To the Promised Land

[Doronlas]

"A day will come soon before the first snow falls when Dagnir will run a free stallion and Olmec fly free of my service" Doronlas said, not looking back to Nostariel. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the flowing waters. The deep chill was settling within him, waiting for the chance to feed and grow until he knew it would drive him mad and then consume whatever madness left untouched. It was the way of elves, to die of unhappiness or sorrow. Though they could fall by blade and arrow, it was far more painful to die by a soul wound. Doronlas had never suffered such an ailment before but he had heard the distant stories and heard the warnings as his father tried to teach him how to guard his soul against such things. It seemed it had not worked.

He did not know if it would really be such a short time before he completely faded but Doronlas was giving a rough estimate. How long could he hold back the cold? He did not know for sure, mainly because he had never had such an ailment or wound as this. Still, Doronlas had always had a firm dislike of winter as it was. It would be no surprise if he couldn't fight the chill as long as some.

Dagnir raised his head from his relaxed grazing. The bay nickered, twitching his ears. Near the equine's hooves, Olmec peered out from under his wing and gave a cry of dismay. Though the beasts could not understand normal speech, they could sense the despair radiating from Doronlas. Neither liked it but they couldn't find what could cause his unhappiness. Dagnir pawed at the earth, looking from elf to elf, equine to red panda and back again.

Doronlas looked over at his long-time companions with a wane smile. "Peace mellon nin, winter is a while away."

He hoped. Considering the vibrancy of the leaves that was not true but, who knew? Maybe his puzzling elven mind had substatuted his fading with the word winter? Perhaps Nostariel would see the freeing of Dagnir and Olmec as him simply letting them go rather than fading. He did not know if it would be easier for her to figure out he was fading away or to have her go away ignorant, return to find him gone if she ever actually returned. It was hard to say. Rowena would know when Olmec flew free but Nostariel might not. At the moment though, it was becoming rather difficult to care.

They were both hurt but neither one seemed able to figure out how or what to fix. Nostariel seemed convinced he liked is self-imposed exile. At one point he had, loving the life of a traveling warrior but now it was a lonely road to walk while his heart was being called to another place. Doronlas believed Nostariel was a fool for bothering with the nobles, despite his sister and family being of noble lineage but he felt unable to convince her of her foolishness.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"A day will come soon before the first snow falls when Dagnir will run a free stallion and Olmec fly free of my service." Nostariel's knees weakened beneath her. "What? What are you saying that for..?" Her voice was weak, the wailing of a small child lost in the booming of a thunderstorm, each tiny drop of rain pressing down on her, the weight too much to bear.

"Peace mellon nin, winter is a while away." 'Gwennin in enninath.. Ú-‘arnech in naeth i si celich..' The thought came to her, her heart seeming to shrink. A dizziness settled over her, and she staggered towards him, steadying herself. "Am man?" She grasped his shoulder, shaking him slightly. "Am man?" She repeated, desperation the only thing driving her. (Why)

Amarth raised his head, roused by the strained voice of his mistress, intelligent eyes uncertain. Nostariel backed away, shaking her head slowly. Had she gone mad? Had years in the harshness of Battonia slowly began to pick away at her soul, leaving only a weak, frail thing. And what- what was happening to Doronlas?

"Doronlas fîr, a si i-Dhúath ú-orthor." (Doronlas fades, but the shadow may not hold sway yet) The words drifted through her mind unheeded until she remembered.. remembered Doronlas' body being pierced by many arrows, the healer unbelieving that he would make it through the night, but she had made him help him. Who would help her now? Who would help him now? There was none but her. What could the animals do but stand and watch? Their minds would have trouble understanding.. and if she did not try to reach out to him now, what would become of him? The elf's face filled with despair.

Nostariel understood his ignorance of her, why he would not answer, and why he would let Dagnir and Olmec go.. The knowledge was not of her own mind, but of something greater. Whether it be those of the heavens or not.

More memories flooded her like water flowing into a cup. Fill the cup too much and it will spill over. She would not be selfish and keep life all to herself.. "Doronlas, Avo visto." (Do not stray) She spoke loudly so she knew he would hear unless he covered his ears or got rid of her. "Edra le men, men na guil edwen." (You have a chance for another life) She licked her slowly drying lips, a sickness growing from the inside of her, quickly spreading itself through her. "Man le trasta?" The she-elf choked on her words, not wanting to continue. (What troubles you) "Gerich asëa nín mellon, Estelio nin. Please, let me help you.." (You have my help friend, trust me.)

