Right folks. I am REEEAALLY sorry about this WAAAYYY overdue chapter update, but I had a writer's block on this thing!

It was horrible. But this is the initiation- and Vanimelda takes another name- and a new path forwards.

SarahWeasley- I'm so sorry! I had a writer's block with this thing!

7doom: I hope you're still interested! Thank you so much!

Chapter Thirteen

Destiny and Empowerment

Vanimelda found herself staring at the Valar once again.

"So this is to be my destiny then?" She asked.

"Yes," Varda answered. "Until the time comes for you to go home again."

"Home?" Vanimelda asked completely bewildered. The word sounded utterly unknown and foreign to her mouth and mind.

"I have no home," she said incredulously. As soon as she said it, did the words ring true, shaking her to her very core. Lindon the home she had been born in, could no longer be counted as her home. She felt that was not worthy of it. She had abandoned it, though not of her own choice, and the Noldor had mostly left because her father had left no apparent heir and they, being so diminished after the War of the Last Alliance, had mostly died or left for Valinor.

Vorondo had travelled from place to place with her, carrying her in a harp. The rude, awful hellhole of a shack owned by those two, monstrous, cruel-hearted peasants would never be a home to her, any more than Sapzôr's cottage. A house, a cottage, a palace, or a manor, it didn't matter. Home was where ones' loved ones were. And her loved ones had mostly gone.

Varda raised an eyebrow, seemingly in surprise. "Your home is where you make it, Vanimelda. And here, you shall always have a home here, as do all the Eldar."

Valinor. She had only ever heard her parents' tales of it. She never thought of it as a home. Especially when she heard that her mother could not come back.

But she did come back. She was in the Halls of Mandos, was she not? Did she suffer the Eternal Doom? If so how did she manage to commune with Vanimelda? Was she a ghost? No, wraiths and phantoms were not like that. They did not have the warmth, trustworthiness, purity and guidance that she did.

"I can't come to Valinor," she said slowly. "I am of the blood of Fëanáro. He who suffered the Doom of Mandos, as did his sons, including my own grandfather."

The Valar looked at each other and sighed.

"Truly?" It was Námo who spoke. He actually groaned. "Was that what the chroniclers said? Was that what your mother told you from what she remembered as a young child?"

Vanimelda didn't dare say more.

"Child," he said. "It was what I was sent to say. A test. Did you honestly think I would punish innocent along with the guilty? That I would overlook good deeds in favour of ill ones? Did you truly think that we would punish a small child, by taking away the ones she loved, and then condemning her as well? And her child after that?"

"Vanimelda," Varda said, sternly yet gently. "You will always have a home. And you will never be alone. Your mother finally understood that to forgive oneself is harder than it is to forgive others. Can you not do the same? Can you trust in us that we will not punish the innocent along with the guilty?"

Vanimelda sighed. "I will try. But I admit, I am someone still searching for a reason- to live, to believe, to trust- I no longer have my parents with me- save my mother and she isn't there in person. Vorondo, my foster-father, is dead. My two foster-parents were the worst kind to raise a child. I have no one save for Almarië- a doll. My mother only appears in apparitions. I am, in fact, alone."

"No child," Queen Varda shook her head. "You are not alone. You will never be alone."

And with that Varda reached out her hand and touched Vanimelda's forehead.

All Vanimelda saw was a burst of golden light. Then she saw cities rising. Glittering cities of such magnificent beauty no one- elf, human or dwarf- could possibly imagine it.

She saw all kinds of people- including the ones from when she gazed upon the tapestry that included her life.

There were many unfinished gaps. But some parts were clear.

She knew what she had to do.

"Your name Elenñaltë Vanimelda Ereinioniel must be kept a secret," Varda decreed. Therefore take up the name that we have given you, when you come into your destiny. The name Tinweriel."

Tinweriel. The name meant maiden crowned with a garland of stars. A sign that Varda had blessed her for her to have given her that name.

She very well couldn't parade her true names out to the world. So why not call her what the Valar chose for her?

Her destiny. It seemed so hard, yet so easy. So unreal, yet the only clear way forward for her.

"Now you must go, child." Varda and all the other Valar stood.

"Go, child. And remember, you are not alone. You will never be alone. Go with the blessing of the One." Manwë intoned.

