Nest of the Scarlet Hawk

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

As Doronlas entered, Nostariel's gaze immediately moved to him. Relief flooded her tired body. For once, she was glad she had been wrong. As he bowed, she dipped her head forward, a faint smile visible on her lips. "Suilad, Nostariel-híril, im gelir ceni ad lín" "Suilaid," her voice came out in a quiet whisper, not something she often did. The council members had praised her for her strong voice. It made them think that they held a sway over other kingdoms.

"Doronlas, gwanur nin, how do you fair?" Her eyes moved to Lady Rowena, whatever she had for a smile was still present. It was more out of being polite than actually feeling like smiling.

"I am well but I doubt that question alone was the reason for your call?" The elf's body relaxed. Of course she already knew he was fine from the moment he had entered. She watched him sit, shifting slightly again in her own.

"Presto-le elu" Nostariel was about to answer when she heard Olmec moving to a new perch on the arm of her seat. She glanced at the bird, admiring its intelligence before looking back to Lady Rowena then Doronlas. "Yes.." Her eyes moved to Lady Rowena. "As you said your hawk sensed I brought troubled news." Blue-green eyes moved back and forth between each of them for a moment before resting on Doronlas. "I fear an army marches on Aglar Arda. In my travels I spotted them two weeks ago somewhere in the freelands. I believe they should be no less than two days away.. perhaps less." The elf glanced at the floor and then to Rowena. "I spoke to the council, and they do not believe what I say. I do not know the reason for their doubts, for they have always trusted my word before."

She looked at the two of them, eyes guarded. Would either of them believe her? Nostariel felt Lady Rowena might as she had even said her hawk, Snowfall, had been certain she brought bad news. Indeed she had, but she didn't know if she believed the council's word over hers. "I know not what to do." She smiled weakly, as if she were in pain. "I do not wish to see our people destroyed or enslaved."


{Word Count: 376}
{Notes: None}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas smiled, resisting the urge to simply hold Nostariel in his arms. Though he had known her a very short time he felt connected to her and his spirit rose when she drew near. The smile that lit her face made his own rejoice flow freely in a smile though it faded when he saw the storm clouds in her lovely eyes. He glanced at Rowena whom had risen from her seat looking worried. Yes, something was very wrong and it made Doronlas tense like a viper ready to strike though he did not move but instead, listened as all elves were good at.

Alarm shot through both siblings but their reactions were quite different.

Rowena's eyes widened but she did not reject the idea. Of course she had foreseen such things sometime in the future. Humans wished elves to be out of their way and therefore were trying to catch them off guard. The news that the council had so easily dismissed Nostariel's warning sent hot anger blazing through her blood, dark brown eyes flashing dangerously. How foolish could someone be to not even investigate the warning of an army marching practically upon their gates? Her furious gaze rested on Doronlas and saw her brother, seemingly pulled taut like the string of a bow.

"Fools! Fools all of them!" Rowena snapped, pacing before the fireplace in the room. "An army marches on our gates and they do nothing? Ha they have the brains of orcs!"

Doronlas glanced sideways at Nostariel, his eyes showing his unease at the announcement of an attack. "The lords have never spoken ill of your hawks sister, send them. Let them fly and bring us news" Doronlas suggested.

"Aye" Rowena agreed, slowing her pace. "You are right brother, they will face the talons of the hawks before approaching these gates."

Striding past both her brother and Nostariel, Rowena stood tall and proud for such a petite woman in the entrance hall of her home and gave a sharp whistle.

"Gwilo! Gwilo! Rado en dolders" Rowena ordered as ten hawks flew from seperate parts of the home. (Fly! Fly! Find the dark ones!)

The hawks range from Antari; the handsome dark bird with red wings to two albino females and a massive black hawk. They shrieked and chortled before swooping out of the entrance to the home making a stable boy hit the dirt to avoid being hit. They were an unusual flock, following the neat form of Morab, their sizes ranging from neat and fairly small to the massive black hawk and powerful Harris hawk. They would be obvious from a distance but Doronlas knew that once they came near the army they would split off and watch, perhaps even take the eyes of a few soldiers for keepsakes. With a sharp whistle, Doronlas summoned Olmec and in a flash the hawk took flight after the flock

Doronlas stood beside Nostariel and offered a quiet smile. "Forgive my sister, she has often been ignored by the council for her youth and when they ignore those older than her as well she feels a need to show them they are wrong. How did you come to know the army was approaching?"

Of course Doronlas understood Rowena's frustration with the council but was much calmer than his sister. He felt tense but did not show it, he kept his exterior calm. Let the enemy rattle you and they've won half the battle.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Fools! Fools all of them!" Rowena's sudden outburst startled Nostariel, but she didn't let it show. "An army marches on our gates and they do nothing? Ha they have the brains of orcs!" At this she nodded, watching the enraged lady's ranting.

Nostariel met Doronlas' gaze before she looked back to Rowena. "The lords have never spoken ill of your hawks sister, send them. Let them fly and bring us news"

"Aye" She seemed to like the idea.. very much. "You are right brother, they will face the talons of the hawks before approaching these gates."

