In the following period, Lasgalen focused solely on training. She was at the field almost all day, training both alone and in groups. During the hours outside of practice, she would retreat to work on activities that didn't necessarily require an opponent. The young woman discovered she was very skilled with a bow and arrows, although face-to-face combat was what she preferred. It had always been that way, even when her father had taught her.

You must look your enemy in the eye when you kill, otherwise you'll forget the weight of taking a life

He had repeated to her. But she had discovered something else: that life could be taken in many ways, and that there was no right way to do it, only the one that came easiest to you. At night, she would collapse into her soft bed in an instant, the moment her head touched the pillow.

One afternoon, Galadriel was watching her as she sparred with an elf in the open field, observing the scene from a wooden portico set high above for a better view. She wore a green dress, not very long, with flowing sleeves. She was soon joined by Elrond, who stood by her side, also watching the elves fight.

"I don't want to question your judgment, Galadriel, but what if she was the wrong choice?" said the elf, looking at his friend with a concerned expression.

"Are you watching her?" she replied without turning her gaze, emphasizing the elven woman's combat skills. Her tone was flat, as though it was a reply that didn't even need to be said.

"And are you truly watching her?" he countered, searching for her eyes, and this time the blonde turned with irritation.

Elrond acknowledged Lasgalen's exceptional skills, but the emotion driving her worried him greatly, and it was obvious.

"I wasn't the one who chose this path for her. Only the Valar know the reason. I was asked to assess her combat abilities, and she can defend and annihilate perfectly. I see the anger with which she fights and the desire for revenge, and I have no idea if this path will lead her to death, but if she doesn't witness justice with her own eyes, I fear life itself will kill her, along with her remorse. We are no one to deny her the sight of their death, and no one to condemn her to her own" said the elven woman, looking into the eyes of her friend, who had turned his face toward the square. After a moment of silence, Elrond spoke again.

"I fear... you are right" the brown-haired elf whispered.

"Of course I'm right! And you're not being helpful at all!" said the blonde, turning fully toward him, even with her torso, in a swift and unexpected movement, resting an arm on the edge of the portico.

"If it's the only path she can take, you should try to help her in every way possible, instead of doubting and retreating into dark, rational thoughts"

Galadriel decided to reprimand him. She wasn't a fool; she had seen that rage, that look, that thirst for vengeance before. She wouldn't have behaved any differently from Lasgalen if she had been in the same situation. If she had had the real opportunity to destroy those who had killed her brother and his accomplices, she wouldn't have thought twice before setting off.
If she had had the chance to annihilate those who had killed her brother and his accomplices, she wouldn’t have hesitated for a single moment to act. She could understand her perfectly.
Therefore, Elrond's constant reminders of how dangerous it was, of how rage could turn into a double-edged sword, were of no help to her. They were of no help to anyone.

The brown-haired elf sighed, shifting his gaze from the blonde to the redhead.

"Do you know who her parents were?" he asked, trying to change the subject and realizing that, perhaps, his friend was right. Galadriel resumed her initial position.

"No. But I imagine you do" she said, raising an eyebrow. That elf always seemed to know everything.

"She is Aréonor's daughter. The Red Warrior. The King appointed him Lord of Forlond, but the he has ruled in his place until now. He fought by his side in the battle against Morgoth. After spending some time here in peace, Gil-galad allowed him to retire from his rank, and after that, nothing more was heard of him. I imagine he withdrew with his wife and daughter."

Galadriel did not take her eyes off Lasgalen, who continued to fight as if she were regaining agility in running.

"From the first moment I saw her fighting, I knew there must have been a great warrior behind that training" she said with a slight smile, which soon spread to Elrond.

"I've seen how Gil-galad looks at her" she added, subtly directing Elrond's gaze towards the High King, who was inside the palace, a floor above them.

"She reminds him of her father, that's certain. It's really probable that they were close friends; from what I've observed, it seems he wants to keep her constantly in his sight" Elrond said, then paused. Galadriel tapped the wood where her hand rested twice before looking at her friend and starting to walk.

"Let's leave as soon as possible and rid ourselves of this scum as quickly as we can." She then descended the stairs leading to the square to give the soldiers a break.

Once the group was dismissed, the blonde stood in front of a tired Lasgalen.

"If you keep going at this pace, you won't have any energy left for the real battle. You should take it slower" she said, placing her hands on her hips, observing the redhead without any filters, and noting how her hair was disheveled.

"What? I haven't done anything remarkable. It's the hair that deceives you-it looks like I've done something extraordinary" she said, pointing to her hair. Of course, the reality was a bit different, given that she had been training for four straight hours.

"Well then, as your superior, I'm ordering you to take a break, go wash up, and rest until tomorrow. No objections, obviously" she added before the redhead could utter a single word. Exhausted, the idea of a bit of rest didn't seem so bad to her.

