Lasgalen, Lasgalen, Lasgalen

The name echoed in her head, steady and relentless. Two hundred years were considered a day in the life of an elf, but lived in slavery, it could be an entirely different experience. And so it had been for the elf: she had taken on the guise of Yesenia in an attempt to preserve the image of Lasgalen. A young elf, innocent, kind, and gentle. She was still there, somewhere beneath the ruins of Yesenia. Yet the elf still couldn't find her. She was trapped in a limbo without identity, where she was no longer Yesenia, but not fully Lasgalen either. She likely never would be again, but in time, she would return to a more grown-up version of the elf raised by her parents. She was certain of that. But when you are in a hurry, time seems to multiply.

In the little over two months spent at the Palace of the Grey Havens, Lasgalen had formed bonds. She had discovered the kindness and goodness of the elves, through small gestures, or through those left undone out of respect. Physical contact was still a great wall to overcome, but Galadriel and Elrond seemed to understand her perfectly, and they were the ones she had spoken to the most in those weeks. Occasionally, her enthusiastic personality would emerge. Then she would pull it back, as if afraid to use it. It might not be welcome, it might awaken sad memories of the past, and it made her feel insecure at times; yet, that had always been her nature before her capture.

After speaking with the King, she briskly made her way to the library, where she hoped to find Elrond. He had been the first she had seen upon waking, the first elf she had touched in centuries. It might have seemed silly, but she felt deeply connected to him because of this. As she had predicted, Elrond was sitting in the library with his head bowed over a large book. That elf seemed insatiable for knowledge: everything intrigued him, and he wanted to understand everything. He was also an extremely capable healer, and she later discovered that he had been one of those who healed her from the gravest and deepest wounds. In some way, the fact that he had seen all the horror she had endured on her body made her feel as though he could know her and understand her a bit more than the others.

He knew when to stop asking questions and hold back that desire to know and understand that was part of his nature. To her, that was a great show of strength and respect for her, something that was one of the most important things to her. His hair fell slightly over his face but shifted back into place when he raised his head to see who was standing in the doorway, dimming the light a little.

The two smiled warmly at each other before Lasgalen spoke.

"I met the High King" she said, clasping her hands in front of her, before sitting down across from the elf, resting her arms and the edges of her white dress on the long wooden table.

"Something tells me you have some news for me" he said, moving the book aside without closing it, causing a light dust to rise, shimmering as it met the sunlight.

"Yes, more than one" she added with a raised eyebrow, averting her gaze for a moment. Of course, no one knew her real name, except for the King's very recent discovery.

Let's start with the easier thing

she said to herself. The elf made a playful expression to encourage her to speak, crossing his hands and placing them on the table, leaning slightly toward the young elf.

"The King has agreed to let me be part of the company that will hunt the men, provided Galadriel deems me capable of facing battle." Elrond's usual calm expression darkened. His eyes had dimmed slightly, and the corners of his mouth had lowered. Lasgalen rolled her eyes for a moment, expecting such a reaction.

"Don't start with that look. My father taught me to fight long ago, I just need to brush up on a few things."

"After two centuries of slavery?" he let slip, driven by concern for her life. Her expression also grew more serious, losing some of the light it had gained from the news.

Elrond immediately regretted his words and pulled back his hands a little.

"Forgive me, I'm just worried, Yesenia. I completely understand your desire to be part of defeating those beings, but I don't want it to be a suicide mission."

"Galadriel will decide that" she said, turning her gaze away again, as a lock of red hair fell beside her face. Elrond looked at her with a conflicted expression. Torn between his worry of seeing her perish and his desire to give her the freedom he himself had advised the King to grant her.

"You're right. Galadriel is the finest warrior I know, besides the High King. If she deems you ready, I'm sure it will be with sound judgment and objectivity." He then extended his palms upward, leaving them on the table, giving the young elf the choice to take them or not. "My mind is simply haunted by a bad memory" he added, looking into her eyes.

She smiled faintly, then shook her head slightly and placed a trembling hand on one of Elrond's. The contact with skin still gave her shivers, but she had to admit it was less difficult with Elrond and Galadriel. She couldn't touch the skin of anyone other than those two without flinching. With strangers, touching someone was impossible for her. For now.

"And that was the easiest news to tell you" she said with a slight sarcastic laugh, looking down. He smiled at her and gently squeezed her hand a little more, leaving her space to pull it away at any moment. A light breeze passed through the tall, wide windows overlooking the library. It moved both of their hair. For Lasgalen, it was difficult to maintain eye contact at times. So it was Elrond who tried to keep it from breaking.