"Gwilo! Gwilo! Rado en dolders" The female listened, biting her lip as Rowena addressed her hawks. "Gerich faer vara Rowena-híril" (You have a fiery spirit Lady Rowena)

"Forgive my sister, she has often been ignored by the council for her youth and when they ignore those older than her as well she feels a need to show them they are wrong. How did you come to know the army was approaching?" Nostariel moved her gaze to Doronlas. "No, I understand why she is upset. I acted in almost the same way when they dismissed me." The elf nearly laughed at what she had said. Her angry protests had filled the halls and the other council members had almost called the guards. The looks on their faces had been shocked and some looked as though they had really believed her and were not just frightened males, staring wide eyed at and angry she-elf.

Nostariel rubbed her forehead with the palm of her left hand as if it would remove the anger and frustration inside her. "I was riding in a bit of unfamiliar land, and I heard the sound of marching men. So, I hid myself in the trees and watched." The she-elf sighed, looking down. "There were at least several hundred men. Some cavalry, but most were only foot soldiers. I wanted to get closer to see from where they had come from, but I was spotted and they sent five men after me." Blue-green eyes lifted from the floor to Doronlas. "They had been split up after a few moments and I had my sword to one of their throats, so I asked where they were headed. He would not answer. I threatened him. He said they were going to go get rid of something. I asked him what he meant. He said they were headed towards Aglar Arda."


{Word Count: 397}
{Notes: Thought it was longer. *shrugs*}

[Doronlas]

Carefully digesting the information Nostariel provided, Doronlas glanced toward Rowena. He could see his sister watching the skies though she knew well enough that it would be perhaps a few hours before any of her hawks reappeared. He couldn't blame her for her worry. Being as...connected to the flock as she was, it was no wonder Rowena worried. He too felt uneasy sending Olmec to help spy though it was probably an unnecessary worry. Either way, Doronlas felt his stomach coiling restlessly. What he really wanted was to ride out and meet the army head on, even if it was just him, Dagnir and a handful of hawks. At least they could take a few men out before the mortals reached the weak walls of Algar Arda.

"Worry will do us no good but Rowena will do it anyway" Doronlas said quietly. "When the hawks return we'll send a second report to the council and I'll ride out to scout."

Turning his attention to Nostariel, Doronlas smiling a little and offered her his hand before leading the way back into the sitting room where he had first found Nostariel and Rowena. He sat on a couch, gesturing for Nostariel to join him. It was obvious she was still a bit high-strung from her council meeting but Doronlas couldn't blame her. Though he'd known her for the doration of a short venture, he knew her to be a passionate elleth if nothing else. He could see a warrioress' soul within her though most elleths were much like his sister, highly thoughtful and intelligent but not always inclined to violence. Though Nostariel did not seek violence, it was certain she could handle it and had handled it often.

"Lín laith presto. Lau taru no cár" Doronlas murmured so Rowena would not overhear. (Your spirit is troubled. No more can be done)

He knew there was more to do but Nostariel seemed in need of a quiet moment. Besides, it would be a while before the hawks returned unless the army had made great advances toward the gates of Algar Arda and were closer than Nostariel had originally told. There was nothing to be done for it now. If the hawks returned early there were a few house guards that Rowena had that may ride to the gates even if no other lords offered aid. If they remained ignorant even then, than there would be nothing Rowena or Nostariel would be able to do to sway them until the invaders stood at their doorsteps.

Doronlas sent a quick glance about the room. It seemed Rowena's home was even quieter without the sound hawk wings or their chortling calls to one another. The perch in the corner where Antari had perched earlier was empty, as all the perches through the house were. Doronlas felt strangely lopsided without the keen eyes of Olmec upon his shoulder or the familiar bird lurking about somewhere keeping an eye on goings on around him. It was disconcerting.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Worry will do us no good but Rowena will do it anyway" Doronlas said quietly. "When the hawks return we'll send a second report to the council and I'll ride out to scout." Nostariel shifted uneasily. Doronlas would ride out and scout? No no.. She would have to follow him or... Nostariel would wait and see before thinking of it.

The elf took his hand and followed him, sitting on the furniture in silent contemplation. "Lín laith presto. Lau taru no cár" His words made her look up into his eyes, and she forced a smile. "Mae, guren bêd enni Im gosta." (Yes, my heart tells me I am afraid) "Hain ú-'rogon. I fear for the others." (I do not fear them)

What would happen to those who dwelled in Aglar Arda? They would have no warning. The council was too foolish to see the reason in Nostariel's claim. War was coming to the elves whether they willed it or not. There would be so much death. War was full of grief. "Hollen i ven ben estel." (The way is shut without hope) Nostariel herself had little hope left. Without the council on their side, war would come and no one would be prepared.

"Man anírach cerin an le hîr nín?" (What can I do for you my lord?) Nostariel looked at him calmly, gripping her knee with her hand. She would do anything to keep herself busy. To prepare. Perhaps she could even think of something to gain the council's approval and summon troops.


