Lessons Among the Leaves

"It's weird seeing her like this" I couldn't help but say as I watched Awalion's body inside of a large crystal just floating in my mindscape. Aruzhan who was beside me nodded. "But at least we can keep her soul safe here until we find a way to revive her. " 

"Yeah, that's the plan, but I can't seem to get much in the form of magika here. And I honestly don't feel strong enough to head back home with those monsters of beings going about." I sat on the silver grass lying back. 

"Do you believe Arnovia and her sister are alright in the shivering isles?" It was a question I couldn't help but ask myself as well. "I know for a fact Lyra is probably way stronger than me, I mean she was closing Oblivion gates by herself. And Arnovia is a far better shot than me with a bow. Those two would be fine, I'm sure of it." was I saying that because I believed it or because I was trying to convince myself?

"So what's the plan then?" she asked as she turned to face me, her eyes staring into mine. "Well first getting stronger is a given," I said as I lifted one of my fingers. "Then we have two options available, first we head back home and hope that Manamarko is dead. This might be unlikely as from the books we have read, it seems he has been around for a very long time, so more likely than not, he has a way to revive himself. And not to forget the immortal demi-god that just loves killing elves. That fuck has also been around since the forming of the empire so he will have far more experience than us at the moment." And as I looked into her eyes I knew she knew I was right.

" Or the second choice is we jump from world to world looking for teachers and or gods willing to help us. We could also steal some items that could be useful to us. maybe find a few people that are willing to help us or get some new abilities." I said as I raised a second finger.

Aruzhan seemed to go into thought. " A God's help might work to fix our race..." I nodded to her words.

"Yeah it would but we also need to be able to deal with threats like the elven killer, plus there is one we are not even considering, one that pretty much would be a living god on the plane of Tamriel." I wasn't looking forward to having to face someone like that cause they would be stronger than those I'm currently not even able to face.

"Dovahkiin" she finished my sentence. "Well Dovahkiin's" I added. "Plus the word eater and his dragonkin." I sighed just thinking about it. It was stressing me out more and more by the second. 

"Then we have little choice but to go with the second one, but are you willing to leave Arnovie? for her to grow old and die?" 

"no..... I honestly don't want to, and I hate the fucking idea of having to, I'm just not strong enough to deal with what is waiting for me back home. And Id hate to put her in harm's way 'cause I'm not fucking stupid enough to believe I could keep her safe....." 

Nodding as she sits next to me. "Then we have our work cut out for us. sadly you won't be leveling up at the moment." 

"Guess I have to grind, and don't worry I'm not going to let anyone pop our cherry. " I joked trying to lighten my mood. "Good cause if you did I would have to kill you," she said as she gently punched my arm. "See you around" 

I nodded as I began to wake up. The sun hadn't come up yet, as I was lying in my bed. The soft sound of the stream nearby was calming as I forced myself out of bed. As I switched over to my armor and stored the almost transparent dress in my inventory. And heading silently out the door.

The morning mist clung to the vibrant greenery of Rivendell as I made my way to the secluded training grounds. Picking up a wooden staff, I swung it a few times, getting the feel of its balance, the closest substitute to my spear back in Tamriel. I had been practicing here for the last three days, ever morning.

A figure approached through the dappled sunlight, accompanied by the curious whispers of two hobbits. He carried a wooden sword and moved with a calm assurance that piqued my interest. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice carrying over the soft chatter of two hobbits that I recognized as Merry and Pippin, who had followed him.

"Please, I could use the practice," I responded, welcoming the distraction.

The hobbits settled nearby, their eyes wide with interest as we faced off. We started slowly, wood clacking against wood, each strike and parry well he would parry while I sometimes managed too. Aragorn was clearly experienced, his movements deliberate and precise, and it was clear he was going easy on me.

"You handle yourself well," Aragorn commented during a brief pause, his breath even as he appraised my stance.

"Thanks," I said, wiping a bead of sweat from my brow. "I had a good teacher."

The sparring resumed with increased intensity. I found a rhythm, the staff becoming an extension of myself. As Aragorn advanced, I countered with a quick series of feints followed by a powerful thrust aimed directly at his midsection. 

