarain would see it through to the end, and if it came down to it, Elgarain's life was worth more than her own. And all Gyda could do as she stared at the ink on the map, depicting forests, mountains and rivers, subconsciously trailing the route she once took with her eyes, was wonder if history would repeat itself. If her fate should be the same as her father before her.

Elgarain shifts next to her and Gyda notes the High-Queen's gaze flickers from the map, and to the Dúnedain, the one who revealed himself as the heir to the throne of Gondor. There is tension in her shoulders like she is keeping back from getting closer to him. And Gyda's mind flashes back to her last night at Rivendell before their return to Lindon. When she still was a princess. The heart ache Elgarain spoke of, of love not meant to be. It's him. Her mind whispers, he's the one that holds Elgarain's heart. And it makes sense now, for he is but a mortal man, even if he is a king.

Almost out of instinct, her hazel eyes rise to meet the blue ones of the elven prince of Mirkwood—like he had been waiting for her to look at him, Legolas stares at her with kind eyes that twinkle at the sight of her. For a moment she keeps staring at him, a strange sense of comfort encasing her before she shakes the feeling away. She turns back to look at the map, missing the subtle frown on his face as she does so.

Silence had hung over the gathered group for a couple of minutes now, and like an unspoken truce it is Gandalf they await word from. The Grey wizard stands at the head of the table, but despite the tension that clings to the others, he looks almost comfortable, like the map is some light reading and not like their expedition is the only thing that stands between Sauron and saving Middle-Earth.

"The safest route would be to take the Gap of Rohan," Boromir says, following the lines on the map with his fingers. "Then make west for my city. We can rest there, strike at Sauron from a place of strength."

Gandalf took a long drag from his pipe. "Our best chance lies in secrecy. The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard."

A small frown appears on Boromir's face. He clearly didn't agree but Gandalf's argument was too strong to argue with. They had to avoid the eyes of the White Wizard and his spies.

Her hands bawl into fists at the thought of Saruman's betrayal.

"If we're putting our hope in secrecy we should take the Mines of Moria," Gimli pipes up. "the Mines would take us out of sight from unfriendly eyes."

"But Moria will put us in sight of other things," Legolas disagrees, his eyes dark as he eyes the Dwarf. "We should avoid those mines."

Aragorn sighs, leaning over the table, hands splayed across the wood. "That leaves the Pass of Caradhras."

Gimli chocks on the pipe he'd been smoking, coughing loudly. When he finally catches his breath he manages to spit: "That Mountain is evil. My kin has named it The Cruel for the many lives lost in its blizzards."

"Aragorn is right," Gandalf speaks up again, his voice stern as he regards the Dwarf. "We will take the Pass of Caradhras."

Gyda lifts her chin, thoughts drifting, "We can make camp at Hollin Ridge, it marks the northern border of the lost Elven Kingdom of Eregion. We'll be protected from wandering eyes there before we make for the mountains." She turns to face her queen, awaiting her reply of confirmation.

Elgarain nods. "It seems like the safest option."

Gimli scoffs. "Safe? That mountain will end us all."

"I'd rather trudge through the snow than face the darkness of those mines," Elgarain says, trying her hardest to sound calm but her voice trembles with held back anger anyway.

"There has been no word from the dwarves of Moira for ages, whatever we may find may put us all in danger. We cannot risk the Ring falling in the wrong hands." Gyda adds, a lilt of displeasure in her voice as she stares down at the dwarf.

The dwarf, Gimli, scoffs, beady eyes narrowing as he looks at the elves. "No one can defeat us in our own mines."

"You lot once lost Erebor, who's the say Moira has not met a similar fate?" Gyda spits out in anger, before guilt riddles a small part of her, knowing Lindon could very well have ended up the same way if it wasn't for Elgarain, but before she could rephrase her words she is cut off.

"Enough," Gandalf speaks, he barely has to raise his voice and yet it seems to cut through the air like a sword. "If we bicker amongst ourselves, the quest has already failed."