{Word Count: 252}
{Notes: Eee.. Shouldn't have taken me so long for something so simple. I had to find some Elvish phrases and words that would work. .-.}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas grimaced and flinched as if he had been slapped. He hated being called "lord." It was the title of his father and belonged in a world he wanted no part of, no matter how convenient the powers were at times. "Not call me a lord is more than enough" Doronlas said, offering a weary smile. He glanced out into the hall and saw Rowena had gone. His sister was most likely rounding up the house staff. Some of the stable boys he had taught with a bow and arrow would likely be decent archers if they didn't freeze with fright at the sights of their first kills. Putting an arrow in a bale of hay was much different than putting an arrow in a man or elf. "My sister keeps a small armory, old weapons but they are kept well. Come, perhaps we can find you a bow or hand weapon you would prefer?"

Rising, Doronlas knew he was probably appearing quite restless but he was, no need to hide it. He knew Nostariel likely wanted to keep busy but he did too. Sitting would do no one good though he felt a gentle reminder of his wounded side. It was healing nicely but was prone to occasional soreness when he moved too quickly or turned too fast.

Going to the doors, Doronlas collected his bow and quiver. Buckling the quiver against his back, bow in hand, Doronlas led the way into the hall once more. He glanced toward the yards but there wasn't a hawk in sight. It was disconcerting but a testament to coming hard times. Trying to push away his unease, Doronlas made his way along a side passage to a room with double oak doors. On the door to his right, there was an archer with his bow drawn carved into the wood. A crescent moon was behind the archer's head, arrow pointing west. On the left hand door was an elf with his sword raised as if in a salute, one hand against the flat side of the blade facing the archer's arrow. Though their weapons faced one another, neither appeared to be enemies.

Unlatching the door, Doronlas pushed the archer's door aside, fingers lingering momantarily on the old wood. Inside was a long hall where the weapons of Doronlas' past kin and other aquired weapons were kept. The door was not locked because Doronlas had been in it that morning to retrieve his bow.

Along the right hand wall behind the archer's door there were stores of arrows all fletched with various hawk feathers kept in quivers. Above the racks of quivers, several old bows were hung in places of honor. They ranged from flexible light-wood bows to strong and sturdy dark-wood bows and in a low cabinet there were bowstrings kept in squares of oiled cloth. In a low chest Doronlas knew there were light leather jerkins and shoulder pads, wrist guards and thin gloves.

Behind the swordsman's door along the left hand wall were suits of light elven armor and shirts of chainmail, all fashioned lighter than the armor of men. Dull practice blades were hung closest to the door with the sharper blades beyond the armor. There were only perhaps six blades ranging from a long sword to a broadsword and several short swords. At the end of the room, the wall he was facing, Doronlas saw several sets of twin long knives hanging in sheaths near the fletcher's table where the arrows were made. The room had originally been much more crowded with warrior's gear when Doronlas' father was young but now it was relatively empty, keeping only what was necessary.

"There are not a great many weapons but my sister keeps enough" Doronlas said, going to the quivers of hawk-fletched arrows.

Checking his own quiver, Doronlas unbuckled the half-empty quiver and placed it among the others, choosing one that was full of arrows. Buckling on the new quiver, Doronlas glanced over at Nostariel.

"This room was of my father's design. It is common in our family that half prefer the bow and half prefer the sword but both as a symbol of peace carry long knives. The archers use them to make arrows and battle with them when our arrows are gone while the swordsmen use them for close range combat where a longsword is impractical, thus they are kept between the two. Usually a male's knife is passed to his firstborn when they comes of age, regardless of being a swordsman or an archer so a father can always honor his son or daughter."

Striding to the sheathed long knives, Doronlas picked up a sheath despite already wearing a knife at his hip. Pulling the blade from the sheath, Doronlas tested it with the pad of his thumb. A thin line of blood came almost instantly from where the blade touched. Satisfied, Doronlas sheathed the blade and buckled the sheath to his hip so a blade hung from his right hip. Taking the knife he already carried, Doronlas slipped the knife into the sheath that was attached to the quiver.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Not call me a lord is more than enough." Nostariel nodded, not bothering to ask why he would wish such a thing. It already seemed to make sense to her after all she had learned of him. "My sister keeps a small armory, old weapons but they are kept well. Come, perhaps we can find you a bow or hand weapon you would prefer?" The elf merely followed without answering. She mentally scolded herself for not remembering her own weapon. In leaving so quickly she had not thought she might need a weapon.

"There are not a great many weapons but my sister keeps enough." Again, the she-elf nodded, feeling somewhat more at ease. Her mind was not yet distracted from the thoughts of the approaching army or the destruction that would be sure to follow.

