To the Promised Land

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

Sunlight reflected brilliantly off the silver sheen of a stallion, his noble head bobbing up and down as he walked, black mane fluttering about his face. His rider, a lithe elven female, looked around, keen eyes studying everything in the forest around her. The leaves of the leaves of the trees were brilliant oranges, reds, and yellows, falling lazily to the ground every so often, landing in small piles beneath the great trees.

It seemed as though the time of the Elven realm had stopped, allowing the she-elf her journey to the deserts, saving the bold display of colors to welcome her back home. She sighed, brushing a ebony lock that had fallen from out the hood of her cloak, blue eyes fixed on the trail ahead of her.

The deserts of Battonia had held little of what Nostariel had expected. It was merely dirt and dust and wind.. and the occasional mound of rocks. Lizards and scorpions. Of course she had only caught a few glimpses of the castle of Rhiannon, but had visited the city. It was a dark and sad place, but there were still small flickers of hope in some of the humans there. The elves there had had their spirits destroyed, their kindly nature nothing but a faint idea of a past being's soul. A sad sight to see for another of their kin.

Nostariel halted Amarth, dismounting and leading him to the river. "Mae carnen, mellon nîn." She ran a slender hand along the stallion's neck as he drank, eyes on the water as it flowed around and into Amarth's mouth. He raised his head, snorting, obviously enjoying the coolness of the liquid. It had been a long while since he had been granted the indulgence of water. After all, one had to ration food and water in a place that offered neither. All the desert had offered was heat and the occasional near-death experience.

The pair had had plenty of near-death experiences in the three years they were away. To mention a few; Amarth had fallen from a dune, nearly breaking his leg.. Nostariel had been bitten by a snake. They had run out of food at one point, living off of what little water they had left. The trials of the deserts were difficult ones, but they had made it out alive, and that was all that mattered. Death would have been easy, yet they chose the struggle of life and returned to the Elven realm, ready to be relieved with her forests, rivers, and the elven kind.

Singing quietly, Nostariel removed Amarth's tack before he started into the cool water of the river. The elf smiled, continuing to sing, and took her pack, searching through until she found a bit of bread. She ate it, and filled her flask with the clear water of the river. Amarth trotted briskly out of the water, shaking himself off, sending water flying in the elf's direction. A few drops hit her face which she wiped away, still smiling and singing.


{Word Count: 502}
{Notes: Okay, not long, but better than usual! And I think I'm starting to get a bit of my muse back!}

[Doronlas]

The elven realms were well known for their majesty and mystery being perfectly blended. Most mortals would rather not enter them but animals found comfort in the lingering essence of elven life. Their immortal glow seemed to bleed into the forests where they made their fortresses and beautiful cities hidden among the glades and woven with the rivers. One such creature that found comfort in the mysterious Taure Mentel was a handsome dark bay stallion ambling among the narrow woodland paths. His elegant head bobbed as he walked, the ease of his stride and relaxed muscles showing how calm he was among the elven paths. He bore no saddle and wore no bridle but was finely groomed, looking much like polish mahogany wood. His legs bled from dark brown to black, mane and tail ribbons of ebony and his dark brown eyes slightly brighter than the normal horse's.

Snorting, the elegant mount stopped his walk and raised his head. Dagnir snuffled softly, ears twitching forward to listen. The silence had been broken. Twitching his ears again, Dagnir listened intently until...ah yes, there it was. Snorting again, Dagnir tossed his head lightly and took off at a light-footed trot. The long-legged stag splashed through a shallow creek, bound for the deeper river that ran through Taure Mentel.

Pausing in the shadow of the trees, Dagnir regarded the silver horse and elleth on the far bank. Snorting, Dagnir swished his tail as he walked lazily from the concealing shadows of the trees. He now stood on the opposite bank from his master's company. Stopping only when his front hooves were a hair's width from the waters, Dagnir nickered absently and lowered his head to drink as though ignoring the elleth and other stallion. He knew his master would be coming soon, remembered the promise whispered in his ear early that morning, a message in elvish.