And at that, a sudden rush of light burst forth from the spaces behind each of the thrones of the Valar, and from behind her, in a door that had suddenly appeared between two of the thrones. She felt herself being pulled backwards, through great, blinding light, the last thing she saw before she was gone, was the figure of Manwë raising his hand in farewell.

Vanimelda gasped, feeling the sudden rush of air in her lungs, and suddenly realising that she had not breathed during all this time. She had- as soon as she awoke- pulled her head from the tree, jolting away in shock.

Now I know my destiny. The way forwards is clear. And it pulls me.

She climbed down from the tree, still in awe, still in some form of trance.

The apparition of her mother smiled. "And so it is clear." Estela murmured.

The Shieldmaiden's initiation was almost complete. Now came the vows.

Her mother handed Vanimelda the sword she would use, and she knelt, reciting the words, the vows that her mother and so many others had made.

"Remember this day, and remember your words, for they shall be your life, your breath, your sustenance and water." Estela said the ritual words. "Others may fall and others may betray their oaths, their friends, their children even, but never you. No shieldmaiden has ever broken her vows, and no shieldmaiden ever will, so long as you uphold them too. Never forget, for we lived and gave our blood for you in death."

"Násië," Vanimelda murmured. "I never shall, not even when my fëa is being parted from my hröa right before my eyes. For on this day, you have given me breath and the purpose in life, Amil."

"Just as I did once before." Estela murmured. She placed her transparent, glowing hands on Vanimelda's shoulders. As if a blessing being passed down from mother to daughter. "Rise, a shieldmaiden. Welcome, daughter and sister."

Vanimelda rose and sheathed her sword. Her eyes shone and she smiled with all the gladness she had as she looked at her mother. But while her mother smiled, her eyes bore pain and sadness beyond imagining. She knew it wasn't the life her mother wanted for her- but it was the fate of the Eldar. Her fate was already determined. It was the only road forwards if she wanted to survive.

"Take Almarië." Her mother warned. "Go to the east. There are kingdoms being subjected under the cruelty of slave-masters and tyrants. People, of all kinds and races, are in peril. This is your task. This is your duty. Now it begins." She touched Vanimelda's pendant. "Go now."

Vanimelda practiced harder and faster than ever just before she left.

She needed to leave quickly. She had a long journey ahead of her.

It would take years. She knew that now. But her fate would not be that of Lúthien's, Idril or Finduilas. No, her fate was her own.

And as she rode on, she sensed the drums pounding in preparation for war.

People were being whipped.

They were mostly humans. This was as far eastwards as she dared to go at first. And she was still not anywhere near the Rhûn.

One woman… Was being beaten by a man.

She was human. Her features were that of the west of Middle-Earth, possibly a Northwoman, but her features also suggested Easterling blood. Half and half, possibly. Or a quarter.

Vanimelda's eyes glinted as the woman shrieked, while the man bore a riding crop hard upon her. It took all her instinct not to surge forwards. But she would be outnumbered, no matter how skilled. And the woman, she had a bad feeling, would be in even more trouble afterwards. And then what? Who would help them then?

She would be outnumbered, anyway, Vanimelda thought. But if she could…

And then she knew.

She waited until the man marched away. He staggered, and was drunk, she noticed him lifting a green glass bottle to his lips and then taking a huge swig before staggering away.

Meanwhile the woman lay unconscious it seemed, in the mud, the rain fell, soaking her, droplets making muddy puddles of water. Her wounds, which were considerable, would become seriously infected if she didn't act now. Luckily, all of the witnesses, which had been laughing amongst themselves, and drinking, walked away.

The village was small, alright. But it had a number of people- and not a small number either, Vanimelda noted.

It would take time, but they could afford it.

Vanimelda saw the last of them leave, and then she crept forwards. She lifted the woman up and carried her away to a shelter she had just built where no one could find it without her permission.

The woman was unconscious alright. Vanimelda bathed her, cleaning the wounds and smearing them with medicines and pastes before bandaging them in soft cloth before putting one of nightgowns on her. She had noted the large number of scars and welts- once, even burn marks that looked suspiciously like someone had branded her with hot iron. She swallowed back her rage. She prepared pain-killing drinks and Miruvor for the girl to drink.

Soon enough, with the fire's light and warmth, the woman awoke. Vanimelda was waiting for her. She gasped in awe, more than shock.

"Do not be afraid," Vanimelda whispered to her softly in Westron. "What is your name?"

