I found myself looking into the snarling maws of two wild dogs.
Backing away slowly, my glance darted to either side searching for a way of escape. Behind me was the stone face of one of the hills that looked upon the shining waters of Belfalas, and to either side a steep incline. I had climbed to this point to look once more upon the ruined harbor of Edhellond before I began to journey northwards from this place, yet I began to regret my sentimentality.
Inwardly calling to the One as a child will call to his father, my fingers tightened on the mace that I held in my hand. I carry no sword...indeed I am no Maethor...and my arm is not strong. My strength lies in other things. Taking a breath and holding their eyes in my gaze, I began to speak to them. Often it is not the Shadow that spurs such creatures to violence but rather the fear of it, and even this can be allayed. But not this time. The beasts' ears flattened even further and their eyes shone with a baleful gleam. I winced inwardly. I do not have the frame to bear heavy armour, yet I feared the pain of tearing fangs, for who does not fear pain?
Suddenly I heard a cry and, looking up, saw the flashing of two bright blades. The beasts lay dead at my feet and behind them stood a slight figure clad in elvish mail and helm, standing as tall as me. I bowed, as much a sign of relief as respect, and straightening said in elvish,
"Hannon le." For this was undoubtedly one of the First-born.
The warrior replied in Sindarin, "This is not a safe land." It was an elf-maid that stood before me.
I took a breath, then laughed. "No, it is not a safe land. But I am grateful that you walk it this day." For all that the Eldar are given such time as to know every word if we wish, we seem always to choose the bare branch over the leaves and blossoms when we speak to one another.
The warrior stooped to clean her blades upon the grass before placing them once again in the sheaths at her belt. She raised her hands to remove the helm she wore.
"I am Finduilian," she said.
"I am Gladaewen," I said, and smiled.
I studied her face a moment. She was passing fair for an elf-maid. For a moment, I was very conscious of the long, Noldorin features my parents had given me before I cast the thought aside. Such maids as the one who stood before me were those that led the dance and were followed by young warriors crying "my Luthien". But that matters not, and I rebuked myself for such foolishness, preparing to see a shining fall of hair to match the delicate features and clear eyes. My eyes widened in surprise as I saw that the dark hair beneath the helm had been cut, or rather hacked very short and close to the head. Finduilian read my expression instantly and responded with a wry smile.
" I am done with it," she offered in explanation. "I am done with sorrowing. I am done with staying safe. I am done with suffering evils that think they cannot be denied....I mean to deny them." She placed her hands upon the hilts of her swords.
"I understand," I said quietly. And I began to tell her of the charge my lady Galadriel had placed upon me, the need to strengthen and ready those who would stand for the Light in these times. Finduilian listened gravely, nodding her head as I finished.
"It is a righteous charge," she said. "I will help, if I can."
Again I bowed in thanks, and raising my head once again we both smiled.