"Don't be afraid to tell me anything. I won't judge you for anything that happened to you or for anything you decided to do. You are a good and kind soul, Yes, I can see it through your eyes and by the way you address the world. I know that trusting someone is a great challenge for you, I understand perfectly, and I can't imagine how I would have reacted to what you went through. So, even though they are just words, know that my heart is sincere when I speak, and I swear this to you" Elrond spoke slowly, hoping the young elf would believe what he said. He knew he couldn't demand her trust, but he hoped to be on the path to earning it.

Lasgalen smiled. She had no certainties, yet his soul seemed so crystal clear that it appeared without secrets. Everyone had them. It was inevitable. But Elrond had done nothing but support her and be patient with her during her stay there, and in addition, she owed him her life.

"My name is not Yesenia. My name is Lasgalen" she said slowly, as if forcing the words out of her throat. It wasn't so much Elrond's reaction that worried her, but the idea of reintroducing her true self to the outside world.

Elrond widened his smile a little, almost shrugging, not seeming surprised at all.

"Alright, Lasgalen. It's a beautiful name" he simply replied. He didn't ask why she had hidden her name; he wouldn't until the elf herself told him, or until he knew he had her complete trust.

"Now I'll have to get used to calling you like that, though" he said jokingly, making Lasgalen smile as well. She squeezed his hand a little more. It was trembling, but still a squeeze. The young elf hadn't spoken to many at the palace during her stay, except for Elrond, Galadriel, Silwen, and Idril. So reintroducing herself to the world as Lasgalen wouldn't be too confusing for others.

"I'm going to see Galadriel before the troop training begins; that way, I can inform her first." The redhead gently let go of the elf's hand, and he smiled and nodded.

"And Galadriel is always twenty minutes early" he said with a smile.

"So that means-"

"That you're already late." The two smiled playfully as the redhead briskly made her way toward the training area, which encompassed a vast section of the palace, both outdoors and indoors. Although she had let go of Elrond's hand, it was as if it were still imprinted on hers, marked by a tingling sensation. Without fully realizing it, she had made great strides. She could trust her people, her kin.

We are different, Elves are different; we feel things more deeply than other creatures. So, never take an elf's tear or promise for granted

Her father had once told her. That memory made her smile. She had seen it in Elrond and in Silwen, perhaps even in Galadriel.

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Elrond stared at the empty space the young woman had left for a few minutes. Then, he picked up the book and placed it in front of him, attempting to continue reading. After a few seconds, he closed it again. He could no longer concentrate.

Even though he wasn't aware of it, he was feeling something very similar to what Gil-galad had experienced: fear that Lasgalen might be killed, but at the same time unable to deny her the freedom and justice she deserved. These were two opposing feelings clashing within him, neither prevailing, causing turmoil in his soul. He leaned back, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair. He trusted Galadriel. She was an exceptional warrior and commander, not worn down by time or the ancient rules of the elf armies. He just hoped she would judge the situation objectively, not merely because she felt Lasgalen should join the company just for being a victim of those they were going to hunt.

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Lasgalen arrived at the training camp, stopping abruptly at the entrance, her light hair following her movements. She was short of breath, not from running but from excitement. In fact, she couldn't be sure if Galadriel would accept. Perhaps she would feel too much responsibility. At the same time, Lasgalen had sensed that challenges excited Galadriel. As Elrond had predicted, even though training wasn't supposed to start for some time, the company members were already prepared to line up, stalling by talking among themselves. Just before Galadriel could speak and tell them to stand at attention, Lasgalen spotted her and gestured for her to wait until she approached. The blonde, in combat uniform, nodded and waited as the elf walked toward her, advancing with her pointed brown shoes.

"Sorry to bother you, Galadriel. I wouldn't, if it weren't important" the redhead said, casting a quick glance at those present; some seemed to have noticed her entry into the area.

"Has something happened?" the blonde asked, concerned, looking at the redhead with worry. Lasgalen had noticed how Galadriel lived with a constant sense of unease, somewhat similar to her own but different. Lasgalen tended to be defensive, while Galadriel went on the offensive immediately, as if always anticipating trouble or disaster around the corner. Elrond had a completely different temperament, yet she knew they had grown up together to some extent.

"Nothing for you to worry about" Lasgalen replied, trying to ease the tension she had unintentionally sparked, and the blonde's facial features relaxed.

"Go on" Galadriel replied, with a faint smile. The redhead was certain that Galadriel was eager to start the training session, as her eyes wandered between her and the group of soldiers.

