Nest of the Scarlet Hawk

[Doronlas]

It was seemingly a miracle when the humans began to fall back, many killed and the others fearing a similar fate. Doronlas rode Dagnir toward the shield wall the elves had made, firing another arrow at a fleeing human. The human dropped a dagger and the thing the dagger had been on shrieked and flew, falteringly, toward Doronlas. It was Brenwin, the golden Cooper hawk. Brenwin shrieked weakly and fell, landing on his belly with his wings spread. Snarling a curse at the humans, Doronlas sprang off of Dagnir's back and jumped the shield wall without a second thought as Ithilion and Orinlas circled just over the wounded hawk.

Dropping to a crouch beside the bird, Doronlas gathered Brenwin carefully, feeling the bird's breathing as its feathered-chest moved against his arm. Carefully, Doronlas turned the bird, weary of the bloodied claws to see the gash on Brenwin's belly. Sighing, Doronlas murmured soft reassurances to the gold-eyed bird as he pressed his cloak against the wound. Around him, Doronlas saw Orinlas, Ithilion, Olmec, Snowfall, Marik, Antari, Hindar and Farawin were all perched wings folded watching him tend Brenwin. Dagnir stood a few yards away, swishing his tail and regarding the elven army with perked ears.

Before Doronlas could summon the horse, his breath was sucked in sharply as pain fired down his back. Turning on instinct with Brenwin still in his arms, Doronlas clumsily fumbled for his knife. A second arrow whizzed from the trees thudding into his stomach. With a strangled cry Doronlas overbalanced and fell backwards. Brenwin shrieked in pain as he fell from Doronlas' grip, landing in the grass on his back. Doronlas tried to move but each movement made pain fire down his spine and breathing was painful beyond belief. His hand fumbled in search of the source of his pain as the hawks flew at the man that had wounded him. His fingers touched wood and then his belly, coming away red. The arrow in his back was pushed further when he had fallen on his back, painful beyond belief.

Dagnir's hooves thudded near Doronlas' head, the soft nose prodding his side and forcing him to turn over onto his side though the pain was white-hot throughout his body. Dagnir nickered unhappily as the hawks reappeared, gathering around Doronlas and Brenwin, chortling unhappily and shuffling about, seemingly confused. They did not know what to do.

"Rado....rado Nostariel" Doronlas gasped.

Snowfall chortled and took flight. Her white feathers were stained red but her vengence for her daughter was sated. Now Doronlas could only watch as the albino red-tailed hawk flew toward the elven camp where the healers were probably tending the wounded.

Flying with swift purpose, Snowfall circled, blue eyes seeking the kindly woman from her mistress's home. Catching a glimpse of the beast she had ridden, Snowfall swooped lower near the stallion and shrieked before swooping toward a group of healers and flapping her wings noisily. Crying out, Snowfall perched and rattled her wings, determined to get attention. Finding none, Snowfall took flight again and dove at a healer, grabbing his cloak in her beak and pulling sharply.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Daro! Someone control this bird!" (Stop) A male healer's voice echoed in Nostariel's eardrums, and despite the immense pain spreading through her body, she sat up, turning her head back to see what was happening. Maybe it was one of the hawks! Perhaps Doronlas was alright! The elf would have laughed even though it would have increased her pain. "Stop, stop the cart." She managed in a strangled string of words. The driver looked back at her, confusion plain on his face. "We must get back to the city my lady." Nostariel's pained smile turned to a grimace as she forced herself out of the back of the cart. "Keep.. going." The driver nodded, still confused.

"Amarth," she whispered. The stallion's ear perked and he freed himself from a swordsman's grip. The she-elf mounted with the equine's help. She got him to walk over to the bird and male healer. "You. Follow bird." Amarth did so, the healer clearly unhappy of having to go back. The trio followed the white one and stopped when the hawk had done so. "Mm.. Doronlas?" Her voice was shaky, quiet, and confused.

She stumbled off of Amarth's back, staggering over to his blurry form on the ground. "E ú-'ar hired râd.." (He is lost) The healer mumbled, staying back. "Avo bedo..." (Do not speak) Her voice broke as she looked at the arrows piercing Doronlas' body. "A si i-Dhúath ú-orthor." (The shadow does not hold sway yet) Carefully, she inched closer, ignoring her pain. "Telin le thaed." (I've come to help you) She looked away from the arrows, and in closing her eyes the tears escaped her.

