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Date & Time: Jan. 5th, afternoon
Location: Where ever they can train
Characters: Celebrían, Kili with Celeborn and Galadriel showing up eventually and whoever watches/joins them
Summary: Bri and Kili are sparring. Shenanigans and misunderstandings happen ala Tolkien history flashbacks
Warnings: Nothing yet.

Since the first time they'd trained together, Celebrían had gradually grown more and more skilled with the blade Thorin had crafted her. Steadily, she became less fearful of the blade and more confident. The way she carries herself with the blade, her hold on it, it speaks of a level of comfort she wouldn't normally have. Especially as a Healer. She wasn't as hesitant anymore to make the first move against Kili, knowing that she couldn't hurt him when he had more training with a blade than her and never moving to actually harm him.

Her hair was carefully braided, pinned where it couldn't hang or be grabbed and she wore a tunic and trousers to move more easily. Though they were here to spar and she knew she should take it seriously, she smiled and waited to make sure that Kili was ready. This was just for practice, after all. And she had no plans for her skills to ever go beyond simple practice.

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Sparring with Celebrian has become more and more fun as time goes on. She's a fast learner, and Kili knows she's training with others than just him. But it isn't just learning, it's her comfort level, and he's glad to see that she's much less hesitant than she was before.

The height difference is still a rather fun obstacle, at least for Kili, and he finds that Celebrian is tiring him out far more than before. Which is good! Very good.

He's dressed same as always, his hair just as wild and untamed as ever as he gives his sword a few practice swings and grins fiercely at her.

"Ladies first~."

Cocking her head, the looks at him almost questioningly and then draws her sword, smile fading. Even if this is practice, she puts all of her attention on it and doesn't enjoy swordplay as he does. It's a good way to stay active though and she enjoys that much at least.

Moving into a more defensive position to start, Bri grips the blade and takes a couple steps to the side and forward. A moment later, she brings her sword towards him in a horizontal swing.

Kili's grin mellows out to a smirk and he takes a deep breath, emotionally preparing himself for the spar. When Celebrian moves, he's ready, matching her swing with a parry.

Kili moves with a sort of fluidity that's hard to find in dwarves. He's not quite as skilled with the blade as his brother, but after a lifetime of training, he definitely knows what he's doing. He bares his teeth, an almost wild sort of glint coming into his eyes as the spar starts in earnest, picking up speed.

Where the sword once felt heavy in her hands, she's noticing that it's become much easier to handle it, to swing it and defend herself. It's almost frightening how used to a weapon she's become but that doesn't distract her.

She moves easily enough, though her footwork still needs improvement, meeting each of his attacks and countering with her own, careful not to expend to much energy with each of hers.

He's glad that Celebrian's getting more comfortable with the blade. Granted, Kili would rather she never have to use it to defend herself, along with everyone else who knows and loves her, but still, it's best she's prepared.

He catches a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye and his attention changes for a moment. Just a second's lapse is long enough for him to miss parrying Celebrian's next blow.

Kili yelps as Bri's sword nicks the exposed flesh at his wrist. Blood wells up from the gash and he instinctively raises his blade to point at Celebrian in defense.

There was something oddly familiar about the sword within his hands.

Try as he might to make sense of the mysteries that lied within this silver blade, Celeborn has yet to unlock them. The sword in mention was a pseudo "gift" from the Initiative. They gave him this sword upon the first day he arrived here upon the lunar base, but Celeborn hadn't paid much attention to the weapon until now. It was an Elven crafted longsword with a silver blade that shined as brightly as the moon. It shimmered slightly with an aura unbeknown to Celeborn, but it felt oddly familiar all the same. In hopes of figuring out the secret behind this blade, the Silver Lord of Lothlórien made his way towards the training hall.

He stalked along the corridors in silence, careful to not to disturb any others here. While Celeborn honestly hadn't practiced his swordsmanship in many years, the Lord of Lothlórien still possessed the body and mind of a warrior. He twirled the silver sword effortlessly within his hand, testing out its weight before getting into a mock stance. The sword was light, almost like a feather.

Strange, he thought. How did such a finely crafted sword find its way here?

Lowering the blade, Celeborn decided to give it a name. "Muilê." He whispered as he settled the silver blade within its sheath. Celeborn was just about to wander down the opposite hallway until the sound of clashing steel caught his interest. The loud clanks emitted throughout the halls and added new life to this somewhat somber place. He listened in silence for a moment or two before deciding to search for the origin.

Celeborn was curious about the other Transports summoned to this war. Were any of them worthy of challenge? This is what he wanted to know.