"Maybe just a little."

__________________

Lasgalen found herself immersed in her carved wooden bathtub. It wasn't like the first time-quick, scared, and dazed. Now, her only concern was to relax her muscles in the warm, scented water, along with her neck, and wash her long red hair, which perhaps she should have cut. But her mother had loved keeping it long and had always taken exaggerated care of it. She started playing with the water. The sound of the droplets, the small soap bubbles, the warmth that made her feel relaxed.

We are born from water, and we live thanks to it. That's why we are so connected to it

Her mother used to say. And she was right. Lasgalen had always been fascinated by that element. She still felt the stark contrast of her previous relationship with water. A burning desire, life hanging by a thread, a sip of water to moisten her cracked lips, or a small stream to clean her wounds, dirty with grime and pus. Water had been her savior, and now it was pampering her like a princess. That evening would be her last at the Grey Havens before departing with the company. They would discuss the final details in the presence of the High King, then set off the following morning. The information Lasgalen possessed about the enemies could prove vital. She had lived among them for countless decades. She knew how, when, and why they moved. This would make their defeat much easier.

_________________

The evening fell particularly fast that day. Perhaps it was just Lasgalen's perception, or maybe the sun and moon wanted to play a cruel trick on her. But the moment had arrived. Dressed in her army uniform, now a full member after passing Galadriel's selection, she headed toward the great hall where the King held his meetings. He stood in front of the round table, and Elrond, Galadriel, and two other soldiers were already there. Only one was missing, who arrived a few moments later. Once everyone was present, two guards closed the doors, and the discussion began.

"We are gathered here to finalize the last parts of our annihilation plan. We will be silent, swift, and efficient. We have already alerted all the elves of Lindon who do not reside in the major cities. This way, we won't have civilians in danger." A large map of Middle-earth was spread across the vast table. She could see everything. The borders of the Lindon forests where she had been enslaved, and just a bit farther west, where she had lived her beautiful life. That thin strip of ink concealed so many secrets that it seemed impossible to summarize them in such a way.

"Lasgalen will contribute by providing important information about the enemy." The redhead stepped forward, receiving a couple of unfriendly glances from two members of the company: not everyone had welcomed her arrival. Some even believed she was a spy for the men.

With effort, she began to speak, pointing out the critical areas on the map.

"These... bands of men have a particular weakness that I've observed over the years: they don't trust one another. They are greedy and suspicious. There should be four distinct bands now, with one having been decimated by orcs. They migrate in rotation to the same places, either to raid or avoid detection by the elves. Their movements only happen at specific times and days of the year. Usually, they are very precise." She swallowed, as the stares from the two elves, with their arms crossed, began to weigh on her. They received a scornful look from Elrond, while Galadriel was too focused to even notice.

"For the most part, they are men rather than women, but both know how to fight. Even the children shouldn't be underestimated. They belong to no known kingdom of men, or at least that's what they claim among themselves. They are simply wandering packs. Whether their roots lie in the darkness of some past war, I cannot say" she said, finally looking at Galadriel and pausing briefly. They could be a small legion of men who hadn't fled east with their master and had since scattered in the shadows.
"They make elves their slaves, only so they can focus exclusively on keeping themselves strong and entertained... and also because of their hatred for our race." Her mouth went dry at the mere thought of some of her memories.

"And how do they entertain themselves?" asked one of the elves harshly. His skin was dark like tree bark, and his eyes were as blue as Galadriel's. Lasgalen slowly lifted her gaze, her eyes flickering between shame and fury.

"I don't think that's something we need to concern ourselves with for the success of the mission" Galadriel interjected, glaring at him irritably.

"I think it does matter. How do they use the elves? Do they really take them prisoner, or-"

"Daro!" (Stop!)
Thundered Gil-galad, breaking his attentive silence as he began to walk towards the soldier. His nature was quiet, but like Elrond, the King was a keen observer, who had studied those present from the moment they had set foot in the room. His voice made everyone lower their heads, except for Galadriel and Elrond.

"Is it discord I sense in your words, soldier?" he asked sternly, withouteven asking for his name.

"I only fear for the success of our mission, my lord" the soldier replied.

"Without Lady Lasgalen’s information, we would have nothing to go on. I would advise against making such provocative insinuations towards her, if I were you" the High King retorted with authority.

"And now she’s also a Lady?" The soldier’s expression hardened, raising an eyebrow and biting his lip, though he avoided meeting the King’s gaze. His words left everyone in the room stunned, each in their own way. Had he really dared to respond to the King in such a manner? Where had the discipline and respect, the cornerstone of elven training, gone?

