~*~ A/N: Hey, here's the third part. If you noticed, I renamed the story to just "Blackthorne". Anyway, I've been getting a lot of help from my friend "Lil" on this one, so I wants to thank her, and thank you for reading! PS: Please Reveiw this story, it only has one reveiw! :-D Thanks! *~*~


Loriana pulled her gaze from the window, and turned, walking silently to her bed. She took her sword, and set it onto the floor. Removing her dress, she slid between the sheets, sighing between the softness.

"You go off to battle tomorrow," she said to herself. "Best get some sleep whilst you can. For you know not when you will sleep in a bed again."


As the sun rose the next morning, Loriana stirred. She opened her eyes, taking a moment to remember where she was - Rivendell, the House of Elrond, and she was going off to battle today. She stood quickly, removing herself from the soft sheets and stretching her arms above her head. She headed for the bath room, and washed her hands. Hearing Raelinda in the bedroom, she waited for a moment, watching her own reflection.

Opening the door, she saw the clothing left for her - a green elvish dress. Shaking her head, she called for Raelinda.

"Yes, Lady?" the elvish woman asked, opening the door.

"I thank you for the dress, but I cannot wear that to go to battle - I require, instead, pants and a shirt, several would probably be best. Also, I need a pack."

"Of course, m'lady," replied Raelinda, retrieving the dress and leaving the room. Loriana sat in a chair, brushing out her long hair while she waited. Minutes later, Raelinda returned with a pair of forest green pants and a lighter shirt.

"Lord Elrond will give you your pack, along with armor and a horse, when you meet the rest of the party downstairs. They request your arrival within the hour."

"Thank you, Raelinda," Loriana said with a grateful smile. "I know not if I will see you again, but I thank you regardless for your help."

The elvish woman bowed, returning the smile. "Ta nae seasamin." From the very little bit of Elvish that Loriana knew, she could tell that meant "It was my pleasure." Then, the woman was gone.

Loriana slipped into the clothes, and attached her belt. Taking up her sword, she slid it into the sheath.

"Into battle," she said, her voice thick with both sadness and determination, as she walked out the door.


"Does she not know of the prophecy?" asked Aragorn, his eyebrows raised. He and Elrond spoke in hushed tones, away from the rest of the party. They expected her any moment, and did not want anyone else to hear their conversation.

"No, she does not. And she will not know, for we do not know how she would react if she did," replied Elrond, shaking his head. "And, I have a bit of advice for you, friend."

"And I shall take whatever advice you could give me."

"Leave the name 'Aragorn' here. For we know not how the steward of Gondor and his sons would react to Isildur's heir. Go instead by a different name."

"That is most wise, Lord Elrond. We must be sure to tell all - from here on, call me not Aragorn, but Strider."

It was then that Loriana stepped into their view; clad in green, with her long hair waving behind her. Aragorn smiled softly, and turned to Elrond.

"I love her like a sister," he said quietly. Elrond nodded, patting him on the back.

"I know, Strider."


When they gathered, they saw that their numbers were great - there stood, in a large room of Elrond's house, at least ten score soldiers, for many other Rangers had arrived at the House over the night. Besides Loriana, all other were men or male elves. To say she stood out would be an incredible understatement. However, even the Rangers from afar had heard of her - and that she was, indeed, the Blackthorne that prophecy spoke of.

Firstly, a bit about this prophecy. It is written, in the book of Gondor, that the final member of the Blackthorne family, who had defended the helpless of Middle-Earth since the first coming of man, would defend the fair White City, and save it. It is also said that this warrior would bear no children in his lifetime. The tale of the Blackthorne is known throughout the lands, by all who study lore, from the Great Sea to the very fires of Mordor. However, until just then, it was unknown what the last of this great family would defend against - but now, with the threat of orcs, trolls, and other worse creatures befalling Gondor, it was quite clear. Loriana was to do battle with the beasts, and it was in her that many placed their last hopes.


Veerle gracefully descended the steps, down into the hall in which the warriors gathered. Her white dress trail followed her elegantly, her long hair flowing gently behind her. Several soldiers glanced up, their eyes filled with awe, and some with attraction. Veerle dismissed them from her thoughts, though, as she neared her brother.

He glanced up, smiling as his sweet, innocent sister filled the hearts of men with want and desire. He was restringing his bow, careful as always of the family heirloom. His father before him had used it, and his before him. It was the bow of kings, as he was the heir of kings.