The woman swallowed. She had a round face with browned skin and dark brown hair and eyes. "Adel," she said. "My name is Adel."

Vanimelda smiled. "Adel," she said softly. "I am Tinweriel."

Adel spoke to her for a time. She was the daughter of a man, who gave her in marriage at the earliest opportunity to the man she had seen.

Women at this region did not have any say in any matter whatsoever. Even if it concerned their lives. They could not vote on new laws and rulers. They could not own property or businesses. If a man so much as lays a hand on them, it was perfectly fine, as long as he was a father, a husband, a brother or any kind of blood-relative. Unless they were masters and the women were slaves- in that case that was perfectly fine to hurt them no matter if they didn't share blood. And yes, slavery was certainly practiced here. Even though the Free Peoples of Middle Earth prohibited slavery, it ran rampant- as long as no one important from anywhere well-known, such as Gondor, caught them, then it was perfectly fine. But slave or not, women weren't allowed in the streets- unless they wanted to be attacked and taken by force with crowds jeering at them.

Adel could not choose who she married. Her father had arranged a marriage with her to a much older man. To an elf in which love is the basis for a legal marriage, it was incomprehensible to Vanimelda. But humans here, she learnt, did things differently.

They were Northmen who had migrated east in search of richer lands, long ago. These were their descendants. Adel's father had arranged a marriage with a man, twice her age. He was not very bright. He was lazy and arrogant, and he had a lot of weight. He was, as Vanimelda herself had witnessed, abusive and sadistic. But he had a fair amount of wealth. He had social status in that small town, densely populated as it was, and he was respected- though not for the right reasons. He was her father's ally in business and the small, petty politics- if there were any, and not a bureaucracy completely run with corruption- and while her father had made all the decisions in her life beforehand, her husband now ran her existence like a slave-master.

Adel drank what Vanimelda gave her.

"You are an elf," she noted seeing her ears. "Why did you come so far east?"

Vanimelda took a deep breath. "I was looking for you."

Adel was startled and almost dropped the cup. "F-for me?" She stuttered. "But I don't-"

"Not for you specifically," Vanimelda sighed. "Some elves have… A gift and a curse, as you can call it. I can see things that lie ahead…. And behind. The past, the present and the future."

Adel's eyes were wide.

"I saw many people," Vanimelda confirmed. "And then I was initiated. I became a shieldmaiden."

Adel looked confused. "A what?"

"A shieldmaiden. A woman-warrior."

Adel's eyes were so massive they were the size of dinner platters. "Impossible," she whispered. "No woman could be-"

"Oh," Vanimelda scoffed. "Is that what the man who beat you told you? How about the men who jeered and laughed at you while you were suffering, and they were ridiculously drunk. Wine-sodden, as a matter of fact. And you believe them? Do you actually believe what they say?"

Adel flushed. She looked down.

Vanimelda looked disgusted. "I never understand why humans adhere to gender roles. I mean, most females prefer sewing to men, but to stamp upon such laws that allow for abuse- it is nothing short of tyranny. Laws are meant to protect people, not allow for harm. At least not the laws I lived under."

"And what do you live under?" Adel asked. She sipped the brew.

"The shieldmaiden's code of honour," Vanimelda explained. "But as I was saying, we elves allow women to fight like the men if they so choose- most don't but some, including my mother in her time, and I, do. We have no choice if we want to survive. And while you can say that the men will protect you, men have always died in battle- valiantly and with nobility and great courage- but they still died. And who defends the women then?" She looked at Adel straight in the eye. "No one, that is for sure. No one will defend you, if you do not defend yourself."

Adel flushed and looked down again. "But even if I could, I am a human. We are not allowed…" But she trailed off when she saw Vanimelda's face.

"Listen to me," she said dangerously. "There are shieldmaidens outside of this place. A number of them are Northwomen, like your ancestors. The Éothéod- the horse-lords- are Northmen in descent- and they have had great shieldmaidens! Why should you be any different?"

"Because it's not allowed!" She nearly cried. "My father, or my husband, any man in this town would kill me or sell me into slavery if they found out." Vanimelda was shaking her head. "And no one would say anything?" She shook her head again. "This place is corrupt, Adel. And you can choose- to serve a law that protects the innocent and the helpless, or to harm them. Do you have any children?"