High above, past the thick canopy of trees, a hunting hawk shrieked as it circled restlessly on the cool falltime currents. Finicky birds. Raising his head, the stallion flared his dark nostrils, regarding the pair opposite him as the hawk called restlessly again in search of a mate that would never return. Yes, his master had whispered to him that morning of mournful business but...these newcomers couldn't have anything to do with that right? Stomping a dark hoof, Dagnir nickered again.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

The silver equid snorted, turning his head sharply at the sound of another of his kind. The bay seemed familiar to the stallion, but he merelt lowered his head to drink after returning to the river's edge. The elf looked to the skies, the screeching of a bird echoing down. Brows furrowed, and the female frowned. She lowered the hand that had shielded her eyes from the sun, sining slowly trailing off until it ceased. Amarth nickered uncomfortably, shifting and tossing his great head. "Man le trasta Amarth?" (What troubles you) The stallion merely snorted, trotting over to his tack, pushing it with his nose. He wanted to leave..

Nostariel shook her head, moving towards the horse, "Caro i echad sí." (We make camp here) The horse pawed at the saddle, but gave into his mistress' word, his head lowered to the grass where he began to cut the blades lazily with his large teeth, making a meal out of the plants for himself.

Unsmiling, Nostariel turned herself to the river, seeing a shockingly familiar beast. He was a bay equine, his coat gleaming softly. Her mind rewound, returning to memories of years past. Again, brows furrowed, and she moved forward, the water still not quite reaching her feet. "Am man theled sí lin, Dagnir?" (For what purpose are you here Dagnir) It was more a question to herself than the equid across the river, and of course she did not expect much of a response.

Had he been set free? Perhaps he had just escaped from his bondage and his master would seek him. Maybe she would catch a glimpse of the eyes she had dreamed of.. a glimpse of the kind face she only saw when she could bring herself to remember. Nostariel took a step, the water rushing around her leg wildly, as though upset that someone, even an elf, had dared interuppt its course, pushing some of the liquid onto the soft sand of the shore. Her soft gray-blue dress was beginning to dampen, and she took several steps back. She was unsure if she even wanted to see him again. It would be strange for her. Seeing that face again.

Nostariel's frown deepened, her hands clutching the soft cloth at her waist. Would he still be the same? Or would the death and bitterness of war have worn him away as it nearly had her? Lonliness could have gotten to him, ever gnawing at his kind soul. Harshly biting her lip, her mind willed her legs to move forward again until she was waist deep in the flow of the water. "Dagnir.." Her lips confirmed the recognition that had been produced in her mind. It was indeed the bay stallion. What of Olmec? And Lady Rowena? Had time changed them as well?


{Word Count: 465}

[Doronlas]

Dagnir tossed his handsome head, regarding the faintly familiar elleth. Since his years were not uncountable, the stallion had a decent recollection of those his master came in contact with but this elleth seemed more important than some of the random mortals. Swishing his tail the bay shrugged as only a horse could and lowered his head to munch on some of the grass until sweet elvish words flowed to him. Raising his head again, hearing his name, Dagnir snorted curiously. Above them, the hawk shrieked again, a mournful wail. Dagnir snorted and turned his head toward the path on which he had come.

"Dagnir? Where have you gone silly beast? Now isn't the time" came an elvish voice, muffled by distance.

The bay whinnied and stomped his hoof.

From the undergrowth, a tall figure cloaked in dark green unfolded from the sun-dappled shade. He was tall and handsome, face kindly but also firm. Blazing emerald eyes seemed to match the tone of the spring leaves though now the foliage blazed in all forms of reds, yellows and oranges. A longbow was strapped firmly to his back along with a weathered quiver, the arrows fletched with hawk feathers. His attire was simple, stature formidable but having the odd quality of the willow to bend and shift so easily that his grace hid most of his power. The hood of his cloak was pulled up over his dark hair but his face was still visible.

Dagnir whinnied and turned, walking to the elf as the elf raised his hand. "The deed is done mellon nin, our path will continue" he whispered to the horse.