Lasgalen took a quick breath before speaking, closing her eyes for just a moment.

"Gil-galad has granted me permission to join the company that will hunt the woodsmen, but only if you find me suitable for combat" she said quickly, without taking her eyes off the Lieutenant. Galadriel didn't seem too surprised but was extremely intrigued by the matter.

"He tasked me with assessing whether your skills are sufficient or not?" the blonde asked, probably just because she wanted to hear it twice. The fact that Gil-galad was starting to trust her didn't bother her in the slightest.

"Exactly" the redhead replied, nervous, fiddling with the left side of her dress while awaiting an answer.

"Very well, we'll meet this evening before sunset, in the indoor hall. No one has training at that hour, and we won't put on a show" Galadriel added, without raising her voice too much, avoiding piquing the curiosity of some of the elves present.

"I'll be there" Lasgalen was quite satisfied. She had accepted. Now, the only question was whether the skills her father had taught her would be enough.

"Perfect, Yesenia, see you later" Galadriel turned back to the others.

"Lasgalen. Call me Lasgalen" the redhead blurted out. The blonde's neatly braided hair turned along with her face, which showed a small smirk.

"Lasgalen" the blonde corrected herself before beginning the training session.

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The redhead returned to her room and spent the rest of the day there. She began warming up, tying her attire as best she could to make it shorter. She used a comb as if it were a dagger and started moving slowly.

Oh, my daughter, I hope you'll never have to do this in war, but you were born to fight

Her father had once told her, and those words had filled her with joy.

Why do you say such things to her? Are you so eager to see her risk her life?

Her mother had scolded him, far from thrilled at the prospect. Seeing her daughter fight against evil and risk her life was the last thing she wanted, especially after watching her husband do it.

At the moment, years of enslavement had made her rusty, but she spent the entire day practicing, repeating the same moves over and over again.

Don't rely on brute strength; you're slender. Rely on speed

Her father had taught her early on when he began training her. Lasgalen's slender frame certainly couldn't rely on powerful muscles, but that could also prove to be a great advantage.

Never stay in one place, keep your hands agile and quick, always ready to grab a blade or an arrow, make long jumps, and use your opponent's strength against them.

These teachings were imprinted in her mind, but putting them into practice after all that time would be another matter.

An unknown elf passed by in the afternoon to deliver her a dress. Well, it wasn't exactly a dress; it was a combat uniform. It wasn't like the palace army's uniforms; it was gray, with not-too-tight seams.

The time to meet Galadriel came sooner than she expected, and in no time, she had braided her hair and headed toward the closed-off area of the training camp. Unexpectedly, she found Elrond at the door. He greeted her with a calm smile.

"Don't tell me Galadriel changed her mind."

"Oh, not at all. She's probably more nervous than you" he added playfully.

"Then why are you here?" she asked innocently.

"Well, I wondered if you might need someone to guard the door. You know, for privacy and security. I'll make sure no one enters" she raised an eyebrow.

"You want to watch?"

He smiled, shrugging, with a gesture that implied the answer was yes.

"And do you want to watch because you think I'm not ready, to plant doubts in Galadriel's mind and stop me from going?" His expression then grew serious.

"Don't lie to me, Elrond" she added, looking him in the eye. She was pleading with him, almost pitifully. Always tell me the truth, even when it's uncomfortable, even if it leads to us arguing.

He straightened his back before replying and took a few steps closer.

"I won't lie to you. Not now, not in the future. Yes, I fear that your years of imprisonment may have weakened you to the point of not being ready, but I'd be more than happy to be proven wrong by watching. Moreover, I assure you, no one can plant doubts in Galadriel's mind. Once she has made a decision, there's nothing in Middle-earth or beyond that can sway her judgment."

Lasgalen appreciated the honesty of the dark-haired elf. She was saddened that he thought she might not be up to the task, but she couldn't blame him either. Besides, someone who could ensure that there were indeed no onlookers other than themselves could be useful to her.

"Alright, come in" she simply said, climbing the few steps leading to the large wooden door.

Elrond said nothing more and merely followed her, grateful that she hadn't taken offense and that she had allowed him to watch. They found Galadriel playing with her sword, walking in circles in the center of the room.

"Welcome" she said with a smile before noticing Elrond's figure.

"Explain to me why you're always in the middle of things" she joked, pointing at Elrond with her sword.

"I am the King's herald."

"Yes, great excuse" the blonde replied with a smirk, while Lasgalen looked around. The ceiling was high, illuminated by many lanterns. Around her were two spaces containing various weapons: swords, daggers, knives, bows, arrows, even a few small whips, unusual for Elven weaponry.