She shook her head. "Will you?"

She flushed. "I'd like to, but I can't imagine him as the father." She replied, shuddering.

"Then imagine if you had a daughter. Would you love her?" Vanimelda demanded, eyes blazing.

"Of course."

"Would you die for her as my mother, and any good mother would, to protect her?"

"Well- I don't have any children." She flushed again. "And my mother died when I was very young."

"So did mine," Vanimelda said heavily. "But she gave me strength. And when and if I should ever marry and have children, I shall bring down Angband to protect them if I had to. Since I cannot, I can protect you. But not if you don't let me."

Adel looked at her wide-eyed. "I can protect you, but choose: what law do you wish to serve- the one that oppresses you, or the one that will protect you and all your children in the future?"

"The one that protects," Adel admitted. "But… If they find out? If they know?"

"Then I will protect you," Vanimelda swore. "I have fought orcs and monsters before." She murmured. In a trance, but still. "I can teach you- show you how. And if they come for you, I can save you- better yet I can help you save yourself. And others who need my help when the time comes."

Adel looked at her.

She showed her a carved image- of a woman, holding a babe at her breast, while battling orcs and trolls with a sword with another hand.

"Protect, or die and let them die," Vanimelda said sternly, eyes never leaving Adel's.

"A shieldmaiden once confronted an ordinary woman whose babes had been slain by enemy soldiers," Vanimelda said softly but clearly. "When the woman wept the shieldmaiden told her it was her fault her babes died, because she lifted not a finger to save them. She slapped her in the face. 'Only do and speak of what only you can do and say,' she told her. 'For that is done by your type of maids. And while men and women wait on you hand and foot, of course you are satisfied and of course you learn to do nothing yourself. And of course you lifted not a finger when your babes were swung by their feet and their skulls smashed upon the cold stone wall.'" Vanimelda finished.

"She later confronted the enemy herself- and defeated them. Although shieldmaidens fall as male warriors do, not all of them do, and a number have retired, married, bore children and grandchildren. One even had a granddaughter who became a shieldmaiden after her. These were not women so different from you, Adel. They did not start off with everything in life. When my parents died, I had nothing. And yet…" She smiled. "You want a chance in life? A chance to protect and save yourself and the ones you love? I can give it to you. I can save you- and I can teach you to survive- like I have- without the need for that man. If you have no other bread, than swallow his evils. But you have me. You have me to give you your chance, and I am giving you that chance. If you want to take it."

Vanimelda held out her hand. "Remember," she said. "I once had nothing. I once had been beaten and enslaved. Now I do not need servitude to keep me fed. If you can make a place for yourself in the world, then you can marry someday, make fine children, be happy- and above all- have a future that you want and deserve- not as a slave and a bed-warmer with the title of wife. No woman deserves to be treated as such."

Adel looked stared. And then she took Vanimelda's hand. "What must I do?" She asked.

Vanimelda smiled.

"Go back to your husband and give him all the food and wine he would need to make him fatter and lazier." She said. "Pretend that there is nothing amiss. Then when he is greedily consuming all you have laid out on the table, give him this." She handed Adel a packet. "It's harmless. A strong sleeping draught. Mix it in his hot drink. Then when he is snoring in bed, and cannot harm you, make sure no one is watching, then come here. Tell no one about me. Not for now."

Adel took the packet of herbs and nodded.

He was sodden alright. He had gobbled and stuffed himself with the hot food she had laid out, draining the wine dry. Then he yelled at her to clean up, and clean the mess at the floor, while he went to bed. She did so, and soon he was snoring.

Then, putting on a hooded cloak, she slipped quietly out when no one was watching.

Her heart pounding in her rib-cage, Adel made it.

She was standing there. Dressed in a surcoat and a beautifully moulded leather breastplate. Her hair was tied back. Greaves were on her shins, and her arms were covered.

She smiled. "You made it." She shone. "I knew you would."

"Now, are you ready for this?" she asked seriously, warily. "I would not force you to do what you don't want to do, even if it means saving your life. Onlyyou can choose to have your chance for a good life and freedom."

Adel eagerly nodded.

"Do you wish to fight for your future sons and daughters? For your freedom? Do you wish to be free of that man, and for him never to father your children or be near you?"

Again, she nodded.

Vanimelda smiled. She tossed her a wooden sword. "Practice." She began. "This is shaped like a sword, although it is clearly wood. Now I want to see you hold it, first."

