Learning Curve

Lord Imrahil and Lady Caladwen sat side by side in the sitting room of their private quarters. Amrothos stood before them, the offending sword on a table in front of him.

Amrothos was resolutely staring at his feet, determined not to see the shame in his parents’ eyes; the shame he was certain there would be. He heard a sniffling noise and lifted his head just enough to glare resentfully at Lothiriel, who was tucked on their mother’s lap, cradling her now bandaged hand and whimpering slightly.

This was all her fault. She was the one who touched the sword and now she was being smothered with affection. It was all so unfair!

“Amrothos,” his father barked. “Your mother asked you a question.”

Amrothos finally looked at his parents. His father looking stern, his mother looking anxious.

“What possessed you to take the sword from the armoury, Amrothos? What was your intention?” his mother reiterated gently.

Amrothos went back to staring at his feet. After a few minutes he managed to mumble, barely audibly, “I just wanted to be as good with a sword as Elphir and Erchirion. I know I am not allowed to practice with them, but I thought if I could be as good as they are then I might be allowed to join them.” He glanced at his father’s right ear, unable to look into those unreadable eyes, adding sheepishly, “I made sure I took one of the lighter swords.”

Imrahil regarded his son thoughtfully. “Regardless of whether it was the heaviest or the lightest, it was still wholly unsuitable for a boy of your age to wield. If you wished to try your hand at sparring then why not come to your mother and I and ask for a training sword?

Amrothos shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Um…I…I thought if I used a proper sword it would help me learn quicker. I wanted to prove to Elphir and Erchirion that I am not too young.” His hands fisted in frustration at his sides. “And I can do it. I can,” he insisted boldly. “Everyone believes I am too young, but I am not. I can be just as good as Elphir and Erchirion, I know it!”

This last part was shouted hotly and Amrothos would have continued his defiant tirade had he not caught his father’s stern expression.

“But what of your sister? Have you no consideration for the fact that she has been injured, and that the result of your actions were the cause?”

Caladwen reached out and put her hand delicately on her husband’s. “Dearest, Amrothos is too young to be expected to mind a child of Lothiriel’s age. You know how difficult inquisitive young children can be to manage.”

Imrahil looked a his wife for a few moments and nodded. “You are right, my love. Thank you for pointing it out to me.” He turned back to Amrothos. “I concede that you are not to be blamed for Lothiriel’s curiosity, but that does not for a moment excuse the foolishness of your actions. Lothiriel’s injury could have been grave indeed and you yourself may have come to serious harm.

“But I…,” Amrothos made to interrupt. Imrahil raised his palm, silencing his son immediately.

“Tell me, Amrothos, how do you regard your actions? Do you feel you have acted responsibly?”

Amrothos went back to staring at his feet, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. He shook his head and in a murmur that came out close to a croak said, “no, my lord. I know that I acted badly. I should not of taken the sword. I apologise and I promise not to do it again.”

“We accept your apology, Amrothos. We know that you did not mean for anyone to come to harm, but nevertheless, you must realise that your actions have consequences.
"The question now is, what is to be done next?”

Amrothos glanced back at his father’s ear. “I…I must make up for my actions with some form of recompense, my lord. I shall do whatever you think is best.”

“Good. I am glad you have said that, son. It is an honourable decision that I would expect from any Swan Knight of Dol Amroth.” For a fleeting moment both father and son were joined in pride; Amrothos at being compared to a Swan Knight by his father, and Imrahil at his son’s willing acceptance of his reprimand.

“In which case,” Imrahil continued, “I believe we must find some method of compensation for you to make.” He glanced briefly at his wife before turning back to Amrothos. “You shall spend the day in the armoury, cleaning and polishing the armour and helms. You must do any job that is asked of you there and I shall have Master Durvagor decide when he feels you have paid adequate compensation.”

Amrothos visibly sagged. Master Durvagor was notoriously strict. He doubted he would be allowed to leave the armoury before nightfall. Despite this, he stood up straight, pushing his shoulders back proudly and said, “Yes, my lord. I shall go to the armoury immediately.”

He turned to leave, reaching the door just as his mother spoke.

“Just one more thing, Amrothos,” she said gently. “Promise me that you will not handle weapons again without an adult to supervise you. It would distress me greatly should you ever come to any harm.”

Amrothos turned back to look into his mother’s kind, understanding face. His undoing. “I promise, Mama,” he whispered brokenly as he promptly left the room, the feel of tears stinging behind his eyes.




Imrahil turned to his wife, shaking his head. “What are we going to do with that boy?”

Caladwen gave a weary sigh of the kind that is particular to mothers with mischievous children. “It must be hard for Amrothos to be so much younger than his brothers. Elphir and Erchirion are close in age and so spend much time together, sharing many activities. Amrothos is too young to do many of the things that they can do and yet he idolises them. I think perhaps he has the misguided notion that he has to make himself look worthy in their eyes.”

“Well I have to admire him. Fancy managing to get that sword all the way from the armoury to his bedchamber without anyone noticing.”

Caladwen raised her eyebrows at her husband’s surprised tone. “Amrothos is very determined when he sets his mind on something. He is a lot like his father in that respect.” A smirk danced across her lips. “I have no doubt that is it was just the type of feat you would have undertaken at his age.”

Imrahil chuckled and shook his head. “You are right, my dear. How well you know me.”

Caladwen smiled lovingly back at him before rolling her eyes to one side and sighing. “It is clear no harm was meant and evidently he is desperate to impress his brothers, but I wish he had not acted so foolishly. My heart trembles at the thought of what could have happened.” She gave a visible shudder. “I realise it was right to punish him but I fear this may only make him feel more isolated. I would hate for him to feel resentment towards his brothers.”

“Do not fret, my love.” Imrahil took her hand in his own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “That shall not happen. I shall think on the matter a little more; perhaps I will discuss it with Elphir and Erchirion.

“Thank you, dearest,” Caladwen leaned across to kiss her husband on the cheek. “That would ease my heart greatly.” She looked down at the little girl still huddled on her lap, sniffling lightly and mournfully nursing her bandaged hand. “Come along, darling. Why don’t we go and take your grandfather his afternoon tea? You can show him your hand and tell him all about how brave you have been.”

Pleased with that idea, just as Caladwen knew she would be, Lothiriel nodded and smiled as her mother carried her from the room.