[Airerûthiel]

Bragolhirwen knew she had to fight her injuries, but something deep inside her was unwilling to do so. The one thing that had held her together during her lonely childhood in Middle-earth was her unshakeable belief in fate. Her life belonged to the world beyond this one now, as it had for the past five years. In the back of her mind she could faintly hear Lorin's voice calling her names, and she knew what she had to do.

The girl managed to break the misty haze of her vision and slowly opened her eyes to see the worried-looking half-Elven healer kneeling beside her. "Are you all right?" asked Lorin, who Bragolhirwen suspected would have reached out to hug her if she still had bother her arms. "We have been afraid for you, young Gondorian. Any who can survive combat with Shelob is truly blessed. Some may even call you a hero, for going and attacking without any thought for your own safety."

Bragolhirwen shook her head. "They are mistaken. I am no hero - 'tis you and those others who rescued me from the spider who deserve that title. I am nothing but a headstrong little child trying to act like an adult. I still feel as though this is the third time fate failed to claim its prize, but I shall try and go on. But as to what happens to me once we escape these tunnels...that is another matter. Until the end of my days, I will always hold true to my belief that it was my life, and not Eruwen's, that should have been taken in those chambers."