A/N: Hello my fellow Ringers! I'll explain a little more on the story at the END authors note because I want to get you reading but here's some things you need to know: this takes place AFTER The Two Towers/ before The Return Of The King. This chapter is divided into 2 parts (because it's waaayyy too long to be one chapter but it needs to be long because it's essential for the story) so when you reach the end of this chapter there won't be much of an authors note. And lastly...

Disclaimer: I do not own any Lord of The Rings characters BESIDES MY OWN.

Read. Review. Favor. Enjoy.

Could use any and all Lotr book/movie experts! Need those to beta this story if you like it! Thanks!

Surrounded yet alone, a princess lies
Slowly bracing the fact of her approaching demise
She cries for help and screams from fear
Though she does not dare to shed a single tear
Abruptly from the darkness, a prince shall rise
Though neither know,
that he will be the reason...
for her demise

"Where are you going again?" Her mother asked from the kitchen as her daughter ran into her room hurriedly.

"Just around the market! Be back in an hour mum! Bye!" She raced into her room and grabbed her 'over the shoulder' light brown bag, then into her parents' bedroom and searched for the item she was looking for. She threw open their cupboard (that she was NOT supposed to go through) and glared at the shining sword her dad had placed there and his other prideful weaponry, but instead grabbed something else and headed out the door. She quickly raised the hood of her brown cloak up then ran behind her home and jumped on "her" horse, throwing her bag to her side. She wasn't going to the market; she was going to a place that was much more fascinating.
She rode off through the shining sun of high noon, right on the outskirts of the village into the forest, where "the camp" was. She rode for about 10 minutes, the forest was not too far, but it wasn't close enough.
She kept a safe distance from them behind the bushes and trees to watch, watch and practice. The other men's horses were on the other side of the ground, opposite to where she was; she looked over at the area where there were no trees in a patch of ground and where the men stood. She tied her horse to the tree and realized the lesson had already begun, she was late. The men swiftly moved their swords left and right practicing different battle techniques, she quickly pulled her sharpened wooden sword that she had taken from her parents' cupboard and did the same.

This was a men only sword and fighting technique camp for her village, which is why she was practicing by herself from afar. (The ground they practiced on was a league northeast of their village, it was a small forest that the Snowbourn stream ran through, the stream was also about half a league east from their village.) The leader would teach them new moves, or show them battle techniques, or they would just spar, the class was held twice a week maybe Monday and Thursday; and if they were lucky, Saturday too. If anyone found out she was fighting like the men she would be shamed and laughed at by everyone actually she was always being laughed at... But fighting was amazing, fantastic! "I mean what's the point of life if you die squealing? No! Everyone should be able to put up a fight!" she thought. None of the women of her village could fight, or wanted to fight, or even enjoyed fighting like she did. Why? Why did women CHOOSE to be weak? She wasn't like them, she was different, she wanted to be able to defend herself and others, she wanted to be strong.

As the men sliced their swords around, she copied, making sure she perfected every move. As an early 10 year old she would run off to watch the swordsmen, to see them practice fighting. There were only about 65 men and growing boys who practiced from the small village everyday; men and boys were forced to learn. No, she didn't have a real purpose for learning all this, not that she would use it one day, but she enjoyed it.

After about 45 minutes, a young man nodded at her, as a signal, though she did not see it. He did so again and again but still her eyes missed his gesture; after about 7 times she'd finally caught it. She nodded back thankfully and jumped back on her horse knowing that the men would be dismissed soon and if she was caught, it would be the end of her. She quickly rode back into her village, remembering to stop by the market and get something so her mother wouldn't become suspicious.
She tied the horse to a pole behind her home and entered through the door.

"Here you go mum," she tossed the bag near the small pot where the stew was cooking. She hid her brown sash by her side and made quick paces towards her room.

"Ah ah ah! Not so fast Priya!" Her mother chuckled, "come over here!"

She smiled and sighed, dropping her feet one after another approaching the small kitchen.
Her mother was just about 70, and her father was 76. No, if you saw them you wouldn't think they were at such an age, they kept themselves very fit; you would see them and think they were barely 50! Her mother and father were Caucasian in skin and both had (now fading) brown hair. Priya had rich black hair, and brown colored skin with bright hazel eyes. She was not their child, though; they raised her like their own. Her mother and father had had a kid before but he soon died because of an illness and they had thought they had been cursed with such a misfortune. They had become too depressed to even consider having another child when Priya, a small child wrapped in a blanket in the nearby forest, was found; they raised her in Artanis Lissësúl, the village they lived in.