Hesitantly, as if fearing to receive a blow, she laid a hand on his shoulder gently, eyes resting on him. The elf's breathing was labored, a paleness falling over her gentle face like mist covers land or a black veil sheilding the mourning from unwanted stares. Nostariel spoke no more for lack of ability to do so.


{Word Count: 503}
{Notes: Didn't know what else to do, so I made her figure out what was happening. If you want me to change it, just let me know. And sorry if I got a little overdramatic but I was tired and listening to sad music.. again. xD}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas didn't bother to stiffen or shrink away when he felt Nostariel's hand on his shoulder, seemingly as strong as the grip of hawk talons. She wanted to know why he was like this? Funny, so did he. The thing she didn't seem to understand was that it was a conscious choice to start fading. Some people seemed possessed by the notion that an elf merely decided one day that they had had enough. That, at least in Doronlas' experience, wasn't the case. Fading started slowly, a chill down the spine or finding something he once enjoyed to bring no joy. Shooting his bow had become automatic, a nececssity. That alone saddened his heart but had proven to be no real warning. The chills had become more frequent and his nights restless, sleep dreamless. It was a frightening thing but now that it was on its downward spiral, he had no way of stopping it. He was riding a horse blacker than shadows and had no way to make it stop its break-neck gallop. He was on a dead sprint to a finish line and couldn't decide if he wanted to cross it or not.

Keeping his eyes on the water, Doronlas tried to tune Nostariel out. It proved harder than he had thought. Over the past few months the songs of birds and wind in the trees had faded from his hearing but now that he wanted to be deaf of something, it seemed to only become louder. The whole process was maddening. His hands wouldn't move to block his ears and it was becoming harder to ignore the obvious distress in Nostariel's voice.

Part of him wanted to tell her he would fight back, walk the paths of light for all his immortal life but...there was another part. This part wanted to push her away, blame her for everything that was wrong, tell her to grow up and accept that not even elves could find joy in life for all eternity. That part was the one that frightened him. Why? Because not only was it gaining dominance but it was also...very unlike him. He was forceful when he spoke to fellow soldiers, sharp when he spoke to his enemies if he bothered with words but never with any other was he so spiteful or bitter. Even with one hundred years between himself and Rowena, he had never spoken a harsh word to her or any other child regardless of its race. It wasn't like him but it was becoming harder to bite his tongue on such comments.

His emerald eyes flickered to Nostariel for not even half a second before returning to the sunlit waters. He could feel the coldness of the water, as before, but he could not feel the warm sun. Deep down, Doronlas' heart cried in despair for warmth and the sun's life-giving warmth may as well be what they lived on for all eternity. Maybe that was why he was fading? He had cut himself off from it, retreating like a coward to hunt bandits and turning away his family all together just for the sake of selfish freedom. Maybe this was his punishment for such deeds?

"Nothing can live forever, not even the firstborn" Doronlas said finally, his voice quiet as though grieving. "Your years outnumber mine but I have never felt so old and tired. It's always cold now, I haven't felt the sun in nearly a year. My flower has bloomed and now it must wither in the shadows. I don't...know when this started but...I think I understand why and there is nothing to be done for it."

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Nothing can live forever, not even the firstborn." Despair flickered like harsh flames inside her, eyes already wet and loosing tears that washed her face with their bitterness. "Your years outnumber mine but I have never felt so old and tired. It's always cold now, I haven't felt the sun in nearly a year. My flower has bloomed and now it must wither in the shadows. I don't...know when this started but...I think I understand why and there is nothing to be done for it." Nothing to be done for it? Slowly, she closed her eyes, and turned away, her hand trailing from his shoulder and to her side.

"I did this," she spoke quietly to herself, hair laying limp down her back. "Or at least.. I played a leading part." She could not save him, and that thought thrashed around inside her, tearing her apart. She could not. Could not do anything for him. Maybe he was already too far gone. What could she do?

"Ú-chenion.." she muttered, misery stealing away any happiness away into nothingness. (I do not understand) "Hiro lin hîdh ab’wanath meleth nin." (May you find peace after death my love) Her whisper died with the wind, and she shuddered, pulling her cloak around herself to find warmth. The action was done in vain, and she shivered hopelessly.

Her weak knees gave beneath her, and she fell to a sitting position, eyes staring blankly ahead, back still to Doronlas. She could not help him. What else could she do? Walking away took much strength, and she had none. Why did you return Nostariel? You knew if you were spotted someone would be saddened. But you did not mean to do this to him.. did you? Subconciously, she shook her head, holding the cloak to her.

Why should he have to die alone? Did he want to? Nostariel walked over to Doronlas, stumbling slightly as she sat beside him. Arms wrapped around her legs, chin resting in the space between her knees. What could she do for him to ease his passing? The elf took a quiet, shaky breath, trying to clear her mind, but a stormcloud of thoughts refused to leave her.

