[Airerûthiel]

It was strange to have a real friend, but at the same time Torfithien liked the fact that she no longer felt so alone. She would always be grateful to Fingil for saving her life during the battle with the wargs. They were still some days from Moria, and so there was ample time for her to contemplate the journey so far.

She still felt a little detatched from the group as a whole, but there were a few people she was beginning to warm to. In a way she liked this sort of relationship with the company - it made her not feel like quite such an outcast, but was distant enough for her liking (she had never been comfortable feeling close to someone else).

It was at times like these that she missed Lothlórien. The Golden Wood had been her home all her life, and it was in the wilds of the lands that she had sought comfort after Rorfimir's death. She had loved the young Wood-elf ever since she had lain eyes on him in the forest of Mirkwood all those years ago. Why could the wargs not have taken her life instead of his? Why had she listened to him and stayed at home like the 'lady' she was, instead of going to face the wolves with him?

The recent conflict had brought back bitter memories for her. When she had killed that warg, it had been as revenge for taking Rorfimir's life more than anything else. Did she want to avenge his death, or was she just looking for the quickest route to allow them to meet once more? She could not answer her own question, and sighed heavily as she thought on of her home in Lórien.

She could sense there was something troubling Fingil, but did not think to ask him what was wrong. If she tried to get inside his head, then there was the possibility she could get too close to him. With the possible exception of the Lady Celebrian, he was the closest friend she had ever had. She wanted to learn more about him - he intrigued her greatly - but she knew in her heart that it was far too dangerous. Every person she had ever been close to had always ended up getting hurt in some way - both her mother and the love of her life were dead, and now Lady Celebrian was lying underground in the clutches of those vile orcs. She was not prepared to ruin any more lives.

The life she had chosen was one of being solitary. If loneliness was the price that she had to pay at the risk of not hurting anyone else, then so be it. She had made the choice, and now there was no turning back.