It had been nearly a full cycle for the moon since I'd met Glorfindel, but still I was not used to his presence. He made me nervous, my speech often stuttered whenever he was around. I usually had such a great control with my emotions, but he was the idle of my life - my hero. I didn't want him to get the wrong impression of me, but it was just so hard not to fangirl over him. I tried to shake the arising flutter of butterflies from my stomach with a deep inhale and exhalation of air as the golden haired 'god' among elves came striding into view, my grip tightening around the hilt of the sword that I was currently wielding.

It had taken some convincing on my part, to get both he and Erestor to agree upon my reasoning for joining up with the freshest batch of trainees. I wasn't sure why it just about took groveling, but finally I had gotten the nod of approval... and now I was here, standing in a line of five, waiting for our first instructions from Glorfindel. Sure I was already superb with a bow, but if I wanted to be one of the greats then I had to master all other weapons. Right? Yes, so it only made further sense to learn from one who was already apart of the greats. 

I did hope I would not make that big of a fool of myself, but such was inevitable. I always tended to find my way into some sort of embarrassing situation, especially when someone such as Glorfindel was added into the equation. Just remember to breathe, I told myself, my lips curving into a slight frown at the surfacing of a memory. Definitely wouldn't want a recurring of that one fiasco where I fainted while carrying that tray of  food. Those elves that retained the blunt of the tray's continents still gave me evil looks, but If anyone cared to ask me, they themselves were the ones to blame. That's exactly what they get for being in the way of flying food.

Glorfindel

The red fire from the forge had been burning since the early hours of the morning and the armoury rang with the sound of metal clashing against metal as Glorfindel worked the blades wielded by the guardsmen of Imladris. And as he gave the swords shape, he sung his songs as his beleg-atto's father had taught him to do. It was these words that leant the swords of his kinsmen their strength and beauty which was beyond comparison. And whilst Glorfindel was not a great smith of untold skill like Mahtan had been and neither could he weave song and enchantment into his work as his beleg-atto had, but he had trained with a sword as early as when the first swords had been made and he sung of the evil that had been vanquished by steel blades and of the lands and people defended by the strength of warriors. And he felt his power worked into the swords as he patiently folded the metal over and over until it was half it's original width but countless times stronger. On the blunt edge of the blade, he engraved the words of his song as delicately as he could manage. He stepped back to review his work, and he could not help but think it to be such a shame that the language he wrote and sung in was now a tongue that was all but forgotten save in the scripts preserved from the earliest Ages of Arda.

As he finished, he stole a glance at the sun to make sure that he was not late for the young Elflings who were to be trained under his guidance. Glorfindel could have sworn that when he had initially offered to take on the role of helping the younger Elves that there had been nowhere near as many Elflings as he was teaching now, but the Elf-lord did not complain for it was far from an unpleasant task. Of course there was the added difficulty of the reigning in the eagerness of the young Elves, which left unchecked would often result in equipment being damaged as they excitedly swung their blades around with all their strength (leaving Glorfindel with a load of paperwork to complete). But seeing their faces light up as they sparred with him and the pride flash in their eyes when they earned his praise and watching as they grew into fine young warriors themselves was reward enough for all the effort put in.

With roughly an hour before he was due in the training grounds, Glorfindel put away his tools safely so no Elfling might come across them and play with them as though they were mere toys. He dressed himself in his own leather armour, seeing no need to don his plated golden armour which he was so well-known for carrying on the battlefield to fight against the young Elves. The only thing which rendered any of them dangerous in the slightest was the lack of training which made them hard to predict as they themselves had no clue what they were doing. But the swiftness and precision of a more experienced fighter would usually easily defend himself against the rather jerky style of fighting that the younger Elves had.

Along with him, he brought the sword he had crafted that morning. He meant to test it's balance before he gave it up to the guardsmen, he would hopefully find the time to do so after he was done with the young ones. That was unless he was sought out by one of the ellyn, given that Glorfindel had started his work in the forge before Arien had lifted the golden sun in the sky, he suspected that someone would pay him a visit later to ask him politely (there were few in Rivendell who would dare to command an Elf-lord of his stature) if he would not mind starting so early in case he wake some of the resting Elves in the city. Though it was difficult for he warrior to work in the forge any later than he did for he would often attract a crowd so large that he would have to pay more attention in avoiding hitting the people surrounding him than he did on the blade he was renewing.

