Arrghhh, the chapter's too long! No free time to cut it down, sorry.

Excuse my very bad Sindarin. Any corrections welcome and I'll change it a.s.a.p!

Finally some characters other than hobbits!

Hope you're enjoying this. Please R&R.

***

They reached the clearing after nearly an hour of slow, degrading march. The tears were still held back, but she acquired new wounds: deep gashes on her elbows, where she had fallen and been unable to catch herself. Her knees bore the same fate, but not so badly. The leader of the party – Firmin was his name – berated her guards for dropping her, and they apologised both to her and to him, but she still received many sly kicks on the way. She later learned Iolomor and Provar were not bad men, but angered by her previous actions. The man she had felled, Unkirdon, was being carried by his comrade Greforlan. His shins were both broken badly.

The clearing was full of men dressed in the same way as her captors, and in their centre was seated a man who held himself tall, as if noble, and his eyes glowed with wisdom. Before them, and she nearly choked as she saw it, were Frodo and Sam. Little did she know that they had already proved the captain, Faramir as she rightly guessed, of their identities, and were already safe. She thought they were doomed to death, and that it was her fault.

The captain looked up immediately at their approach. 'What bring you here, Firmin?' He asked, while men rushed to help Unkirdon.

'We found this maiden wandering in the area of the lake,' explained Firmin reverently. 'She attacked us without provocation, and attacked Unkirdon causing terrible harm.'

'I can see,' said Faramir, eyeing Mithmír warily. 'Why is she so gagged and bound? Surely you could handle a single girl?'

Mithmír's eyes flashed in anger, but she could not cry out because of the cloth tied around her mouth.

'She is strong, lord, and an elf,' said Firmin with lowered eyes. 'We feared for our safety. We had not choice but to restrain her.'

Faramir nodded slowly, and then turned to the hobbits. 'Do you know this woman, Frodo?'

'Why ye-' began the innocent Sam, before seeing Mithmír's frantic shaking of her head. Then he blushed, and said 'oh' quietly. Frodo nudged him and whispered, 'it's all right Sam. No harm done.'

'Oh but there is!' Sam cried, forgetting his place again. 'See her arms, and the cuts in the cloth on her legs? Why, they've hurt her Mr Frodo, sir! And see the blood on her head!' He fumed with anger, and put his hands indignantly on his hips. 'Well, Mr Faramir, I hope you can explain this, attacking an innocent traveller!'

'Innocent she may be,' said Faramir with a wry smile, 'but nevertheless she attacked one of my soldiers. I cannot let this go unnoticed.' He turned to Firmin. 'Take off her gag.' The man obeyed hastily. Mithmír spat once before speaking.

'What right have you to have done this to me, "Lord" Faramir? What did I do to deserve this?'

In this moment Faramir noticed how strong her face was, how defiant her pose, and how brave and bold she was in the face of danger. His mind was filled with pity and respect, both at once, and he came to her himself and untied her bounds. 'There, my Lady,' he said graciously. 'Forgive us, but you took us quite by surprise.'

Mithmír nodded, and then turned on Sam. 'Sam, you silly hobbit, why did you say you knew me? Oh, you've messed this up now!'

'Do not be so harsh on your companion, Lady,' warned Faramir. 'He did the right thing. Had he not vouched for you, I would have been forced to have you killed; for you wilfully attacked a man of Gondor.'

'Oh,' said Mithmír, somewhat lamely. 'Well, thank you, Sam.' She suddenly felt very small.

'That's alright, lady,' he said kindly.

'So who are you then, warrior maid?' Asked Faramir from his chair once again.

'I am Mithmír, the Daughter of Elves and Men, Ranger of the North.' She said in a stately way. 'Both Lothlorien and Imladris, or Rivendell, I can call my homes.'

There was a murmur of wonder in the crowd of assembled men. Here before them was an elf, a thing of fantasy and story! Here was one who talked of the fabled Golden Wood with easy familiarity!

'And why are you here?'

She didn't answer, setting her jaw firmly. She didn't know how much the hobbits had told. A man from behind her, the best friend of the one she had injured badly, kicked her hard in the square of her back. With a gasp she fell to her knees.

Frodo's anger was uncontrollable. 'How dare you do that to an elf and a lady?' He asked incredulously. 'I thought the men of Gondor were renowned for their valour in combat and their manners at home?'

Faramir stood up, and his face was grave to behold. 'Those sayings are true of our race, Frodo, or so I should like to believe. Greforlan, help the lady up. Politely. She is our guest, and an honoured one at that.'

Mithmír felt a hand, forced into gentleness, take hers, and helped her up. The man let go of her, and then bowed low. 'I beg your pardon for my rudeness: I am blinded by my worry for my companion.'

She curtsied back on shaky legs, and then said to the man as well as the rest of the company: 'I am sorry for the harm I did to the ranger Unkirdon; but I was worried for the safety of my charges, the hobbits, and acted rashly without thought. Forgive me.'

'In your words I perceive two things,' said Faramir quickly. 'Firstly, that you are a lady of high rank, for your manners proclaim so. Secondly your reason for travelling: to protect these hobbits from any danger that might befall them. Am I right?' His eyes met with hers, and held her gaze, until she nodded and replied in the affirmative. 'That is good then!' He said, and sprang up to his feet.

'As I have said to the hobbits, you shall accompany us, if you please, to our camp which is South of here, maybe an hour or three's journey.'