The healer moved over to Doronlas, "Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad." (Hear my voice, come back to the light) Nostariel leaned forward, covering her wounds with her arms, staring at Doronlas' kind, pale face. The healer looked over at the she-elf, a sympathetic smile covering the length of his lips. "Estelio nin." (Trust me) Nostariel's vision was fading quickly, his words only a nearly silent whisper in her ears. Before all her senses failed her, she caught a glimpse of Doronlas' face once more.



Nostariel's eyes flickered open, revealing the blue-green wealth of them. She moved to sit up in bed, but a hand pressed gently to her forehead. "Stay." The voice told her. She looked around the open room, pain and confusion etched into her face. They had kept her in her room.. "I will return to change your bandages later." "How long?" She whispered. "You were unconscious for nearly two weeks. Your wounds were badly infected, but you have healed well, though you will still feel pain. I do not know how long it will last." The healer left, and Nostariel went to sit up again. Pain burst in her insides like flames. Ignoring it as best she could, she got to her feet, and dressed.

Wincing, she opened the door, a long blood red dress keeping warmth for her body inside. She made her way down a long corridor, opening a large door that led to the sick houses. She went in, searching the faces of every elf that lie wounded on a small cot. Doronlas was not among them.

Frowning not from pain she walked into the gardens, and sat on a long stone bench, her head bent backwards, hands rested on the area of her wound gently. There would be a terrible scar, but it didn't bother the elf much. What were scars compared to life? She sighed, arching her back to find a comfortable position. Mumbling to herself, she picked up a book someone had left on the other end of the bench. Where were they keeping Doronlas? Hopefully if he was well enough someone would send word.. It was a small hope, but it was hope none the less.


{Word Count: 637}
{Notes: Meep}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas felt his grip on consciousness slipping and the birds around him began to blur. With a shaking hand he reached out. Olmec's beak brushed his hand harmlessly, the bird maneuvering his head under Doronlas' hand and cooing softly as he edged closer. Doronlas tried to speak but his tongue felt like a brick in his mouth. His fingertips skimmed the sleek feathers on his bird's head before sliding away and landing listlessly on the ground. Green eyes flickered as he fought to keep himself awake. Snowfall would come...she would bring help...she had to...but...it was getting harder to wait. The archer's eyes closed and a frightened wail rose from one of the birds but Doronlas could not raise his lids or move his mouth to soothe their fear.

---

Sunlight was what greeted Doronlas when he finally was able to fight his way to consciousness. His eyelids felt heavy and his body throbbed in a solid ache but he managed to see the waking world again. His eyes, dulled slightly, roamed around the small room where he was being kept. In a corner, a bird stand was placed and below the stand were three boxes with soft fabric inside. On the stand perched Olmec while in the boxes Doronlas saw the white form of Kipcha and the golden form of Brenwin. All three hawks were in deep slumber for the time being, all but Olmec. The keen hawk raised his head from under his wing when Doronlas shifted slightly and fluttered to perch on the bedside table.

Doronlas smiled tiredly at his faithful bird. Trying to raise a hand to stroke his feathers, Doronlas winced as pain shot hotly through his shoulder. Letting his hand fall, Doronlas moved slower and let his fingertips brush across his stomach. Stiff bandages were wrapped thickly around his middle making him grimace as the memory of the arrows came back.

"You nearly died" said a soft voice from the door making Doronlas look up. It was Rowena, tired and dressed as though she had been tending the wounded. "Am I right to guess you will still wish to be free of this room soon?"

"Aye, sister" Doronlas murmured, taking her hand as she came near the bed.

Rowena smiled, her kind dark eyes tired and looking as ruffled as a hawk that had flown in a windstorm. "Very well. I will assist you down to the gardens, you will find peace there."

It was a slow and painful process to get Doronlas first sitting up and then maneuvering a shirt over his bare chest since his shoulder protested to motion. Rowena tried three times to convince him to simply lay still and let himself rest but he refused each time, determined to be free of stone walls that had confined him for, according to Rowena, two weeks at least. At last, Doronlas was standing with his good arm around his sister's shoulders and Rowena's arm around his waist to keep him upright.

"Are Kipcha and Brenwin alright?" Doronlas asked as they made slow progress along the corridor.