And having practised his swordsmanship for thousands of years, if there was one thing he could not stand it was forging a blade- or crafting anything for that matter- and not paying full attention to that which he was making. Though whilst Glorfindel didn't have as much time as he would have liked to have perfected the sword he had made that morn, it was satisfactory and certainly superior to the general standard of the swords that the guard were fighting with. But the most difficult part of crafting weapons which he had strengthened with his own words was parting with them. For he had poured his fëa into the making of the blade to give it strength and with that he felt uneasy about giving it to a stranger to wield as his own. But after his release from the Halls of Mandos, he had spent much time with his beleg-amilyë's mother and her Vanyarin kinsmen, he had tried hard to take their teachings to heart and put aside the need to possess objects and focus instead on giving without wanting something in turn. It was no easy lesson to learn, but giving up this blade would be one step further to making his amilyë more proud of the Ellon he had become.

As he reached the grounds, he gave a wide grin to the Elves gathered there. They were early- but then again the younger ones were always early. It was only as they grew older and they had filled many years with sword practice that they would not be in such a hurry to make their way to the training grounds so early in the day.

"Morning!" He chirped happily as he addressed all of the eledhrim. He did a quick sweep of the Elflings stood around him, taking in height, build, how they held their swords, the looks in their eyes, whether they knew the Elf standing next to them- all the small details that would no doubt come in use later on. He recognised a fair number of the young ones, many of them had spoken to him before- even if the encounter had been very brief before the Elves had scurried away blushing.

"Now being your first lesson, I do not mean to start anything of any particular difficulty. And we are all here to have fun, are we not? So why don't you all test out the equipment we have to offer you and do your best at swinging a sword and I'll go around and see how impressive you lot are in comparison to my other groups of young warriors." He said cheerfully, being sure to avoid the use of the term Elflings for he remembered that it was not something he ever appreciated being addressed when he had been as young as they were. He stepped back and allowed them to get on with whatever they thought most important and he watched attentively to see what they would do.

Glorfindel bid us all good morning, and after we (we being the whole entirety of the class) all returned the greeting he started giving instructions for our first lesson. Just swing around the sword a bit, get a feel for it. Easy enough, right? I swallowed hard, and ran a shaky hand across my - already beaded with sweat - forehead. Holding back a frown at the wetness that dampened my skin and now soaked into the sleeve of the white shirt that I wore under my beige tunic, I quickly brushed the strands of red that had fallen into my face and over my shoulder back. Tilting my chip up, I waited for a cool breeze to come floating in from the north to cool my heated cheeks before slowly stepping into a combat stance. 

Unlike with my boy where I would remain upright and squared, I had to give bend to my knees and spread my legs evenly with one foot positioned forward and the other back. I felt so stiff and awkward. Chancing a glance at the others around me, I felt a pang of jealously... the ellon just to the right of me was already swinging around his blade, his movements natural and fluid. Forcing my eyes back to the ground in front of me, I bit down on my lower lip and raised my sword with both hands grasping onto it's hilt. Nervously, I cut through the air sideways, testing the weight and balance of my weapon first before moving on to the more advanced of swings. Though I felt as if I were being quite graceful as I began to step into a jab and then a spinning move, I knew I looked completely out of place. Maybe this wasn't the best of ideas.

OOC :: So sorry babers for the shortness, I worked really hard on a reply for you and then I lost it. Never hit backspace without firstly checking that your still in the typing box! Hopefully this is enough for you to respond to, if not just let me know and I'll come back to it when I've forgiven my computer for screwing me over! Glorfindel

"Perhaps you should focus more on executing your actions instead of trying to catch my attention, young one." Glorfindel chuckled softly as he rested a steadying hand on the shoulder of one of the young ellyn. His movements were exaggerated to a point that if he used any more vigour to swing his blade, it would surely result in someone losing a limb. Something that Glorfindel would rather avoid on a first lesson. Though Glorfindel recognised many of the techniques that the ellon was attempting to execute as fairly advanced ones- no doubt he had spent many hours last night reading on the art of swordsmanship and practising them with a stick (Glorfindel could tell from the still visible faint green smears on his hand from where he had held mossy branches). If anything, it was a pleasure for the warrior to see young ones so keen to learn and please, and so to help him Glorfindel outlined several simpler exercises for the ellon to practice before he took on some of the more complicated techniques.

And thus, Glorfindel made his way to various Elflings, mainly making certain that they were not in danger of harming themselves or any of the Elves around them. Practising the skill safely was the first lesson that they ought to learn- as was the same for learning to wield any type of weapon. For despite what they all might think, what they held in their hands were no toys- they were designed to cause damage and so had to be handled with the utmost care. Not only that, but they were a damned pain to replace once broken. As he wandered around, he also made the occasional comment on an Elf's form- usually reminding them to start off slowly and with simpler actions so that they might master the basics before progressing any further. It was very rare for him to ever ask an Elf he was teaching for the first time to be swifter and attempt something a little more complex.