Gil-galad, on the other hand, showed no outward anger, but his true feelings soon emerged in another way:

"She has been since birth. Her father was a Lord and a great warrior, worthy of infinite respect—a fundamental pillar in the war against Morgoth and in our victory, likely when you had just emerged from your mother’s womb." The elf remained silent, standing under the increasing shadow of Gil-galad.

"Offer your apologies to Lady Lasgalen" the King ordered. When the redhead was about to intervene, Galadriel gently pulled on a small piece of her uniform sleeve, signaling her to stay still. She couldn't interfere in this moment. No one could. Not because it was about her, but because it was about the King.

With a lump in his throat, the elf managed to mutter something.

"Goheno nin, Lady Lasgalen" (I'm sorry, Lady Lasgalen)

He mumbled. The redhead gave a nod to indicate that she had accepted the apology, only because she wanted the matter to end as quickly as possible.

The two didn’t even look at each other. The redhead had no desire to meet his face again.

"Fine. You are dismissed. You need not trouble yourself to report tomorrow morning" the King added before returning to his place at the table.

"Please, continue" he said, giving permission for the discussion to resume, as the soldier left the room nervously.

"Elrond, you will take his place" Gil-galad announced. After a brief moment of surprise, Elrond nodded in agreement and stepped closer to the table. Lasgalen gave him a comforting look. She felt a bit guilty, though—was she actually glad that the elf was going to risk his life alongside her?

Still, she had to admit that having another friend in the field wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

What they had just witnessed was the High King’s official protection of Lasgalen.

After finishing the last discussions, everyone was dismissed.

“Lasgalen, a word” the King stopped her, and the red-haired elf was able to exchange a fleeting glance with Galadriel and Elrond before the doors closed again. The young elf turned to Gil Galad, waiting for him to speak.

“I hope the news of the imminent annihilation of this calamity brings you some relief.”

Did she feel relieved? She had no idea how she felt. The only clear feeling seemed to be a strong desire to kill all those who were complicit in her brother’s murder, the slavers and rapists, so that nothing like this could ever happen to another elf, so that her parents would be avenged. She who had never killed anyone before. Would annihilating them make her feel better? At that moment, the answer was yes.

“Knowing that the world will be freed from those beasts certainly eases my conscience, my lord” she replied calmly, looking into the King’s eyes, who was probably seeking approval in her words. The elf’s face showed signs of fatigue. The continuous thoughts of the fight, the battle, the excessive training she had stubbornly pursued despite Galadriel’s advice were now evident under her tired eyes, which had dark circles.

“I thank you first, my King.” She wanted to add that his defense wasn’t necessary, but she didn’t want to diminish the favor of a King. Others would kill to earn it. And in the end, she was grateful for his support.

“Duty. Discord within the ranks only leads to the failure of the missions for which they were created. Especially if there’s an unfounded hatred driving them” he said, then paused briefly, running his fingers over the intricately carved wooden table, taking one last look at the map, now marked with points and stages of the journey.

“I do not wish to keep you longer; you need to rest for the journey ahead” he said as he approached her.

“However, I wanted you to know that there will always be a home for you when you return.” The plan was indeed that: after the mission, they would return to the Grey Havens to deliver the good news, and afterward, Lasgalen would be able to decide for herself what to do with her fate. She no longer had a family, a place to belong. Gil Galad was offering her a starting point, and it was a tremendous gift.

“I am immensely grateful to know that, my lord, and I do not know how to repay you for all you have done for me” she added, lowering her gaze slightly. He came closer with a slightly pained expression until he stood before her.

“I hope with all my heart that it will not happen, but if you ever find other elves, I will offer them the same opportunity. It is not you who should owe me. I am in debt. You should never have been in danger in my lands during peacetime. Therefore, it is the least I can do.” After a moment, the red-haired elf gave him a calm smile, which he returned.

After being dismissed, she hurried to her room and lay down on her bed, attempting to rest. It goes without saying that she didn’t succeed, and spent the night thinking about her parents. Her father, the red warrior, famous for wielding only his sword. He never used anything else, and had never been disarmed. He had become too accustomed to the tranquility of the woods, forgetting his own words: true peace never exists. Evil persists everywhere, and it always will. Only Valinor knows what eternal peace means.

Morning, fortunately or not, came quickly. Lasgalen had her uniform ready. She put on everything she needed and styled her hair, deciding to leave it semi-loose, like her mother.

At the entrance of the city of the Grey Havens, everyone was there: Galadriel, the commander, Elrond, the second-in-command, Lasgalen, and two other elves, Syrìa and Armond, the other elf who had looked at her with disdain the night before. He seemed to have calmed down significantly; probably the King’s speech had made an impact.

Once they confirmed everyone’s presence, they set off, trying not to draw too much attention. This had to be a fairly discreet mission, with no need to create agitation in the elven cities.

Everyone was on foot, just light elven feet walking along the road toward a silent battle, one that certainly wouldn’t make history but would save many lives.