When Celeborn turned the next corner, he never expected he would see his darling daughter dressed and armed for war. Celebrian looked nearly identical to her mother in her youth. Galadriel once worn her hair in a long golden braid that she would then tie around her head like a laurel spun from gold. While Celebrian's silver matched his own, Celeborn couldn't help but see signs of Galadriel within her. It's a familiarity that amused him greatly but what he noticed next rekindled a horrible memory that he buried long ago.

There she was, Celebrian, dressed in strange leather and simple cloth in combat with a beastly dwarf. It took Celeborn only a second to understand what he saw, but that understanding was misconstrued by the years of hardship he endured during the fall of his kingdom. When King Thingol lost himself to his obsession of the Silmarils, chaos brewed. The Dwarven craftsmen he hired slew him for possession of the jewel and everything spiraled from there. The last memory Celeborn had of Doriath was of his homeland in flames and an army of Dwarves laying siege to his kin.

Before Celeborn could attempt to rationalize the scene before him, Muilê was instantly within his hands. In mere seconds, he managed to wedge himself in-between Celebrian and the dwarf. Muilê's blade gleamed threateningly as he aimed the sharp edge towards his daughter's foe.

The yelp is the first thing that broke through her concentration, the blood second and the sudden appearance of her father joining them third. And it's impossible not to notice that her father has a weapon drawn, directed at Kili. She lowers her sword and drops it a second later, knowing that the dwarven craftsmanship behind it won't be so easily damaged. And if it is, Fili or Kili could fix it for her.

"Kili!" Her father is taller than her so it's hard for her to look to the dwarf and see the extent of his injury. Placing her hands on her fathers arm, she tries to calm him and get past to see Kili's wrist.

"Adar, please-!"

Kili lets out a sharp curse in Khuzdul at the sudden approach of the other elf and backs off quickly, dropping the sword and raising his hands in the air. His wrist is bleeding freely, the artery nicked and dripping steadily onto the ground. His eyes are wide and frightened and he looks to Celebrian, shooting her a pleading look for help.

He thinks perhaps it's best he keeps his mouth shut on this one.

Galadriel had made it something of a habit to check in on Celebrían's sparring; it was good to make sure that she was learning proper form and not developing any bad habits. And, of course, it didn't hurt to offer a bit of encouragement either.

She had been approaching the practice area at a leisurely pace when she heard what was unmistakably Khuzdul in an unmistakably panicked tone; her steps quicken and she wastes no time in entering the room- only to see her husband with his blade at the throat of one whom she has sworn to protect.

"Celeborn!" She rushes over to his side, placing a hand on his arm. "Lower your sword. Sheathe your blade and let us speak on this."

Only his daughter's pleas stilled his hand. Muilê was pressed firmly at the dwarf's throat but it didn't cut into his skin. Celeborn remained there frozen in stance until the approach of another coaxed him to move. If Galadriel hadn't appeared when she did, there would be no telling of what would have happened. The only person he honestly trusted was his wife. He knew instinctively that Galadriel would never steer him wrong but he was hesitant to let this heathen go.

He allowed his gaze to shift away from the dwarf and towards the gentle woman he knew and loved. It was at her demand that he lowered his sword, but be damned if he would sheathe it. "Then speak." Celeborn urged her sternly. He refused to usher any apologies for his actions.

"They are sparring, my lord, only sparring- and with my blessing."

Galadriel know what he is thinking. How could she not? Doriath had been her home for a time too and she had loved Thingol no less than he. She's not blind to how this must appear to him. So she gives his arm a gentle squeeze and speaks again, this time more softly.

"This is not Doriath, Celeborn, and he is not responsible for the sins of dwarves long since dead. He will not harm our daughter."

Celebrian looks between her parents, gauging how much of his attention her mother has gained before darting around Celeborn and kneeling at Kili's side. She reaches out and quickly grasps his wrist, trying to slow the bleeding while she tries to figure out the extent of the damage.

After a moment, she draws her knife from her boot and cuts a long strip of cloth from her tunic which she using to bind his wound. At least until they can get to the clinic where she can clean it and wrap his wrist with proper bandages.

"I am so sorry, Kili."

Kili's shaking slightly, and as soon as that sword drops from his throat he's stumbling back a few paces and rubbing at the spot where the cool metal was pressing. That was not sparring on pretend. That elf would have killed him in an instant if Galadriel hadn't stepped in.

He's almost forgotten about the nicks at his wrist until Celebrian is there beside him and binding it. It's not serious, but it'll bleed quite a bit since she managed to catch the artery in his wrist.