"Aye, they will live. Kipcha gave me a fright but she will be well. Brenwin is nearly better though he shall bear a battle scar."

"There is no shame in such things" Doronlas said, wincing as his stomach wound ached with movement.

"Are you sure you will not turn back and rest?" Rowena persisted.

"I will rest when I am dead. Since I am not dead, I need no rest" Doronlas shot back with a sly grin.

Rowena shook her head hopelessly as they finally made their way into the sunlit gardens of the elven palace. Seeing a stone bench under the shade of an old oak tree, Rowena guided Doronlas to it and helped him to sit and lean against the rough bark. Stroking a lock of dark hair from her brother's face, Rowena smiled, sitting beside him.

"It is strange to see you without your braids" Rowena murmured.

"It feels strange" Doronlas assured her.

"Let me fix it" Rowena offered, combing her fingers through her brother's hair, all too familiar with the archer style he wore.

Letting his sister tend his hair as odd as it may seem, Doronlas stared at the sunlit sky. For an autumn day it was warm with just cool breeze to caress the tired warriors. Softly Doronlas began to sing in elvish, an old song of battles long past that his father had once sung to him before he had left the outpost for good. He could feel himself relaxing beneath the wise old oak, Olmec swooping around in the garden among the flowers and shrubs. The wind in the leaves and Olmec's joyous cry combined with the soothing feeling of Rowena braiding his hair made Doronlas feel completely at peace despite the pains of his wounds, his elvish voice soft but clear in the quiet.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

It was not long before Lord Maidhion would call on her promise of rejoining the council.. She would have to be a lady of the court again. What a boring thing. Nostariel wanted to see the unruly beauty of the wildlands, and to accompany men in battle. There was no way of going back and undoing what she had sworn to Lord Maidhion and the other council members.

Nostariel sighed, closing the book. It was too difficult to read when such thoughts were constantly bothering you. She poked around her wound with a finger, wincing when pressure was put on it. It would heal well, just as the healer had explained to her. Gently setting the book back down where she had found it, she stood. The elf could hear someone singing quietly, and she walked slowly in the direction of the sound.

A small smile crept across her lips as she spied Doronlas and Lady Rowena. She was braiding his hair, and he sang, looking up at the sky. She stood quietly, pulling the hand pressed to her abdomen away, letting it hang by her side. She could hear Olmec flying around the garden. Nostariel's smile grew, and she sat down on another stone bench near the one Rowena and Doronlas were seated on.

She felt as though she had intruded on a private sibling moment, but if they wished her away she would go. Instead of speaking anymore, she adjusted herself on the bench, biting her tongue in place of her wincing. Nostariel had been lucky the sword hadn't damaged any of her organs, but she was told that if she would have moved even a little, one of her vital organs would have been ruined. They had not bothered to tell her which one, but then again, she didn't really mind. It was probably better not to know. In silence she leaned back slightly, happy to even be near the pair of elves. They were the only friendly faces she had seen in a long while.


{Word Count: 337}
{Notes: Oh noes D= Short.}

[Doronlas]

Knowing Doronlas was well within his own world, Rowena smiled, finishing off the last braid as Olmec's wings drew her attention. Looking up, the youthful court lady caught sight of Lady Nostariel. A warm, friendly smile appeared on her lovely face as she inclined her head slightly toward Nostariel as the other elleth seated herself on a nearby stone bench. Laying a hand on her brother's shoulder, Rowena leaned close to his peaked ear. "Gwanur nin, le garo-mellon sí" Rowena whispered to him, quiet enough that Nostariel may not hear. (My brother, you have a friend here)

The old song faded from Doronlas' lips as he blinked himself back to reality. "Hmm?" he said, looking at his sister curiously. He hadn't quite caught what she had said. Rowena nodded and Doronlas looked around properly to find Olmec perched in another nearby tree. Under the hawk was perched none other than Lady Nostariel. As if a reflex, a smile spread over Doronlas' tired face. He knew he probably looked a mess, still pale and weak-limbed from two weeks on bed rest but though it was likely Nostariel had had the same treatment she still seemed as radiant as a star. With Rowena's help, Doronlas stood, leaning heavily on his sister's arm as he made his way to where Nostariel sat. He inclined his head in greeting, knowing full well that an actual bow would be not only foolish but painfully foolish.

