[Garen LiLorian]

Ned sniffled pathetically, but nodded. He knew he wasn't to blame, really, but the thought just kept recurring to him that if he had known what he was doing, like Autumn had, Elfred might still be alive. Autumn. His mind flashed back to the frenzied battle scene. It had looked bad; Olo and Elfred down, Ned helpless before the beast, leaving only the brave hobbit-lass to deal with two wolves and the Warg. She had made it looks so easy. Graceful, even.

Ned's resolve firmed at the same rate as his voice. It was foolish of him to have pretended to be a hero, to wander through the wilderness like one of the famous Rangers. For the first time, Ned could see in his mind's eye how battered and miserable the Men looked, how pathetically pleased they were to have a roof over their heads for a night, and a dinner they didn't have to catch themselves. Adventure. he thought, (and was far from being the first to do so) Weeks of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror, rather.

"Autumn?" Ned hated how quavery his voice sounded, but there was very little he could do about it. "Do you think..." He gulped.

Her voice, when it came, was gentle. "Yes?"

"Erm. Well, that is to say... do you think maybe sometime, if you aren't too busy, that you could maybe... Uh, teach me?"

She looked confused for a moment, then began to laugh. Nariah, still standing nearby started in as well, and both of them laughed and laughed, sinking to the ground in shared merryment. Truly, the Hobbit's spirit was indomitable; only moments before he had been weeping, now, somehow, his thoughts had already left the horrible events of the day, and he was already thinking about swordplay! After a moment Ned began to chuckle himself, more out of commiseration than mirth.

"Oh, oh," Autumn managed between spurts, "Of course I'll teach you..." She couldn't contain herself then, and laughed helplessly, holding her ribs.

Perhaps it was more than the feeble joke which Ned had offered. Certainly there seems to be that in the human (and Hobbit) spirit which objects to scenes of war and strife, of battle and bloodshed and evil. Perhaps this bout of merriment was brought on by this indescribable impulse, as a balancing between good and evil, a laughter which lightens the spirit and diminishes the horrible events which the folk, both big and little, had endured that day to a bearable level. In any case, Ned too soon began to laugh helplessly, and found he could not stop.
The laughter of the three friends sounded in the night, defying the horrible events of the day.

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It was the next morning, and Ned was tired, miserable and feeling that his request of the night before had been somewhat ill-concieved. He had been roistered out of bed at an ungodly hour by Autumn, who had been smiling what Ned was sure was the most evil smile ever seen this side of Mordor. She had taken him to a field, and equipped him with a large, heavy stick. Then the beatings had commenced.

At the moment Ned was lying on his back, feeling very restful and admiring the patterns the flashing lights and colors were making. He heard a voice from far off. "Oh dear. Ned, you really have to work on that overhand parry." He focused on the voice, and his vision slowly swam back into focus.

"Ouch," He said. His fingers encountered strange protuberance on his forehead, where he was pretty sure there hadn't been one before. He was conscious of another sound, a sort of chuffing. It was the sound of a Dwarf laughing. Unceremoniously, he was hauled to his feet, where he stood blinking confusedly. Autumn was standing in front of him, the stick held in her left hand was resting on the ground and a worried expression was on her face.

"Are you all right?"

Ned didn't rightly know how to answer that. He didn't hurt, yet, although he was pretty sure that wouldn't last. He nodded, rather unsteadily.

"That's m'boy!" Shouted a loud voice right in Ned's ear, and a hand came down on Ned's back with the force of a mining sledgehammer, nearly knocking him down the other way. "We'll make a swordsman of you yet, young Hobbit!" Anuionin also looked far to cheery for the hour, but then again, Dwarves have strange senses of humour, and watching Ned being knocked around a field with a large stick seemed to fit the bill, at least for this Dwarf.

Ned shook his head, trying to dislodge some of the cobwebs, then rather reluctantly assumed a defensive posture. "I'm Ok. Come on, let's get this over with."

Autumn advanced again, her stick held before her like a rapier. Because of her wound, she was forced to use a smaller weapon than normal, but this made her no less dangerous to a untutored character like Ned. Ned also was forced to use only one hand on his "blade," but, unlike Autumn, it certainly seemed to make a difference in his fighting.

"One!" Autumn yelled, then swung down. Ned parried. "Four!" Ned made a hanging parry that just managed to keep her stick from his stomach. "Two!" Left. "Three!" Right. He grinned. He was getting the hang of this!