Doronlas' eyes were dark with sadness as he listened to Olmec crying overhead in a hawk's lament. Rokia had been the hawk Doronlas had saved from a hunter's trap and had also been Olmec's mate. A human hunting on the fringes of Taure Mentel had shot her and Doronlas had spent the morning giving his friend's mate a proper send of. He had sent Dagnir away to graze, knowing the equine would be too restless to wait one him. Olmec had taken to the skies and been crying since he had circled his fallen mate the night before. It was sad business but not unavoidable.

Turning his gaze to the other bank, Doronlas stiffened and his hand wandered to the hidden sheathed long knife at his hip. "Who is it that walks these paths? Speak quickly stranger, my patients are thin with trespassers in this land."

His words were spoken sharply, green eyes going from soft leaf green to sharp cut emerald in the blink of an eye. The elleth seemed familiar but exhaustion was catching up with the young archer, making him impatient and snappish. Burying a hawk he had grown close to had grieved his heart and he was unable to find rest while Olmec cried and continued to mourn. He had come years ago to this place to protect it from humans trying to overstep their boundaries. Many times he had taken out bands of thieves intent on raiding elven villages but recently his patients with the insolence of humans had begun to grow thin.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Dagnir? Where have you gone silly beast? Now isn't the time." The she-elf's body froze, her mind ceasing its thought process, only continuing the functions nescessary for maintaining the life inside her. "The deed is done mellon nin, our path will continue." Her mind wheeled, now telling her to run, but another part of her gently whispering thoughts of staying.


"Who is it that walks these paths? Speak quickly stranger, my patients are thin with trespassers in this land." Nostariel flinched, pain igniting with her. The sharpness in his voice startled her, her mind again leaving her to her own. It was him, but yet it did not seem to be... him. "Gwend sui lotheg i edlothia an-uir mellon nin.." Nostariel spoke weakly, her body feeling old and mind weary, as though she were an old human woman, slowly withering away for nothing better to do. The elf did not believe that he would remember a silly thing she had told him those years ago, and quickly added. "Im Nostariel Almárëa.." (I am ...)

Amarth shifted about, sensing his mistress' weariness, but not moving to her. The sand around her feet seemed to make her unsteady, though she would not fall or stagger. "I return from my travels.. heading.... for.." She found no courage to speak again, her guarded eyes only focoused on the elf across the river. She made no move for her weapon though he appeared to be moving for his, though she could not see it, she suspected it.


{Word Count: 250}
{Notes: Hookay, only 250 words because I wasn't sure what else to do.}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas' grip on his knife handle slipped and the blade tumbled. The blade sliced his palm before hitting the ground and bouncing into the river with a sharp splash. Doronlas, however, seemed not to notice the loss of the blade or the scarlet blood on his hand. Staring almost dumbly across the river, Doronlas seemed to be reeling from shock which was exactly what was happening. His green eyes widened in shock and he looked dumbly at his sliced hand before looking back at Nostariel.

A hurricane of emotions swelled in his stomach so quickly and furiously that he thought he might explode. Undeniable happiness came first followed fast as a cheetah by pure shock. Had he forgotten her? No, elves had amazing memories. Had he missed her? Most definitely. Trying to get himself under control, Doronlas struggled for the composure his father had hammered into his head for at least a hundred years. So far it was failing.

Dagnir snorted and tossed his head, seeming almost amused by his master's dumbstruckness. It always amused him to see an elf fumbling though it was a bit disconcerting to find hands so steady when drawing a bow dropping a precious blade.

"Nos...Nostariel? I...I did not...." Doronlas stammered. "I can't believe I almost drew a blade on you..." he settled for at last, seeming to deflate as the stiffness of shock and defensiveness drained from his shoulders. Had he had less composure, Doronlas probably would have fallen over. "I should have known it was you...I'm sorry, so many of the travelers here are robbers and men of no honor...I jumped to conclusions...."

From overhead through the tree limbs, Olmec's brown and white bulk manuvered. The hawk dropped low, coasting a foot above the water until he came to Doronlas. The elf opened his arms as though to accept a hug and the bird fluttered toward him. Doronlas caught Olmec, the hawk's talons clenching the arm of his left arm while his right arm steadied the bird. When Olmec became still, he looked almost like Doronlas was holding a child now that Olmec was mature size for his breed of hawk, cradled in Doronlas' arms and looking forlorn. The hawk gave a tired and sorrowful croak, tucking his head under a wing and going still as a lump of brown feathers in Doronlas' arms.