Rowena settled her brother on the same bench as Nostariel and kissed her brother's cheek. "I must tend Brenwin and Kipcha, I will return though and if I find you've reopened your wound I'll knock you out for a month" she threatened quietly.

Doronlas chuckled weakly, winking at Nostariel, some of his old playfulness in his eyes. "Of course sister."

Rowena bowed politely to Nostariel and excused herself, intending to return and make sure Doronlas kept his word. If he didn't, he would find himself most likely unconcious for the next several months.

With a tired sigh, Doronlas leaned against the rough trunk of the tree growing behind the bench, his hair nearly the same dark color, eyes vibrant as springtime leaves. "I did not know you had taken a wound" Doronlas murmured, looking over at the elleth in his company. "It saddens me to see such a fine elleth hurt for foolish aristocrats that took her warnings for folly."

His voice lacked its usual haunting charm and had a faint underlying of pain but he kept it at bay as much as he could manage. Battle wounds would fade with time. Given several years even the scars would fade and as elves, they had the time to wait our puckered scars and discolored skin. Still, in the moment the pain was a dull annoyance that would occasionally spike like stepping on a thorn barefooted.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"I must tend Brenwin and Kipcha, I will return though and if I find you've reopened your wound I'll knock you out for a month." Nostariel smiled, eyes bright with amusement.

"Of course sister." The elf laughed quietly, inclining her head to Rowena and watching her leave.

"I did not know you had taken a wound. It saddens me to see such a fine elleth hurt for foolish aristocrats that took her warnings for folly." Her smile faltered, and she pressed a hand to her wound briefly, as if to make sure it was really there. The pain that answered gave her answer enough. "It is nothing compared to yours. I will not be gaining anymore wounds for quite some time now.." The she-elf studied him carefully, wondering how much pain he had suffered from his wounds. She had never been pierced with an arrow save once, and it wasn't in an area that had caused her much pain.

"Not all of them are foolish. They are just frightened of testing their word against Lord Maidhion's. I only wish I could show them there is no reason for them to fear what their actions bring." Nostariel looked away for a moment, a hand grasping her knee tightly. Her nerves had taken quite a beating over the last several weeks.

The she-elf was going to have to join the council, and would be bound to them until Lord Maidhion died. That could very well be forever since he never went into battle and being an elf, wouldn't die of old age. Stress gnawed at her heart and mind, her blue eyes moving back to Doronlas' comforting green. "Do your wounds bother you ever?" Nostariel couldn't recall seeing him ever openly express any terrible pain.


{Word Count: 291}
{Notes: The word count keeps going up and down.. Oy -.-}

[Doronlas]

Sensing stress radiating from the elleth beside him, Doronlas moved his hand to rest gently on her arm. Moving his hand slowly, he gently pried one hand off of her knee before she broke her own knee cap, running his thumb soothingly over her knuckles. "I remember what my father told me when I was shot for the first time. 'It doesn't hurt so much if you don't look at it or think about it'. He was right but over the years I suppose you learn that physical pain will fade with time. It soothes the soul to know pain won't last forever." Did he feel pain? Oh yes, right now he felt it prominently but kept quiet because he knew there were elves that had suffered much worse pain and not returned to the realms of the waking. His life was a trying one, living among unfriendly humans, rowdy dwarves and sometimes just plain unfriendly elves. He had to learn to adapt and get along with it, pain included.

"You have the heart of a hawk but something tells me you shall soon be caged" Doronlas said somberly, remembering her mention of making a deal with the council.

He kept his distance from the council, even as simply a lord's son because he knew their political ways were ones he did not enjoy. From what he knew of Nostariel, she was very similar to him. Given a horse and a blade, she could fight for anyone that needed her skill but if confined would be made as unhappy as Olmec when kept on a tether. When able, Doronlas would leave Algar Arda and keep his distance from it for another eleven months until it came time for him to visit Rowena again. Such a thing would be harder to do it Doronlas knew Nostariel was confined within the city and most likely very unhappy.

"I do not want to overstep my bounds Lady, but why must you give to the word of the council? They can not confine you" Doronlas murmured, his green eyes searching Nostariel's.