"You were out training again weren't you?" Her mother stroked her long, thick braid that stretched to the end of her spine as Priya knelt down.

"Shh mum! Dad will be here any second!" She placed a finger over her lips.

"Ohh!" Her mother mouthed in realization, "as long as you never use that sword!" she made stubborn face, "Go quickly and put it away!" she shooed her.
Priya quickly placed the wooden sword back in its cupboard and threw her bag under her bed before returning to the living room to see her father enter through the doorway. Their house was fairly small, the right of the entrance was the living/meal room with 3 small chairs and a table, the left was the kitchen and in between the wall of the two rooms was a hallway that split 2 ways; one to her parents' bedroom and one to hers.

Her father walked in, stiff and as soldier like as ever, "you should've been there today!" He looked over to his wife, "the boys were fighting excellently today! Waving their swords as swiftly as the wind and fighting like true warriors!"

Her dad was the leader, he TAUGHT the men and boys all the sword, battle, and bow and arrow techniques, he was the teacher at the ground.

Priya opened her mouth to speak and smirked, before she could ask if she could have come, her father saw as she was about to make a witty remark.

"I was only speaking figuratively," he deadpanned.

"Go get freshened for dinner," her mother gestured him into their bedroom where a small washroom was located.

Priya watched as her father walked to the room, he was eying her deeply. She had always asked if she could fight and practice with the men but he had always refused to let her, he was always so strict. Priya grew up in a house where the rules were so strict and against what she desired, what else could she do but rebel? But nonetheless, there was a reason he was always so orderly and directing:
Artanis Lissësúl, near the stream of Snowbourn, was the village they lived in, in another language, it meant "new start," for that is what the small village was built upon. This village was a refuge for outcasted criminals, mainly if they had done something wrong and regretted it but were shunned out of society, so they came here to start a new life; a new start. If you were to come to this village, you wouldn't be able to tell these people were once fugitives, for they are now kind people who desire the life they cannot achieve due to their actions; not her father though.

Her father was once a man living in Edoras, but was wrongly accused of a murder. From what he had told her...
He was a Rohanian soldier living in the city he was stationed in: Edoras, he was also great friends with the fleets' commander, Amay. They were always smiling off duty, looking out for eachother, but Amay was still in the higher position that him, other soldiers would say he was just doing that to get on Amay's good side; which was completely false. Her father was buying food one night, off duty, when he saw these men beating up a man in a dark alley and stepped in to try to stop them; even if he was not in uniform he had to protect the citizens of the city. He shouted for help from nearby guards, but he didn't know that that man they were beating was already near dead, those people had beaten him badly. He caught a glimpse of the man who seemed to be in charge of the other three, his name was Dranor, a simple man of Rohan; but why was he beating up this other man? Dranor was constantly yelling at the man he was beating, calling him nasty names and saying foul words about him. Her father was a soldier and a defender of Rohan but that night he had come unarmed, so when Dranor and the others attacked him for shouting for help, he was very much caught off guard. They beat her dad brutally, and though he was a skilled fighter, he could not hold off four men at once, two of which had blades. The three men and Dranor heard the guards approaching and scurried from the alley, leaving her father there with the dead man; he was too weak to move, he had blood dripping from all over him and bruises everywhere. By the time the guards had arrived, they were shocked to see Andúnë, her father, and Amay, the chief of the guards and soldiers in the city, to be so bloody. The guards took both to immediate care but Amay had already died, and when 30 year old Andúnë regained consciousness, they were treating his injuries but told him the next day he would have to pack his things because he would be banished for murder. He was shocked and confused but with no evidence besides the fact that he was there, it looked as if Andúnë had done it; he was not even allowed to justify himself, immediate banishment; all the soldiers laughed as he left, they say they saw this coming. So the next day he packed his things and told the woman he loved dearly (which was now Priya's mother, Meera) he had to leave. She asked why and when he explained, she felt so bad and was so in love, she packed her things and left with him, never to see her family again either. The reason Dranor was beating Amay that night is because Dranor was very much in love with Amay's wife, Tara, but she loved Amay and they already had a kid, she love Amay and only Amay; that was why Dranor and his men killed him.
Andúnë and Meera seeked refuge in Gondor but news traveled quickly within the messengers between kingdoms, and when they had arrived in Gondor, almost everyone looked at Andúnë with disgust and fear; "the man who had killed out if jealousy" they called him. No one would offer them jobs or a place to stay, killing a commander was the biggest sin a soldier could commit.
He couldn't even be on trial because he was already banished, there was a feeling of hopelessness, there was nothing left for them; so they continued traveling.
One day, just by the stream of Snowbourn, 40 leagues north of the city Edoras, they spotted a village. Small, but livable, less than half a league south of the stream there was a forest, and beyond Edoras, the White Mountains were clearly visible. They talked to the head of the village, Aegnor or Milkha, to ask what this settlement of seventeen small houses was. Aegnor asked them to tell him the reason they had come and when they explained, he told them that this was the perfect place for them; all who lived in this village were once felons who wanted a new life. They built their own house soon and settled in with the village folk, they had their child two years later but he died at a very early age. They were afraid they had slipped up or given him an illness and that was the reason for their son's death, they thought it too risky to have another child. Then, a few months later, when the two were taking a walk in the forest at night, they saw a baby wrapped in torn cloth crying; they shouted for the parents but there was no response. They took the baby home and raised the little girl by the name of Priya, her father swore he would never let anything happen to this child of his; he would shelter and protect like a diamond.

