What decide the fate of a woman ? Is it pure chance ? Or do we all follow a path there before us ? I know not. I have walked a million  steps following my sword, and my journey's end remain as unknown as when I started.

People that see me say I am young, people that know me say I am old. Age should not be decided by the number of winters you lived to see, it should be measured by what you have done. I feel very old. Winter is coming, the wind from the north is cold. I am glad my path lead south, into the forests. I'll follow my path, no matter where it leads. The forest reminds me of a life I once knew. If I close my eyes I can still smell the sweet fragrance of pine wood burning on the fire. If I close my eyes I can still see the small village where I was born and where my people lived peacefully undisturbed. A scattered clan, the descendants of the sea-kings of the ancient West, we Dúnedain survived in a lonely wilderness, until a dark force bends its will toward our destruction. 

My people used to live in a secluded area called The Angle, protected by the River Mitheithel to the west, the River Bruinen to the south and east and wooded hills to the north. It is not too far from Imladris, which explains the connection between the Elves and the Dúnedain. My father was at the head of a small clan. They were a reconnaissance force, watching for the presence and movement of orcs. Much of the time they would be hidden, but their presence was a deterrent and they could intercept and (if necessary) destroy small groups of enemies.This was no safe place or time to raise a family, only a few of the rangers were married, and those who were would often chose not to have children. The clan lived in constant fear of attacks  and for that reason they would move often, living a nomadic life style in the forests.

Daughter of a chieftain of a friendly clan, my mother Leeay  was orphaned at the age of ten and raised by my father's clan as one of their own. Ten years her senior, my father grew to respect and love the young orphan as she developed from child into a woman. For a time peace seem to descent on The Angle and the Dúnedain were able to dedicate some years to a simple and peaceful life. My father's clan settled down on the edge of the forest, next to the river. They would still scout the surroundings, but also farm the fertile land, fish the waters, keep some livestock and trade with the Elves of Imladris. My father Arahael married Leeay, my mother, and for a time it seemed that all the evil in this world had vanished from their lives,  my mother was free to wear flowers in her hair and she bore my father a child.

And so I came into this world, daughter to loving parents, no more wandering, fate had brought them to their journey's end...they were home! But it was not going to last, the enemy was on the move. The attack to the Dúnedain village came unexpected and there was no time to evacuate. Peace had soften the rangers senses and the servants of evil took advantage of that. The village was surrounded, the outnumbered men ready to defend their homes and families. I was four years old and sent to hide in the barn with my mother and the other women and children. There I was left in the care of a woman. My mother kissed my forehead and whispered my name before turning back and running out to find my father. I would never seen them again. 

The woman that was looking after me in the barn knew death was coming. She rounded up the children and told the older boys to sneak out from the back and take the children into the forest. She told us to run as fast as we could and not look back. She told us to be silent and brave and make the Dúnedain proud. The older boy was ten years old, the youngest child was less than one winter old. And so we run as we were told and did not look back despite the horrible noise and the screams coming from the burning village. If one of us stumbled, the older children would come back and help. We run deep into the dark forest and none of us make a sound, as we were told because we where Dúnedain. We came to a small cave covered in vegetation and here, hidden for view we crawled inside and bundled together to stay warm, we waited.

I am Ninquë, woman of the Dúnedain, daughter of a ranger of the north, but rarely my birth name is used - I am Gilrain 'Wandering Star' in the lands of Gondor and Rohan. I am known as Mithníniel 'Tearful Mist' by the Elves. The Men of the West call me Thara, and ancient name meaning 'Tall and Slender'. In the past I had two more names, I was Wife and I was Mother, but those names are lost in time. To the stranger that meets me I am just a Dúnadan, a weathered bow and random luck,...

...and this is the path I thread.