Though elves could live forever, that was seldom the case. Doronlas was aware of no elf that was as old as the land. Death could take many shapes from a phsyical wound to an emotional wound. If Nostariel gave herself over to the council and let herself be confined to court life, it was very likely an emotional wound might appear and fester. That was not a fate Doronlas wanted her to face, not unless it was one she chose freely and even then he doubted he would ever agree with it. Beyond her calm exterior, Doronlas could see the fire of a warrior in her eyes and it made him sad to think it may be caged.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

As Doronlas removed a hand from her knee, at first she tensed, but eventually her body relaxed. "I remember what my father told me when I was shot for the first time. 'It doesn't hurt so much if you don't look at it or think about it'. He was right but over the years I suppose you learn that physical pain will fade with time. It soothes the soul to know pain won't last forever." She nodded at this. It made sense to her. Why waste a piece of her life complaining of pain? Humans did that and they had much, much shorter lives than those of the elves. Each one of their lives seemed to last only a day to Nostariel.

"You have the heart of a hawk but something tells me you shall soon be caged."

The elf took her free hand, smoothing the disturbed folds of her dress from where her fingers had dug into her knee. Frowning, she looked up at Doronlas. Caged? Remembering her promise to Lord Maidhion and the other council members, she tensed again, shifting uncomfortably. Instead of replying to his statement, she merely looked away for a moment, but her eyes returned to his.

"I do not want to overstep my bounds Lady, but why must you give to the word of the council? They can not confine you" The elf sighed quietly, biting her lower lip, and then smiled slightly, false amusement masking the pain and sadness in her eyes. "I promised the council I would join them again, and that was the only way I could think to get them to agree. They believed I had only returned to play with their minds. I think Lord Maidhion has never really forgiven me for leaving them. If I could leave I would be gone already, but I can not go back on a promise."


{Word Count: 310}
{Notes: Zero.}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas chuckled darkly, his thumb absentmindedly caressing the back of Nostariel's hand as he looked about the palace gardens. Beautiful though they were even in the dying season, he could never confine himself to it, tie himself to Algar Arda. Even for a promise. "Your word is stronger than mine" Doronlas said lightly, looking over at Nostariel with a very small smile. "Not even Rowena trusts me to linger more than necessary anymore and I do not blame her. I have never done anything to prove her thoughts wrong."

It was a shameful thing to admit to, being a liar and usually a promise-breaker but Doronlas was usually quite honest. Beside that, Nostariel deserved the truth from him though he did not entirely know why he was so willing to give it. It was true though, that he would often come and go within the span of a day. He would not usually linger this long with Rowena simply because he had developed a rather restless soul. If he had been uninjured in the battle and Nostariel was still wounded though, Doronlas could not say for sure if he would still have been quick to leave. Would he have lingered at her bedside and helped his sister tend her dying birds or would he have ridden out on Dagnir within an hour of the battle's end?

"I promise my sister to always return to her but that promise grows thinner with each passing year. I roam but do not know why and my heart is restless. I suspect next year my coming to Algar Arda will be later and possibly not at all. If only to give your mind peace, Nostariel, be glad there is a place you can return to rather than roaming like a living ghost."

It wasn't his greatest try to rouse her spirits but it was an attempt. She had a warrior's spirit but at least there were elves making sure that she knew she was desired. The council sought what he could only assume was her wisdom and there were servents and other lords always happy to be at the service of his sister. They had someone that desired them to exist and be, to come to their company with all haste. If Doronlas was unable, others would rush to aid his sister and many would rise at a single whisper of distress from Nostariel. Doronlas knew the love of family he shared with Rowena but also knew he was straining it. Her word was slowly beginning to mean less. He would return to her each year but in the past decades his visits had become shorter and shorter until she seemed to expect him to leave before even arriving.

He felt bad for this but deep down felt his heart was searching for something it had yet to find. Whether that was a warrior's death or...perhaps love, Doronlas did not know. Perhaps he would never find it and die a lonely wandering warrior? It was a cold prospect but...slowly becoming more and more likely. Still, here and in the moment he felt oddly content to sit in Nostariel's company, trying to soothe her stresses and woes.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Your word is stronger than mine." Nostariel met his smile with a look of confusion. She had found him to be trustworthy.. "Not even Rowena trusts me to linger more than necessary anymore and I do not blame her. I have never done anything to prove her thoughts wrong." The she-elf's frown deepened, her eyes cast down at the earth.

