A/N: Enjoy the chapter. I hope I made the ending clear enough and if not, think back to an episode in a previous chapter. Here ya go.

Naeven wasn't exactly sure how to handle having Garan appear with this strange fair-haired woman who had a mysterious look to her. It didn't help matters that Garan seemed to hint that the battle wasn't going well. Naeven knew that it could come to their doorstep very soon. They were located pretty far up in the city but the enemy catapults were powerful and she had already felt the reverberations of the impact of the gigantic rocks hurled at them.

How long can we last like this? she asked herself. She eyed her son, seeing how relieved he was that his mentor was safe with them. But how long would they be "safe"? Suddenly something caught her eye.

"You're injured!" she exclaimed.

Naeven looked at the young woman's shoulder, which was wrapped up in a not-exactly-clean piece of cloth. A small spot of dried blood was situated near the end of her shoulder and Naeven thought that it looked dangerously near her heart. The owner of that shoulder glanced down at it and then up at her, a tired expression on her face. She looked like she hadn't had any sleep in days and her bright green eyes, for a moment, didn't look as cold but rather like they'd seen more than they should have for so short a life.

Garan sighed. Naeven had been getting food for them before she noticed the wound and the young woman had stood to help while Garan sat down at the small table. He studied the girl's shoulder and then turned to Naeven, a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Do you think you could help bandage her up? I did the best I could with a blanket I found but I'm afraid it didn't help much."

Naeven brushed a curl out of her eyes and looked the woman up and down. She didn't even know her name and she seemed so distant. They didn't trust each other and both of them knew it. But she was Garan's friend so Naeven nodded and motioned for the other female to follow her to the back room. The boy had since moved out to talk with Garan. Naeven smiled at the two and then closed the door behind them.

Threwen could sense the other woman's cautiousness. But for some reason she felt too tired to hold up her wall as strongly as normal. She hadn't slept in so long and her entire arm ached. She knew that all of the activity of the last few days was a bad idea but since when had she really listened when her head told her what was probably best for her?

What am I doing here? she suddenly asked herself. Really, she was probably better off on her own. She knew that if she stayed in this one place long enough she would feel the responsibility to help this woman and her son. It had already happened with Garan. She had been lucky to avoid that Warg and she should've hightailed it out of there but she stayed when she saw that the jailer was in trouble. And she also wondered why she was so prone to do this.

"How did this happen?"

The soft voice jolted Threwen from her thoughts. Despite not trusting her, Naeven was helping her. The other woman motioned toward her shoulder as she cut a piece of bandage.

With some hesitation Threwen finally replied, "I got in a fight."

Her current companion frowned but didn't say anything. She motioned for her to remove the piece of blanket and let her see the wound. Threwen did so with a grimace at how tender it was. She knew should've grabbed an extra bandage from Asimma's saddlebag before she was taken away. She scolded herself because of this prime example of her being so caught up with other thoughts these days or, rather, thoughts about other people these days. In all honesty, Threwen thought that all people did was complicate things.

Her attention was brought back to Naeven as the woman studied the gash. Her furrowed brow worried Threwen. Naeven must've noticed that Threwen was watching her because suddenly her face changed to a calm look and she started to bandage up the wound. As she worked, she talked, and Threwen wondered if she was experienced with this, for she knew exactly what questions to ask to get her mind off her shoulder.

"I'm sorry but I don't know your name," she said, her face not exactly smiling but not exactly frowning the way it had been before.

"Threwen," she replied plainly. Keep it simple.

"So, Threwen, how did you meet Garan?" Naeven asked, concentrating on cleaning out the injury.

Even though this was a perfectly commonplace question, Threwen wasn't sure how to answer. "I only met him today but I suppose we've been through a lot."

"What do you mean?" the other woman asked, still looking down at what she was doing.

Threwen thought for a moment, knowing she had to choose her words carefully. "Well, both of us ran into a Warg but luckily we got out of it. We've gotten out of a few scrapes today."

The female nodded. "It's a good thing you did too. These are dangerous times."

Both were silent and to Threwen it seemed like ages. Her arm burned and Naeven's fiddling with it didn't help matters any. However, it was nothing like what she had experienced at Helm's Deep so she was fairly sure she could handle it. She wondered what she could ask Naeven to get the conversation going again because she needed a distraction.

"What is your son's name?" she asked politely. Mothers loved talking about their sons, or at least so she'd seen from her short life little experience.

Now Naeven really did smile. "Addraran. He's eleven and wishes he could fight in the war." Her smile faded and her face grew dark again.

Threwen wondered about something but wasn't sure how to ask. Finally she figured that since Naeven had asked questions, so could she. "I don't mean to pry but where, um, where is his, uh…" Suddenly Threwen thought maybe that question wasn't the best idea. However, Naeven didn't mind answering.

"His father?" she sighed and finished tying the bandage around Threwen's shoulder. She looked up at the blonde, her brown eyes sad but strong. "He died a few years ago. He was a Gondorian soldier and was killed trying to win back Osgiliath."

Threwen felt her heart skip a beat and then she asked unsteadily, "How long ago was it?"

Naeven sighed again and said, "Quite a while ago. A few years, I suppose." She looked up at Threwen again with those big brown eyes and Threwen felt herself growing cold.

Though she wasn't sure she should, she pressed her for a little more information. "Wh…what did he look like?" She wondered if her companion could hear the trembling in her voice.

But apparently she didn't because she stopped for a moment and then said, smiling, "He had light brown hair that he never took care of." She laughed at that. "And he had the most beautiful hazel eyes that would sometimes look green if they caught the light just right." She had a faraway look in her eyes now and Threwen felt like an intruder, as usual. It didn't last for long however. Naeven was brought back to reality and then smiled at Threwen, as if she understood her caution and wanted to be her friend.

But we can't be friends, she thought as she watched Naeven clean up and start fixing her son's bed on the other side of the room. Threwen knew that they could never be friends. She couldn't take that step. Not this time. She closed her eyes, thinking back to that day. That day when she had witnessed the horrifying murder of the last remaining Gondorian soldier that tried to take back Osgiliath. A Gondorian soldier with light brown hair and hazel green eyes. And she knew that she could never be friends with Naeven. Because she had viewed her husband's death, seen the look of hate in his eyes when he noticed her watching his approaching doom…and had done nothing to stop it.

Ooh. Drama. Well, I'd really appreciate your comments.