"What are you wearing!?" Her father asked as he came back from the washroom. Priya wore a white tunic with a murky green vest and brown pants with her hair braided back.

"Must I always wear a dress father?" Priya whined.

"You are a woman!" he flared his nostrils and widened his eyes; "you must dress, speak, and act like one! Now go change!" He commanded. She hung her head low and came back quickly wearing a half sleeved, ankle-length, light red dress.

"Yes, now we may start dinner," he seated himself in a chair, followed by Meera who was bringing two hot bowls of stew to the table, then went back to the kitchen to get another bowl for Priya.

Dinner was going smoother than most days, they ate, talked, they even laughed a little. Priya was having a nice time seeing her parents like this, she hadn't even thought over what she was about to say and how it would kill this happy atmosphere, "Dresses are not the deciding factor whether women are feminine or not father," she slipped nonchalantly then ate a spoonful of stew.

He narrowed his eyes at his daughter, "I am your father I will tell you what is right and what is wrong!"

"Now Andúnë," her mother placed a hand on his wrist as if to calm him down.

"But because we are women does not mean we are not human! We possess the same strength men do! Then why do you hide us in cages just to cook and clean!? Father I am 23! I can do so much more!" Priya looked into her father's eyes with a fiery gaze. She blinked; realizing she had jinxed the fact there had been no argument at the dinner table today.

"Women do not possess any of the strength a man does!" her father scoffed.

"No, Andúnë your statement is incorrect! It is not at all easy doing the work we do!" Meera said back to him.

"And you think our works is!?" he countered.

Priya winced as they barked back and forth at eachother with the fight she had started. She glanced outside the window, the sun had just fallen and it was time for her other class. Silently, she stood up and lightly stepped to her room. She grabbed her bag and put it on, taking her cloak out of it, quickly putting it on over her dress and bag, and flipped her hood on, stealthily heading out the door; her parents were too heated in their argument to acknowledge her disappearance.

She kept her head down as she walked to the other side of the village, passing 30 or so houses on the way there. When she reached the home she was looking for, she gave a soft 3 beat knock on the door; an old man opened the door and she swiftly entered.

"Hello Priya!" he greeted her and sat her down on the couch near the fireplace, "long day?" he asked seeing her anxiety filled expression.

"Eh well," she smiled and looked to the man, flashing a nervous smile. "Now Milkha- I mean Master Aegnor, (she corrected herself) what will you teach me today? Will we revise words or practice songs?"

Yes, Aegnor was the founder of this village, he too was a criminal... or at least he called himself a murderer... About 70 years back, Aegnor was best friends with a small she-elf child. They were both children, he was man and his friend was an elf of Rivendell; Aegnor was an orphan, lost in the woods, left there by his unknown parents. One day a small elf came running along in the forest and when they met, they were instant friends. Aegnor only spoke English from hearsay of his lonely travels and had long listened to the Elvish tongue, eager to speak it one day. The elf, who was only about seven, taught the boy Elvish, they met everyday in the woods to learn, she snuck him food and they played with eachother. Not only did she teach him the language, she taught him their ways and customs, what they looked and dressed like, many beautiful songs for multiple occasions and almost everything there was to know about elves. Alas, she taught him all but how to write the beautiful language, for they would always get carried away after a few letters and began playing or singing.