"This room was of my father's design. It is common in our family that half prefer the bow and half prefer the sword but both as a symbol of peace carry long knives. The archers use them to make arrows and battle with them when our arrows are gone while the swordsmen use them for close range combat where a longsword is impractical, thus they are kept between the two. Usually a male's knife is passed to his firstborn when they comes of age, regardless of being a swordsman or an archer so a father can always honor his son or daughter." Nostariel winced when he continued to speak about weapons, her hands gripping the white fabric of her dress tightly. "That is an interesting tradition. My family's traditions tend to lie in things less.." She trailed off, unsure of what to say. "My family never had traditions as intriguing as this. I think it's beautiful how two different things can be brought together by something like that. Nostariel didn't really know what she was saying.

"Doronlas, why are we here retreiving weapons? Do you plan on fighting their army with only a few stableboys?" She ran a finger along the underside of her wrist, looking at Doronlas with furrowed brows.


{Word Count: 345}
{Notes: ...}

[Doronlas]

"When you make your home in the wilderness as my family once did, you learn that even a stable boy can make a difference" Doronlas said, pulling a second bow from a rack. It was light and flexible, a woman's bow and more specifically Rowena's. The hawk carved in the grip had been one he had carved before he had departed from her company and turned down his family's offers of being a formal lord. "I can not fight them but I do intend to slow their progress. Each man I take down with an arrow or blade will be one less man to bring an end to Algar Arda. Dagnir's hooves are swift and Olmec's talons sharp. We will manage alone. We always have."

In a small outpost, one learned to get along and make due with small numbers. That could mean in food or in soldiers. Plus, they would have a bit of surprise on their side if all went well. If the hawks went undetected they could easily blind a few men and several horses to hinder the army though they could not take out the eyes of hundreds. Twenty less men could mean a difference in the tides of war and perhaps cause enough noise and ruckus for palace guards to get a clue.

Pulling an arrow from the quiver on his back, Doronlas tested the draw on Rowena's bow before putting the arrow back. Slinging his bow against his back, Doronlas took Rowena's bow and a second quiver. Of course he knew Rowena would not ride with him to scout, he did not intend to leave her unprotected. Grabbing a second sheathed knife, Doronlas abandoned the belt sheath and slid the blade into the sheath on the second quiver.

"I'm sure you know, Nostariel, not many elves are as well versed in war as they once were. Me and my sister are young by many standards but our raising made us wise in battle through our family familiars and the way we had to survive. We will manage, if nothing else, to take a few men with us before we fall to arrow or blade."

Satisfied his sister's gear was well, Doronlas strode past Nostariel to a servant lingering in the corridor. "Take these to Lady Rowena" he instructed. The servant bowed his head and took the quiver and bow, handling them carefully and with respect before hurrying down the corridor in search of Doronlas' sister.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"When you make your home in the wilderness as my family once did, you learn that even a stable boy can make a difference." She watched Doronlas examine a bow, and shifted. "I can not fight them but I do intend to slow their progress. Each man I take down with an arrow or blade will be one less man to bring an end to Algar Arda. Dagnir's hooves are swift and Olmec's talons sharp. We will manage alone. We always have."

"I realize, but taking down even thirty of their men will not make much difference. They are trained and know what they will be doing. The elves of Aglar Arda are more studious than warrior-like. They are not prepared. Natha daged dhaer..." (They are all going to die)

"I'm sure you know, Nostariel, not many elves are as well versed in war as they once were. Me and my sister are young by many standards but our raising made us wise in battle through our family familiars and the way we had to survive. We will manage, if nothing else, to take a few men with us before we fall to arrow or blade." "I know." She muttered.

"Take these to Lady Rowena."

The she-elf sighed, pressing her fingertips into her forehead. Anger was beginning to gnaw at her kindness, slowly killing it like age kills a man. "I think I should go to the council myself rather than sending a hawk. A rushed letter will not do much to change their minds. I know them." She pulled her hand away from her face. "Maybe if I show my desperation, they will believe me." She turned away, studying the floor as though it was interesting to her. "I can make.. a deal with them. One I know they will not refuse." They wouldn't. "I would accompany you, but I feel... I feel this is the last thing I must do for my kin."


{Word Count: 321}
{Notes:}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas nodded in understanding. He was fairly sure he could guess at her offer. When she mentioned being an ex-council member he had pondered what could have made her leave such a seat of power. It seemed the others may ask the same question or not accept her as an "ex" council member. Either way, Doronlas knew their paths would be parting. He half bowed to the lady and offered a wane smile. "I hope our paths cross again when this mess is said and done, Lady Nostariel. I can not promise to keep them at bay by any means but I will keep a hawk's eye on the men and perhaps tamper with their horses to slow their course. The council must understand that men are not elves. They will not wait for a council or fight fair by any means. They must understand these men will kill them and thoroughly enjoy it."

The archer's eyes flashed dangerously at the mention of humans killing elves. His face had hardened from friendly traveler to hardened warrior. He stood tall and confident even when the slightest mis-step could spell his death. His immortal life could end or the lives of hundreds of elves could end depending on if Algar Arda could hold her own against a horde of bloodthirsty humans. Still, whatever mortals fell to Doronlas' blade or arrow this day would wish they had never thought elves weak as warriors. Most of the time, Doronlas didn't look so much like a warrior as much as a cautious traveler that carried a bow to hunt and a knife to cut the meat. Now, the weary traveler was gone and replaced by the son of a woodland elf lord well versed in long-range killing and knew just where to stab to bring either instant or painful death.

