[Mithalwen]

Losrian might not be a party to the exchange between the captains but she understood well enough Geldion's appraising glance and his subsequent reaction. She had been judged and found wanting. She was unsurprised by the reaction - her hair colour which was much more unusual in Eregion than in Lindon might attract attention but the rest of her appearance seldom held it. Her mother had lamented that "Losrian would be pretty if she made the effort" but the effort was rarely made. Nevertheless she would have expected it more from Artamir's friend Leneslath than an elf of this age and stature.

Seeing Geldion glance at Galmir she deemed that he had made the obvious assumption that the child was hers and was surprised that anyone would have wanted her as a wife. 'What does he expect? ' she thought . 'I doubt that even the Lady Galadriel herself would look her best in these circumstances'. Her ire was quelled by the fact that Ondomirë had defended her. She was touched by his gallantry and would have agreed to his request even if it were against her inclination... instinctively she trusted his assurance that Galmir would be safe in the wagons.

She followed Skald, leading the pony, while Skald carried the little boy with whom he now seemed fast friends.

"Surely you must have children of your own - you are so good with him?" she asked. The dwarf's deep glittering eyes met hers and though they intended no reproach they touched the depths of her heart when he replied "No, not yet, but I have a nephew too - and a niece.."

As he continued to speak of them with great affection, Losrian sighed inwardly. So a way with children was not an gift acquired by parents at their children's birth. She clearly had not been blessed with this instinct. She confessed as much to Skald.

"It is a skill - you can learn it, just as you learnt to make those fine arrows of yours. I don't suppose the first you made was so good? " He said kindly and was rewarded by another of those brief but sweet smiles. Losrian realised that like it or not she was effectively a mother now, she could learn and indeed she would have to. But not today. Today she would ride among elf lords, elves who had known and fought with the heroes of the Elder days. She did not doubt that there might be others among the refugees who knew the area better but she knew enough for a while. Laswen's parents had farmed someway north of the city and they had all gone there in the summer to help with harvest in the early years, before the war had come.

She had entrusted Galmir to a woman whose own daughter was the same age and who indeed had known Laswen. Any uncertainty she had had was dispelled as she saw how happy the little boy was to be with other children. She handed up a cloak and lembas and his drinking cup and kissed him goodbye, ruffling his dark curls. "I'll see you later - be good". The pony who had walked out almost sound and would be fine now he had been relieved of much of his burdens was hitched to the wagons.

Losrian now only had to worry about herself. She had washed her face and hands in a stream and smoothed her hair with her wet hands. Her stained coatdress had been replaced by borrowed mail and surcoat which lighter and better fitting than the armour she had used in the sieges, did not entirely disguise her figure. The contents of her pack having being transferred to saddlebags she carried little more than her weapons.

All in all she was a more presentable figure when she led her horse towards where Ondomirë stood. In the clear morning light she got a proper look at the Elvish commander He was so tall, a hand's breadth taller than Ferin had been and about twice that taller than herself. She noticed the distinctive arrowhead brooch that pinned his cloak. It was fine work - worthy even of the Mirdain. She felt a little nervous again for the captain of swordsmen was near and she did not wish to suffer his sardonic scrutiny.

Losrian bowed for to curtsey in male garb seemed ridiculous "My Lord Ondomirë, I am at your service". Soon all was ready and despite the horror of the day before, the griefs that remained to be mourned and the not yet banished danger, a little part of her spirit sang for joy as she rode alongside the Commander of the Archers, in the company of Elrond Peredhil of whom so many tales had been told.