Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or anything that belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien except for a few OC of mine. If I do own it, it wouldn't be a best seller even until these times… Come to think of it, I wasn't even born during the time J. R. R. Tolkien serves in the World War I…

Critiques are highly appreciated and encouraged to do so. Surely, I do not want my OC become a Mary-Sue… *shudder*

Prologue

The night was grim; the moon and stars were not visible to the land for the clouds have shielded them. Even if the moon is visible, it was red. It was a bad omen, to many things that have known to some wives rumors. Yet, it was an unusual phenomenon. The night was no longer young, and since the stars and moon had shielded from sight, it leaves the land dark, except for some lights of some cities.

It has happened for a while, the red moon it is. Her eyes, that are keener than Men and less keen than elves look skywards with a distaste expression as she tried to see the moon. It's not that she doesn't like stars like elves do, but it was the moon that disturbs her. Maybe it was only her and a Man that noticed it among the group of Dúnedain she's living with.

"Trying to spy the moon again?" A Man asked from behind her. She was not surprised, as she could hear his not-so silent footsteps from a small distance.

"Aye. You know that the moon has been disturbing me for a short while, Arathorn." She said, her eyes still looking up skywards. Then she turned to him with a raised eyebrow, which he returns with his own hard gaze. "You're not with Gilraen and that toddler of yours?"

Then the Ranger smiled. The lady he's with always like being so blunt at times and do not call him or his wife with titles if it was not necessary. Maybe it's because she's still young, 31 summers her age, and yet she doesn't look like as of that age. "Aye, I'm not. She insists me to go with one of my Men or you, young one."

She let out an unladylike snort. "Young one? Surely you still look at me through my age, not my knowledge." She then looks back upwards. "You and your men are to go hunt orcs tomorrow, you need rest."

"And why don't you?" Arathorn asked, eying her with concern by his dark eyes. As the Chief of Dúnedain, he would need to make sure that all of his Men rest fully for the next day, for fear that if an orc had successfully attacks his Men if they are weary.

"I don't think I would be able for rest. These days are dark, and as I know orcs are roaming freely, dangerous they are. I have nightmares of some things that I don't think happen during these times." She told him.

He sighed. "I will take watch of you when you rest. Maybe that way you won't have any nightmares."

She shook her head. "Nay, that won't do. You are the one who has to sleep, milord." She started to talk to him as if he was a loyalty (even though he is one, with hidden lineage) with a scolding tone. "I believe you have some orc hunting with the sons of Lord Elrond." She paused. "Come to think of it, he's kind of similar to me… Even though I never met him."

He grunted. "Understandable. I told you possibly a thousand times already, that you are his kin. Just like him, yet so different. So young, too."

"Yes, you just remind me of that fact. Just get a rest, Arathorn. This night will be tiring for me if you keep on talking to me." She stated wryly.

He smiled before turning around and walk towards a door. He opened it and get inside, but paused to look back. "Keep an eye for my wife and son when I go, will you?"

"That, I will. That toddler of yours just can't keep his hand on anything without trouble following him. Much like his father, I fear." She teased him with a small smile.

He chuckled. "Good night, milady."

"As do you, my King." She responded in a kind, giving him a nod, before looking back skywards. The Man then entered his domain.

She exhaled deeply, after moments he went inside. Even though the Man is much older than herself – being 50 year more and still considered as young, 'twas a no wonder for him being a Dúnedain – that man takes a good care of her even though she had no blood relation to him. He even called her his sister, after her 10 years of knowing him, 10 years after he had found her.

The price of freedom is steep, she had figured. The scars in her body would not disappear, even if she had many more centuries to live on, it will not disappear. She had known it. It was said that if a scar made with a blade of a person holding a strong emotion at the time, it will not disappear. The scars will be a constant reminder of her past – something she doesn't like to face with. She faintly wondered if her mother will proud of her.

Nowadays, she had always wondered to herself; many had noted as she always look at the sky with hard gaze. It was becoming a bad habit as at times she could be caught unaware of her surroundings by the young ones. Surely, she was one of the Rangers for now, under the direct order of the Chief of Dúnedain, and somewhat become a scout for him and his people, for she has keener hearing, faster reflexes and eyesight than Men, for her blood is half-elven. She may be very young for elves, being under 50 summers of age. But then again, being a half-elven would make one to reach maturity almost as fast as Men, which is 18 summers. But even now, she is considered by Men of Dúnedain as a very young adult as some of them that are courageous enough asked her hand at times, of which are refused by her politely and they know not to make her angered. She was feared by some of his Men because of some occasion where it includes herself being angry.

Her stare at the sky hardened as the moon is within her sight. Red moon… She decided that she won't like whatever future had planned for her.