Chapter 7: A Swordsmaster's Oath, The Lady Of Light's Greatest Gift

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She didn't even know how or why it had come to this or what sorcery had overtaken her body but here she is doing the last thing she had ever expected herself to do.

"I offer you my swords, my loyalty and aid in battle, Master Baggins, as I had offered it to your uncle." Celine declared just after they had finished the feast they had the morning of the Fellowship's departure. Out of the blue as she went down on her knees in front of the ring bearer.

'What?' Came her incredulous question for her seemingly unconscious actions. As if her body wasn't entirely her own and she blames it on that hopeful little priestess that had already been so innate that it had no chances of disappearing even perhaps after she had died. That part of her that uses way too much heart than instincts and the mind. That part that is too sympathetic and selfless and vulnerable.

The one that believes she could save everyone and that she'll be able to actually be something just by standing by the prince of Mirkwood's side.

That if she would just stay for as long as she can and be there for him for when he needs someone -even if it wasn't her that he desires- maybe the tables would turn and he'll finally see her as who she is, just standing there and waiting for him with a welcoming arm outstretched as she had and always will be for as long as she lives.

Hoping that when that moment comes, he'll be ready.

He'll be ready

to -at long last- take her hand.

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Frodo's rich blue eyes widened in surprise at this. The hobbit had never really expected the swords master to want to help him in his quest since she seemed all but interested in him and wants to have nothing to do with anyone in their party except to cover the ground and paint it red with their elf friend's blood with the use of both swords and words.

But that wasn't the only thing that had shocked him. It was the part where she mentioned that she helped his uncle in battle. A battle that couldn't have taken place any less than 40 years ago.

This girl didn't even look any more than nineteen in human years and she isn't an elf to begin with.

Unbeknownst to him, Aragorn wonders pretty much the same thing. For all he legitimately knew, he was the last of the Dunedains and there's even the least possibility of an unknown relative being lost somewhere along the line.

Merry and Pippin seemed to have the same disbelief etched on their faces and Sam was simply too awestrucked to have anything else placed on his.

Ever since they've arrived and openly saw the swords master's face, Frodo had to admit that both he and Sam had exchanged thoughtful looks of wonder because despite of all the snarky attitude, threats and overall cold and monotonous aura she had all around her, no one could deny that the girl is downright gorgeous.

What appeared to be long tresses of curls weaved into an intricate bun, strands of such a peculiar hair color that perfectly matches the cloak she had always worn since their arrival, snow white skin, rosy cheeks and lips and those vivid lavender eyes encased in thick lashes. There's no denying that one would begin to doubt such a beautifully fragile creature is even a warrior to begin with, much less an ordinary human at that too.

Gimli's face was teared between mortification and disagreement as he instinctively turned to Aragorn -who served as the leader of their group thus far, ever since they had lost Gandalf to the Balrog- for any signs of actions they would take. Because as much as he would've wanted to reason that the girl does not even look like she'll be able to hold herself properly in battle, he had already seen -or at least had a glimpse of- the way she fights and there's no getting around the blatant fact that it was swift, precise, deadly and could be a priceless trump card to posses in their group.

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