Taking a deep breath, Gyda faces the dwarf again, "Apologies Master dwarf. What happened was a tragedy, I should not have brought that up. But it does not take away from the fact, that the most protected route takes us through the Pass of Caradhras."

"It's settled then," Aragorn says, eyes still focused on the map.

"When do we depart?" Elgarain asks.

"We have to wait for Elladan and Elrohir to return," Gandalf replies. "Lord Elrond send them out with a hunting party, looking for signs of the Nine and to scout the roads ahead."

Gyda turns to face their smallest companion, "Have you and your friends ever fought with a sword, Frodo Baggins?"

Wide blue eyes face her and the Hobbit nervously fiddled with the necklace holding the One Ring. "No."

"Then we shall train before we depart."

"You would have been better off answering yes," Elgarain tells Frodo with a small smile. "She is not known for her gentle tactics."

"I'm not one for teaching gentle souls." Gyda counters.

Elgarain's smile broadens. "Then I must apologize, because these Hobbits have proven to possess far braver souls than I ever will."

Frodo ducks his hide shyly at the compliment.

"You're brave Tarinya, your footwork just needs a lot of work." Gyda jests before turning towards the others gathered around the table. "I shall be in need of assistance to teach all the hobbits." Her gaze flickers from Aragorn, who strangely remained staring at Elgarain, to Boromir, both looking very capable of teaching. "Either of you will do."

Boromir, who'd been watching the exchange between Elgarain and Gyda with fond amusement as though it remembered him of someone from a distant past, was the first to reply. "I have some experience with teaching the ways of the sword. I will assist you, my Lady."

"Thank you Boromir." Gyda nods, "we shall meet at dawn—" She focuses on the Hobbit, "Please inform your friends Master Baggins."

"Yes M'lady."

*。☆。
★。＼｜／。★
𝘴𝘰 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨
𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩

─ sabaa tahir

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TIME HAD TAUGHT GYDA MUCH ABOUT PATIENCE, ELGARAIN BEING A CLOSE SECOND, BUT GYDA HAD NOT EXPECTED FOR THE LITTLE HOBBITS to talk so much. Merry and Pippin came under her care as Boromir focused on Frodo and Samwise. The training courtyard was illuminated by sunlight and a gentle breeze carried through the stone archways. It was the same place she had taught her queen to fight, and it filled her with nostalgia. Merry and Pippin were perched on a stone ledge, legs swinging as they chatter excitedly about the quest, and Gyda is fondly reminded of the elflings at home. "How far does your experience with swords go?" She questions, cutting off a—to them riveting conversation about second breakfast.

They share a look, before simultaneously facing her again. "Stick 'm with the pointy end." They chorus together.

Her shoulders slouch, a sigh passing her lips. "True, but there's a lot more to fighting with a sword, especially against the dark creatures that follow Sauron."

From her belt, Gyda retrieves two small swords, crafted by the elves of Imladris especially for the hobbits. The steel glints in the sunlight, sharp edge dangerous. "Be careful." She hands one to each after they had pushed themselves of the small ledge. "Now it's important you grip the sword properly with both hands..." She trails off, watching the two hobbits already facing one another, swords swinging. One hand gripping the hilt of the sword while the other limply moves around with every slash and stan they make.

"Merry? Pippin?" She calls out but the two are too engrossed in their little fight, laughing and jesting. She sighs, unsheathing her own sword before in quick succession disarming both hobbits. Their swords clatter to the ground and they gape at her.

"Can you teach me that!" Pippin shouts excitedly, bouncing on his feet whilst Merry clambers to retrieve both their swords.

"Let's start with the basics, alright?" Gyda offers as Merry thrusts Pippin's sword back in his hands. "We'll work up to it."

They nod, silently waiting.

She smiles at them, albeit a bit worriedly. "First things first, you grip your sword with both hands, not one." Gyda demonstrates, "Right hand at the top, your other hand on the bottom, closer to the pommel."