Vanimelda came over. She frowned. She touched her hand gently and guided the fingers into position. "Tighter," she instructed. "But not too tight. Move your grip… Here." She guided it again, gently. "There. Start with the sword first. Then I'll teach you how to stalk a deer in silence and to bring it down with an arrow over a hundred yards away." Adel's eyes widened and she brightened. Vanimelda laughed softly. "You will never depend on him for food again."

Slowly, she learned how to use a sword. First, she was shown how to raise the sword as if to strike. The best way to parry. Then she sparred in slow-motion, with her teacher, they kept it up, gaining in momentum, only gradually. She was shown how to block and strike in ways and angles she could have never imagined- and ways that she was certain, the town's guards never could- Vanimelda had told so herself with a wink. Adel had brightened considerably and soon they were sparring more and more quickly. "Don't be afraid," she had been told when she had first started to spar more quickly. "Let go."

And it went on for a few weeks. As soon as the moon was high in the sky, and her husband was snoring, and no one was around, Adel would sneak to Vanimelda.

"I'll be giving you real challenges," she warned Adel. "Don't expect to win- as an immortal-" she had told Adel elves were- "And as I have been fighting for longer than you have, I have had more experience. But promise me one thing- don't judge for yourself how good or how bad you are. For this time, and this time only, leave the judging to me. Don't think about it. I won't be. Just concentrate on the fight and have fun."

She did. And they kept, hacking, and striking, aiming blows, twisting and turning, swinging the wooden swords without losing their grip, spinning themselves and the 'blades', jumping, parrying and blocking aiming in the least expected places. It was the most thrilling experience the human girl had ever had. Even though she lost, when her teacher disarmed her, and tossed the blade aside, the brilliant smile that outshone the moon on her teacher's face told her one thing. "You have passed." She said. "You might not have beaten me, but I am certain, the guards of this town would fall like wheat before you."

They moved onto the spear. Vanimelda personally didn't like the spear as much as the sword and bow. She wasn't like her father in this sense, who fought mostly with Aeglos. But she was excellent and she had already seen her father fight, before she even learned how to. And now she carved long spears from fallen branches melded together, and with a keen edge.

It would be a while before she allowed Adel to use real weapons. But soon.

After making satisfactory progress they moved on.

She began to teach her how to use a bow. Until she could shoot something at such a great distance, not even the Númenóreans had as much skill as this ordinary human woman with the bow.

It was a while. After various different angles, practicing how to shoot in positions where no enemy or predator would be able to spot her, it was a while before Adel was deemed ready to move onto the next parts.

Shooting and fighting with sword and spear on horseback.

Mounted archers were something the Easterlings- and her mother- prized in their armies. So with her own horse, Vanimelda taught her to shoot an arrow, bend her now-lithe body backwards until she could shoot upside down, twist around, launch several arrows at a time, and to strike with sword and spear whilst riding at any speed. How to stand on the saddle- partially- hooking the horse's reins with her feet temporarily. It wasn't easy for her- especially since she was very much human- it was hard, back-breaking work and Vanimelda wouldn't stop until she was satisfied. But she didn't have to master it to such an extraordinary degree just yet. Just enough to be a completely formidable opponent and stun an enemy long enough.

'Tinweriel' taught her how to track an animal with so little sound even the sharp ears of a deer or a wolf could not hear her approach. Her tracking lessons.

How shoot at a moving target was completely different. But Adel surprisingly took it quickly. Vanimelda was more pleased than she could ever say.

Then came a conversation:

"Adel," 'Tinweriel' asked quietly one evening.

"Do you wish to stay here all your life?"

Adel frowned.

"I mean, do you love this place?" Vanimelda went on gently, once again making eye-contact with her pupil. "I see you- and others- being treated so abominably here. The accused do not even get a fair trial- and the punishments for minor offences are so harsh- such as stealing- it isn't an inexcusable crime, actually- but people are starving. I can see that. They are living hand-to-mouth here and no child is being fed enough. I've been to other places. Children of ten, for example, are larger than that boy whose mother was a seamstress three streets from where you live." Adel stiffened and then looked down.

"People are poor here," Adel said finally. "Things… Never change."

"There is no future here," Vanimelda said softly, not taking her eyes off her pupil's.