Picking up a sheath from a nearby table, Doronlas studied it. It was a small dagger, one meant to be concealed but very sharp. Doronlas pressed it to Nostariel's palm, sheath and all. "Take this just in case. If the council will not answer your call for help, leave Algar Arda. I would feel better if I could at least think I'm sure you're safe."

Flashing a quick smile, Doronlas turned and strode out of the doors of the armory. He strode with purpose out of his sister's home to find Dagnir waiting before the marble steps where his sister received her guests. The bay raised his handsome head and nickered to Doronlas as the archer approached. Murmuring a soft greeting in elvish, Doronlas wound his hand in Dagnir's black mane and swung himself bareback onto the stallion's back. Dagnir, sensing urgency, danced nervously under his master, snorting softly in worry. Doronlas murmured soothingly to the equine, preparing to ride out and scout with Rowena's hawks.

Near the stable, Doronlas caught a glimpse of his sister's handsome white mount also looking itchy for battle. The warhorse whinnied loudly, tossing his great white head and stomping his dagger-like hooves at a stable hand trying to herd him back into the stable. Doronlas cast a sympathetic look to the unfortunate elf and impatient mount. Caleb was a good warhorse and his battle knowledge would possibly be needed should the riders come so close to Algar Arda and threaten Rowena's home.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"I hope our paths cross again when this mess is said and done, Lady Nostariel. I can not promise to keep them at bay by any means but I will keep a hawk's eye on the men and perhaps tamper with their horses to slow their course. The council must understand that men are not elves. They will not wait for a council or fight fair by any means. They must understand these men will kill them and thoroughly enjoy it." "I know." It was all she said before he walked away leaving her with a dagger in her hand. She looked down at the thing, and closed her eyes tightly for a moment before heading to the stables to get Amarth.

The stallion snorted, nickering to his mistress in greeting. She smiled at the horse's enthusiasm, and put his saddle and bridle on. The elf led him out of the stables, and mounted, giving him the go ahead. The silver stallion galloped out of Lady Rowena's land and to the palace.

Nostariel quickly handed Amarth to a stableboy, and hurried up the stone stairs. The guards did not stop her, finally they had remembered who she was and let her pass without her having to get upset at them. The she-elf pushed the large double doors open, her dress flying around her making her look more fierce than she was actually feeling. "Send out your soldiers." Her strong voice echoed in the large room, the other council members not bothering to mask their surprise.

"Megil Lambe?" The silver haired elf stood, smiling scornfully. "You think we are bound by your word?"

"No, only the lives of your people can bind you. You must prepare them or they will be slaughtered and Aglar Arda will fall." She laughed sadly, and turned to look at the others. "What would you do in my position? Sit back and watch your homes and families be destroyed. Even if you manage to escape, what will you live the rest of your endless lives for? Anger? Grief?!" She turned slowly to make sure she met every single elf's gaze, even the most reserved elf had met her gaze. Satisfied she faced the silverhaired elf. "Lord Maidhion.. Heniach nin? Natha daged dhaer!" (Do you understand me? They are all going to die!) She stared coldly. "Do this, and I will join you and your council again."

Maidhion smiled, and nodded. "Then we shall do as you say, but.. I know of your skill in battle. You must aid the warriors. You have a strong will and will raise morale." Nostariel looked at him in disgust. She was speaking of the destruction of all elven kind and all he spoke of was raising morale and skill in battle.

"Ae anírach." (As you wish) Nostariel left the room, going straight to the armory without returning the looks the elves around were giving her.

Armed with both her sword and bow, Amarth carried Nostariel on his back, her battalion following loyally. The she-elf gripped the dagger Doronlas had given her, and her face paled. She stopped her men outside Aglar Arda, the army in the distance only visible to an elf's eye. She heard the other battalions forming on the 'battlefield'.

"Take this just in case. If the council will not answer your call for help, leave Algar Arda. I would feel better if I could at least think I'm sure you're safe." Doronlas' words drifted through her mind as she waited.



{Word Count: 577}
{Notes: Sorry about the boring council thing. Wanted to make my post longer.}

[Doronlas]

Dagnir seemed to grow wings with the speed he galloped from Rowena's home. Doronlas hunched over the stallion's neck, feeling his dark mane whipping in the wind. Keen green eyes watched the road ahead as it was devoured by Dagnir's long stride, heading away from Algar Arda toward the outskirts where Nostariel had claimed the army was coming. His gear, though light, seemed heavier than ever before but he had to focus, not let himself drown in doubt. Nostariel would get troops. Algar Arda would not fall to mortal hands. It couldn't. He had to believe that or he may as well use his own dagger to end his life and save a mortal the trouble.

