[Amanaduial the archer]

Fionel had made straight towards Shivana, her right hand gripping her sword tightly. As she came near, the Huntress still seemed shocked, frozen in a moment of horror that slaves could attack her, and taking advantage of this, Fionel whirled the sword around at the neck level of the Huntress.

But Shivana was fast. In a second her own sword, which had been unsheathed, was up, not completely countering Fionel's, but deflecting it, so it still caught the Huntress a blow on the shoulder with its flat. Shivana yelled, in anger more than pain.

"How dare you, slave?"

"I am not a slave any more." Fionel somehow managed to control her voice so it was not much more than a whisper, but Shivana heard. Her mocking laugh made Fionel's blood suddenly run cold.

"'I'm not a slave anymore', she says," Shivana mocked Fionel's own voice in a high, squeaky one, then returned to her own. "What do you mean by that? You have been a slave most of your life, no doubt, haven't you?"

"My past will not destroy my future." Fionel replied evenly. The pair of them were circling now, and Fionel was trying to weigh up the odds between them. She knew Shivana to have at least two long daggers concealed about her person at some time, and the one she was holding in her hand was only one of these. Fionel let her eyes flicker away from her opponent's for a second, searching her body for the other weapon.

Mistake.

In that second, Shivana's weapon shot straight forward at Fionel's chest. Fionel hadn't had any idea that she was about to move- wasn't one of the more basic rules of combat to make sure you always knew what your opponent was about to do? She gasped in shot and parried the blade ammateurly, simply whacking it with her own as she jumped backwards.

Shivana smiled her predatory grin and Fionel cursed inwardly- now the easterling knew she was an ammateur. That shot hadn't really been designed to kill, more simply to test Fionel's skills with her blade. And Fionel had failed spectacularly. She backed away uncertainly, and Shivana walked forward further, still smiling wickedly.

I need an element of surprise... Fionel strove desperately to come up with such a thing, before she thought of one. She couldn't let the smile flicker onto her own face for a moment. Shivana saw it and stopped approaching so fast- she was uncertain as to what had caused the slave to smile. Realising she had to put her back at her ease, Fionel moved back onto a ground where she knew the easterling would be happy. She gulped, her eyes seeming to beg with Shivana, and allowed a small, pleading smile to flicker onto her face, as if trying to appease the easterling, like a submissive dog who has been naughty. Shivana saw this and, in her arrogance, was fooled. She began to prepare for another strike. Fionel gasped aloud, moving back. For a fleeting milisecond, she allowed her eyes to flicker down about a metre behind her, and she saw the perfect excuse. She made sure she was always alert, but still Shivana struck, and Fionel, unpractised in sword fighting, despite her alertness, was caught off guard. She tried to move to the side, but the sword caught her in the arm. She cried out, and pulled back, causing the curved end of the blade to rip through her skin, inflicting even further pain and damage. Fionel bit her lip hard to stop herself crying out again and moved back a little, facing Shivana almost sidewards now, her head turned, her injured arm behind her and her torso protected her her right arm and sword.

But what she had thought of as a plan was tuning against her. The obstruction- a small rocky lump in the ground- which she had been going to use as an excuse to fall and use in her plan- which seemed to be falling to pieces- now turned against her. She stumbled and fell to the ground, her left arm crushed under her, inflicting yet more pain. Shivana laughed once more, her grin as wide as the range of the mountains of Mordor.

To Fionel's surprise, the easterling did not strike immediately. She plunged her sword down right beside Fionel, making the slave roll to the side, then plunged it down to the other side, but didn't aim straight at her immediately. This surprised Fionel, then horrified her. The easterling was playing with her.

But inside her tunic, Fionel allowed her hand to grasp the little piece of hope- a small, bone pen knife, the one Rhunnaro had thrown to her as they first ran from Nurn. She still had a plan...