[Manardariel]

The strange elf handed her some leaves she had never seen before.

Youlielle stared at him, a strange mixture of fear and anger filling her. A proud, stern face, watchfull eyes, a flair of arrogance-calling her "child" and everything-around him- he reminded her so strongly of her father it made her sick. He treated her very differently from "her" elves. For the first time, she felt ashamed of her race.

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. She would show him. She might not be immortal, but she had nothing to be ashamed of. Taking the leaves, she said:

"Thank you, Lord. Now for the second time I learn of the great knowlege in healing you and your people posses. It has saved me once, and I am sure your kingsfoil could take no harm.
For your information, my name is Youlielle. I come from Lake Town. As for anything else concerning me, my past or my buisiness in this parts of Middle-Earth, I have kept it for myself and fully intend to remain doing so. And one other thing. I am not a child. I am fifteen years old and, have allmost reached maturity."

She breathed out. "Good Job," she told herself. "Let him handle that one."

[ January 13, 2003: Message edited by: Manardariel ]