Second Age; beginning of the year 1717, in Imladris…
The main gem for a cloak clasp was nearly done…the intricate detail and great effort put into the jewel was not hard to miss. Undómion did not want to stop; enjoying making it the best it could possibly be. There was nothing left to improve, and instead of leaving it be, the Noldo kept looking for ways to further improve it.
“How long have you been sitting there?”
“Go away.” Undómion grunted.
“No.” Aridhor had his pesky yet happy tone again. He came over to the table, and yanked the chisel out of his brother’s hand, “You have spent almost three days here this week…for Varda’s sake, get out into the air!”
“I am not done!”
“Give me that thing.”
Undómion sighed and groaned, but removed his hand from the jewel and let his sibling take it. Silence was in the air, and out of the corner of his eye he watched Aridhor closely examine the gem.
Aridhor put it back on the table, giving his younger sibling a look, “You have done all you can…Now, get it in the fastening and get out in the sun.”
“Give me another one then…”
“No; how about I put a sword in your hand and see if you remember how to fight?”
Undómion growled. Of course he remembered, but he did have to get up sometime and move, “Let me finish my art first, and I shall see you at the training grounds.”
Aridhor beamed, and smiled, “Better be quick, else I may be warmed up and at an advantage!”
“Too hasty…”
Undómion loved being in a more familiar setting, in terms of architecture and culture. Having been almost solitary and living in nature for just even a few years, civilization was almost a wonder to him. Smith work, jewel making…he finally could do it again. He was not particularly fond of sparring, even if it was for his own benefit. There were plenty of opportunities to do that in Lórinand. Perhaps he could take up being a mentor for some of the Silvan elves, so that they had a better chance at winning a battle should the need ever arise. But, unlike combat, there were very few chances of being able to work with metal and minerals of the earth. That part irritated him when it came to Aridhor’s demands. Undómion secured the jewel within the casing made for it, and nodded in approval, before he arose to grab his armor and sword.
Imladris; the sparring ground…
“About time.” Aridhor spoke casually, examining his own sword.
“As thou requested, O impatient one.” Undómion almost immediately held his sword in defense.
“Oh please…already taking a cowardly maneuver? We have not even started!”
“Have you forgotten that anything can happen if you are unaware?”
Aridhor had an annoying smile, “We are not in that situation right now, are we…?” he mimicked the same defensive posture.
Undómion gritted his teeth; nothing will happen for hours if they kept this up.
It was almost a dance as they circled the area…Aridhor kept a firm stance and gaze, while Undómion was growing impatient and annoyed. He lunged forward, aiming to hit Aridhor’s arm. The older brother deflected the attack and in retaliation swung his sword as if to behead an enemy.
“Dead.”
Both lowered their swords, and Undómion looked dark, “Nothing would have happened had I not gone first…”
“Ah…but you failed to realize the patience challenged I slipped in; it seems I win once more.”
“Again,” Undómion hissed as he took some steps back, “But I demand you go first.”
“Very well then.”
After a few moments of nothing, Aridhor made the first move, and Undómion successfully defended it. It went on for a couple hours; of swinging, twirling, blocking, and the occasional kick…but eventually Undómion had the victory.
Aridhor had his hands up as he knelt on the ground, “Good…you can defend yourself when trouble finds you…”
Undómion raised a brow, “Was that what the “patience” trial was for? Examples of you fail when you look for trouble, but succeed when it comes to you?”
Aridhor broke out a look of approval, “Exactly.”
Undómion lowered his sword for a moment while Aridhor stood up, “Am I excused then?”
“No…we are one to one. Once more.” Aridhor took some steps back, taking on his defensive posture from the first round.
The same slow circling occurred...Both brothers watched each other; daring each other to make the first move. Undómion could not handle it again after a while, and made the first move…
“Dead.”
Undómion growled in frustration as Aridhor removed his sword from what would have been a deadly impale.
“Now you are dismissed, if you feel inclined…good fight.” Aridhor put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“I will return to my gem making…”
“Actually, you could help me with my own craft.” Aridhor began to move down the path.
Undómion smirked slightly and spoke nothing, and followed after.
To be continued...