Aragorn blocked the thrust with his sword, but the force behind my strike pushed him back several steps. His feet shuffled against the grass, and for a moment, surprise flickered across his face.

"Stronger than you look," he remarked, a hint of respect mingling with his fatigue.

I merely nodded, feeling only a light sheen of sweat on my forehead compared to his heavier breathing. The training continued, and though Aragorn regained his composure, there was a newfound wariness in his approach. 

We continued, my confidence growing with each exchange. Yet, as the spar progressed, Aragorn's superior experience began to show. He parried my attacks with increasing ease, his counters becoming more assertive. Despite my strength and agility, he was starting to kick my ass.

After a particularly clever faint, he disarmed me, my staff flying out of my hands to land several feet away. I stood, defeated but exhilarated, the light sheen of sweat on my brow.

"You've got potential," Aragorn said. "But raw strength needs to be tempered with strategy and experience."

"Clearly," I agreed.

He eyed me for a second, "You have the strength beyond that of the ordinary. Where did you train?"

"In Tamiel, I had a good master named Gergs," I replied, keeping the details vague. My strength, partly derived from my werewolf lineage, was not something I was ever going to disclose.

As I collected my staff from the ground, still processing the defeat, Aragorn studied me thoughtfully. "You handle a staff well," he commented, wiping a trace of sweat from his brow, "but your style might adapt well to a sword."

I hesitated the familiar weight of a sword in my memory from my days in Tamriel when I had used it to kill some Deadra who thankfully were on the weaker side. "I've trained with swords before," I admitted, "though I'm more comfortable with a spear."

Aragorn nodded, picking up his wooden sword and balancing it in his hand. "A sword might not be your preferred weapon, but versatility could prove useful. I could show you a few techniques if you're interested."

The offer was unexpected but welcome. "I'd appreciate that," I replied, setting aside the staff and accepting the sword he offered me. It felt different, less reach and balance than a spear, but not entirely foreign. In terms of skill, if I were to rank it in the way skills were assessed back in Tamriel, I was slightly more advanced than a beginner, certainly not a novice but not yet a journeyman.

We began slowly, Aragorn instructing me on the basic stances and movements unique to swordplay. His method was patient and detailed, each step designed to build upon the last. As we progressed, The system seemed to have the effect of helping me learn a bit fast as the fundamental techniques Aragorn was teaching me I was picking up fairly quickly.

"You learn quickly," Aragorn observed as I executed a particularly complex series of parries he had demonstrated. "Your foundation is solid, though different from the styles here."

"It's been a while since I've trained with a sword," I lied, feeling the muscle memory kick in, a little rusty but intact. 

As the session drew to a close, I was breathing heavily but exhilarated. The shift to swordplay was challenging but invigorating. "Thank you, Aragorn. This means more than you might realize," I told him, handing back the sword.

"It's my pleasure," he replied with a nod. "A warrior should be as versatile as they are skilled. Im not sure how much longer I might be hear but I could teach you more if you would like until I leave if you want?"

"Absolutely," I agreed, eager for the challenge.

Aragorn nodded, pleased with the progress. "Very well, then. We'll continue this training for as long as I am here," he affirmed.

As I placed the wooden sword back on the rack, a shout from across the field broke the morning's focus. "How about some breakfast?" Pippin called out, his youthful voice echoing with a mix of hunger and impatience.

The mention of food seemed to remind my stomach of its own needs. "Gods, I'd kill for some meat right about now," I murmured, more to myself than anyone else.

Merry, overhearing, turned with a surprised expression. "You eat meat?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. In his eyes, the stereotype of elves being primarily vegetarian lingered.

I chuckled, walking towards them. "Where I come from, meat is a staple. Guess I'm not your typical elf," I explained, stepping past the boundary of the typical elven demeanor they expected.

Aragorn smiled, a light laugh escaping him. "Indeed, full of surprises," he said to the hobbits, who were still processing this new piece of information.

The hobbits, fascinated, continued to quiz me about my dietary preferences as we walked back towards the main hall of Rivendell. The casual banter lightened the mood, and it was kind of nice talking to the hobbits.