Seeing the marching army ahead with his enhanced elven eyesight, Doronlas slowed Dagnir and rode the bay off the road to the palace-city. Dismounting, Doronlas imitated a hawk screech, crouched in the undergrowth with his mount. After a moment, a screech replied and Doronlas glimpsed Olmec wheeling overhead. The hawk was a bold target for any suspicious archers but for now it seemed the hawk was going unnoticed.

Shifting quietly, Doronlas pulled his bow from his back and drew a hawk-fletched arrow from his quiver.

"Valor, berio mín" Doronlas murmured. (Valor protect us)

Notching the arrow, Doronlas knew he would have only a second to flee without ending up with an arrow in the back. Drawing back the string and arrow, Doronlas took careful aim at the bold bay stallion parading at the head of the army most likely with the commander. He let loose the arrow and it flew straight and true. Before it had even met its mark, Doronlas whipped out two more arrows. Firing them both at once up in an arch to scatter the troops, Doronlas turned to Dagnir and sprang onto the stallion's back.

He heard the horse squeal in pain, men shouting profane curses and the general shouts of chaos. Smirking, Doronlas heeled Dagnir in the side. The bay sprang onto the path, his rider twisting around to loose another arrow at the army as the stallion began his gallop in a wide arch around the front of the army. Dagnir snorted and flung his head high, prancing out of arrow range for a mortal while his master fired arrow after arrow at the advancing and half-chaotic men. Stopping his assault with arrows, Doronlas wheeled Dagnir toward Algar Arda. Overhead, nine hawks wheeled and screamed their rage at the mortals. Doronlas did not pause to look but he knew each hawk was swooping and attacking with sharp talons and beak at horses and men. Screams rose from the startled men and horses, adding to the chaos created by Doronlas' arrows.

Doronlas whistled sharply and saw Snowfall, the largest and oldest of Rowena's female albino hawks, take off at break-neck speed toward Algar Arda as a forewarning to the advancing army. Doronlas set Dagnir on a path to follow Snowfall with all haste, kicking the stallion into a gallop as a group of mounted men got their horses under control enough to follow him. Doronlas cursed under his breath, glancing back at the men and hoping Dagnir had the speed to outrun them.

"Gwilo Dagnir, gwilo!" Doronlas urged. (Fly Dagnir, fly!) Dagnir snorted and lengthened his stride, five riders behind Doronlas now.

Turning, Doronlas leased two arrows, both embedding in the chest of the closest man. The man toppled dead over the back of his horse, at least three men rising from the other ranks to replace him. Cursing again, Doronlas ducked as an arrow flew over his head missing by inches. Dagnir began to weave on the path, shying left then right, shooting forward and shying again as more arrows were leased toward them, thudding into the road just behind Dagnir's hooves. Again Doronlas leased an arrow, taking another man's life only to find the thunder of the army gaining. The hawks swooped and screamed overhead, talons and beaks bloody but their thirst far from sated.

As the battalions of Algar Arda came into sight, Doronlas felt a sharp pain shoot through his back making him jolt and stiffen, nearly falling off of Dagnir. Dagnir faultered but continued his mad swerving gallop toward the army of Algar Arda. Doronlas bit his tongue, brushing his hand against his side. The cut was a shallow one, a graze that had cut through the leather jerkin he wore. It was nothing to worry about now but it was bothersome. Up ahead, Doronlas could see Snowfall wheeling over the gathered elven army, screeching her desire to join her kin in the fight.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

Nostariel watched with anticipation as the enemy army loomed every closer. She wheeled Amarth around, moving him up and down the lines. "A Eruchîn, ú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas!" (Show them no mercy, for you shall receive none.) She eyed the frontline soldiers, seeing some that seemingly held no fear.. and few others who let their fear show plainly on their faces. "Avo 'osto, ortheritham hain!" (Fear not, We will defeat them)

The she-elf turned her head to see the army assembling, her mind whirring. It seemed as though their army was serveral hundred times bigger than the elves', but she knew the elves almost equaled in their numbers. They had at least a hundred or so more. "No i Melain na le. Maetho 'nin gurth!" (May the valar be with you. Fight to the death) She turned away from the army again. "Gurth a chyth-in-edhil! Hado i philinn!" (Death to the foes of the elves. Release arrows) Like summer rain the arrows flew into the air, killing a good number of enemy soldiers.

It was quiet for a moment, the enemy army gathering themselves. Their arrows flew back, their faces heated with rage. "Thand!" (Sheild) Nostariel heard the racket of shields being lifted and the sounds of arrows bouncing off them like water on rock. Few of her men fell, but other battalions were not so lucky. Nostariel turned, seeing a horse and rider heading towards them. She reached for her bow, but the other battalion leaders cried out. She looked more closely, recognizing the bay stallion. Dagnir and Doronlas. Nostariel unsheathed her sword, and readied her men. "Herio!" (Charge)

The mass of horseflesh and elves moved forward, covering ground quickly. The enemy urged their horses forward, smashing into the elves with tremendous force. Nostariel raised her sword, cutting a head from shoulders and killing. Just killing. There were great cries of agony, horrifying sounds. The she-elf watched as the others killed their enemies, and noticed herself doing the same. She didn't need to think much about doing it. It seemed automatic.

