Note: Aragorn and Legolas will not be getting back together in this fic. Read 'Shadows of Memories' for their reunion. This entire fic is Rated R for attempts at suicide, mentioned rape, language, and violence! Legolas' POV. Takes place about six months after the last chapter. The Rogue/Legolas part of the story will be coming soon. Sorry this took so long!

Training

Part 9

Éomer faced me, with a sword in his hands. The blade slashed at my left arm, so I brought up my own sword to deflect it, before I countered with a strike at Éomer's right arm.

Sweat trickled down my face, as well as his. Our shirts hung open from how warm the exercise was making us, though winter was already here. Snow covered the ground, crunching beneath our feet as we circled each other slowly.

He easily blocked it and feinted left, right before he quickly lashed out with his foot and tripping me. I crashed to the ground, but stood instantly, swinging my sword at him again, aiming directly for his side.

I was panting by this point, for I was exhausted. Every day, since Aragorn had returned to Gondor, Éomer had been training me with to fight with a sword, and supervised my physical training, which was slowly helping me regain my strength and agility.

But I was so tired right now… we had been doing this for over five hours, much longer than usual. These spars only ended when one of us beat the other.

Every muscle in my body screamed in pain as I moved, but I ignored it. Éomer never gave me any leniency on the drills we did together, so I knew not to ask for any.

He deflected my blow and managed to press the point of his sword against my wrist, before he twisted and thrust it towards my heart. My sword blocked it, and the two of us stared at each other for a few moments.

'I'm tired, Éomer,' I murmured. 'Can't we just call it a draw this time?'

Éomer sternly replied, 'An enemy would not care if you were tired, Legolas.' He withdrew his sword and struck again.

It was a good thing that we were both using practice swords, or I would have worried more. Éomer was a good teacher; tough, yes, but also fair. He had the patience to wait until I was strong enough just to swing a sword, and until then, the two of us had worked on mastering Elvish. We could both carry a conversation in it now, though I doubted that I could ever be as fluent as I once had been in it.

I wearily swung my sword out to prevent the blow from landing and finally spotted a slight weakness in Éomer's defense. My sword came up and pricked the side of his neck, while his sword tapped my side.

'It appears that you have your draw, my friend,' Éomer murmured. 'Well done. You've improved; I can tell you have been practicing.'

I nodded, and let myself relax. Éomer walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder hesitantly, knowing what I was likely to do. Vague uneasiness entered into me, and he must have seen it in my eyes, for his grip tightened slightly, before he released my shoulder.

'Sorry,' I told him.

Éomer merely raised an eyebrow at that, reminding me that I was not supposed to apologize for such actions. 'Go rest, Legolas, for you have a few hours until dinner. And I need to do something kingly today.' He shot me a grin, which I returned.

I teased slightly, 'Kingly? You mean you need to go polish your sword.'

A laugh escaped from Éomer, a rich, hearty chuckle. I couldn't hold in a slight burst of laughter. We grinned at each other for a few moments, before I headed off towards my room.

It was a long walk, and along the way, I stopped to return the practice sword. My muscles truly ached, and I knew that after dinner, I needed to soak them in some warm water. Otherwise, they would be stiff in the morning.

I silently made my way up the stairs into the castle, and headed towards my room. I could not wait to get the shoes off my feet, so they could be free again, without being confined inside of those dratted boots.

But I supposed it was better than getting frostbite- or worse on my feet. I greeted the few servants I saw on the way to my room cheerfully. They all smiled and returned my greeting along the path, until I reached the door to my room.

I opened it and entered, quickly striding to the bed and collapsing on it. I untied my shoes hurriedly, and wiggled my toes slightly. Yes, I knew it was childish, but shoes felt so constraining to me. I lay on my stomach, enjoying the comforts of my room, with my head resting on my folded arms.

I must've dozed off shortly after, for I awoke to hear Éomer saying my name. My eyes refocused and I wordlessly looked at him, until he murmured that it was time to eat.

My green eyes lit up and I eagerly stood, for I was very hungry. He laughed when I told him that, and teased that I needed to gain more weight. It was a running joke between us.

Éomer believed that I should force myself to eat, which I refused to do. I looked much better than I had, and my body was not nearly as thin as it used to be, though I was still slender. I did eat when I was hungry, and I ate as much as I wanted. Part of the reason I was still thin was because of the training exercises I did every day, to build up my muscles more.

After I mastered sword-fighting again, Éomer had vowed to teach me how to physically fight once more, should I ever be disarmed in a fight. He seemed obsessed with making certain that I mastered every possible skill I could once more; tracking, running, hearing, fighting, endurance, and countless others.

I honestly did not know if I would ever learn all that, but I was definitely making progress.

When my sword training at first begun, for two weeks straight Éomer had been able to disarm me in two moves. But as my muscles and strength grew, I was able to hold onto my sword and even occasionally managed to land a slice. Though he usually won; this was the first time he had not.

Éomer and I walked side-by-side, talking quietly of tomorrow's training.

Before we entered the room we usually ate in- his study- he looked directly at me.

"I'm proud of you, Legolas," Éomer earnestly told me.

Confusion shone in my eyes, as I looked at him. "Why?" I asked, a slight frown on my face.

Éomer answered, "Because you are getting stronger and working very hard. You should be proud of yourself for what you have accomplished, Legolas. I am proud of you."

"T-Thanks, Éomer," I murmured, a slight blush creeping onto my face. It had been a long time since someone had told me that they were proud of me.

Though I was glad that I was not the only one who believed that I was getting better. Éomer had merely confirmed my own belief, and I smiled genuinely at him.

"It's because of you that I am getting better," I then stated firmly. "You never let me give up, no matter how tired I get or how frustrated I am. You are always there, like a brother." My eyes glowed with gratitude.

I could see that he was pleased with my remark about him being like a brother, for a soft look appeared in his eyes.

"I will always be here, Legolas," Éomer replied. "For as long as you need me to be. But I believe that you will one day no longer require me to believe in yourself."

To be continued