"My name is Milkha," the little 7 year-old boy said.

"My name is Elwë! And I shall call you by your name in Elvish my friend! Aegnor!" The she-Elf beamed. Elwës' mother had never said anything bad about the men of middle earth, but she had never said anything good either, which was why she was afraid that if she told anyone about Milkha, the other elves would tear them apart, and she couldn't, no, she wouldn't let that happen for any of the years to come. Aegnor began to grow into his teenage body and the elf remained a small child, but their minds were still as kind as ever. The Elf never thought of telling anyone about her secret friend in the forest for all these years, she couldn't risk it. One day the two went swimming in the river of Loudwater, they were having a marvelous time, splashing and swimming, until Elwë decided to dive into the river, for the current was not fast at all. She jumped in head first but was unaware of the mud that was at the floor of the river; her head was stuck. Aegnor waited for Elwë to resurface but when she did not, Aegnor became worried, he headed into the water to see Elwës' limp body upside down waving slowly side to side. He pulled Elwë to the surface but by that time it was too late, the elf was dead. Aegnor did not know how to react, where to go? What to do? Who to tell!? He cried and held her dead body close to his for hours until his emotions changed from sad to fear, and fear to pain, and that pain to worry... So he ran, leaving his poor friend there on the grass, and the heavy burden of watching his friend's death. He was only 17 but he was so confused and devastated, so many "what if I would have..." scenarios constantly bugging his mind. He tried but couldn't live with other Men of Gondor or Rohan who had clean lives for he felt like an outsider among them with red on his slate that could never be removed. So he built a small house by the stream of Snowbourn, to live alone on Lembas bread he had saved for months. Slowly others who were outcasted due to crimes joined his area, bringing crop, cattle, horses and their last belongings; and it slowly became a village. He used the Elvish he knew to name the Artanis Lissësúl, Elvish for "new start" because that was what he, and all the others here, needed.

"Today I'm going to refresh you with some general commands and phrases, I know it sounds easy because you've already learned them but it has been a while since we spoke with simplicity. Now did you construct another sentence in Elvish like I told you to yesterday?" Aegnor asked; she had been a natural at Elvish since she was a child and had always taken interest in the language so when she asked him to formally teach it to her at the age of 9; he couldn't help but be delighted. Though her parents were against her learning Elvish, Priya always found a way to slip a class with him in at least three times a week, she was always rebelling, but this was not just wanting to do what her parents told her not to, it was out of genuine interest.

"Yes I have sir," Priya cleared her throat and closed her eyes, "Lle naa belegohtar, amin sinta thaliolle e dagor, Cuamin linduva yassen megrille Lye nuquernuva sen e dagor!" {You are a mighty warrior and I know your strength in battle, and now my bow shall sing with your sword! We will defeat them in battle!}

"Good! Very good Priya! That sounded like a fantastic battle cry!" Aegnor complimented her.

"I doubt I would ever get to use it..." she muttered under her breath harshly, remembering her father's remarks earlier that day.
"Now let us begin our lesson, 'Ta nae amin saesa' what does that mean? If saesa means pleasure, figure out the rest of the sentence." Aegnor commanded.

"Amin... and..." Priya trailed off in thought, "Ta nae amin saesa means 'it was my pleasure! Now can we do more difficult sentences? I wish to know more intricate words!" She whined impatiently.

"If that is what you wish," he smiled.

And he spent an hour teaching her few words, mainly quizzing and attempting Elvish conversation because Priya had picked up the language easily and could speak it almost fluently.

Priya looked outside the window for a second and saw the stars beginning to grow brighter and the sky darker, "Amin gorgamin mellonamin tanya sina nae n'quel" {I fear my friend that this is not good}

"What? Why would you say so?" Aegnor was shocked.

"No, you teaching me Elvish is spectacular, but I must go, I left my parents to tame a fire I had ignited, I hope they are alright but I must go now to be sure. I am sorry to leave you suddenly-"

"No please! We've done enough today!" he smiled kindly, "Go now or you will be in trouble! Tenna' tul're!" {Until tomorrow!}

"Tenna' tul're!" she smiled and then caught his gaze, "and you still haven't been able to find what MY name is in Elvish have you?" She sighed as she stood up and put her cloak back on.

