Away from the field, she was perhaps more gentle than was wise, some trace of her time in Ithilien, yet when she bore the sword and the shield, every word she spoke became heavy and cold as iron, her eyes distant, as though seeing things that had long since happened.

She spoke of training, technique and mastery, of the necessity of the weapons they carried, but never their glories.

They found her strange, this woman who had grown and lived as one of them, yet had so long lived apart, but in her cold, hard lessons, there was a dedication, a pressure to prepare them for whatever they might face, that drew them back, day after day, to learn from her whatever she could teach.