In the few days he had been apprenticed to Erestor, Bainith learned that even perfection was never quite enough for the older Elf. Imperfection, then, was taken not only as a frustration, but as an insult.
"Are you that incompetent that you cannot manage more than one enemy at a time?"
"There were four of them," snarled Bainith, who was trying to put out the small fire that had started on the corner of his cloak. As he stomped at it, Erestor trudged past the other soldiers that had been brought along on their little venture and tore the golden cape from Bainith's shoulders with exaggerated flourish. A little wisp of smoke rose up from the heap on the ground as the fire smoldered.
Erestor kicked the cape aside for additional effect. "Rune keeper, right? Fire-starter, lightning-chaser -- who gave you the brilliant idea to wear a cloak while fighting?"
Bainith swallowed hard, his jaw twitching. "I just thought--"
"Stop thinking. Start listening. Put that away in your saddlebags, child." Erestor tapped his foot impatiently as Bainith called his mount from the field where they had hidden their horses. The grey stallion trotted up the path, snorting with disgust at the number of charred corpses he had to navigate around. Bainith scooped up the damaged cloak with a sigh and shoved it into one of the bags, then sent the horse away again. "See those three over there?"
Bainith looked past of group of trees and saw in the distance a trio of orc raiders, two of them mulling around looking bored while a third awkwardly marched up and down the side of the hill. "Yes."
Erestor removed from a pouch the pipe he had taken away from Bainith and filled it with a goodly amount of sweet leaf. "Go on, then. We still have several leagues to cover before we reach Esteldin, and they are blocking the way. Unless you want to take the long way around?" Erestor lit the pipe and sat down on the ground, then made a shooing motion at Bainith.
The rune keeper gripped the stones in his hands tightly as he turned around and headed straight for the enemy encampment. Now he knew why he liked the cape -- dramatic exits were so much more dramatic with the whipping of the cloth and the flutter of the fabric. He could feel the fire burning the tips of his fingers as he approached, his fury set first upon the anxious wandering orc. Most rune keepers were silent and stealthy, whispering their curses from a distance. Bainith was not much different, but today, still stinging with anger, he shouted his ridicules at the orcs openly. "Feel fire and burn, you dark demon of death... I will destroy you and consume your spirit with my flames!" Fire burst up around the orc, who fumbled for his bow and took aim upon the lithe Elf who flung at him fire, lightning, and insults.
Not far away, the half-dozen who had accompanied Erestor and Bainith watched; Erestor stared up at the sky looking at clouds. Finally, one of the younger soldiers said, "Feisty one you found there, sir. When he gets angry, watch out."
"Let him get angry," advised Erestor as lightning came down as if pulled from the sky and felled the third orc. "He fights better that way." When Bainith came back to his companions, he looked expectantly at Erestor. "Not the most graceful technique, but at least we are not rushing you back to Rivendell to be tended to by Master Elrond." Bainith scowled as Erestor instructed the party to move again.
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