The smell of blood

Gently she strokes the finger along the blade of the sword. She shudders when she feels the cold steel against the skin. The smile comes quickly when she thinks of the previous day, but disappears as soon as she thinks of what is expected of her. Feawing opens the chest, and places gently the ancient sword back again.
She is lucky. She already feels at home in the "flowers". What a wonderful Herth. So friendly and helpful.
She finds a chair and sits down near the fireplace. Her thoughts wander while she is constantly staring into the flames. A stabbing pain still feels in her arms after yesterday's practice.
 She had never ever felt so exhausted. But it was a good pain. For the first time for very long she felt valued and Included into a group. Her teacher Lord Aearandir is strict, but fair. Feawing has immense respect for him.
She smiles warmly for herself when she thinks of her training partner Enelduin. He is a Nethvaed just like her. And he has very good knowledge of his skills.
She thinks she managed to hide the panic, when she practiced in the sword fight with him. None seemed to notice the anxiety.
Her thoughts wander back to when she was a little girl. The sound of steel striking steel. Sharp swords that strikes one other sharp sword. Scream that stretchers through her ​​ears as she sits hidden behind a small bush. The smell of sweet blood that mixes with natural fragrances. The sound of a new scream next to her. A lifeless bloody body lying a few meters in front of her. A sword that has been brutally stabbed through the body. A lifeless body which comforted her a few hours ago, when she had lost her gold locket. Feawing had never lifted a sword ever since. Her skills with the bow wore even more intensified. And at a distance, she was a master at using the bow. A new scary element had come into her life. The smell of fear. She had to use the sword. For the first time in her life she had to face her greatest fear. The smell of sweet blood, and steel against steel.