Note: Every piece of dialogue in this chapter and the other Lothlórien chapters? The characters are actually speaking in Sindarin, but I just put bits and snatches in there since I'm nowhere close to fluent. You can just pretend.

Ninniach let out a soft shout of surprise. She had tripped over the hem of her dress in her rush to go see the Galadhrim forces practicing. It was always quite a sight to see the Elvish youths' uncanny skill with bow and dagger. Her thoughts strayed back to the short sword that lay by her bedside. It had come out of the shadow of her past, but it almost glowed with alien brightness. It was strange and unlike anything else in Lothlórien. The blade had a simple form, but there was an aura of slow power to it, as if it had come from a different world than the lands of Middle-earth. When she was young it had seemed like a huge sword, but it was all she had to live by. It was her only source of food. She found a strength in her desperation that allowed her to wield it. Now, however, no strength was needed. It was barely more than a knife in her hands. Not that that changed the feel that it was wrapped in shadow that pierced her soul with the sharpness of the edges.

Ninniach gently punched herself for a lesson. She was imagining things. However she had come by it, the sword was just an object, a tool. It couldn't harm her, emotionally or physically.

Usually at this time of day Ninniach was studying with her tutor Gobennas, who was a friend of her father Celeborn. However, he recommended that she went to see the royal army's assembly. She didn't know why, but she was always eager to learn more about the world and see new sights, so she was glad to go.

Ninniach wondered where Anneth was. Surely the guard apprentice would not miss an assembly of another branch of warriors? Then again, Anneth hadn't been very proud of his occupation lately. A series of minor failures that seemed huge to him had wounded his confidence quite severely, despite the encouraging words Ninniach tried to give him. He believed he was a weak link in the chain of Caras Galadhon's gatekeepers and the nearby forest's protection, an important branch of the Galadhrim army. Not a single evil thing had entered the Woods for many years, and Ninniach attempted to convince him that it was okay if he wasn't perfect. But nevertheless Anneth remained angry at his lack of mastery over bow.

Oh, there he was! A short way ahead of Ninniach, Anneth stood watching the archers organize themselves into neat lines, fingering with a broken and discarded bowstring.

"Gi suilon, Anneth!" she called to his turned back. He spun around, quickly stuffing the mangled bowstring in his gray cloak.

"Oh, it's you. Suilad, mellon! They're really rather impressive, aren't they?" he replied gloomily.

"Not as impressive as your potential. You really should realize, you're a skilled warrior, and everyone makes mistakes," Ninniach replied carefully.

"Still... I'll never be as skilled as I should be. But don't let me bother you with my troubles. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing well..." The mood became somewhat awkward and uncomfortable, but fortunately Ninniach was spared her embarrassment, for two new figures had joined the small crowd of spectators. Galadriel and Celeborn were passing this way to reach the head of the Galadhrim soldiers. Celeborn silently told her with a beckon she was to come, too. Technically she was a princess, after all, even if she didn't usually act like one- or ever feel like one.

Obediently, Ninniach processed with her adopted parents to the head of the army. The following hours were admittedly drab and repetitive. There was very little action at such occasions, she realized. Just an endless barrage of marching and commanders re-pledging themselves. Although she tried hard to be interested, Ninniach simply couldn't enjoy the event, and was relieved when it was over (which made her angry with herself).

As she turned to go back to her room next to her family's at the center of the city, or at least talk to Anneth, she was stopped. A blade of steel barred her way.

~•~•~•~

Espalass bit his lip, a nervous habit. He silently and swiftly nocked an arrow, holding his bow in front of him. A rustling in the bushes was probably just a small animal, but one could never be too cautious, especially so close to Mordor.

As a shadow of madness had walked Espalass since his escape from Minas Morgul. His only wish, his only reason to live, was to find his home among the Dúnedain of the North. Perhaps some had escaped the Orc plunderers, perhaps his love was among them...

Snap! A twig broke under his feet. He silently swore, scaring the squirrel that was hiding in the bushes. He chided himself to be more careful, it would have gotten him dinner.

A glint of metal caught his eye. He looked and found a water-skin with a metal clasp trampled in the mud. It was ingrained with a white tree. Men of Gondor were in the area- well, of course, Espalass thought to himself. He was in South Gondor, if he had not lost his bearings and sense of geography. He sketched a loose map of Middle-earth, which was set into his brain from his studies in better times. He need a way to escape. If he wished to head north, he would have to cross the Mouths of Anduin or at least try to ford the Great River at its widest. He could also try edging around the river by slinking around the edge of Mordor. That way he would cross the Poros River, a much easier crossing, but he would have to pass by Minas Tirith. They would not take kindly to a man dressed in Orc-mail, likely a spy of Sauron. South would be an easier option, although those lands were unknown and filled with enemies. No, he told himself, south is not an option. But the true reason was that his home was in distant Northern lands. Although he knew it would be a collection of ruins and shadow, he still had to see, to make sure.

Espalass swept the dirt clear. North it was. He would cross the Mouths of Anduin and trek through mountains to Rohan, making his way slowly to his homeland. It would be a long road filled with dangerous terrain, but no living foes. Hopefully.

~•~•~•~

A blade of life-taking steel was there in front of Ninniach's face. Much too close to her neck. She could feel the cold of the metal radiating through the air around it.

"Man cerig?!" she screamed. The reply was a laugh and an apology. Her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace. It was only Anneth. Holding... her sword. The dagger of her past. Tension built again, a pulsing pain. She should know what this was. Her mind was desperately searching for information that should have been there but simply wasn't.

"I realized that as guard, my duty was to protect you. It is only fitting that you learn to use a weapon. Come on, let's practice," announced Anneth proudly.

"Not... Not that. Teach me to use a bow instead, or anything really. Just not that sword," Ninniach replied.

"Okay...?" Anneth answered, confused. "As you wish, my lady," he finished teasingly.

And so Ninniach learned to fight with bow and quiver, gladly and joyfully whilst building Anneth's pride. She had remarkable natural skill with aiming, but lacked the strength needed to draw back the tense bowstring, prompting Anneth to help her. Their hands met. They shot the arrow away into the leaves as one, their weaknesses canceling out into one inseparable whole. The two were to always be the truest of friends. Ninniach didn't know, however, the agony this would bring.

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A/N

Sorry this took so long! I have had very little time (and motivation) to write lately. I'll try to publish the next chapter soon!