Characters: Beren, Dior
Disclaimer: I am not J.R.R. Tolkien and I make no money from this.
This was a memory that Dior Eluchíl treasured in later years: his laughing father teaching him, one-handed, to spar beneath the green leaves of Tol Galen with willow staves. “Not like that!” and “Keep your foot in!” and “Very good, you’re improving!” While Dior ducked and danced and swung, seeking to imitate his father’s effortless precision, aware of his mother’s smile when she passed by.
At last, “This is for you,” said his father and held out an exquisitely sheathed sword. “From your grandfather.”
Dior balanced his stave thoughtfully. “What of these?”
“We'll plant them,” said his father. “Maybe they’ll grow.”