Amarth squealed, his large form falling sideways, Nostariel caught under him before he stood, another horse and rider looked back at her. An enemy. She grabbed her bow, shooting him in the back, and watching him fall from his horse. Amarth whinnied loudly, in distress of being seperated from his mistress. Nostariel wheeled around to face the noise, falling to the ground. Stunned, she looked up. A man had her sword in his hand, his bloody face glaring down at her. The man lifted her sword, obviously getting ready to kill her.

Nostariel pulled the dagger from its sheath, stabbing him visciously in the chest, slitting his throat. He fell to the earth, crying out in pain. The she-elf turned away after picking up her sword, but returned to the dying man's side. "Noro go hûl, bado go Eru." (Run with the wind, go with God) His breath left him, and now the elf ran through the blood crazed battle, killing again.

The maiden looked around wildly. Her men were scattered, and needed to be regrouped. She ran towards Amarth, watching as he reared and kicked, fighting for his life she was sure. "Amarth! Tolo-" (Amarth come) The elf's body went rigid, pain erupting in her abdomen. Her hands flew to the spot, pressing into her stomach. She looked down, seeing the sword being pulled from her body. Her eyes were wide with shock, her sword feeling too heavy in her hands. It dropped to the ground as the elf fell to her knees.

Her attacker ran off to kill more of her kin, not even bothering to show her the same kindness she had shown another of them. Amarth squealed, his hoof smashing into a swordsman's head, and he flew over to his mistress. The elf could just barely make out the shape of her silver stallion, her breath shallow. Her hands were still pressed into the wound. Amarth sensed her pain and got down closer to the ground. "Mae carnen, Amarth, mellon nîn" (Well done, Amarth, my friend) She gasped, leaning forward into the stallion's neck. Summoning her strength, she lifted her head, waving an arrow in the air. "Regroup!" Several of her closer men heard the strangled shout, and began shouting her command in Elvish to the other soldiers.

Two of her men came up to Amarth's sides, their horses breathing heavily. "Avo 'osto Nostariel-híril." A soft-spoken soldier dismounted, getting up on Amarth behind her. Amarth did not mind a rider besides Nostariel at this moment, allowing the elf to direct him to a healer. "Nostariel-híril harnannen!" (Lady Nostariel is wounded) They called to the golden haired healer as she turned from an elven soldier with a now bandaged arm.

"Ha cuiol?" (is it bad? Lit-is it alive) The golden haired elf had to pry her hands from the wound. She shook her head. "You will live. Just remain calm." The elf tended to her wound, and the pain almost vanished comepletely. Nostariel rose to her feet when the healer was busy, taking the sword of a sleeping solider. Hers had been left on the field. She tried several times before she was able to mount Amarth. The stallion shifted, snorting in confusion. "Drego Amarth." (Flee Amarth) She turned him towards the battlefield, and some of her soldiers looked at her in confusion. They had seen her be taken off the battlefield wounded..

"Maetho 'nin gurth!" (Fight to the death) She reminded them. Wincing at the pain, Amarth weaved inbetween lines of fighting soldiers, killing very few of the enemies. It would be better to die in battle than next to a healer bleeding to death.


{Word Count: 949}
{Notes: Not quite sure how that all happened o.o}

[Doronlas]

The sight of the oncoming elven army heightened Doronlas' spirits. Whispering to Dagnir, Doronlas wheeled the stallion and let out an imitation hawk screech as the bay turned to gallop back at the advancing humans. Though Rowena's hawks did not connect with Doronlas as they did with her, they understood Olmec and Olmec bonded to Doronlas. He heard Olmec shriek, a killing hawk song sung by all ten in the sky as they rose as one before plunging down with talons ready to slice and kill. It was a strangely beautiful if not frightening sight to watch the hawks hunt upon the men and horses as though they were field mice. Either way the effect was quite desireable. The human soldiers screamed in fear and tried to shield their faces, horses spooked, reared and squealed thus depositing their riders in the dirt to be trampled by the elven army.

Doronlas slung his bow and whipped out his knives, one in each hand. Passing a soldier, Doronlas lashed out and took his head clean off. The next soldier found the tip of Doronlas' blade in his neck. A soldier tried to rush at Dagnir and stab the stallion only to find hooves connecting to his skull with a sickening crunch. Springing from the stallion's back, Doronlas dropped in the middle of the fray, whirling in a graceful but deadly dance with his blades flashing with blood and sunlight. A flash of white caught his vision as Snowfall dove, slicing the face of a man trying to put a sword in the belly of a young elven trooper. Screaming, the hawk flew higher again, her lower body covered in blood that was not her own.

Smirking, Doronlas swung to the right and embedded one blade in the shoulder of a human and jammed his elbow against the side of the mortal's head. The man crumpled and Doronlas jerked his knife free, lashing out at another man. A few yards away, Dagnir was screaming a horse's challenge, rearing and kicking at horses and mortals while Olmec swooped around him, swift as a sparrow.