"Alas my child no, though I have tried, the elves have their own way of composing names, for names are unique to everyone and I do not possess the intellect to decipher it. Only if your name was written in Elvish or translated by one of the Elves themselves would you ever be able to find it; I am once again, so sorry child," his gaze dropped and he seemed truly disappointed with himself.

"Your name is in Elvish, is it not sir Aegnor? It is Elvish for Milkha yes?" He nodded in response, "then I suppose that is the closest I will get to hearing an Elven name! Goodbye sir! I hope we will practice more in the coming days!" and she left with her hood up, hoping not to be caught by the village folk; oh how they spread terrible rumors about eachother... especially her. She walked with her head low, trying to avoid eyes, when she looked down at her hand and pushed the sleeve up to her elbow, many discoloration patches began appearing, she would have to apply more of the herbs soon.

She paced to her home, hoping the fight had ended. She opened the door and the hinges squeaked slightly, all was dark except a small candle next to where her mother was sitting in the living room with a mug in her hands.

"He... hello mother..." her voice was shaky as she stepped in, hoping she wasn't mad. She quickly undid the thin rope that held her cloak together around her neck and shoved the cloth into her bag.

"Hello sweetie," her mother sipped her tea calmly as if she had never left.

"Is father mad at either of us?" Priya asked softly as she close the door and came to her mothers' side, "you know I am sorry for what I had said-"

"Ah let it be my child, he is growing old and remembering the old customs. He has gone to bed and will forget it all by morning, do not worry Priya," her mother set her cup down and hugged her daughter, arguments like these would arise almost every other day lately with her parents coming of age, she couldn't tell when one of these fights would really offend her father and make him extremely angry.
"Now what were you doing so late? Not working in our garden were you? No I didn't think so..." her mother scoffed, "You weren't out learning Elvish with that man again were you!?" her mother raised her voice and asked angrily, "You know I have forbidden you from ever speaking the foul tongue!"

"No no mother! Nothing of that sort!" She lied, "just walking about and talking with some friends, that is all!" She rubbed her arm with her hand nervously.

Her mother's eyes dropped to her hands and her tone was quiet again, "Let me see your hands," her mother asked suspiciously at her action, so she put them out in front of her.
"It is returning," She sighed, "you must take a bath immediately and reapply the herbal soap!" Her mother said staring at she small Caucasian colored patches on her arms that stood out on her slightly brown-tan skin.
"I am going to bed now but I will not allow you to sleep before taking a bath, understood?" Her mother asked firmly.
"Yes mum," Priya sighed. Her mother then stood up and kissed her forehead, "now what are the three things I told you to always remember?" She questioned as she turned to face her daughter.

"Always take care of your disease, never fight in battle, and never walk among the elves..." Priya groaned, she understood the first thing but very much desired the other two.
"No matter what you do, never EVER go near the elves... terrible creatures they are! And as long as your father and I are alive, don't you even look at the elves! All they will do is swallow the hearts of us mortals, then sail away and never look back! With no regret, or pain, they will leave you if you fall for them. Never speak, interact nor love them, for loving them will be your greatest sin and the end of us!" Her mother reminded her and let Priya have a few moments to take in the information she had been feeding her since she was a child. "Goodnight darling," she huffed after her statement,
"Tomorrow you must awake early, the nursing school starts after sunrise!" She said as she walked away towards her bedroom, leaving her empty cup on the table.

Priya left to her room, still aggravated by her mother's words, to grab a towel, her herbal hair and skin paste. She had a disease where her skin would peel and this lighter layer of skin underneath would show, and since that wasn't her skin, if she went out into the sun with those light patches, they would burn from the heat her mother had told her. Same for her hair, it would begin to fade from black to a brownish color every four or five days and she would have to reapply the paste her mother had made all over her body then bathe. Neither she or her mother would even take the risk of letting her go out into the sun, luckily she never had to if her patches were there, her parents protected her well.