Doronlas looked back at Nostariel with a sad and tired smile to match his hawk's demenor. "Such travelers have not been kind to us as of late."

Clicking his tongue, the archer waded into the river with ease, still carrying Olmec. Dagnir snorted in protest only once before following until they came out onto the other bank though Doronlas kept a respectful distance from Nostariel, not seeking to frighten her.

{Notes} More or less he's carrying Olmec like you'd carry a baby, Olmec is holding on to his right arm which is under his body and Doron as his other arm wrapped around him.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

Nostariel closed her eyes for a moment, wincing a the blade drew a fine line of crimson across his palm. Eyelids opened slowly, revealing the strange blue of her eyes which were again locked on Doronlas. "Nos...Nostariel? I...I did not.... I can't believe I almost drew a blade on you..." The she-elf stood, not only simply stunned that he stood before here. "I should have known it was you...I'm sorry, so many of the travelers here are robbers and men of no honor...I jumped to conclusions...." The talk of robbers and unhonorable men sent spikes of anger driving through her mind, but she refused to acknowledge it being as she did not think she could handle anything else than the mess of emotions inside her.

With a pained gaze she watched as Olmec flew towards Doronlas who received the bird into his arms. Sadness even seemed to reach the fierce hawk. The birds of Battonia were cruel and ugly, with terrible talons and beaks.. pecking and making such disgusting sounds of displeasure and violence.

"Such travelers have not been kind to us as of late." Even smiling Nostariel could see the weariness and sadness he held. Amarth stepped next to the she-elf, watching as the other elf and stallion crossing the river. His ears pricked forward, dark tail lashing at his sides in worry at the bleeding elf. Any and all blood meant danger to the silver equid now.

The harshness of a fallen people was not easily forgotten by Amarth, nor Nostariel. They both had been tormented by their hands, nearly every hour of the day trying to break them. Only two things had given her the strength and willpower to resist and to not be affected by their tortment. "Having a knife pointed at me is something I have grown accustomed to. No harm done." She watched quietly as he stopped somewhat near her, Amarth snorting warily. "I understand. I would have assumed as well... I have been...."

Her words slowly became quieter as she trailed off, locks of hair escaping the hood of her cloak, the edges blowing around her every so often. It was hard for her to drive the urge to embrace him away. To keep her distance. Maybe he had not even wanted to see her in the first place? She winced at the thought, eyes moving to his bloody hand. "Your hand.." Nostariel took several steps forward, stopping when she looked back up to Doronlas' face. Her muscles tightened again, an uneasy feeling creeping upon her.

It felt strange to be back in his presence.. To actually see his face again, and to be able to meet his gaze. She felt phsically ill, not because of him, but because she did not know how to act around him. Was she supposed to be ashamed? Happy? Sad? Nothing? Should she try and help him with his hand? Feelings had never before confused Nostariel, but now she could barely even concentrate on one specific thought.



{Word Count: 498}
{Notes: None.}

[Doronlas]

Despite having shown a great liking for Nostariel when they met, Olmec did not bother to raise his head from the shelter of one of his great brown wings. The hawk barely showed any signs of noticing that his master had just waded through a river and showed even less signs of noticing the blood slicking his feathers from Doronlas' hold. Doronlas noticed this and felt worry for his bird companion but turned his attention back to Nostariel, savoring her presence like a starved man savors his first meal. How long had it been since they had parted ways? Two, three years? More perhaps? It was hard to tell when the only way to tell time was the changing color of the trees.

"All will be well, my hand will mend" Doronlas assured softly, smiling a little. It would be hard to have his hand tended while it seemed Olmec was unwilling to give up his nest in Doronals' arms. "One more scar will make no difference."

If his hands weren't holding several pounds of grieving hawk, Doronlas was almost positive he would embrace Nostariel and not let her out of his sight for the next century. Not only was she his first civilized contact in several months but she was also...what was she to him? Not a lover but more than a friend. It was hard to place but then again, Nostariel had always been a partial mystery to Doronlas. She suffered in silence and now he could not even comfort her when her distress was so obvious. Who was he kidding? He couldn't even offer comfort to Olmec apart from hold the bird. What help could he offer Nostariel?

