Same disclaimers apply, blah blah blah. This chapter's mostly character description. We'll have one more chapter of this, then we can get back into some more action. Since you were my first reviewer, Abigail, I've named a character after you. Cheers, Sun Queen and Ivory Moon

Chapter Two: Boys, Daggers, and Elves

Thanks for staying. Dying alone isn't really high on my to-do list. Well, here follows the Life and Exploits of Jaidru, Elf-Friend and companion of the Dwarves. I hope you brought a quill and parchment to write it all down...

I was born Lady Drusilla Tee'gana of The White City, about twenty years ago, to a noble family, highly placed in the court of Denethor, Steward of Gondor.

And right out of the womb, my family knew I was going to be trouble.

I was a very nasty baby, the kind who threw up on the fresh laundry, who squalled all night long, and waited till the nurse's back was turned to flick my oatmeal at the wall. When my teeth began to come in, I used to chew on the tapestry of our family tree that hung on the wall in our dining hall. My parents were very proud that we could trace our lineage back to the earliest days of Gondor, with a forefather who'd fought in the Last Alliance.

(I also think I had a great-great-aunt who'd run off with a stableboy from Rohan, but it wasn't exactly a topic of dinner conversation.)

Anyways, after I'd grown up a little, and stopped drooling on the names of my honoured ancestors, I discovered the *ahem* Great Outdoors. My sisters Abigail and Bethany, five and seven years my elders, were appalled at the worms, beetles, and leaves that I'd cart in day after day, proudly displaying my treasures as though they were worth more than my mother's mithril bracelet.

My parents were, shall we say, less than enthusiastic about my habits of tramping about outside the city walls, following the packs of boys who would set up archery targets, dummies for sword practice, and other wargames. I must have been quite the sight, a scrawny, grubby little girl, my blond curls in tangles, the hem of my dress hitched up above my knees, bare feet pattering as I ran to keep up with boys. Jai, my long-suffering old nurse, would huff and puff behind me, wailing about wild little ladies who'd meet foul ends if they didn't come home and finish their embroidery.

The boys tolerated my presence, occasionally, when I brought cream tarts that I'd stolen from the kitchen. Other times, they'd yell at me until I stormed off to sulk in the courtyard of my parents' home. There were the leaders of the pack, Boromir and Faramir, the Steward's sons. They were fascinating creatures, taller and stronger than me, for Boromir was twelve years old at least, with short, silky hair, and eyes that flashed in the sun. I'd sit and watch him, for he and his brother would spar with wooden swords while the other boys shouted encouragement.

I was only five at the time, so I never quite understood the guarded look in Boromir's eyes as he fought his smaller brother. Faramir was shorter, yes, but he was quick and agile; I had seen him fight larger boys to exhaustion. Now I know that the younger brother was never destined to rule, and I think Boromir always half-expected Faramir to attack him for real.

And I think, somewhere in the depths of his soul, Faramir was waiting for his brother to die.

But I'd watch these two titans clash, and I'd wonder about those guarded looks, the half-concealed flinches.

One day, in early spring, I was following the boys as per my custom. I must have been chattering even more than usual, for Boromir had had quite enough. Only yesterday, I'd trodden on, and broken his favourite bow. Now, he swung around, towered over me, and growled. "Go home, little Drusilla, before the Orcs come for you. Do you know what they do to little lost girls?" He smirked, purposely making it look menacing.

I was scared, but I was five years old, a strong girl despite my size, and I could take care of myself. I planted my fists on my hips, stood on my tiptoes, and stared him in the eye. "If the Orcs are going to come for me, I'll need a sword to fight them!" I pointed at his belt, where his dagger hung in a leather scabbard. "Give me yours!"

Boromir's mouth dropped open; I must have looked a comical little figure, balanced on my tiptoes, hands on my hips, using my best threatening glare. The other boys burst out laughing, which made Boromir round on them. Most of them had the sense to shut up as fast as they could.

Except Faramir. He strode forward, and crouched to look me in the eyes. "Truly, little 'Dru, you'll need a sword to defend yourself. I hereby appoint you the keeper of the Shortest Dagger of the Steward." He unbuckled his belt, and ceremoniously handed me his beaten iron knife, complete with a leather sheath.

I was ecstatic. What was a mere dagger to him was a sword as long as my forearm! I snatched it from him, and waved it experimentally, mimicking the thrusting and parrying movements that I'd watched the boys practising daily. They whistled and cheered, as Faramir and I circled, mock duelling. He fell to the ground, clutching his heart as though I'd struck a mortal blow, laughing all the while. I blew him a kiss, like my sister Bethany once had to one of her admirers. Boromir just scowled.