She grabbed her things and put them in her bag then headed to the stream Snowbourn, not too far from her house, less than half a league, but it wouldn't matter; no one would be there this late at night. She took with her one of the smallest glass bottles of the paste, she didn't need too much of it.
After about 10 minutes of walking in her dark cloak, she approached the vacant, slow and steady stream.
She listened to the quiet pitter of the water lightly lapping against the rocks on the edges of the stream and the sound of insects rustling and humming above in the trees now that the moon had risen nicely.
To cover herself or block others vision, she strung a sheet between the two trees she'd be bathing behind, she quickly undressed and got into the chilled water with the glass bottle in hand.

After rinsing her body, applying the brownish paste, letting it sit on her hair and skin, then washing it off, she put her clothes back on and let her wet hair soak the back of her red dress, no longer feeling the need to wear her cloak on top. She threw her cloak and the other things she had brought with her into her bag and tossed over her shoulder and began walking home, but as she approached the village she felt something hit her leg; what was it... a rock? She picked up the pebble that had just been thrown at her leg, by the way it had fallen and using her peripheral vision, she could tell where the rock had been thrown from; behind a tree and the one who had thrown it was covered by the trees' shadow. She grabbed it and sent it lightning fast through the air, to the direction it had come from with full force.

"Owww!" she heard an unmistakably familiar voice. She smiled as she walked over to the darkness behind a tree the shooter was hiding in.

"Rúmil? If you wanted my attention you could've just said my name," she chuckled and walked over to her friend.

"It's late! I don't want people getting the wrong intention by me shouting for you at night!"

"Oh shut it!" Priya punched him in the arm. Rúmil was Priya's best friend who was the same age as her, he was two inches taller than her, with messy brown hair and very light Caucasian skin, he usually wore some black pants with a faded white tunic and his belt around his waist {and his silly Irish accent}; he was also a fantastic fighter. His father was a blacksmith who, at a young age, poisoned his own brother due to jealousy. She had talked to him a few times, he was a completely changed person now and deeply regretted what he had done; but regret was useless. Still, his son was wonderful though his mother had died as soon as he was born, Rúmil never showed any sadness, he was strong and brave.

"Hey let's go over here so we don't disturb anyone," he took her hand and led her to the sword practicing ground in the forest.

"You know, you would've been dead by now if it wasn't for me constantly gesturing at you during lessons today," he chuckled as he leaned against a tree coolly and she leaned on one in front of him.

"Oh ya, thanks for that, but I would've been able to fend them off! I'm a one woman army!" she smirked and folded her arms.

"Speaking of army, have you heard the talk that's been brewing from the city folk? Heard there's a real bad war brewing around, with that ol' tale of the ring, turns out it's true ya' know! The story our grandparents would tell us about king Isildur and his heir? People are sayin' it's all real, that the dark lord is risin' fast, that he's gonna try 'n take over Middle Earth!" He widened his eyes with each sentence he spoke. He loved talking to Priya at this hour, or any hour. She was sweet, smart, calm and a fantastic listener too all he had to say; he also very much supported her wanting to fight and would let her borrow his horse to get to the ground and would tell her when he thought class was coming to an end so she wouldn't be caught.

"Aw, what's all this rubbish!?" she rolled her eyes, "the story of the 'one ring' is an old legend, a thing of the past Rúmil! Wars are fought over land and power, not pieces of jewelry and magical power!"

"Are you saying you don't believe in magic?" He scoffed.

"No! Of course magic exists! The elves have so many beautiful spells! You know I even know one that will help me in my nursing class, a fantastic healing spell!" Priya boasted. A woman who used to work at a Healing House in Gondor was teaching her and a few other girls in that class everyday. She would teach different medicinal remedies, how to heal battle wounds, injuries, and what medicine to give or apply and where, and no matter how much Priya didn't want to, her mother made her begin learning from that woman a few months ago, in case something were to turn up, Priya should be able to heal. She took her Elvish skills and used them in her class, it was more fun and challenging that way; she was actually becoming a fairly skilled nurse. Sure she was able to treat them normally, but using Elvish spells on wounds made her look smarter, which she undoubtedly was, but it also let her practice them for a time when she might need them. Priya didn't care now, she had her own fun with nursing, and after long hours of jumbling with words, she'd even created some Elven spells to heal some wound instantly; magic did exist!
"And war!? Oh how I wish to be a part of it! If war were to come I do not wish to heal the wounded, but instead to fight in battle with fellow soldiers! Feel the rage of my enemies, and their blood dripping from my sword in victory!"

"That was rather violent," he slipped a nervous chuckle, "but do you not know? Many warriors die in battle!"