"No," Adel agreed, shaking her head. "And the land is barren. People can't get a decent crop here. That's why most of our food comes elsewhere."

Vanimelda frowned. "What about these woods?" She asked. "Does no one get food here?"

Adel shook her head. "It's too dangerous." She said. "The lord thinks these woods are his- and that it's haunted."

"Ah," Vanimelda said dryly. "Well, it isn't. I've checked." The two of them chuckled softly for a while.

"If you could get out of here," Vanimelda began. "Would you?"

Adel looked up, the fire of eagerness in her brown eyes.

"Yes." Then her face fell. "What about the others?"

Vanimelda took a deep breath. "That's what I want to talk to you about. We can't just leave them behind- unless they want to stay."

'Tinweriel' talked to Adel more, and Adel decided to find out whom she could trust in this town and who was just as discontent. It was hard. Most of them were living under fear. The rest were corrupt and untrustworthy. But Tinweriel told her to take it slow. "Find one first," she had instructed Adel. "Then more when the time is right."

Eventually Adel did find someone- another young woman. Her eyes filled with awe when she beheld Vanimelda. Adel introduced them- Vanimelda as Tinweriel- and the young woman's name was Hazel. And she agreed.

The two of them trained- Vanimelda now had Adel to help Hazel out and demonstrate and Adel had someone to practice with besides her teacher.

Hazel was in awe of her, Vanimelda noted. It wasn't hard to see- in fact it was the most obvious thing in Eä. She was awestruck at her when she looked at her, and again, when she saw her fight and demonstrate. And again when she saw what Adel could now do- what the town guards and most- if not all- knights- could not do. Adel herself was bashful and embarrassed, but quite happy about it. She helped Hazel out as best as she could.

When it was done the two also learnt military order and discipline. And a bit about strategy. "Being educated is most important," Vanimelda explained. "A dumb brute and a bully may bash you out, and a large army but someone smaller, quicker and cleverer knows ways to defeat them, just as there is more than one way to strike a person."

But they didn't have too much time.

Hazel was a bar-tender- her parents had died when she was young, leaving her with a sour-pickled aunt who hit her with a birch stick and yelled at her all the time to clean the house, and brew and draw the ale and beers for the patrons who often insulted and touched her in places she hated. Her uncle- her aunt's husband- was a leery, licentious man who more than once threatened to take her violently and abuse her, or sell her to someone who would.

Hazel was nearly out of time. She was young, and unmarried and soon the young men would come- they would sell her to the first person they saw, if not the highest bidder. Or else a person of the worst sort like the town's captain of the guards- just to spite her- her aunt would do it.

She didn't have much time. So she was pressed to improve.

They needed more recruits.

It was a while, before Vanimelda hesitatingly, proposed her plan. It was just a proposition. But while they would have been frightened before, these two were definitely determined now.

They went out into the towns. Searching for more people- there was the two twins- a boy and a girl named Eric and Aggy. After seeing what these two girls could do- the twins- brow-beaten servants who were one-step above slaves themselves- readily agreed. They were filled with the fire and vigour of life and hated the towns' corrupt rulers, drunkards and bullying guards.

They were trained. And again, there were more people- there were the slaves- slaves of the lord of the town- Cardi and Dera- women who were both Dunlendings and captured in battle when they were young- by raiders. Saradoc- a Dunlending slave and youth also a captive of war. Tor, Sigurd- guardsmen who had been punished severely for refusing to harm someone who might have been innocent, by torture. Harald had been harassed and deep in debt to swindlers- he was so deep in debt to the town's lord now, that they were threatening to take his only daughter for servitude in the lord's household- and no doubt abuse of the worst kind. He had been alarmed, and at first reluctant to participate in anything with women in it, but at the mass protests of the others and 'Tinweriel's' reasoning, he slowly agreed. And he certainly did not regret, even though he had at first been reluctant to allow his only daughter to participate.

There were more that came. And they were trained. Soon they had enough.

Too much cannot participate all at once. So Stig the smith forged weapons and his apprentice helped him. Soon they would have enough.

Vanimelda readied the plans. They all agreed. Soon they would strike.

Vanimelda looked at maps, and consulted experts on the town and the surrounding area. She knew a village lay nearby.

But she could wait. She went to the other village with some of her closest followers.

Soon they had enough and agreed with Tinweriel and left with her.

