[Mithalwen]

Losrian had attempted to follow Artamir. There had been a look on his fair face that she had not seen before. It habitually wore an amused expression and while this was clearly not a time for jokes, she felt by some instinct that the distress the young elf betrayed was not down to fear. Then she wondered what she would do if she had caught up with him. They were hardly confidantes and now she should seek out her own family perhaps.

The discussions at her brother's house mirrorred those in Cainenyo's. He wished his sister to flee the city with his Galmir, Laswen and her mother. He and his father in law would stay and join the defence of the city.

"But Lord Celebrimbor said that all that could fight should! I shoot as well as most of the cadets!!! "

"He did not mean the maids of the city should fight I am sure"

"Why not? The women of the Noldor have fought before when they had to"

"The refugees will need protection too maybe..."

"Then you go! ~I think it is too late to go anyway - would we be any safer in the wilderness with that army on our heels?"

"Why must you defy me when all I seek is the safest course for you?"

"You aren't my father - I am of age - you have no right to choose for me!"

"And what would our father say if I did not seek to keep you from danger?"

At last Laswen's calm voice interrupted them.... "Stop this- there is enough conflict awaiting us..... I fear Losrian is right and this dispute is needless. I fear we may all have to fight or all have to flee. We are prepared for siege but perhaps we should also prepare for flight and have packs ready. then wait for what the morrow brings. "

The argument had been stopped if not resolved and Losrian had soon departed to her own chamber above her brother's workshop. She heard muffled, tense voices from behind the shuttered windows and knew that her household was not alone in its discord. Both the stores and the stock was much depleted since Laswen's family had first arrived from the outlands a year ago. But a small pony, some goats and poultry were still in residence in the woodstore and they stirred slightly as Losrian ran up the steps to the loft.

Packing for a journey would not be too arduous... almost everything she owned was contained in a fine wooden chest at the foot of the bed - examples both of her brother's work that looked a little incongruous in their humble setting. She took out the pack she had brought with her 6 years ago and it ws scarecely more full than then when she had sorted out the things necessaries for a journey and the things she could not bear to leave.

Few things caused many pangs... Most of her clothes were practical rather than beautiful but there was one notable exception. The dress made for her coming of age had had an overdress of simple blue wool, suitable for a winter celebration and more general use later, but the underdress Laswen had wrought for was of gossamer fine tuile, embroidered with flowers and butterflies too fragile even for general wear it was hopeless for a journey but Losrian could not bear to leave it behind. It folded to almost nothing and slightly guiltily she slipped it into her pack.

A harder decision was her lute. Light but bulky it would take space better occupied by provisions in her bag so she left it in it's case, next to her pack, bow and quiver. It was another decision that could wait until morning. If morning ever came.