Bowing his head closer to the unhappy hawk, Doronlas whispered softly to his companion. After a moment the hawk's head came from under his wing and he released his hold on Doronlas' arm. In a flurry of feathers and wings, Olmec left Doronlas' arms but did not take to the trees even though the branches were low-hanging. Instead, the hawk simply settled himself under a bush near where Dagnir stood, watching them all. The horse snorted softly, slightly surprised that the hawk did not take flight to lament once more. Doronlas however, was not surprised. He knew his hunting hawk would not take wing again until he had time to right himself. Loosing his mate had thrown the hawk off kilter, unbalancing his flock and it would take a day or two before Olmec would begin recovering.

Turning his attention back to Nostariel, Doronlas closed the gap with slow steps in typical elven stride. After hesitating a moment, Doronlas wrapped his arms loosly around Nostariel's slight form in a hug, his heart stuttering in his chest for a moment before picking up pace. He had known her mere months and had missed her for years.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"All will be well, my hand will mend." Doronlas' smile calmed her some, "One more scar will make no difference." A hesitant smile appeared on Nostariel's lips, and she shifted, eyeing Olmec. Even though he was a bird, one could tell there was a great unhappiness.. Nostariel knew not what could have upset such a hawk so, but decided to leave it be. What good would it do to stir more unwelcome feelings?

Nostariel swallowed. What had brought her back to her homelands? Surely she could have made a home for herself in Anorith or the freelands. It would have been easy.. a simple life. Of course there would have been humans against her, banging on her door all during the night, trying to draw her out and get rid of her. Battonia had not been an option. What could that decaying city possibly have held for her? Death and hate.

Perhaps it was the guilt of of knowing she had left without explaining the death of the silver haired elf, and she could be blamed. Not that it would bother her, she would gladly bear such a blame. In her heart Nostariel knew there was only one thing that could have truly brought her back to the elven realm again. It was to see Doronlas at least once more.. at a distance as not to disturb him, but now she had ruined that... All she had wanted was to see him happy, then take her leave into the wilderness, and maybe then Doronlas would have had an easier time finding a partner without her in the way and complicating things. It would have been less painful for Nostariel as well, not that she cared. The only thing that mattered was Doronlas' happiness.

Then, as if it were a forbidden dream, Doronlas came to her, embracing her. Nostariel's weary body relaxed, her arms now around him, ever tightening. Tears slid down her face silently, her eyes closed tightly, face in an unreadable expression.. as if she were trying to convince herself that she had truly found him again. Doronlas had been the only goal in her mind for all the years she spent away. Each month slowly ate at her until she could no longer bear being away from him. Nostariel choked a quiet laugh out, the sound muffled slightly as she pressed her face gently into him.


{Word Count: 396}

[Doronlas]

He had been hopeful but not totally sure that Nostariel would welcome a hug after the dreadful places she had been. Doronlas was pleasantly surprised, if not a bit troubled, when the elleth so easily relaxed in his arms, as though his touch unwound all tensions in the lean muscles. Still, he kept quiet and tightened his embrace slightly, letting his chin rest on her shoulder. A gentle breeze combed through his braided dark brown hair, making him smile just a little. It was like some sort of strange dream. His months had been long and lonely ones, just the trees whispering, Dagnir's snuffling and the hunting cries of his two hawks. Now with only one mourning hawk and Dagnir being oddly quiet, Doronlas had thought he would go mad or simply fade out of immortality.

Going back to see Rowena had crossed his mind several times but it had been as though invisible chains had bound him to Taure Mentel. It had seemed as though the forest had been unwilling to give up the son that had once run from her protection. Now though, even with a distressed Nostariel in his arms, his heart felt lighter than it had in a long while simply because it was Nostariel in his arms. Who would have thought knowing somebody could have left such a lasting impression on his soul?

"Nad-no eithel" Doronlas murmured in Nostariel's tipped ear. (All is well) It was like an assurance for them both.