"It's fine," he mutters to his friend, still trying to figure out what's happening. "It's nothing, Bri."

Honestly, Kili's still trying to calm his racing heart.

"They're sparring?"

Celeborn's gaze instantly shifted away from his wife and towards his daughter again. By now, Celebrian already slipped past him and was tending to the young dwarf's wounds. He watched silence as his daughter cut off a piece of cloth from her tunic to bandage the dwarf's injured wrist. It was then that Galadriel's words began to sink in.

This isn't Doriath.

Celeborn wordlessly sheathed his blade at his hip. "...My pardons." He whispered before gently resting his hand over Galadriel's.

Her heart is beginning to fall back into it's normal rhythm now that the threat of violence has been removed and his hand over hers elicits a quiet sigh of relief.

"Kili is a friend and ally; not so long ago, he gave his own life in protection of Celebrían. He is here now only through the power of the Initiative."

And that's how she knows that she can trust him with Celebrían unconditionally; he's already proven that he'd rather die than let harm come to her. If only she can get Celeborn to understand that.

As sooner as she's content with how his wrist is bound, she pulls him close to her into a hug. Bri had been able to feel how quickly his heart was beating when she'd been tending his wrist.

"It is not nothing. I could have taken your hand off if you had not been quicker."

She wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she had and can barely forgive herself for this.

Kili can't help but hug back tightly, very nearly clinging to her. The cut isn't much and that's really not what's scaring him. Whoever this other elf is, he clearly knows Celebrian and Lady Galadriel well. Kin, maybe? He and Celebrian do have the same hair, almost.

Still, after a moment of observation he's clinging to Bri again and pressing his face into her shoulder, working to slow his heart and breathing.

"It was my fault, really," he mumbles. "Got distracted. I'm alright."

Celeborn could literally feel Kili’s gaze upon him now. The dwarf was absolutely terrified of him. It was evident within his stare.

As his wife spoke earnestly of Kili’s bravery, Celeborn couldn’t help but eye the young dwarf with some disgust. Of course he knew it was foolish to blame an entire race for the death of his kin, but his prejudice ran deep. It startled him somewhat that Galadriel would trust the life of their daughter to some wild-ling like this. Especially since they were both in agreement that Celebrian would not face the same terrible fate as before. Celeborn’s greatest fear was to lose his daughter again and he knew that Galadriel felt the same.

A tired sigh escaped the Elven lord. “I am wise enough to see that he means our daughter no harm, but I am unwilling to make amends.” His stubbornness was beginning to show now. "Though, I know must do so." It was then that Celeborn saw it fit to introduce himself to the dwarf. Perhaps now it would make sense to Kili as of why this Elven warrior was so quick to press a blade against his throat.

"I am Celeborn of Lothlórien." He announced sternly. "Celebrian is my daughter."

Galadriel looks to Kili, shooting him an apologetic look. There is more reason to this than he knows and, perhaps, when she has the chance she might explain that to him.

For now, she will remain silent and let Celeborn speak for himself. It was hard for him to this, she knows, but she's glad he's making the effort.

She only shakes her head at Kili, silently arguing that the fault doesn't just go to him. And she keeps her arms around him, comforting him, as her father speaks, introducing himself. Her arms loosen, giving Kili the chance to stand and introduce himself if he wants but stays otherwise silent herself.

Kili's lips form a silent 'oh' and his eyes widen. Letting go of Bri, he brushes himself off and stands a little straighter. He's still shaking, the tremor almost visible, but if this is Bri's father....maybe it isn't too late to make a good impression?

"Um...Stars shine..." He's totally saying this wrong. Kili winces internally. "On...the meeting? Our meeting." Way to butcher the saying, Kili. He blushes in embarrassment and finishes the rest much quieter. "It's an honor, sir. Kili, at your service."

"Gail síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn." Celeborn instinctively corrected in his native tongue.

"A star shines on the hour of our meeting, Kili." Of course he knew it was too late to undo what was done, but he could at least pretend it didn't happen. Though, there was one burning question that wanted to ask. He noticed earlier that Celebrian was sparring with a blade that clearly wasn't Elven-made. Dwarves, despite how ill-tempered and foul, were known as expert craftsmen.

"Was it you who crafted Celebrian's sword?" He asked out of curiosity.

Oops. He manages a sheepish smile. At least he was sort of close to getting it right. Kili ducks his head in embarrassment.

The question comes as a surprise and he looks back up, giving a small shake of his head. "It was forged by my uncle, Thorin Oakenshield, when he was here last."

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