we live like thieves
     kings among men

His breath puffs white steam into the air, and his back glows already in the low dawn light with dark sweat stained gold. He is still for this moment, but it’s clear he hasn’t been still. All around him the tall lingering pines were cut and slashed both low and high, weeping their sap in their defeat. His mouth rolls the leather grip in his mouth where it slipped, feeling the heavy but even weight. The double bladed polearm was ever still a high prize. Its tips were stained dark with sap and older frays, and its blades had dulled from drawing at the trees, but it gleamed with a ferocity and greed for more. A spark reflected in the earth eyes of the gold as well.

It had been a while since the gold had focused himself on such tasks as, training. So often in these days his mind had simply wandered where it liked, and it was usually loathe to find such a disciplined activity as this. Yet, the golden had plans, as ever, and as he had looked after the sharpening of his knife the day before he found as he took the polearm up, its weight was foreign. So he was here before the sunrise, torturing young pines everywhere.

Haldir at first had been excited by the prospect of training. His youth was fading behind him and his chest swelled with the burly strength of his young prime. He had imagined a more…interactive session given his age. So when he found that training still involved him being told to stay away he was miffed. Yet the little deer was more determined than when he was young, so he had found a few young pines of his own, and on them there were the cuts and slashes of some violence. However, he tired more quickly, and his boredom at the task came more easily. So he now only watched through the trees the various glimpses of gold as he lay tucked up by his work on a young pine.

The golden chest expanded deeply, but his knees were shaking. His own strength was dropping long ago. Trees don’t give like flesh and even bone, and his neck and joints strained to power through the force. The irritation at this weakness was the only thing powering him on through, but even that, as early morning rose on, had faded. Shaking his crowned head the polearm rotated in his mouth and the blades on the weapon, accompanied by that glorious noise of metal being drawn, pulls back in. It clicks most satisfyingly, so that as he finally let the pole lye against a pine, the gold was smiling with satisfaction.

OOC:: I have no clue about titles, but the idea of thran going to the principal Deimos's office for skipping school without permission just made me giggle XD

"Talk?"