Nostariel was safe, alive and free of the desert lands. Though Doronlas grieved with his friend, he too was well. Few injuries had been taken in the past years despite the best attempts of many dishonorable men. Dagnir and Olmec's combined efforts, as well as the efforts of Olmec's chosen mate, had been to thank for his wellbeing. Though he had not bonded properly to Olmec's mate, Doronlas had known the she-hawk had been fierce and coming to see him as a hatching before she had been shot down.

Softly, Doronlas sang, the words barely above a whisper but since he was near Nostariel's ear she would hear clearly. The words were haunting and enchanting like a ghost's passing, strangely soothing in their oddity. It was a song his mother had taught him and he had sung to Rowena when she'd been a mere elfling. The song, if he remembered correctly, had been about two elves divided by war but also brought together by war but it did not tell if they had come together in the end or if they had remained apart and heartbroken. Rowena had always wondered about the end but Doronlas had always left the song unfinished, feeling it was best finished by whomever heard it.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Nad-no eithel." All the regrets of returning flew from Nostariel's mind as the words fell from his lips. A great many troubles lifted from her soul, turning into nothingness, meaningless thoughts of a troubled being that had wandered in a desert of hell. Though she kept some of them close to her heart. The happy thoughts.. Thoughts of everything that was still good in the world.

The soft whispers of song drifted into her pointed ear, the melody coaxing all unhappiness from her, calming the parts of her that nothing but his arms around her could. The words of the song spoke to her, weaving a tale about the once thought burdened mind of Nostariel. They told of a story, and the she-elf found herself caught within it, the story seemingly familiar. Perhaps.. even similiar to the story of the lives of two other elves besides those the mystery of the song held.

The curves of her lips held a certain sadness as she listened to each of the song's lines fade into the very air about them. "Gwennin in enninath.." Nostariel was unaware she had spoken as she listened to Doronlas' soft singing, eyelids open to reveal the strange blue hue of her eyes. (Long years have passed)

To all elves, the number of years that had passed since Doronlas and Notariel's last meeting had been but the flutter of a lash, or whisper of a single heartbeat. But to Nostariel it seemed as if several ages at least had passed her by, all filled with weariness and barely a whisper of will left within her soul. Though the elf did not know what the years had held for Doronlas, she knew hers had been unfriendly ones.

Even the silver stallion Amarth had been able to console the broken elf who spoke without meaning. His troubled eyes only resting on his mistress who carried on only for his sake and a purpose he would not be able to know. Aras had not even been able to comfort her when he finally appeared to them in the recent year, his steps swift, and joyous as he rushed to meet his elf. The animal had only been met with a few happy tears, and thin hands that placed him into the saddlebag he had ridden in nearly all the years of his life.

Now, in a single moment she had regained all she had lost. Her confidence, hope, love of life and all the world's wonders, and to her welcome spirit friendship and love.


{Word Count: 419}
{Notes: Sorry it took so long, I kinda struggled for some reason xD}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas chuckled quietly, leaning back to study Nostariel's expression as the final notes of the unfinished song drifted away with the breeze. Time had not been kind to her but he could see her soul shining a bit stronger within the depths of her blue-tinted eyes. That alone lifted his spirits. "Too many" Doronlas said in response to her words, his tone a bit lighter now and is green eyes replenishing some of their renowned playfulness. How long had it been since he'd laughed and smiled? Huh, he'd lost count of the days. Weeks perhaps? Probably. Years? Quite likely.

Loosening his hold on Nostariel but not releasing her entirely, lest she move of her own free will, Doronlas studied the elleth. "Time has not been kind but you still shine brighter than all the stars" Doronlas said with an affectionate smile.

From his place on the ground, Olmec stirred, shifting to a more comfortable position. His eyes, clearer than they had been, watched Doronlas and Nostariel with some of his usual alertness while Dagnir grazed lazily beside the fighting hawk. He chortled softly though it still hinted at a beast confused by unnatural events with the disappearance of his mate. In response, he did not recieve a word in gentle elvish but rather the snuffling snort of the bay stallion. Seeming appeased for the moment that he was not forgotten, Olmec tucked his head once more under his wing.