He paused a few minutes into his supervising and stood back to proudly look over them all and he gave a bright smile as his heart was warmed at the sight of seeing such excitement shine brilliantly in their eyes and to see them so passionate about that which he taught them. He remembered feeling the same merriment when he had been gifted with his first sword by his father. It had been amongst the first swords to have ever been made and it had been a veritable masterpiece. To this day the warrior remembered the manner in which it sliced so easily through the air and yet had felt ever so light in his hand as he wielded it, for he had encountered very few blades that might rival it's beauty and strength since then. He remembered the hours and hours he poured into perfecting his swordsmanship and how his father had boasted that his boy would put all other swordsmen to shame. Though swordsmanship had been such a vastly different art in those years that had now long gone, for all Glorfindel had to guide him at that stage was his own judgement. There were no teachers, no books nor many others who wielded a sword and so most progression had to be made by the individual.

And of course, then sword-fighting had been a purely recreational activity. How barbaric and savage one would have thought their predecessors to be if someone had told them that being a fighter was a respected occupation in the Ages to come... Unlike now, the very concept of a warrior and killing others to defend your people, had been such an alien thought in those days of bliss. Or so they had been until fell the great King Finwë at Morgoth's hand, the first Elf slain in all recorded history.

But Glorfindel was drawn from his thoughts as something caught his eye. It was likely something that most Elves would have missed, but among the flashing of blades being swung around, he distinguished a blade of almost criminally poor quality. To the untrained eye, it appeared the same as most; the thickness and décor was identical to the others being wielded. But the folding was very feebly executed for this particular blade, so much so that it would be unbalanced and would lend no strength to the wielder. In fact it was a wonder that this sword had found it's way into the armoury- even if it was for the younger Elves to use, surely any smith would have noticed it's obvious flaws?

The sight of it made Glorfindel cringe externally. It would not do at all. And he was about to make his way over before he noticed the Elf wielding the sword-

It took him no time to recognise Falyön's distinct russet hair, a colour very rare amongst the Elves. It was not as bright nor quite as magnificent as the fiery red hair of Russandol, but the softer, paler colour suited the Elf better Glorfindel found. He had met with her before, but their encounters had been brief and they had had little time to get to know one another. Perhaps that might change if she decided to learn how to wield a sword under Glorfindel's guide. Elrond had mentioned that there was some debate as to her addition to his training group, though the gold-haired warrior could not think why that should be, he had never objected to teaching any Elf who was willing to learn before.

But putting that aside, he refrained from approaching her immediately and instead decided to observe how she wielded the sword. Ignoring of course, the restrictions posed by the quality of the blade.

She was certainly graceful, that much Glorfindel could say without a doubt. But it was obvious to the warrior that the weight of a sword was not a comfortable weight in her hand. She was used to a much lighter weight in her hand- a bow Glorfindel presumed from how delicately she held the hilt and how she squared her shoulders, restricting her movements and making her attacks more rigid than they should otherwise be. As she went into a series of spins, Glorfindel could not help but shake his head with a light laugh. She was older than many of the Elves training here, but for some reason that was completely beyond Glorfindel, no matter how old or young, none could resist spinning whilst practising for the first time. He suspected that had he set himself up as their opponent, they might realise how ineffectual their spins were. Without years of mastery of the art, a spin merely gave ample time for your opponent to catch you out and if anything only made one even more unbalanced than before.

Having seen enough, he weaved around the Elfings and made his way to Falyön. "Why not leave the twirls and pirouettes to the dancers? They have not the added difficulty of fighting an opponent armed with weapons that could slice one in half. Focus your energy on one point, do not lose sight of your foe." He said with a light smile as he approached her. He delicately reached for her hand and corrected her grip so that all her fingers were more tightly wrapped around the leather hilt. "It is a mistake to cling too tightly onto the hilt, but a sword is no bow and requires one to have a firm grip to avoid opponents knocking it straight out of your hand." He explained as he stepped back a little.

He paused a moment as despite all he could do to correct her position, it would do nothing to fix the sword. They had no more spare-

Ah, but you do~ A voice reminded Glorfindel and by his side, Glorfindel subconsciously wrapped a hand around the sword he had worked on that very morning. It was a blade that he had spent long hours making and was forged for a skilled warrior, not a novice. But then again, it would be cruel of him to let her train with the sword she currently had. He gave a small sigh as he took a gamble that he was not sure he was all that good a decision.

"Though I must say that the blade you have is not of particularly good make, I would suggest that you use this sword instead for now." He said and offered the sword he forged.