3 - Youth - Growing Pains

With a loud clatter a sword dropped to the stony ground, followed by a backpack angrily thrown into a far corner of the room. The woman, whose age could hardly be guessed, stomped around into the room, her dark hair trailing after her. She jerked at straps of her belt and jammed a sword against the doorframe with a little too much force, so it dropped and clattered too.

Her brows were wrinkled and her face fuming with a mix of anger and disappointment.

Her father followed after her, walking regal and looking calm. His appearance was just as dark haired and his age could hardly be guessed either, but here and there frost had touched the dark hair and left small wrinkles around his steal blue eyes.

He picked up the sword and leaned it against the doorframe, watching how the woman strode across the room, cursing to herself.

“Are you done yet. Rómeniêl?” His voice was calm, almost cold.

“Done? Done with what?” She didn’t even leave time for him to answer the question as words and tears poured out of her. “Done with what? With being bruised, shoved, shunned, screamed at, tortured, rejected and alone? Done with doing my duty and stepping back from what others call a fulfilled life?”

She made a fist and hit the wall, flinching at the self-inflicted pain. But instead of turning around she just formed a tighter fist and hit the same spot again.

Silence followed as the man watched her leaning her head against the cool stone walls.

Slowly he stepped up behind her after a long moment and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off and moved to the side.

Another few moments passed until he stepped up again to once more place his hand on her shoulder this time earning a glare from angry but tear-filled eyes.

“Are you done yet?” He asked her again with the same calm voice and held her gaze. She shrugged and her shoulders sank as the angry look on her face made room for a rather sad look.

“I guess,” was her plain and timid answer.

With a slow, gently but determined grip he turned her around and placed both hands on her shoulders. “You’re frustrated. I understand that. We all have been one way or the other. Again and again and again. But it is not for us to decide what we can have sometimes, nor what we are. You are my daughter and as such you have a duty. You are strong and will-full, but you will need to learn to step back. There are things we cannot have and there are things we shall not desire. Remember what happened to Númenor. Let our history be a warning not to desire what we are not destined to be or have.”

She swallowed hard and looked to the ground, unable to hold his stern blue gaze. “I know Adda. I have sworn an oath and I will not fail you.”

He nodded sternly and spoke softly. “You’re needs don’t count sometimes. See to those you love and find peace and happiness in knowing that they are safe and happy. A ranger leads a life in the shadows, we cannot allow ourselves to crave for anything else but the safety of the land for the sake of our people. If you love, then let love be the strength to keep you hidden and fortified against your own desires.” His voice was stern but warm in this moment and the stern gaze of his steal blue eyes softened for a blink of the eye. She looked up and in this moment his face revealed a sudden softness, before it returned to a grave almost cold expression. The tone of his voice changed and he held the gaze of her green eyes, sounding almost cold. “You are my daughter and of the line of the Arandil. Never forget your duty, failure is not acceptable.”

She swallowed hard and nodded, wiping the tears of her face, feeling that this display of weakness was already a failure. “Yes Adda, I understand.”

She straightened her shoulders with all the power her will gave her and pushed back the urge to lean forward to rest her head against his shoulder.

He plainly nodded at her and gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Good.”

He turned and left her standing tall and alone in the grand hall. She stood for a while and stared at the wall, before she dropped back and leaned her back against the wall.

Her eyes slowly watered but she forced back the tears and swallowed hard. “I shall not fail.” She repeated this sentence ever so quietly as if it was a prayer and finally pushed herself of the wall.

Her face had become pale and stern, a last flicker of sadness in her eyes. “Love, light and hope shall I give to the world, even if I keep none for myself.” Her steps seemed hesitant for a moment and each stepped seemed to be a burden. She rubbed her shoulders and flinched, as the bruises were still fresh, making her way across the room to fetch her belongings.