"Iire lle auta?*" she asked, in their own tongue, the soft Elvish words flowing from her lips like water off the falls.

"Ale' lye tela sinome,**" he replied, looking up from his bow. His sister took his hand, smiling up at her brother.

~*~* ( * - When are you leaving? ** - When we are finished here. ) ~*~*

"I am going with you," she said, and he looked up in amazement. "At least, for a while, until the path turns north to Mirkwood. I will ride with your band, and then depart to my own ways."

"As you wish, dear Veerle," replied Legolas, finishing with his bow. He set it aside, and truly looked at his sister for the first time. "My sister, you look dismayed. What is wrong?"

"Nothing, dear brother. At least, nothing I know yet of."

"You tell me not the truth," he replied, sitting down. "If you wish not to tell me, I cannot make you; however, I could give you advice."

"Fine, Legolas, since you did not insist I shall tell you but a little; it involves a man."

"You say man, and mean not an elf. This that dismays you involves a mortal, does it not?"

"Much involves mortals now, Legolas. For you yourself were defeated by one just yesterday." She smiled playfully down at him, but his brow furrowed. "Something troubles you as well. Does it involve this Blackthorne? For I saw how you gazed upon her at the feast, but I thought nothing of it. Perhaps I should have."

"Nae, you were correct the first time," came a voice from behind her, and she turned, seeing Loriana standing there, her arms crossed over her chest. "If you think you sensed romance, think again, for you are wrong. In a Blackthorne's life, there is no love but that for the hunt, for the fighting. If you wish, I will give you advice -" she waited no more than a moment, before she continued, "Nae, not if you wish, for I will give it to you anyway - and if you do not want to take it, then that is your judgment to make. If you find yourself falling in love, which I believe you are, for the twinkle in your eyes gives you away, be not afraid of it. For the ability to love is a gift, and one that should not be taken lightly. It is your destiny to love, and be not afraid to follow it. Heed this advice, from someone who has not the luxuries you have."


Loriana returned to her place, beside Elrond and Aragorn, who were organizing their plans. Unsheathing her sword, she took her sharpening stone and a cloth from her pack, and began to sharpen and clean the blade. It was a broadsword, made of silver and iron. She shined it until it glimmered, and sharpened it greatly. The handle was also silver and iron, with a groove for one's hand. Thorns were carved into the metal up each side - the Blackthorne sword. She glanced up, catching Boromir's eye watching the sword. She stood up, returning the sword to her sheath, and approached Boromir.

"Tell me, son of Gondor, why do you watch my sword so?"

"It is the sword of the Blackthorne, spoke about throughout all of my lands. Many long to see it their entire lives."

"Well then, perchance you should like to hold it for a moment, if you are in such awe," she offered, unsheathing it. Boromir's eyes widened, and he nodded. She pressed the sword's cool handle into his hand. He held it up for a moment, watching the light shimmer off it in awe. After a moment, he handed it back, astonished when it glowed lightly in Loriana's hand.

"I daresay it prefers you to me," said Boromir, smirking.

"Indeed," she smiled, and returned the sword to it's sheath. She turned and walked back to her pack, rechecking to make sure all her supplies were in order.

"That was quite friendly of you," she heard the voice behind her, and knew immediately that it was Aragorn.

"Was it?" she replied, turning to face him.

"Yes, indeed. I approach because I have a favor to ask of you. From this moment on, could you call me Strider instead of my right name? I have already requested that all else do the same."

"I will oblige, but I know not why you ask this."

"Need you?" he replied with a smile. She shook her head.

"Nae, I suppose not," she grinned, and bent, picking up her pack. "I have a confession to make, A- Strider."

He raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"The name Strider makes you sound like a horse."

He let out a laugh, and shook his head.

"You are truly a Blackthorne, for I see your father's spirit within you."

Loriana looked down, the grin from her face falling quickly.

"I'm sorry, Loriana. I meant not to upset you," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I have no family left, Strider. Do you know what that is like? Suddenly, to have everything you've known taken away? Do you have any idea?"

He shook his head. "No, I haven't. For I was raised here, by the Lord Elrond, and he is here still. Yet there may be a day when he is not. And if you are truly without family, then allow me to become yours. I shall be as a brother to you, for I already love you like one."