There was nowhere for her to go, and nowhere else she could go and bring herself to leave Doronlas alone. But what if he wanted to be alone? That thought persisted, nailing itself in her mind. 'and there is nothing to be done for it..' She could not do anything. Nothing- nothing could help him then? Maybe Doronlas was wrong? He was strong... Why could he not fight it? 'Am man harthach?' (Why do you still hope) Why would her mind not leave her be..? She should be allowed to die in peace just as Doronlas. But life is not fair, is it? Perhaps they could die together..

"I will not leave unless you ask it of me Doronlas," Nostariel whispered, nearly inaudible, like a ghost. A spirit not willing anything but that death should should find them quickly, and that they would be rid of the disappointments of life. To be free in the afterlife.. Or somewhere where their being could be at peace. Nothing but peace. No pain, no despair, and no love only between two beings, but perhaps, between all. Peace.. To be finally at peace. "But, I do not want- want you to.. to die..." 'and I think your passing will bring such sadness.. I can not linger long without you. I know not what pain this would bring your sister..' She left the latter unspoken, fearing it would only bring him more grief, but maybe that was what they both needed? A quicker, but more painful death? It would be fast.. and peace would come very soon after.

But, Nostariel still wanted to live if there was chance he could make it.. if he could stay here, and as she said, she would never leave him unless he wished it so. What could save him? His sister? Maybe she could help... How could he be saved..?



{Word Count: 672}
{Notes: This kind of annoys me. "How could she save him?" is repeated so many times.. Ugh -.- Ah, not really sure what to do. Are you really going to kill him off? Cause... horribly sad if yes.}

[Doronlas]

It was a silent war that Doronlas fought. He did not truly want to leave Rowena alone in the world to face the cruel elven courts and a long war with men. If he did, Doronlas knew that to some level his sister would suffer great mourning and perhaps loose everything because of it. Despite that however, there was still a part of him that wanted things to just fade away into the soothing, cold blackness that blanketed him when he fell into his fitful sleeps. He wouldn't have to miss Nostariel or mourn for the falling elven realms. There would be no day after day fight against rotten bandits or the knowledge that his only companions would grow old and die. Mortality had been pushing in on him recently, cracking his resolve to fight the cold. Rather than being repelled by its chill, he felt soothing, a numbing sensation like water to an inflamed wounds.

Dismal darkness seemed to finge his vision in a way it had not before Nostariel had appeared. Seeing her at first had filled him with such unexpected happiness that he had felt a phantom of the sun's warmth on his skin. Now however, with the knowledge she would go again left him lacking the brief hope that had flared. Sooner or later she would leave. He would be left alone again to roam restlessly until he fell into darkness for the final time. Rowena and her hawks would be unable to heal his soul and soon he would simply drop into the eternal rest of mortals despite his immortal blood.

What was it he truly wanted then? Was it the ease of death or the lonliness that would come in a world where he was once more alone?

Rowena would welcome him to her home, yes, but...her light had since dimmed. She was a busy messenger for lords and generals, her hawks flying all across the lands to bring vital information. Her face was often drawn in worry or her hands flexing as though seeking to hold a knife or bow. Doronlas knew he would be only a hindrance to her work if he came to her, ailing and falling fast to the darkness.

Through the fog of his fast oncoming depression however, Doronlas caught Nostariel's words, softly spoken and broken from the elleth beside him. Slowly, he turned his darkened eyes toward her. She looked...devastated but still he could see the proud noble woman under the weather-beaten elleth from the south. He could still find the beauty that surpassed even the standard for elves. Doronlas knew he was a selfish elf, choosing his own freedom over the wellbeing of his family and younger sister. Surely such a fine jewel couldn't be meant for him?

"When I saw you, I felt warmth for the first time in a year" Doronlas murmured. "I can not hold on to hope when I know that sun will set and leave me again in the cold of the night. You're beauty is wasted on an elf like me, Nostariel but...my heart says you may be my only healer."

It was a vain hope. She would leave him if he grew weaker. Though he wore his bow, Doronlas had not drawn it in at least two weeks. Nostariel's presence had been like lightning through him, energizing him and brightening his dimmed elvish glow but now, he knew for certain she would leave. She had come only to pass through with no intention of lingering though now she claimed it. His heart was weary and yet knew she was the only antidote to the poisonous darkness crawling through his veins.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"When I saw you, I felt warmth for the first time in a year." Nostariel's breath caught at the sound of his voice, eyes drifting over to him. "I can not hold on to hope when I know that sun will set and leave me again in the cold of the night. You're beauty is wasted on an elf like me, Nostariel but...my heart says you may be my only healer." Her body trembled, soul feeling broken but somewhat hopeful by the words the tumbled from past his lips. Her arms slipped from around her legs, body turning towards him. "Doronlas.. why-" She struggled to comprehend his words.. the whisperings of his troubled thoughts. "Why would you say that? Me wasted on you?"

