Morwen found Balisan a curious sort. She had spent much time amongst the Aftercomers. In Esgaroth and then later in Dale. She had known the fiery and hardy people of the upper Anduin vales, the strange folk of Beorn's kin, the industrious and rustic folk of lost Arnor and Cardolan that is called Breeland and the proud clans of the lands to the north who defied the coming storm like a weathered pine. But the folk of Gondor were new to her. They had a little bit of all the others she had met in them. And even also something of the distant and weary Noldor who she had come to find so frustrating in Imladris. Her charge was a noble of a line of warriors and she felt that being made responsible for keeping him from charging off after the Mistress was a bit like holding a mastiff on a leash when confronted with a fleeing cat. It took all her wiles to distract him until she could tell that it was clear to him that he would be called in time. His trust in the Mistress' wisdom was a deep well. As had her own now become as her words again and again were born out. If the Lady of the Golden Wood held her as valued counsellor, then it was not for nothing.
When the healers judged him fit enough at last for vigorous exercise, she arranged sparring and archery bouts with him and marvelled at his ability to channel sheer physical power into fluidity of motion. She allowed that she had an edge in speed, but then all women fighters quickly learn that grappling with a man and striving to match power for power will result in a quick pinning or a good bruising by the staff or flat of a sword. Nonetheless, he re-taught her these lessons and she found herself learning a new one; he lured her carefully into situations where his upper body strength could be used to best effect. She began paying closer attention to using the mind of her opponent as a weapon.
He was, for all this, no braggart and wore his mantle of nobility with great care. She had seen how power was to the Edain a snare. A flaw The One seemed to have built into them that the quendi did not suffer so badly. During their time together they spent many hours together under the gilt canopy of Lothlorien, practice weapons and bows scattered about them as they spoke of their homelands and their travels. All the while, they both knew in their hearts that the idyll must surely come to an end and as Balisan's strength returned to its fullest, they steeled themselves against the pain that all felt upon leaving the golden forest of Lorinand, last echo in Middle-Earth of a past that was fable to most even of the elves.
