aelwynna

Forngarmo knew that this would be the last battle with her current allies but she did not wanted to abandon neither Aelwynna nor Thandanar in this situation. Especially with him being captive. She stood at the ruins on top of the city and watched her surrounding as she remained deep in her thoughts. That was until she heard a familiar voice coming from below her. 
- Oh! Hello up there. - She looked down to see Aelwynna calling out to her from below. She had her broken promise in mind but was happy to see her nonetheless. 

The darkness and the cold seemed to stay endlessly with the ranger. Once per a while she kept hearing people around or feeling stuff around. She did recognize Thandanar, Belenir and Aelwynna talking near her, but couldn't make out anything out of it. For some reason she did feel that this was not yet the end for her. She had another battle to go through. The wound was her last concern, if not for the events happening in Forochel she would still be up on her feet. She kept fighting it, to keep her live and fulfill her mission and destiny. 

It seems that we will be never good enough for others. Everything I hoped for and everyone I had is gone...
Father perished, or so I think since his disappearance. 
Mother left for the war and that was the last I heard of her.
Faethuil... he left me to never come back as he said and told me to not look for mother anymore. 
I had a high hope that I will have a real aunt but I guess my mother just wanted to make us feel better. Rejection hurts. I do not know how my family does it but I cannot manage what I feel. 

The ranger managed to recover enough to stay awake but the chill never left her body. She laid by the fire, using each moment of rest that she was given before there would be a need of her once again. She closed her eyes only to open them with haste as she heard a group of people gathering nearby. She stood up, recognizing the others she joined before. Forngarmo quickly joined the group but did not behave like her usual self. There was much off about her since the return from the North. People kept greeting themselves and soon, they did greet her too.

Aelwynna slowly stood before the crowd of solemn men, a mix of Dunedain rangers and those of her kin, the Hand of Numenor. Her face was pale and pained with grief. A discerning eye might notice she was trembling slightly, not used to being the center of attention.

She swallowed hard and began: 

The chamber deep within Orthanc was cold and foreboding, torches casting ghostly shadows across the dark stone. In the center, a small and trembling figure was bound by cruel chains — Aelwynna, all but a youngling by the tender age of ten. Her bright eyes, a blend of fear and defiance, darted around the room.