Doronlas glanced over at the hawk, glad to see more response out of him. He would have to send Olmec to Rowena soon unless Morab appeared. If Morab appeared, he could send word that Nostariel was well. Elves in Algar Arda as well as Rowena herself had been concerned with the elleth's disappearance. Rowena had demanded to know if he had eloped with Nostariel and still failed to believe him to this day that she had chosen the desert over returning to the safety of an elvish land. He would also have to send word that it was unlikely Olmec would continue his line unless they could head south to find another hawk of his sort. At the moment though, Doronlas was reluctant to do that.

"Many in Algar Arda will rejoice at knowing you're alive" Doronlas murmured, glancing again at Dagnir and Olmec. "I've told Rowena you went to the desert but you've been given up for dead."

It was perhaps a good thing, since Nostariel had borne no true love Algar Arda for many years. The incodent a few years ago would do nothing to enforce a love for the place in her either and Doronlas was ill advised to try and herd her back to that place, unless she wished to go. If she did, Doronlas would quite happily abandon Taure Menel to travel with her, even if she didn't want him to. If she didn't, too bad he would be going regardless. Just at a distance.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Too many." The elf nodded slowly in agreement, as he loosened his hold on her, and reluctantly she did the same. "Time has not been kind but you still shine brighter than all the stars." A wide smile flews across her lips, her long hair fluttering about her face as small breezes blew through the length of it.

Amarth snorted, walking away, his blackened hairs waving about as his head moved up and down with the steadiness of his gait. Aras reluctantly stepped out of the pack he had found shelter in, ambling after the large silver brute. Amarth regarded the fiery red creature, and then lowered his head to the grass teeth cutting the blades neatly. Aras slowed, but picked up his pace after glancing at the hawk and bay stallion. He curled into a furry mass near Amarth's back legs, the stallion's dark tail brushing his red hairs gently as it came to rest after lashing sharply at his sides.

"Many in Algar Arda will rejoice at knowing you're alive." Nostariel looked away at Amarth and Aras then to Dagnir and Olmec. She bit her bottom lip slightly, looking back to Doronlas. "I've told Rowena you went to the desert but you've been given up for dead." The she-elf frowned, wanting to pull herself free, but she did not. "I assumed that was what they would think.. I wanted them to think it." She whispered, not meeting his eyes. Why had she desired such a thing of her people? It was a cruel thing. "You say that unhonorable men and robbers lurk the woods now.."

Nostariel pulled away, wearing a frown, brows furrowed. "I- Perhaps-" She struggled to think, familiar stress and worry again clouding her mind. "I need to return to Aglar Arda. I know my presence will.. disturb some of them, but if the council can no longer do its job..." Sighing, she wiped the back of a slender hand along her forehead, looking over at Amarth and Aras relaxing several feet away. Her arms wrapped around her midsection, mind moving to thoughts of Lady Rowena, a smile smile gracing her lips for a moment. "I have had my taste of freedom. I can not linger long without... without-" She broke off, feeling more than flustered. Emotions were not something she enjoyed when stress played into the more enjoyable ones.

If she re-joined the council again, then perhaps she would still catch glimpses of Doronlas and whispers of his name when he visited Rowena. If he did. She could remember him saying how his visits to his sister lessened with each coming and passing year, becoming delayed more each time. Frustrated, her arms tightened around her midsection. "No- no, perhaps not.. Someone else will help them.." Her cousin Beriadan would jump at a chance to join the council, and Nostariel knew he had a good heart and mind and they would accept him. What if he had been slain in battle and she did not know?


{Word Count: 497}
{Notes: Yeah, whoO!?}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas slackened his hold on Nostariel, allowing her, though reluctantly, to slip out of his arms. He stepped back, regarding the distressed elleth with mixed emotions in his eyes. It was obvious she was in some sort of emotional turmoil but he was not entirely sure how to help her through it, if he even could. He himself could feel a maelstrom whirling around in his stomach, not sure whether to be happy Nostariel was alive or upset she was going to leave and return to the place that so often wronged her. Why she remained so loyal to such petty elves was beyond him, despite his own sister living so close under their rotten thumbs. He tried not to let his own unease and unhappiness show, knowing he had to relax and help Nostariel do the same.

