eachdraidh | [ Video; Seelie Locked ]

[ Lancelot looks tired, dishevelled, but determined. He's at least free of injury now, and making an attempt to look some degree of... serious, collected. In control. He's also in the company of John Grimm, who while not exactly looking pleased probably looks a few degrees less wrecked. Lancelot takes a deep breath, and manages to force a small smile. Behind them appears to be the training yard of Caer Glaem, which is being slowly set up by a few soldiers milling around.

Lancelot's tone is quiet as he speaks, quieter than perhaps people who know him may be used to, but it is measured and firm still. Controlled. ]

For those who do not know me, my name is Lancelot. I am Field Marshal here in Caer Glaem. Those of you that do, however, may recall I ran a training session a month previous. John Grimm --

[ -- and Lancelot glances sideways to the man with him. ]

-- and I have been asked to run them as a regular effort henceforth.

[ Your go, John. ]

The both of us have experience fighting both at home and in the Drabwurld, if you’re worried about qualifications. If you don’t know how to fight, even to simply defend yourself, then we ask that you absolutely come. If you do know how to fight, we ask that you come anyway; if nothing else, this is a good chance to practice your skills and maybe learn a few new ones. The same applies if you use magic.

[ A pause and, though it looks like saying this pains him, John adds: ]

Though we do ask that you not use lethal force. Training weapons will be provided as needed, and we will have healers standing by at each session.

[ Lancelot hesitates, nods approval finally as he tries to work out other things they need to cover. Right. Be encouraging, sound like you know what you’re talking about Lancelot. You just declared yourself supposedly in charge. Try to seem like you deserve that. ]

The training yard here will be set up to allow any who wish it to come and go as they please. We will try to attend every day but if we are not on hand some of the soldiers will always be here. Even the strongest of soldiers can benefit, fighting styles are different here in the Drabwurld. The shard that sits inside your chest can be used to amplify your strength and speed, and I will happily pass on the art to any who ask. As much as that, you are of course welcome to help us train if you have the experience. We will not turn away help.

We know that many of you do not want to take part in this war. That’s fine. But the Drabwurld is dangerous, and it’s not just the war that makes it that way. We can help you learn how to keep yourself alive in the event that something happens.

[ A pause, and he glances sideways at Lancelot, then nods slightly to himself. ]

[ Lancelot offers John a tiny smile, than turns back to the locket and inclines his head a little. ]

Thank you for your time.

[ Will that do? That’ll do. ]

[ OOC; Log if anyone wants to play out training! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The number of kings in this place is borderline ridiculous.

Still, he supposes the same could be said of knights. He hesitates a second, then dips his head a little further in deference to the title. ]

I only hope to live up to the title, sire, that I may do some good with it.

[ He would fully agree, they need a king!tally on a board somewhere. ]

I am not your sire, your lord or master; you may call me Thranduil, and we shall stand as equals until such a time as you wish otherwise. Those of the race of Men need pay me no special deference, good Lancelot.

[ But onto matters of sword!banging and all that, more importantly he lightly asks, ]

Have you put John on his backside yet? I do hope so.

Edited (what r words even) 2014-10-07 14:33 (UTC)

[ He lifts his eyes again, nods understanding at Thranduil's words -- then his eyes widen a little at the question and he lets out a little huff of laughter, lips curling just a little in wry amusement. ]

He has yet to give me a chance, but I will do my best if he allows it. He is a good fighter, I will have to be careful he does not drop me to my own.

He knew little to nothing of swords or bows when he first arrived at Caer Glaem, I remember those days fondly. [ Baby!John has grown up, ahw. ] For each time you manage to take his feet out from under him, I will owe you a glass of the fine Dorwinion wine I keep in the cellars of the castle. Shall we call ten falls equal to a half-barrel for you to help yourself to at your leisure, rounding the amount up to something worth your while?

[ The more John is forced to compensate for losing, the stronger he will become. Besides, Lancelot seems a goodly sort of Man, and Thranduil is not ungenerous when it counts. Not that he mentions the strength of the Dorwinion is such that only he and Legolas have been able to drink more than three cups in succession before and not pass out; a mortal constitution would likely require far less of the only wine served at the king's table in Mirkwood, especially when it remains strong enough for most normal Elves. ]

You are generous, sir, but I do not need incentive to train your friend. I will do my best regardless, as is my duty.

[ A conceding nod. ~~+10 pts Lancelot.~~ ]

As you wish. Perhaps when your duty is over, then, and the both of us have far less to do.

My duty is to keep people safe. With the war the way it is I fear it will not be over any time soon. Perhaps, though, if there is a quieter time I might be allowed time enough to have a drink. I will think of you then.

Perhaps it is more fortunate than it first appears, that John is there to make sure such a noble duty does not work you to death.

I assure you it will not, if I can help it. A corpse would be little use to Caer Glaem.

[ He looks... almost amused. Lancelot is quite aware of how he sounds, after all. It's just that -- well. There is little to be done about it at the moment. ]

[ An understanding nod. ]

Then a good day to you, Lancelot, and may your duty keep you on your feet long enough to teach Aransadorien something. I will not keep you any longer, gentlemen.

[ With a polite look, he closes the locket. ]

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