The Tale of a Warrior Maid
Chapter three
Kesteral took up the rear as the trio traveled through the narrow
path. Up ahead she could hear the elven brothers talking in low voices.
From what she could make out they too had defied the wishes of their
caretaker. The twins' father had begged them to travel with their kin to
the Undying Lands, but they had been born and raised in Middle Earth and
could not stand to leave it for some other land, no matter how glorious. So
they like several others choose to remain in Lothlorien. In fact it was
their unwavering love for Middle Earth that urged them to travel to Gondor.
As their conversation continued Kesteral learned more about the threat she
would be facing. The Haradrim of the Haradwaith had joined forces with the
few orcs and Uruk-Hai that remained. This massive army was under the
command of Emperor Pharazon a Black Numenorien who had managed to escape
the wrath of the Valar. He was intent on the domination of all the free-
people of Middle Earth. Rumors told that he was also planning to attack
Valinor if his invasion of Middle Earth succeeded. Kesteral dearly wished
she could plunge a dagger into Pharazon's cold dark heart.
"There is a thorn bush reaching out onto the path here, so you may want to watch your step," Therindell warned as he glided onto the far right of the path. Haradwë followed suit. But when Kesteral attempted to dodge it, it grabbed tightly to the rip in her dress.
"Valar" she cursed tugging the gown free and tearing it even farther up her leg.
"One of the reasons many men think that women can't fight is that the gowns they are forced to whear do not handle wilderness travel very well. I have a pair of spare pants in my pack that you can have. There is a clearing up a head where we can set up camp; you can change out of that mess when we get there," Haradwë offered.
"Thank you," Kesteral replied, grateful that she would no longer need to where a dress, but also wondering how she would fit her five foot one frame into pants belonging to a six foot ten elf.
As they entered the clearing Kesteral could see that a small creek trickled passed by on its right side. She dropped her pack of and immediately began to gather stones from the creek bed to construct a fire pit. Haradwë began to remove several packages of food from his bag as well as the spare pants. Therindell searched the area for some fire wood.
"Here" Haradwë said tossing the pants to Kesteral, "Try these on, you will find them much better then that dress."
"Kesteral headed off into the woods to change, and found that although the pants fit her well in the waist and legs, they where nearly two feet to long. She pulled up the legs and returned to the camp where she was greeted with a fit of laughter from the brothers.
"I told you they would be to long!" Therindell laughed as he tried to start the fire.
"We'll just have to cut them," Haradwë huffed.
"Will that be okay, I don't want to ruin them?" Kesteral asked as she unsheathed one of her knives.
"Go ahead, I haven't worn those pants for centuries," Haradwë replied as he continued to unwrap the food.
Only half an hour later the travelers sat around a fire munching on lembas and apples. Kesteral felt much more comfortable in the men's clothing, having added a spare shirt from her own pack to the pants. The brothers were sharing stories of past adventures and from them Kesteral could tell that they could not be too old as their stories never spoke of events beyond the final journey of the Ring of Power. She estimated that they where only a few hundred years old, quite young for elves. She herself was only eighteen.
As the moon rose higher in the sky the trio cast lots for first watch. Kesteral lost and so she settled herself by the fire with a pipe. Her smoking habit had bothered most everyone she had met. "Pipeweed is for Halflings, Vagabonds and deranged wizards, not young women," an old lady in a local town had told her. But as Kesteral was half Hobbit, and had been raised by a wizard she saw no problem with carrying a pipe. Besides she rarely smoked, except when she needed to stay awake. After such a long day, it would be difficult to keep from falling asleep.
As the night grew deeper Kesteral put her pipe back into her pack and woke up Therindell for second watch. She then unrolled her blanket and settled into a deep sleep.
"There is a thorn bush reaching out onto the path here, so you may want to watch your step," Therindell warned as he glided onto the far right of the path. Haradwë followed suit. But when Kesteral attempted to dodge it, it grabbed tightly to the rip in her dress.
"Valar" she cursed tugging the gown free and tearing it even farther up her leg.
"One of the reasons many men think that women can't fight is that the gowns they are forced to whear do not handle wilderness travel very well. I have a pair of spare pants in my pack that you can have. There is a clearing up a head where we can set up camp; you can change out of that mess when we get there," Haradwë offered.
"Thank you," Kesteral replied, grateful that she would no longer need to where a dress, but also wondering how she would fit her five foot one frame into pants belonging to a six foot ten elf.
As they entered the clearing Kesteral could see that a small creek trickled passed by on its right side. She dropped her pack of and immediately began to gather stones from the creek bed to construct a fire pit. Haradwë began to remove several packages of food from his bag as well as the spare pants. Therindell searched the area for some fire wood.
"Here" Haradwë said tossing the pants to Kesteral, "Try these on, you will find them much better then that dress."
"Kesteral headed off into the woods to change, and found that although the pants fit her well in the waist and legs, they where nearly two feet to long. She pulled up the legs and returned to the camp where she was greeted with a fit of laughter from the brothers.
"I told you they would be to long!" Therindell laughed as he tried to start the fire.
"We'll just have to cut them," Haradwë huffed.
"Will that be okay, I don't want to ruin them?" Kesteral asked as she unsheathed one of her knives.
"Go ahead, I haven't worn those pants for centuries," Haradwë replied as he continued to unwrap the food.
Only half an hour later the travelers sat around a fire munching on lembas and apples. Kesteral felt much more comfortable in the men's clothing, having added a spare shirt from her own pack to the pants. The brothers were sharing stories of past adventures and from them Kesteral could tell that they could not be too old as their stories never spoke of events beyond the final journey of the Ring of Power. She estimated that they where only a few hundred years old, quite young for elves. She herself was only eighteen.
As the moon rose higher in the sky the trio cast lots for first watch. Kesteral lost and so she settled herself by the fire with a pipe. Her smoking habit had bothered most everyone she had met. "Pipeweed is for Halflings, Vagabonds and deranged wizards, not young women," an old lady in a local town had told her. But as Kesteral was half Hobbit, and had been raised by a wizard she saw no problem with carrying a pipe. Besides she rarely smoked, except when she needed to stay awake. After such a long day, it would be difficult to keep from falling asleep.
As the night grew deeper Kesteral put her pipe back into her pack and woke up Therindell for second watch. She then unrolled her blanket and settled into a deep sleep.