She looked at the hobbits, who nodded that it was alright. 'Very well,' she said with a small smile. 'I will come with you – as long as I am treated with respect, as your reputation says I will.'

The Lord Faramir frowned a little, before saying, 'you shall be treated with all the respect we can give, Lady Elf.' She should have corrected him, but she didn't. The title sounded good to her ears. 'But, our camp is a well-kept secret of Ithilien. It is not that we don't trust you, but we must order that if you come with us, and your hobbit friends, you shall be blindfolded.' Mithmír was shocked and silenced. Faramir must have noticed her horror, for he blushed a little, and said: 'don't fear, my lady, I shall have Tafol here guide you: he is one of my most trusted men.'

She nodded a little.

'Don't worry, lady, if you need us, all you need do is shout.' Sam said in his stout, kindly way.

'My thanks, master hobbit,' she said with a grim laugh. Then she moved her hand perceptibly away from her hip where her dagger was sheathed. 'I trust you, man of Gondor,' she said to Faramir, staring him boldly in the eyes. 'But if you harm a single hair of my companions,' she warned, 'your fate shall be decided: to die on my blade.'

He nodded sincerely. 'And I should accept that fate, lady, for I should deserve it.'

'Then blindfold me first, and then Sam, and Frodo last. That way it shall be proved it is safe.' Faramir nodded to a tall, lean, older man with already greying hair. The man stepped before her, and he was holding a long brown cloth. 'Your pardon, lady,' he said with a bow, and then carefully tied the blindfold firmly around her eyes. She sensed rather than felt his slight flinch of amazement as his hands passed her pointed ears. It made her smile. The man then touched her shoulder softly, telling her he stood to her right side. She already knew this information from her quick hearing, but she thanked him quietly anyway.

There was a long pause with but murmurs of voices while the hobbits were blindfolded, and then Faramir's clear voice proclaimed, 'we march!' And her guard, the man Tafol, took her right arm gently and led her along. His pace was a little slower than she liked, obviously calculated for a maiden's strength. She wanted to laugh: these men, even though they well knew the trials she had faced, still managed to trick themselves into believing that they were stronger than her. Somehow, she promised herself, she would prove her worth to them.

Her keen senses were working all the time she walked; and because of her lack of vision her other four senses were working extra well, or so it seemed. She soon became aware of the smell of blood coming from Tafol's clothing.

'Pulim pedna le?' May I talk with you? She asked in Elvish, without thinking to speak in anything other than her mother-tongue. She sensed the man's pause of shock, before he replied slowly and steadily with remarkable composure.

'I am afraid few men of Gondor speak Elvish anymore, my Lady Elf.'

'I merely asked,' she said, painfully aware of her growing blush, 'if I may speak to you? Or does the Lord Faramir want me to be silent?' There was no sarcasm in her voice.

'Why of course, fair lady,' replied the man evenly. 'But first may I be so bold as to say this: that the Elven speech is even more fair than the stories tell it to be.'

'Nín hannad,' My thanks, she said in Elvish, smiling. She sensed that he saw and was pleased. 'It means "thank you".'

He tried to repeat it; clumsily in her eyes but doubtlessly skilled in the eyes of Men.

'Mae agor.' She smiled. 'Very good. Now then, Tafol, may I speak with you on urgent matters? Or at least,' she reconsidered, 'they may be urgent, depending on your answer.'

'Aye,' he said gruffly, but without malice or unkindness.

'Why is there blood on your clothes? What grim battle has been fought?' She stumbled a little on an unseen rock, but with the nimbleness of a true elf caught her balance instantly.

'We fought a host of the Southronds,' he said with a shiver that she could feel through his grip on her arm. 'And we lost two men, which makes it far worse. They were good fighters, and were not lost for lack of skill but for their courage, which in the end took them too close to the enemy lines.' He huffed. 'They died a great death, my lady. Their families shall be proud. The Southronds are a grim people, evil and a great threat to the Kingdom of Gondor. They follow the Dark Lord like his shadow; except that in this case the shadow is not as dark as the being itself.'

'Did you kill them all?' She was terrified at the thought that she had left the hobbits alone when real enemies wandered.

'We think so, my lady,' he said. 'We think so. But we cannot be sure: some men say that, in the very hour of our victory, they saw a group of only two or three escape to the South, past our lines. We cannot prove or disprove this.'

'Be on your guard then.'

'We are, my lady, but "nín hannad" anyway.'

'Your Elvish improves, knight! Surely you have had practise at the tongue?'

'Yay and nay, my lady,' he said in his soft manner. 'My father, the memory of whom I treasure, spoke a little. By the reckoning of Men he spoke it well; but to the Elves…' He laughed softly. 'He was but an unlearned child, stumbling on the words and phrases of an ancient language far beyond his comprehension. I guess I picked up a little from him. Phrases are not remembered by me, but I can remember some pronunciation…'

'Surely your father was a learned man to know so much,' she said in wonder.

'He was a member of the Royal Guard, and high in rank. He was taught by the very best tutors of Middle Earth. Well, the very best human tutors,' he laughed a little. 'He only ever met three elves face-to-face; and one of these was on his deathbed. Pray forgive me, Lady Elf, if I regale you not with that story. His recent death still pains me.'

'Of course, ranger of Ithilien.'

'And I must ask of you also this: we have fallen behind the other travellers now. We must quit talking, if it does not displease you too greatly, so as we can walk faster and catch the others.'

'Of course!' She said. 'Lead the way, trusted Tafol.'