~*~ A/N: All right. I'm sick. I have such a headache, and yet I'm sitting in front of my laptop, thinking and writing. Someone tell me what's wrong with me. *~*~
Her brown hair matted with dirt and dust from a long day's work, Ringathradiel neared the edges of their village, carrying an old towel and somewhat cleaner clothes. She was on her way to the nearest pond, to clean up and enjoy the soothing coolness of the water.
She ignored the curses and growls from the Elves and Half-Elves around her, and continued on her path, her head up, even when one of the more venomous Lostlotiel spat upon her.
Imgaeriel, a tall blonde guard, stood in the path.
"Where do you go, Saurcal?" she asked, a sneer upon her lips.
"I go to the pond, for a bath," responded Ringathradiel, her eyes locked upon the ground.
"Be quick about it, then, the orcs are about."
"Aye."
Ringathradiel walked down the path, and neared the pond quickly. She sighed softly, and began to undress, when she heard a noise behind her. Immediately, her hand went to the hilt of her sword, and she whirled around.
"Who goes there?" she demanded, her voice loud and strong. A man emerged from the trees, with shoulder-length black hair, and she advanced upon him instantly, drawing her sword and placing it to his chest. "Friend or foe?"
The man smirked, half shrugged, and gestured about him. Another man, with lighter hair, a tall blonde elven man, a short bearded dwarf man, and four halfling boys, emerged from behind him. "Does it matter?" he said with a small scowl. "You are greatly outnumbered."
Ringathradiel did not back off, nor did she remove her sword from his chest, even when the others readied their weapons. "I said, friend or foe, and you would do well to answer me."
The man glared at her, slightly puzzled. "I know not who you are, so I know not if I am a friend or a foe."
The elf behind him raised his bow, an arrow notched. "Put your sword down, girl," he said threateningly.
She glared at him, then back to the man, and slowly lowered her sword.
"Who are you?" the man asked, tilting his head.
"Ringathradiel, a Saurcal of the Luinalation."
"Luinalation?" asked the Elf, his eyes wide. "That is a myth."
The girl laughed bitterly, and then shook her head. "Nae, myth it is not. You are quite near to our realm.
"What's a Luinalation?" asked one of the halflings, and the Elf looked down upon him.
"It is a band of fierce women, warriors, who live outside the confines of Middle-Earth society. I thought it to be merely myth," interjected the man, and bowed his head. "I am Strider, and these are my fellows, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Sam."
"What brings you so close to our realm. If it had been one of the Lostlotiel or Lhunwilyaiel who found you, you would have been killed upon sight. I, however, have some pity and mercy in my heart. 'Tis a human weakness," she said softly, glancing down.
"We are on a quest," said one of the halflings excitedly. He was about to continue, when Ringathradiel looked up, smelling the air sharply.
"Yrch," she said softly, and Strider raised his eyebrows.
"Orcs."
"Come," said Ringathradiel, her voice hushed. "I will get you into my city. My hut is almost empty; I only share it with one friend of mine. The rest were killed in the war."
"What war?" asked Boromir, leaning close to hear her soft words.
"The Orc Wars," she replied. "Follow," she commanded, and started in a trot down the path. The rest of the Fellowship followed.
Her brown hair matted with dirt and dust from a long day's work, Ringathradiel neared the edges of their village, carrying an old towel and somewhat cleaner clothes. She was on her way to the nearest pond, to clean up and enjoy the soothing coolness of the water.
She ignored the curses and growls from the Elves and Half-Elves around her, and continued on her path, her head up, even when one of the more venomous Lostlotiel spat upon her.
Imgaeriel, a tall blonde guard, stood in the path.
"Where do you go, Saurcal?" she asked, a sneer upon her lips.
"I go to the pond, for a bath," responded Ringathradiel, her eyes locked upon the ground.
"Be quick about it, then, the orcs are about."
"Aye."
Ringathradiel walked down the path, and neared the pond quickly. She sighed softly, and began to undress, when she heard a noise behind her. Immediately, her hand went to the hilt of her sword, and she whirled around.
"Who goes there?" she demanded, her voice loud and strong. A man emerged from the trees, with shoulder-length black hair, and she advanced upon him instantly, drawing her sword and placing it to his chest. "Friend or foe?"
The man smirked, half shrugged, and gestured about him. Another man, with lighter hair, a tall blonde elven man, a short bearded dwarf man, and four halfling boys, emerged from behind him. "Does it matter?" he said with a small scowl. "You are greatly outnumbered."
Ringathradiel did not back off, nor did she remove her sword from his chest, even when the others readied their weapons. "I said, friend or foe, and you would do well to answer me."
The man glared at her, slightly puzzled. "I know not who you are, so I know not if I am a friend or a foe."
The elf behind him raised his bow, an arrow notched. "Put your sword down, girl," he said threateningly.
She glared at him, then back to the man, and slowly lowered her sword.
"Who are you?" the man asked, tilting his head.
"Ringathradiel, a Saurcal of the Luinalation."
"Luinalation?" asked the Elf, his eyes wide. "That is a myth."
The girl laughed bitterly, and then shook her head. "Nae, myth it is not. You are quite near to our realm.
"What's a Luinalation?" asked one of the halflings, and the Elf looked down upon him.
"It is a band of fierce women, warriors, who live outside the confines of Middle-Earth society. I thought it to be merely myth," interjected the man, and bowed his head. "I am Strider, and these are my fellows, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Sam."
"What brings you so close to our realm. If it had been one of the Lostlotiel or Lhunwilyaiel who found you, you would have been killed upon sight. I, however, have some pity and mercy in my heart. 'Tis a human weakness," she said softly, glancing down.
"We are on a quest," said one of the halflings excitedly. He was about to continue, when Ringathradiel looked up, smelling the air sharply.
"Yrch," she said softly, and Strider raised his eyebrows.
"Orcs."
"Come," said Ringathradiel, her voice hushed. "I will get you into my city. My hut is almost empty; I only share it with one friend of mine. The rest were killed in the war."
"What war?" asked Boromir, leaning close to hear her soft words.
"The Orc Wars," she replied. "Follow," she commanded, and started in a trot down the path. The rest of the Fellowship followed.