The two found themselves standing at the center together, while Elrond positioned himself on the side of the hall, leaning his back and weight against the wall, arms crossed.

"Alright, Lasgalen, choose a weapon" Galadriel said, her gaze pointing to the wall of blades. The redhead didn't take long to decide, choosing a sword as slender as it was light, perfectly balanced. It seemed like an excellent companion, very different from her father's sword, which was thick and heavy.

"Excellent choice. Now, the approach will be very simple: I need to see if you can move, how you move, and if you do it well. I want to see how you use your strengths." They stood facing each other. The redhead was intensely focused, gripping the sword firmly, and trying to feel the ground beneath her feet through her thin shoes.

She struck first, missing Galadriel but parrying one of her blows. If there was one thing those centuries hadn't taken from her, it was her sharp reflexes. Perhaps even too sharp. She tried again and again, but she never managed to hit her.

"If we continue like this, I won't be able to let you participate" the comment made her angry, and instead of focusing mainly on defense, she started to seriously think about attacking. Her strikes became faster and more aggressive, and Galadriel lightly struck her calf, while she herself remained completely unscathed.

"You should really want it: to be there when justice is served."

Elrond straightened up, tense as a bowstring. Whether it was Galadriel's underestimation or the rising anger building inside her, Lasgalen started to unleash a flurry of blows against Galadriel, who began to fight seriously. The redhead's gaze was furious, blinded by rage. It was repressed anger, and after the blonde's words, it was as if she saw one of her captors standing in front of her. She lost control, managing to scratch Galadriel's face with a small cut.

"Lasgalen!" Elrond reprimanded her, but Galadriel didn't seem upset. With a few quick moves, she disarmed Lasgalen, placing her sword at the redhead's stomach.

Both were out of breath.

"You would be dead" said the blonde.

"But not the last one" only then did Galadriel notice the dagger Lasgalen had aimed right under her chest, pointed at her heart. The redhead's gaze was still filled with fury, so intense that it made her eyes brim with unshed tears. Galadriel lowered her weapon.

"Forgive me, but I had to provoke you." Still panting, Lasgalen lowered her dagger, sniffed, and wiped her face with one of her fists.

The blonde then burst into a small laugh.

"What's so funny?" Lasgalen asked, irritated.

"That I have no idea who trained you, but they are surely a great warrior."

Yes... he was. He was a brave and valiant warrior. And they took from him the death he deserved. The redhead sat down right where she stood. Her gaze met Elrond's.

She's too caught up in this; she'll get herself killed.

Elrond thought immediately. She knew how to fight, and very well once she took a weapon back in hand. But she had only been able to fight because she was driven by fury. Elrond wondered if that rage would eat her up inside. If it would ever be enough for her. If she would end up living only for that mission, without ever moving beyond it to build a new life.

"So? What's your decision?" the redhead asked, this time more calmly, as she watched the blonde put her sword away. Meanwhile, she was brushing the stray strands of hair from her face that had escaped from her tight braid.

"I think you can defend yourself, and you know how to fight. If my task was to assess that, you're in the company. I'll tell the King in the morning."

The redhead, who probably hadn't truly believed it until that moment, stood up, eyes wide.

"Really?" She clenched her fists, overcome with emotion.

"Unless you'd like me to change my mind" Galadriel said, looking at her with a smirk.

"No, no, that's perfect." Only then did she focus her vision and see the scratch she had made on the blonde's face.

"Oh heavens, Galadriel, forgive me, I didn't realize" she said, quickly approaching and pulling out a white cloth from her pocket, wiping the small bit of blood from her cheek. Galadriel shook her head, still smiling, and placed her hand on the redhead's bare wrist. Another tremor. Her hand was different from Elrond's: calloused in places from handling a sword, rather than soft from the pages of books.

"Remember this strength when we're out there. Justice will be done, and we will protect all elves by eradicating this threat." Lasgalen couldn't have known, but Galadriel was convinced they were dealing with Sauron's men, which is why she was so deeply involved.

Elrond approached the two, gently taking Galadriel's face in his hand as Lasgalen lowered hers. He passed his thumb over the scratch, which then disappeared.

"Always showing off with your talents" the blonde teased with a smile.

"You're welcome" he replied with a grin, then turned to meet Lasgalen's eyes. It was a look that said more than words ever could.
I see you.
I see your strength, your buried skills, brought back to life.
I see your anger, your anguish, your lost love, your pain.
I see your revenge, your need for redemption, to overcome the past.
I see your fear of not making it.
But I see you.
I see it all.