She shook her head, a hand resting on the ground beside him. Too afraid to touch him.. as though he would crumble and blow away with the wind. The archer's words were processed in her mind, and she tried to pick them apart. "You are wasted on me." Her eyes moved away for a moment to the water, the ever dimming sun's reflection bright.. dancing with the movement of the water. "You waste yourself on me.. saving me from nearly all my troubles... and saved me from what was to be my cage for the rest of my days. No matter how few they would have been." The strange blue of Nostariel's eyes moved back to Doronlas, the wetness returning, threatening to spill over.

"I do nothing for you. All I have done is endanger your life at every turn.. That battle. That was because of me, and you could have died. You almost did." Shuddering breaths were taken by the she-elf, her mind concentrating on only Doronlas. It was easy.. He had been the only thing focoused on her useless mind ever since she had met him. All those years in the desert, all thoughts of him.. merely using instincts to survive and keep Amarth and Aras alive.

"And now it seems.. one wrong decision and I could very well cost you your life." How could he argue now? Ever since he had known her, she was a danger to him. "But... I can not leave you. I do not want to." Her gaze was steady on him, even if he looked away, just content with being able to see him, actually see him. How many times had she thought of him over the years? Much too many to count.. too many. So many thoughts. What is he doing now? Has he found someone? I wonder what he would say if this happened.. I wonder what face he is making now..

They seemed silly, childish thoughts, but they were hers. No matter the evils she had faced, he kept her going. Even a brief memory of his smile had forced her to go on.


{Word Count: 474}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas took in a slow, deep breath. He didn't like seeing her cry. That simple thing alone got through the numbing black fog that seemed to twist around him, visible only to him. He heard her words but they took a moment to process, his heart not daring to put value to them but his soul telling him they were worth a million times more than gold. Everything about Nostariel was worth more than any amount of gold. Slowly, Doronlas looked at her pale, slim hand laying on the ground between them, trying not to see her tears. Slowly, very slowly, the elven archer hesitantly moved his hand toward hers.

Despite being elven, Doronlas spent a lot of time in the sunlight and though pale by mortal standards there was a slight tone difference between his skin and Nostariel's. When his fingertips brushed hers hesitantly, Doronlas almost flinched. The feeling was almost too strong for his numbed sense of self. It was like holding the sun in his hand, all warmth and fire if not dimmed by her despair. Hesitating, Doronlas slowly laid his hand so his fingers overlapped hers, hesitant to believe her promise.

"You are someone of value, Nostariel, to me and others. Algar Arda would mourn your falling and though I know better, it would seem as though the sun would never again shine if you left these realms. My death will never be your fault. I nearly died for Rowena but if I had fallen, it would have been in your name alone. I fade now because my soul is lacking what it never before desired. With you, it tasted what it truly desired. When it was gone...I began to fall ill but I can not hold you to my side knowing someday you would become unhappy."

It was simply the honest truth. He was willing to fade so long as Nostariel's days were long and happy. Doronlas knew someday she would seek to go to Algar Arda, where Doronlas dreaded to travel. She would see the lords of the court and perhaps grow tired of his traveling life. What could he offer her? He could offer her little, nothing more than a long road and a world he had once thought beautiful that was now ravaged and war-torn. He had nothing. She would grow tired of him, of that he was sure.

In his family, their hawk familiars were raised from the egg by their keeper. Never did one of Doronlas' ancestors tame a wild hawk. That was what he saw Nostariel as, a beautiful and powerful she-hawk that was beyond his reach to tame. To try would seem like a crime.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

At his touch, she looked down, the coldness of his hands frightening her, another veil of despair draped over her already hazy mind. A barely noticable smile jumped the length of her lips, but it only held a small moment of joy before disappearing into a thin line of weariness.

"You are someone of value, Nostariel, to me and others. Algar Arda would mourn your falling and though I know better, it would seem as though the sun would never again shine if you left these realms. My death will never be your fault. I nearly died for Rowena but if I had fallen, it would have been in your name alone. I fade now because my soul is lacking what it never before desired. With you, it tasted what it truly desired. When it was gone...I began to fall ill but I can not hold you to my side knowing someday you would become unhappy."