She watches as they copy her stance and she nods as they look up at her expectantly. "This will allow for a more wider range of arm movements. You will also have a firmer hold on your sword, which makers it harder for someone to disarm you."

"Now what?"

"Elbows close to your body." She nudges their arms inwards. "Now hold it upright in front of you, so the blade is perpendicular to the ground." Gyda holds her own sword up before demonstrating a series of slashes. Going sideways, feet moving with her momentum. "It's important to open up at an angle, left foot ahead of your right. This position allows you a firm base of support to attack from. It will also provide you support against your opponent's moves and make it more difficult for them to knock you over."

They do as she says, moving into position while she inspects them carefully.  "Let's try out some moves." She pushes them towards some old battered wooden training posts she had dragged into the courtyard with Boromir's help earlier. "Go on." She urges them, "try to remain steady."

Gyda watches calculatingly as the two hobbits go to attack the wooden post, battle cries erupt from their throats as they rush to slash and thrust their swords forward. Luckily this time, both hobbits do keep both hands firmly on the hilt of the sword. But she can easily spot them attacking without thought as they shout insults at their figurative opponent. "Keep your feet apart Pippin! Elbows up Merry!"

She sounds of metal clashing against wood echoes over the courtyard for a long time as Gyda tries to advice the two hobbits, correcting their stances and showing why certain attacks would most likely result in their death. She was harsh with her words, and unforgiving of deadly mistakes—or any mistakes really. Just as she was back home with the elflings she taught. They were the future of Lindon, and now these hobbits were part of a fellowship meant to save Middle-Earth. No pressure.

"When are we taking a break?!" Pippin groans, arms shaking as he holds up his sword. He had gotten a firm nudge on the head earlier for lowering his sword to the ground to take a breather.

"Break?" She frowns, looking up at the sun in the sky. "It's barely eleven."

"Almost time for Elevenses." Merry adds brightly.

"What are elevenses?"

Pippin groans as if remembering a similar conversation.

"You can take a sip of water." She says, and both hobbits immediately let their swords clatter to the ground and rush towards the fountain.

A shadow falls over her, and Gyda looks sideways to see Boromir standing behind her, he smiles warmly at her and she returns the gesture. From her peripheral sight, she notices Sam and Frodo join their friends in what looks like a much needed break. "How are they faring?" She asks after a moment.

"They are doing well." Boromir replies, coming to stand next to her with his arms folded across his chest. "Frodo is picking up everything a lot quicker, Sam is trying his best."

She chuckles, "Pippin and Merry are more excited about the swords that the sword training to be honest. But they're doing okay so far." She glances at him from the corner of her eye. "Training Elgarain was a lot harder."

"How so?"

"She not born to wield a sword. Not in her heart like us." She shrugs, "But she wanted to learn to defend herself, to defend her people. Her spirit doesn't let her give up even if she hates something. She was quite easily agitated in her youth."

"You must be proud of her now then. She is very calm and collected."

"I am." Gyda grins, "My father taught me that as closest guard to the High-Queen, I would be more than someone to defend her life. I would be her counsel, her teacher, her friend. Even as close as family. I never believed such things possible when I took my vow and officially became head of the Queen's guard. We were complete opposites. The sun and the moon. But now she's like my sister."

"I suppose that's is the nature of siblings." Boromir nudges her shoulder with his own.

"I suppose so." Gyda nods, "I worry for her. This quest will be dangerous, and I know Elgarain will see it through to the end no matter what. Lindon cannot afford her to perish. Not when we're finally thriving again after our last encounter with Sauron's forces."

"Were you there? Were you fighting?" Boromir wonders softly, almost reluctant to ask.

"I was." She looks up in his eyes, and pain is written in her own. "I lost many things there. I vowed never to return to that hell. But I will follow Elgarain wherever she may go. No matter how much it terrifies me."

"That sounds very brave."

"Maybe." She shrugs, "or very foolish."

Only time will tell.

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ELVISH TRANSLATIONS

tarinya— queen