Mireloth had never been more grateful to see Avarion in all her life.  After he had driven the insane Elf out of the tent, he immediately tended to Mireloth.  Her wrist was darkly bruised and a little swollen.  Avarion wrapped her wrist in cool cloths to ease the pain.  Mireloth was too shocked to do much more than sit on the patient bed.  Then she noticed something glitter just inside the tent entrance.  A knife?  Mireloth went over and picked it up.  It was certainly a beautiful creation, as lovely as it was deadly.  The blade itself was nearly a foot long, with ivory and silver laid into the handle.  Mireloth read the inscription on the blade: May this blade bring luck to the Lord Celegorm's hunt.  She shuddered at the name.  Wasn't Celegorm the one Avarion had warned her about?  Mireloth had no desire to see that one again.  But, in her heart, she knew that she would.  A hunter was not likely to take the loss of his blade well.  Especially since I'm the one who caused him to lose it, Mireloth thought.  The blade probably slid out of the sheath when she struck Celegorm.  "Mireloth?  May I see your wrist?"  She didn't notice Avarion regarding her again.  She nodded, and Avarion carefully unwrapped her wrist, trying not to cause any more pain.  Mireloth had always marveled how gentle Avarion was, with her or a random soldier.  She did love him, but her love was as a daughter to a father.  She knew that Avarion was married, with two delightful children.  She also knew that Avarion felt the same way.  Mireloth was too young for him in any case, having just attained her majority two years before.  Her thoughts went back to her newly acquired knife.  To return it or to keep it, that was the question?  Mireloth decided she would think about it when she could keep her thoughts in better order.

            Celegorm was still not entirely sure what had just happened.  The best he remembered, he had gone to teach a young healer a lesson in manners, and the wench had broken a jar over his head.  Celegorm walked back to the place where he and his brothers were staying in order to collect his thoughts.  Maedhros noticed the sizeable lump on his head the moment he walked in, and quickly guessed what happened.  "You went after that young healer, didn't you?" he asked.

"Why?  Is it that obvious, dear brother?" Celgorm answered sarcastically.

"You threatened her, she got frightened, and she struck you.  Am I correct?"

"Yes."

"Well, I can't say that you did not deserve it, Celegorm." 

"Oh, just shut up."

"Celegorm, please heed some advice from one older and more experienced.  Ladies of any race do not like being threatened.  Be more gentle in your advances; they tend to respond better."

            Celegorm did not have the faintest idea what his brother was talking about.  Advances?  Maedhros made it sound as if Celegorm desired to wed the girl.  Not that she would accept him.  Celegorm reached for his hunting blade, as he often toyed with is when he needed distraction.  Why was it not in its sheath?  Gone?  Celegorm had a suspicion as to where the blade was.  He sighed.  This would mean confronting that girl again.  Hmm, perhaps it need not be a bad thing, he thought.  Few had ever bested him before.  True, the girl had only grabbed the closest thing to her and hit him with it.  Celegorm found himself in the middle of one of his famous mood swings.  He went from discomfort at seeing the girl again to intrigue. Perhaps she could be a distraction in place of his lost blade.