"I would not be unhappy." Her voice gained some strength, her free hand wiping a stray tear, brushing locks of her black hair from her face. "Doronlas, the only place I can be happy now is beside you." She waited a moment, gazing steadily at him. "Only there may my heart find peace."

Even if he were to leave now, galloping away on Dagnir, Olmec's cries slowly dying away.. she would follow. If he screamed at her, told her to leave. She would follow still, lagging behind only a little more. Never would she be able to leave. The only thing that she believed could separate her from his prescence would be to fade. How could she leave him now that she knew? How had she been able to before? Had it been all the convincing of herself that it would be better for him, but when in reality, it seemed it had helped fuel the cold that was driving him away.

The only thing that had ever kept her in Aglar Arda were the good of those who remain, and what was left of her family... but even those bonds were beginning to wither. Beridan had even chose to leave for a time, only returning when he heard she had. But now she did not know where he stayed. Family ties had been broken, any left slowly decaying. "Gerich veleth nín, and wherever you go, I will follow. Anywhere." Her voice, back down to a whisper, carried in the breeze. A promise. One he may not believe, but she knew her heart would not, and could not, be parted from his. (You have my love)

A laugh came forth from the she-elf, though it was quiet and sad. "Óre nin, you know not how wrong you are." Hesitantly, her other hand raised up to his face, her fingertips brushing his cheek gently. Nostariel pulled her hand back, leaving it lie uselessly on her leg. "Cuil nin na le." (My life lies with you) Warily she smiled, a hint of bitterness in the expression.


{Word Count: 495}

[Doronlas]

It was not an easy thing to hear Nostariel making such promises, though he had longed to hear them. With the coldness in his heart came weariness of her and her promises. After all, promises were so easy to break. The numbness still clung to him like a jealous lover, determined to keep him from Nostariel. Though it made no sound, he could almost hear it in his mind, murmuring darkly about how she would run the moment he turned his back. The light would only hurt him, the darkness would never leave him. It was a strange and rather disturbing battle that Doronlas was left to fight. He wanted to embrace Nostariel, feel the light she carried with her and savor her warmth but the black taint in his veins wanted him to turn her away and fall back into the darkness.

Doronlas shoved back at the darkness, drawing in a slow, deep breath. Like the fading began slowly, Doronlas understood that to some level his recovery would be slow. He had heard Rowena speak before of elves that had faded out and died. Some had not recovered and very few were able to turn back from the path they began. Doronlas had stepped on that path and it held him fast. If his heart spoke true, though only in a whisper, Nostariel may be his only tether to light while lingered in the grey place between darkness and light. The shadows tempted him but Nostariel's presence was like water purifying a holy man though he was far from a holy elf.

He was weary to put his trust in her, knowing it could very well break him if she decided Algar Arda's wellbeing outweighed his slowly freezing soul. Several years ago he would have had no such doubts but now, Doronlas had tasted darkness and it left its biting chill. Doronlas tried to search Nostariel's gaze but found himself lacking the sight to see past the possible deceit and loneliness she would leave him to again. He had put his faith in her during the battle, taken arrows for her and been willing to fall for her cause. She had left him once for the burning deserts. Who was he to say she would not turn away again? Doronlas did not travel to the south because he had seen it once, seen its darkness and felt the cold that had nothing to do with the weather. He had no desire to wander there again and, for now, told himself that even if Nostariel did, he would not.

Gathering his cloak around himself, Doronlas rose to his full height. He looked strangely as though a stone wall had been built around him, hardening a freezing heart. Keeping his gaze away from Nostariel, Doronlas looked toward Dagnir and Olmec.

"Only time will tell what fate judges me worthy of" Doronlas said at last.

Dagnir moved to his master's side but when Doronlas reached out and stroked his neck, the elf felt only a faint shimmer of the animal's warmth. Dagnir for his part, didn't shy from his master's cooling touch but looked worriedly from Nostariel to Doronlas while Olmec roused himself and took flight into the trees.

"I know that if you leave, I will not see the next spring...but my heart feels cold. I can not bring myself to believe you yet." Doronlas couldn't look at Nostariel, simply kept his gaze on Dagnir, fingers tracing absently through the stallion's dark mane. "It is no fault of yours but...a by my own fault I have let myself fall so far."

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

Nostariel slowly picked herself up form the ground, remaining quiet. "Only time will tell what fate judges me worthy of." She nodded meaninglessly, and caught heard Aras moving towards her from behind.