"So? There, they die quickly in the name of the king; here I die slowly in the name of my father! How must I carry on like this!? What is the purpose of me living in such a manner where no one cares for me!?" she yelled and looked him in the eyes.

He looked away immediately, sad and scared; for she did not know her words spoke lies. She did not know how much HE cared for her, how much HE enjoyed her company and her skills and her beautiful strong heart. His gaze was disturbed and she noticed, "What is wrong...? Have I said something to offend you?" she spoke softly in her sweet tone he craved to hear.

"No," he cleared his throat, "nothing, everything is alright... but you know that if war were to come... I am the finest warrior in the village?" He smirked challengingly.

"Of course..." she stepped closer to him, "everyone knows that..." she came closer to him, now there faces mere inches apart.

Rúmil was taken slightly aback by her movement but continued speaking, "Even you couldn't beat me!" he jumped away with his hand positioned in the air as if holding a sword. He looked down at his belt, then back at his hand, where was his sword?

"Can't fight without a weapon can ya'?" Priya swung the sword through her fingers swiftly, she then jumped at him with the sword pointing for his face, "kneel!" She joked.

"Alright! I surrender!" He bent onto his knees with his hands behind his neck, "You are the best fighter in Artanis Lissësúl! Now give me my sword back!" He stood up and grabbed at it.

"Ah, no," she smiled playfully. She saw his arms come towards his sword and quickly turned backwards and brought her leg up to kick him. Without hitting his face, she startled him and he fell backwards onto his hands and laughed.

"Priya you are amazing! We don't learn moves like this from your father; you must teach me these fighting techniques some day!" He held his hand up and she grabbed it and brought him to his feet.

"These are moves I created ON MY OWN! That's why he doesn't teach you them, I take what I learn and modify the steps to my difficulty. But for you I would surely teach a thing or two," she chuckled, handing him his sword back, "I saw your eyes fall to your sword earlier, that's how I knew what you were going to do..." she placed her hand on her hip.

"Impressive... I bow down to you Priya daughter of Andúnë!" He sheathed his sword and began bowing on his knees.

"Oh stop it!" She shoved him lightly and laughed.

"I know I know, your father has never let you hold a real sword, you've had to deal with those wooden ones I carved for you. That's why you wanted my sword right?" He saw as she shifted uncomfortably at his question. Rúmil then gave her a light hug as she leaned onto a tree, "sorry," he whispered into her ear.
He leaned on the tree in front of her once again and stared at Priya and how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. Alas, he sighed, she would never see them as more than friends, though he very much desired to be so much more; so much closer in her heart. Her dark hair and skin were setbacks to many, but he found them impeccable compared to any fair skinned woman.
"But now it is late and I must be going, you too Rúmil. We will talk more tomorrow my friend," she hadn't seen him staring; instead she was looking at the moon and the sparkling stars. She loved gazing at the stars, they were beautiful things with so many untold secrets and stories, she loved the way they twinkled at night.
She shook him from his thoughts and he nodded, they set off towards the village. As they reached the house where they split, she gave him another hug, "I will see you tomorrow my friend," she whispered before leaving.

He saw her tall figure in her red dress walk off, he closed his eyes and could still feel her warm presence caress his body. He walked home slowly, swooned.

Priya tossed and turned under her covers, a restless night was nothing new to her, she could hardly ever sleep. It had been about an hour since she had crept into her bed and yet sleep had not been given to her. She stared outside the window by her bed, once again marveling at the beauty of the glimmering stars in the night, thinking about what was beyond the borders of her village which she was never allowed to cross. She thought of kings, soldiers, lavish food, castles, different creatures, dwarves, men, and oh... Oh she smiled insanely at the thought of Elves. Oh their grace, how she longed to be in their presence, once, at least once! Aegnor had taught her songs in Elvish, as well as drawn countless pictures of them, and their peaceful ways were so delightful, though she longed to learn the unique calligraphy, Aegnor had not been taught it so she settled for many other enchanting Elven ways. He had told her so many stories of them, but she had not had one encounter with the creatures; she furrowed her eyebrows in anger. She closed her eyes and pictured an Elf, his delicate and slender figure, his amber, flaming hair and poised posture, ah, one day she had to meet them... she would long for the day when she could meet them. Finally, with beautiful thoughts, she was blessed with the gift of sleep at last.

A/N: The next part is already up... :3