I read again what I wrote the evening after initial training; much of it bears a bittersweet pang. My attempts to capture an intensely complicated emotional situation in far-too-brief prose are clumsy at best. It is at times such as these when I envy the short-lived races. Though I cannot say I share their minds, I do find their resilience admirable and desirable. As one of the Eldar, I am granted time incomprehensible to those who do not share my longevity, and yet after what would be generations to Men, I still find it a challenge to write on my departure. I have met Men who are able to set aside more grievous woes than mine in the time I use finishing a pleasant thought. Though I feel no trouble from my past in my current affairs, it would be unwise to neglect it.
This afternoon, the herth gathered once again at Lin Giliath. When I pledged my service and put my name to page, I noticed a great many preceded my own and find myself encountering new faces often. One of whom has only joined with the Loth in the recent past: my fellow in training is another of Lórien's children, though I have yet to ask her own past. She calls herself Arnelloth and is a capable fighter, if a bit eager. Today, after the Mithdirith were given their orders, Aearandir once again took us both aside and indicated our training would become more involved. He handed us weighted packs and pitted training blades and no sooner had we hoisted the new gear than he took off at a brisk pace. We ran for a number of miles, silent as foxes, until I slipped on a slick stone outcropping and tumbled into a shallow ravine. The look on Arnelloth's face when I caught up with them was heartwarming. I had a satisfying laugh to myself at her concern, but even though it was so minor an event, I found a great deal of comfort in how genuine she was. On several separate occasions, I have been treated with similar sympathy by others in the herth... After so long alone, out among ancient trees who have forgotten more than I may ever know, the solace in home feels of the sun after a cold night.
The weight of the pack was unusual, I found it hampered my regular movements and required a shift in balance. I've always traveled light, though I've always been alone. I have decided to wear this infernal sack until it becomes a part of myself. On that note, blade training left me battered and in this particular case, with a broken finger. Much of what I know of close combat, I taught myself. I realize how brash I can be in those situations, and hirgonui made mention of it. I should find someone to learn defensive tactics from.
Even after defending, I still find myself feeling uncertain. Whatever instincts have kept me alive in the wilds are ones of assault and aggression, defense seems such a foreign concept, but if I am to prove my worth... I must master it. I must master myself.