"I know that if you leave, I will not see the next spring...but my heart feels cold. I can not bring myself to believe you yet." Her eyes remained on Doronlas, face holding no expression. "It is no fault of yours but...a by my own fault I have let myself fall so far." How could it be his fault? She sighed, ignoring Aras who was pawing at the folds of her cloak, his pleas for attention in vain. Amarth snorted from farther off, still unsure if his mistress wanted him near, tail flicking nervously at his silver sides.

"I understand." Her tone remained soft, still caring, but not all of her was quite there. Several of her attempts to reach out to him had failed, and she did not know how else she could possibly help him. He would most likely push her away if she dared embrace him.. Who would want someone who cause them pain to even get within two feet of them? The pieces of her heart felt heavy. Too heavy to bear now. She could not worry about her emotions now. They did not matter, only Doronlas'. She would help him however she could. If he continued to let her.

"Wherever you go I will follow." She repeated simply, not bothering to ask where he would be going, or if he even planned to leave that day. Nostariel had already talked enough, and perhaps silence would help him. Words did not seem to soothe him, but rather, they appeared to make him more uncomfortable.

She continued to face him, merely waiting to see what he planned to do. Nostariel had slowly begun dying, and this should have been her last glimpse of him.. just so she could die somewhat faster. To see him would bring more sadness, and with that death. It would have been easier just to run when she heard his voice. He had not known it was her. Then again, as he said, he would have died. Did he say that? She could not remember in the confusion and despair that was her mind.

Her body trembled, fighting the urge to cry out in pain and frustration. It was hard. To keep quiet and calm. Maybe if she appeared happy some of that would rub off onto him. Her hand raised, forcing the salty liquid from her cheeks. Why did she always have to cry? She felt too weak to help Doronlas now, but strength had returned by what he had spoken of. There was still hope for him. If he remained like this, Nostariel might not be able to bear it. Then perhaps she would be allowed to finally fade. Her weakness would be the death of him.

The elf's years had been too long. Too bitter and full of hatred.. and war. The way of mortals would forever bring her people agony and death. She was beginning to doubt they would stop before all of her kin had left the world. Their forests would die and turn to ash, and their cities to rubble and dust. The beauty of the world could not linger long without the elves, and they it.

Nostariel looked to Dagnir, face still expressionless and unreadable. The strangely hued blue eyes drifted back to Doronlas. More despair was slowly growing within her, a desperate want to save him and be done with it so he could truly live. How?


{Word Count: 597}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas kept his eyes on Dagnir's shifting bay coat. The stallion was quiet at his side, still under his cool touch. Doronlas felt lost despite not having moved. The darkness held on, jealous of Nostariel's light but Doronlas could not shed himself of it. He could stand in a forest fire and would likely still feel a winter chill down his spine. Did he truly thirst for the light or the darkness? He didn't want to cause pain to anyone, Rowena or Nostariel. That was part of why he had fled to the quiet woodland of Taure Menel. If he died here, no one would know for some time. Morab would never find him because Olmec would leave his body. No one would find him and if they did, they wouldn't know who they looked upon. He had, perhaps subconsciously, hoped enough time would pass that no one would remember him or at least the time would act as a buffer for the grief of others if they did find him.

Now, he couldn't do that. If he let himself fall into eternal slumber, Nostariel would witness it and possibly fade as well. Nostariel would send word to Rowena and who knew if Rowena would fade or simply grieve for too many years? He couldn't take the easy road now. Nostariel had cut him off, whether she intentionally knew it or not.

Chewing his lip, Doronlas stared at the muscles shifting under Dagnir's coat as he shifted his weight. He could feel the distance between himself and Nostariel, more so then he could feel the cold in his soul. The silence was deafening, pounding against his eardrums like the heartbeat of a giant invisible monster. Slowly, Doronlas turned so he was half facing Nostariel. His eyes were a hint darker green than before but the emotions were spiraling dismally. He wanted hope but dared not ask for it, needed light but couldn't find it, sought warmth in the heart of an endless winter. His elven sight had begun to fail though it still surpassed mortal vision, amazing hearing dulled but still keener than a bat's. Still, by elven standards it was becoming apparent he was on the fast track to demise.

He needed to feel warm. Needed the sunlight and the song of the earth but...he didn't know how to find it. When Nostariel had hugged him, he had felt warmth that at one time had not bothered him but then had felt like fire. He knew it was sunlight, the first real warmth he'd felt in ages and perhaps more than just mere sunlight but he dared not ask for it again. Something about Nostariel warmed him beyond physical warmth. It had momentarily chased the chill from his heart but...despite her promises...he wasn't sure if he could ask for her touch again. It was as though he was in a dream and she would vanish if he dared.