Schooling his features as his father had taught him, Doronlas shooed away his own emotions. He could brood on them later. His face became calmer as he turned and looked toward the water flowing in the river through the forest. "Nostariel, you must calm yourself before you can calm others" Doronlas said, his words soft rather than scolding. "If your own mind is in turmoil, others will only feed on that and in turn become panicked. That is why I linger here, away from all else. If I can not find peace with myself, how can I bring Rowena peace? Call it exile if you will but I suggest you try it before running off to the nobles again."

Toward the end of his words, his eyes hardened a little as if he was building a mental wall between himself and Nostariel. It was sort of a habit. If he hardened his heart, it might not hurt so much when others walked away. His father had taught him that in a sense. It was a device of necessity or else he would most likely fade from immortality if he did not defend his emotions.

Going to the bank of the river, back to Nostariel, Doronlas dropped into a crouch. Doronlas lowered his sliced hand into the rippling water, not fearing the bacteria or viruses that mortals had to fear. The water caressed his palm, warm because of the blood clotting the cut. Taking a deep breath, Doronlas held it and let his green eyes close, focusing on the sensation of the water over his hand. It was something he'd picked up, that the elements could be quite soothing to a troubled soul. It had been as though Taure Menel had reached out to heal her troubled son. Now, he focused on the rhythm of the water and its steady, cooling flow. Slowly he let out the breath he'd been holding, trying to forget Nostariel and the fact she would probably be gone by nightfall. Life would go on again but...was it really life? Or was it just existing?

Opening his eyes, Doronlas shoved the thought away, bringing his hand from the water and balancing with his elbows on his knees, balanced on the front part of his feet still crouching. His green eyes searched the trees on the other side of the bank, not sure if he wanted to hear Nostariel speak. Already he could feel the warmth of the sun receeding, allowing the cold to creep into his soul. It had been nesting there for the past few weeks, sometimes worse than others. When he had seen Nostariel, the sun had warmed his heart but now, sure that she would leave him a hermit again, Doronlas built up his mental walls again and the cold returned. It coiled in his stomach like a living parasite, growing despite his attempts to ignore it and will it away.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Nostariel, you must calm yourself before you can calm others." Her breathing slowed for a moment as she listened, eyes still holding confusion and unease. "If your own mind is in turmoil, others will only feed on that and in turn become panicked. That is why I linger here, away from all else. If I can not find peace with myself, how can I bring Rowena peace? Call it exile if you will but I suggest you try it before running off to the nobles again." Nostariel stared as he spoke, grimacing at the harshness in his words. Her eyes flashed dangerously as he moved away, her head still wheeling, trying to find its way out of the confusion. "I have tried it. For so long.."

Nostariel moved over to where she had left Amarth's saddle, and sat in the grass near it, facing away from Doronlas. Why did she burden herself with all the troubles of emotion? "I spent much of my life in these forests, and I would rather remain here.. wandering alone than in Aglar Arda." The she-elf could sense his guard, and knew how she had upset him. "I only return for the others who can not protect themselves from the evils of some of their own kind."

Slowly, her fingers ran over the tips of the grass blades, blue tinted eyes watching as each one was bent in a way and sprung back up again, easily regaining itself. Why should she return? Why had she even come back here!? The freelands seemed it could now be an easier decision.. Then again, it was a more terrifying thought. "Doronlas..." She wiped tears away furiously, not understanding why they came. "Surely you know why I have come back. I did not mean to disturb you. I just.. wanted to see you again, but not you to see me." Standing again she moved to stand at his side, slightly behind him.

"I wanted to see you happy, and to see that you had found someone to share that happiness with.." The tears had ceased, and her gaze remained on the elf. "Heniach nin?" (Do you understand me) Calm returned to her again, as though merely saying it out loud had convinced her it was what she wanted, but it was not all. Nostariel's muscles loosened out of weariness and stress, eyes moving away from him. "Goheno nin." (forgive me) She mumbled, waiting for the angry stare she now expected. They were both upset, but she did not know why anymore.


{Word Count: 419}