From that day on, I was no longer shunned by the group of boys. I wasn't universally accepted, for Boromir and several others maintained a healthy dislike of me, but they would let me tag along wherever they went. Sometimes, they would pause and watch me thoughtfully, as I stood a little ways away, and practised with my dagger. I'd close my eyes, purse my lips in concentration, and copy the movements that I'd seen so many times. Sometimes, I'd try to wield a wooden sparring sword, but it was too long and heavy.

Swordplay was the only thing that could occupy my interest for long. I hated embroidery and spinning, and I scorned the flute and the lyre. Any efforts to make a little lady of me failed. So, in total exasperation, my parents gave up, and let me run free. After all, they had two lovely young daughters, already engaged for marriages that wouldn't take place until their sixteenth birthdays; they didn't really need to turn me into a member of the Court. Now, I realize they probably meant to sucker some poor Rohanian into a marriage with me. I would have pitied whoever he was.

So, this is how my childhood progressed. I believe they were, without a doubt, the happiest days of my life.

**********

I know you must be utterly bored with me prattling on and on about my oh-so-happy childhood. So I'll wrap it up soon, but there is one more event that greatly affected my later life.

One fine summer day (I'm quite certain I was eight), I'd wandered away from the company of the boys, heading south down the Seaward Road. I wondered if I wandered far enough, I'd find the Great Water, where the screaming gulls wheel and soar on the wind.

At any rate, I was walking south, just enjoying the sunshine on my bare skin, for I'd rolled up my sleeves and hiked up my skirt. I'd given old Jai the slip, and she was quite possibly going mad, tearing about in that fussy way of hers, looking for me. I also had a cheese pastry and a bottle of creamy milk that I'd stolen from the kitchen, wrapped up under my skirt. Life was good.

Shimmering in the distance, I saw a group of figures, too far away to be identified. Common sense would have advised that a lone girl should get off the road till this group of strangers passed, but common sense and I were never on speaking terms. So I skipped towards them. If they were Orcs or goblins or evil bandits, let them come! I had my trusty dagger, and I wasn't afraid to use it!

The figures had resolved themselves into tall, slender beings, shining gold in the sun. Their clothes were dark, earthy shades, but their skin and hair were luminescent. Eyes as dark as twilight, and as gentle as a spring rain. Voices that were purer than any minstrel's lyre, and a language that sounded like singing. I stared; these could not be Men, they must be fairies, or angels!

They must have seen my slack-jawed astonishment, for they laughed, and stopped beside me. There were many of them, ten at least, and they surrounded me, stroking my curly hair, and speaking to me in their sweet voices.

"Little girl-child."

"Where do you wander?"

"You're far from the Great City, little friend."

I was suddenly acutely aware of my sun-browned arms, and my dusty dress, and how poor I looked in comparison to the glowing radiance of the strangers, but I asked in a whispery voice if they were angels.

They laughed their musical laughs, and told me, nay, they were Elves.

Elves! Like the ones in the stories and songs, who'd fought with my ancestors in the Last Alliance. Well, obviously, these weren't strangers, so I had no need to be shy! I proudly showed them my little dagger, and sang a Gondorian anthem that all children learned out of the cradle. They smiled and clapped, then one of them, a woman, I think, straightened and began to sing a song I'd never heard, with words I couldn't understand. But it made me want to laugh and cry, all at the same time. I never learned the words, or discovered what she had said, but I hum that tune to this very day.

When she finished, I asked them where they were going. They looked almost wistful for a moment, then they answered, "The Grey Havens."

"Where is that?" I asked them.

Many, many leagues west of here, they replied. It was at the mouth of the Sundering Sea. Their journey had been long; these were Silvan folk, from a great forest far to the north. They would continue north-west to Lothlorien, where more of their kin would join them on their way to the Undying Lands.

They walked with me until the walls of Minas Tirith were in sight. Then they turned, and made as if to continue on the road west. I bid them goodbye, wished them a safe journey, and told them they must return to Gondor one day, to visit me.

They looked sad, and told me that their kind was leaving Middle-Earth, and that they were destined to never return. "May the Valar protect you on your path under the sky, little friend." And I never saw them again.

I went home that night and cried myself to sleep, for the Elves that I would never meet again, and for the great beauty that our world had lost.

**********

The Elves occupied my mind for many days, as summer turned to fall. I'd taken to wandering, hoping to glimpse more Elves travelling west; alas, their kind truly was gone, or so I thought, for I never saw another in all my years of childhood. But I was happy with my life nonetheless; I was free, and maybe one day I might leave, travel to Rohan perhaps, to learn horsecraft.

I have a truly nasty habit that I still possess, the ability to never see a major problem developing until it crawls up and bites me in the ass.

For this reason, I didn't even notice when Bethany got sick.

To be Continued...review, please!