"What...does your heart say you need to feel whole?" Doronlas asked at last. "Does it call for the earth or...something else?" His said he needed her touch, her presence without distance but...he was afraid to seek it, cross that distance to her. What if she took it away again when she left? When, not if.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"What...does your heart say you need to feel whole?" Her eyes flickered up from the ground at his feet to his eyes, her breathing stopped for a moment. "Does it call for the earth or...something else?" How could she answer such a question? Did she know the answer herself? Of course she knew what she needed.. in a way.

Nostariel looked away, mind trying to find the answer to his question. A job not meant for it to do. How could it comprehend matters of the soul as well as the heart? "I think-" She looked back, brows furrowed. "I do not know. I need the forests and rivers, but even they are not enough to keep my heart content." Her cloak blew about her legs, dark hair trying to travel forward with the breeze.

"In the desert," she began, eyes for the second time returning to him, "I should have died. It was what I had meant to happen." Not everything goes according to plan. Even this, seeing Doronlas, had gone horribly wrong. Or at least it had been until she learned he was beginning to fade. "But, I could not drive away my memories. I could not stop thinking about you.. as.. strange as that may sound." Amarth, again, raised his head, huffing anxiously. He could sense the emotions of his mistress and was not pleased.

"I decided to return home, and the thought excited me. I wanted to see you just once more." Her voice was slow, quiet. "I think my heart.. calls for.. love. I have lived too many years of my life without it." Why hide any foolish emotions? She knew he could very well die. No use keeping childish secrets. Of course she loved Doronlas, but it had gotten to the point where she did not believe he cared so much about those things anymore. Besides, he already did not believe much of what she had said earlier. What would be so different about what she said now?

Battonia should have been the end. It could have stopped all this hurt, and they both could have died. Nostariel would rather he had lived.. happy with a family or just with roaming... traveling. Her love of exploration had died in Battonia. At first it had been interesting, but how long could despair and death remain distant thoughts when you were surrounded by it. But Doronlas had told her that he had begun to die. Maybe this was a better choice. To have to suffer more to acheive happiness and life once again.

Warily, she closed the distance between them, gaze steady and on only him. She had spent too long away from him, and even now she needed to be close. Even now he felt so distant to her. Like he almost did not want her to help him. If he did not want her help.. he would tell her. Hopefully. It was her fault, and desperately, she wanted to fix this for him. To help him find life and vibrancy again.


{Word Count: 502}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas felt a spark of happiness when she mentioned that she had thought about him. He tried to catch that spark, flare it into a flame that could warm his soul. The spark slipped through his fingers and sputtered out, leaving him again in the strange numbness. He hated this, or at least, was coming to hate it rather than embrace it as he had. Now he wanted to feel, longed to feel but that longing only made the darkness worse because he was continually denied. Doronlas almost felt like crying out in frustration but he could not even flare his anger high enough for such actions. It was almost like it took too much effort to burn his hatred or nurture happiness to fill him with warmth. He needed it but couldn't get to it on his own.

Slowly, almost as though reluctant, Doronlas moved closer to Nostariel as she did to him. His hands twitched at his sides. As though pressed by a heavy weight, Doronlas raised his arms and brought them around Nostariel, drawing closer to her until his chin once more rested on her shoulder. He knew that to her he felt too cold but, she was warm. Her warmth had faltered from before but it was still there.

The dark loneliness that had festered in him like an infection recoiled and for the first time in a while his lips twitched in an almost smile. He breathed in, like a drowning man taking his first breath. There was nothing in the world that could compare to Nostariel. Even if she did leave him again, Doronlas knew he would never forget the feel of simply holding her. A strange sense of rightness was smoldering in him now, not flaming like it should but smoldering. It was progress.

"Love is not something I can deny you, anor nin" Doronlas murmured, pressing his lips lightly against Nostariel's neck. (my sun) He could feel her pulse fluttering under the skin. "We have both been fools but...I will fight the darkness, if only at your command that I stay."

From his perch, Olmec watched the two elves with his keen amber eyes. The hawk shifted his wings before launching from the branch. Swooping over the pair, he spiraled up toward the sky. He would mourn but mourn now in joy, no longer feeling such sorrow around his master. It eased his own mournful burden as well. Age would take him in a few years if nothing else did but for now Olmec felt the fluttering beginnings of joy in his elven master. It relieved him though some would say a hawk could feel no such things.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

Nostariel's heart sped when Doronlas pulled her to him, his chin on her shoulder. "Love is not something I can deny you, anor nin." His lips touched the flesh of her neck, her heart moving like the wings of a startled songbird. "We have both been fools but...I will fight the darkness, if only at your command that I stay." The closeness of Doronlas strengthened her, gave her even more hope that he would be fine, and maybe to enjoy life to its fullest.