Then before anyone noticed their disappearance, they struck.

It was Hazel that made the call.

Her drunken uncle had- after the pub closed- tried to abuse her. She didn't let it happen.

"No." She said firmly.

Her drunken uncle stared with his bleary, drunken eyes, to see something like the grown formidable lady warrior, she had become.

But he blinked. He hiccupped and took another swig from his tankard.

"What did you say to me?" He asked. "You know as your only male relative, I have rights to sell you to any man I chose. Instead, your aunt and I kept you, fed you, clothed you-"

"To be your slave," Hazel snapped. "You have no goodness in your heart. But no more. I am not the frightened little girl you once tried to violate, uncle. And no one has rights over me- especially the likes of you!"

Her uncle reddened and stood, knocking over the chair in his drunken rage. He grabbed her arm, but before he could do anything, Hazel was the one who twisted his arm, and placed her foot behind his feet, making him fall. Stunned, he tried to get up. When he managed to clamber to his feet, Hazel was ready and waiting for him patiently.

With a drunken roar, he aimed a blow, but she side-stepped it easily, grabbed his arm, punched him in the face, kicked him in the gut, and when he doubled over wheezing, she kneed him in the groin.

Then she calmly went and retrieved the weapon Vanimelda and Stig had given her.

Her uncle's face reddened. "Why, I'll show you-" And just when he aimed another blow at her, she struck with her blade. It lopped off her uncle's arm and then when he stared, his eyes bugging in shock at the stump which was pouring blood, she hit him in the face, with the pommel of her sword and then sliced her sword at his throat.

There was a gasp. Hazel looked up to see her aunt. Her eyes bugged. "My husband!" She shrieked. "You little-" But before she could finish her sentence, and while she aimed to lunge at her and scratch her eyes out, Hazel sliced her weapon at her, and that was the end.

Calmly she went outside. The shock of what she had done still lingered but she gave the signal. The sound of a screech owl.

That was it.

They moved into place. Tinweriel looked at the men she had assigned for this task- as they were field hands- and gave the orders.

The townsfolk saw the smoke at the distance. And the light. The fields- not the storehouses- their precious source of grain meagre as it was- were on fire!

They shouted and ran at the distance. But it wasn't one field. Other parts of the town were afire too. It was carefully controlled by Vanimelda so that it would not spread and harm the ones who were innocent. But soon, an arrow lodged itself in a guard's throat. Then they attacked near one of the fields where some of the guards and landowners had ran to investigate.

They realised too late that they were being ambushed. And these were the most formidable fighters, compared to the drunken, slightly fattened, brawny guards who relied on brutality rather than skill to enforce their law.

But before they could sound the alarm, in another field they were being attacked.

The attackers dealt with them. Again, a third field was attacked. But this time they managed to blow a horn and sound the alarm. Too late.

Tinweriel stood on a hill at a distance. And all around the town, they charged.

The attack was outstanding. A few escaped- but that was because Vanimelda allowed it. They would flee to the nearest town. But if these neighbours thought it was nothing, they were sorely mistaken. They hadn't even shown a great deal of their skill in combat at this point, which was what Tinweriel emphasized in her instructions. She made it quite clear.

The force that came from the next town were two-hundred-and-fifty at least- good odds. They thought they would not face much. But traps had been built and set for them- snares and anything that would temporarily stun them at the very least. All around, there were the best archers, spears and swordspersons, and they slaughtered them, and proceeded to move to the invaders' town.

There they liberated those who swore to follow them. They were promised to be treated fairly. Many agreed.

And another town fell soon after.

Amazed and incredulous with their success, people celebrated, but Vanimelda knew, not for long. Soon word will spread and an army would arrive- a real one. They were well-trained, but not enough. And they would be outnumbered and their weapons needed time to refine and to forge more.

We need to leave, she told her mother.

Yes.

And so 'Tinweriel' took a deep breath and prepared to tell the people.

Yes, I know this was long over-due. The Northmen and Northwomen names come from Names of Middle Earth by Colin Chapman. I also got Easterling, Dunlending and Haradrim names from there too.

The name Tinweriel comes from Merin Essi ar Quenteli. It means what it says up above.

I am a mythology reader, but even though I take inspirations, I certainly don't copy! A lot of things would be different here. And I don't own Tolkien's works- only he does and his inheritors in Tolkien Estate!