Whistling sharply above the din of the battle, Doronlas called Dagnir to his side as he plunged his blade into the chest of another man. The bay responded with a high whinny, practically jumping over three humans to canter to his master's side. Doronlas caught a handful of the stallion's mane and sprang lightly onto his back, urging Dagnir away from the battle with the order to regroup. He whistled sharply but rather than cry back an affirmative, the hawks shrieked in what seemed like...fury unlike the fury toward invaders. Doronlas frowned. That cry...it was the fury of someone wounding their flock!

Wheeling Dagnir, Doronlas looked up at the sky to see the chick of Snowfall, an albino named Kipcha, in the massive talons of Ithilion the black hawk and Farawin the marsh hawk. Snowfall was diving in search of vengence, screaming her fury that was far different than the previous battle calls. Doronlas whistled again and opened his arms, ignoring the battle around him. Ithilion and Farawin lowered themselves until Doronlas had his arms around the wounded Kipcha. Thanking the birds, Doronlas wrapped the wounded albino in his cloak, whispering soft assurances to the young one.

"Quickly Dagnir" Doronlas said to the stallion.

Dagnir snorted and galloped once more for where the elven army was regrouping in time for his keen sight to catch sight of Nostariel riding away. His anger spiked. She had started this and had no intention of finishing?! Shaking his head, Doronlas galloped between the lines of troops, Kipcha's white and red form in the crook of his arm, part of his cloak pressed on her belly to slow the bleeding. The hawks would not come to his call again. They would seek vengence for Kipcha if it killed them all. Pushing aside that brooding thought, Doronlas stopped Dagnir.

"Hebo estel, mellon nin, en feir luithio. Huin istui na nifred mín!" (Have hope, the mortals falter. They learn to fear us!)

Kipcha let out a fearful sort of chortle in Doronlas' arms as he gently passed the she-hawk down to a healer. The healer took the hawk with great care and Doronlas felt relatively alright letting Kipcha go with him. Turning, Doronlas barked an order to form up a shield wall for the archers. He unslung his bow as troops moved to do as ordered, pulling a hawk fletched arrow from his quiver. Tearing his cloak, Doronlas wrapped the tip with the cloth and set it ablaze with a torch before firing at the enemy, catching a man's cloak and making the soldier fall from his mount, screaming in fright as the fire caught on the grass making horses squeal and flee, trampling soldiers and spreading the flames.

(note: i got tired of translating >.> he just ordered a shield wall so the archers could fire, well, fire at the humans)

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

Nostariel pulled Amarth sharply to the right, decapitating a soldier who was about to do the same to one of her kin. Her silver stallion squealed furiously, rearing to bash in the face of an enemy foot soldier with his hooves. The man screamed in agony, Nostariel's sword removing his head swiftly. Nostariel winced as Amarth landed heavily on the ground from rearing again. "Mae carnen." (Well done)

The elf urged the horse into an area thick with enemy soldiers who were pushing back the elves who had been advancing before. Nostariel could tell the herbs the healer had given her were only meant to relieve the pain temporarily until she fell asleep, but none the less she raised her sword, biting her lip, her stallion crashing into the foot soldiers. They cried out in terror, running from the fearsome equine. The elves pulled out their bows, killing them all.

Squinting, Nostariel directed Amarth away from the heavier fighting, merely lopping off heads when she could reach without causing too much blood to flow from her wound. She pressed a hand to her wound, grimacing, eyes scanning the battlefield. The smell of things burning caught her attention, and she moved Amarth closer despite his protests so she could see. The grass caught fire, and Amarth reared, galloping away from the flames.

A group of men approached Amarth and Nostariel, the stallion neighing in fury. "Hain dago Amarth!" (Kill them Amarth) The brute charged forward, kicking and rearing while Nostariel slit throats and removed heads. What was left of the enemy army ran away from the battle, fear the only thing motivating them to flee from the elves. "Noro Amarth, Noro." (Run Amarth, run) Amarth galloped after the fleeing enemies, stopping where the other elven soldiers had halted their horses. Some of the elves pulled back on their bows and fired, killing as many as they could.

Nostariel turned Amarth around, heading towards the shapes of gathered elves. She hoped it was the healer, but she couldn't be sure. The she-elf saw a blur of gold coming towards her, and she nearly turned Amarth away for fear it was an enemy. She wouldn't be able to fight if she couldn't see. "Man agorech!?" (What did you do) Nostariel recognized the golden haired healer from earlier in the battle. "Nad dithen.. carnen an gwend" (Just a little thing.. done for friendship) The elf motioned for another healer and they helped her off of Amarth. "Do we have victory?" The healers carried her to a cart, placing her in the back with other injured elves. "We have won."

Nostariel remembered seeing Doronlas and the hawks headed for battle.. and the hawks fighting. As the cart began to move, headed back towards the city she tried to remember if she had seen any of them after the battle, but no such memory came. She hoped all of them had not gained injury, and would return safely to Lady Rowena's home.


{Word Count: 494}
{Notes: Nothings to report =O}