Without hesitation her arms, "Óre nin." She breathed evenly, and even now if she were to die she would be happy. To die in a state of near bliss. The first time they had held each other was like the first light of spring, but now it was more the sun of summer.. the star shining down from the heavens straight down on them. "I would not command anything of you.. I wish only for your happiness."

The silver equine lashed at his sides with his dark hued tail, ears perked, pointed in the direction of the pair. His mistress seemed to have calmed considerably, and the other elf did not appear a threat to her emotions any longer. With a satisfied huff he lowered his noble head to the ground, chewing contendedly on the green blades. Aras ambled over to the great beast and away from the river, his tail raised in retreat. The red creature curled himself into a ball, slowly drifting to sleep near the equine's back legs.

Nostariel remained, not willing to move. She would not deny him any bit of happiness no matter how small, it would be cruel of her.. to tease one who could very well die without the smallest whispering of goodbye before a loved one disappeared from his life. She knew her choice to leave had been a wrong done against Doronlas, and the guilt burned inside her like wildfire, spreading, it felt, all throughout her. But if she was strong enough to help him, she would do it, and he would help her. Even if he did not know he was healing her just as she was him.


{Word Count: 351}
{Notes: Yuck. Short, and me no likey.}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas relaxed a little when he felt Nostariel not push him away or disappear like a mirage. She was real and there, warm if not shaken, in his arms. Breathing in again, Doronlas tightened his hold just a bit for a moment. She was his strength now, the only thing he had against the darkness that prowled his mind like an angry stalker. Those that did not feel it would never understand why such numbness was so welcoming when elves were naturally creatures of the light. The numbness was blissful when the heart was rendered broken and lost, trapped in a never-ending cycle of pain and loneliness. Though he didn't need it anymore, Doronlas doubted it would ever truly leave. It could cling to him like a second skin that he couldn't shed. Still, Nostariel gave him enough will to fight back and push it to the farthest reaches of his mind.

The darkness was a quick fix for lonely pain that had haunted him for too long. It would take a hundred times longer to disappear from him but Doronlas was willing to wait it out. Nostariel was not a quick fix but a permanent fix if her words held any truth. At the moment, though weary of the heart, Doronlas was willing to take her words for some value. She had not abandoned him for dead when he laid bleeding looking like an elven pincushion. Perhaps that meant she would not leave him now or ever.

Loosening his hold, Doronlas withdrew a little though did not release Nostariel completely. He kept his arms loosely around her waist, sensing that on some level, she needed the contact as much as he did. Rowena had suffered nightmares as an elfling and had always longed for a hug and softly spoken words when she woke from them. For both himself and Nostariel, this was like waking from a horrible nightmare, even though Doronlas still felt half asleep.

High above the pair, Doronlas heard Olmec release a final, thin mourning wail. The end to the hawk's lament for his fallen mate. Doronlas' heart went out to his avian familiar and on some level he knew Olmec understood.

"Olmec's time of mourning is coming to an end" Doronlas murmured. "Perhaps that is how it should be for elves as well..."

How many times had Rowena told him hawks had more sense than even the wisest elves? They mourned a few days and only mourned vocally for a few hours, sometimes not at all yet never suffered from their confined grief. Doronlas marveled often at their resiliance and endurance, ferocity but gentleness with their nestmates. Sometimes he couldn't help but agree with Rowena. Though fierce, a hawk knew emotion well enough to know when enough was enough.

Olmec swooped down toward the river, the tips of his great brown wings brushing the surface before he lifted up again. Circling, the hawk let out a more normal sounding cry, not mournful or pitiful but full and strong. The white-breasted hawk was not alone however, bringing a slight frown to Doronlas' face as his arms slid slowly from Nostariel. His green eyes fixed on the second hawk, smaller and more compact with the golden feathers of a Cooper's hawk, a hawk like Brenwin but this was not Brenwin. Brenwin bore scars on his belly but this hawk was unmarked, too small to be male, obviously female.

The golden hawk swooped swiftly around Olmec's greater, darker bulk, chortling as she landed on a low hung branch over the river. Fierce golden eyes locked on Doronlas and Nostariel as Olmec landed on a branch near Amarth and Ares.

Doronlas looked from Olmec to the new hawk and then at Nostariel, slightly troubled but more curious than anything. Across the river, perched on her branch, the golden she-hawk was eyeing Nostariel and let out a crystal clear cry.

(I figured if they're going to be together, Nostariel might as well have a friend ^^ Doron can handle two hawks. If you want to see what she looks like look up Cooper hawk on google)