"I promise my sister to always return to her but that promise grows thinner with each passing year. I roam but do not know why and my heart is restless. I suspect next year my coming to Algar Arda will be later and possibly not at all. If only to give your mind peace, Nostariel, be glad there is a place you can return to rather than roaming like a living ghost." Her eyes moved back to Doronlas, her other hand resting on top of the hand his thumb moved along the skin of her hand. His restlessness troubled her, and yet she understood it. Even if only a little.

She knew no words that could soothe a heart like Doronlas', her heart felt as though it would give in unto itself. How could simple words comfort an elf such as him? What could she do? Before this she rarely, if ever, had trouble finding her words. Words that could stir the thoughts of a stubborn council lord.

With furrowed brows, she looked at him, staring with such intensity as though to peer into his soul, to pull the source of his hurt and remove it. It was becoming hard to let him sit there in unhappiness, her muscles tensing and relaxing with each rustle of leaves and flutter of the fabric of her dress as the wind blew by, looking for something to blow into the air just to see where it would end up.


{Word Count: 304}

[Doronlas]

It was obvious that Doronlas' words had disturbed Nostariel and he felt sorry for that but she might as well know he was probably not someone she could trust to always be there. He met her gaze, faintly perturbed by the intensity. Though elves were naturally soulful creatures, Doronlas was often more reserved than some. Being on the road a lot he had to be able to close himself off to others, keep his emotions in check or if at all possible, keep them invisible. Nostariel, however, was like a locksmith trying to break a lock and Doronlas felt reluctant to withhold from her anything she desired.

Her hand rested over his making him smile faintly and relax a little, letting her see the naturally brotherly soul lurking under the tired traveler. He wanted to be everything everyone wanted but was still searching for something. He wanted to be the brother Rowena remembered, the steadfast supporter she needed and perhaps something to Nostariel as well if she desired it. He wanted to be the one to let her be free but his restless soul was still looking for something, whatever it was. Now however, he felt relaxed and calm but in need of rest that had nothing to do with the arrow wounds he had received. It seemed when he was around Nostariel, despite her often being tense, he could find such rest, rest that was not just physical but also rest for his soul.

"Le baur al-nifred, faer nin rado sídh le" Doronlas murmured, meeting her gaze evenly with a small smile. (You need not fear, my soul finds peace with you) "Nauth im isto-al an en." (Though I know not why)

His words were spoken softly, a small smile on his lips and leaf-green eyes carefully trained on Nostariel's unusual grey-green eyes. Rowena was known to be a soothing soul when the time called for it but the peace he found with his sister was not quite the same peace as what he found with Nostariel. This was different, perhaps because their natures were so similar? Nostariel sought travel but was also sought to be confined. Doronlas wandered but sought to be confined but only by the thing his soul sought, most likely love. He had been told elves loved only once and some would wander until they found their love but Doronlas did not know what truth the rumor held. Perhaps that was what he had sought since leaving home but had never crossed the right paths until a few weeks ago? He dared not get his hopes up.

Most likely his words would have Nostariel offended, fleeing his company and not approaching him again. He would leave if that was what she bid for he would not seek to cause her discomfort with his presence. Though it was far from his intention to offend or overstep his boundries. By all meanings now, she was a council member and stood higher than him meaning offense could spell a tough life for Doronlas.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Le baur al-nifred, faer nin rado sídh le." Nostariel's frown faded, a faint smile taking its place. "Nauth im isto-al an en." "Edro gûr lín.. There you will find the answer." (Open your heart) "Gerich gwend nín Doronlas." (You have my friendship Doronlas) Her gaze remained on him, her voice calm. "Ar gwend sui lotheg i edlothia an-uir." (And friendship is like a flower that blooms forever)

She allowed her smile to spread a little farther. The she-elf waited a moment before she spoke again. "When do you think you will leave Aglar Arda?" She knew Lady Rowena wouldn't allow her brother to leave when he was still so badly wounded, but then again, he could leave if he wanted. There was nothing to keep him tied to Aglar Arda like the leash Lord Maidhion held fast to her with. He was free. Freedom.

Nostariel would always remember what is was like, though the taste would eventually become bittesweet over time knowing that she would never be free unless her lord released her or.. if Lord Maidhion died. Perhaps- Her mind drifted to places she did not want it to sway. Dark thoughts were dangerous, so very deadly. They caused wars and death. Loss of freedom.


{Word Count: 205}
{Notes: Lost me muse after I lost the elvish and my mind. Not in the traditional sense of loosing my mind..}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas smiled weakly, eternally thankful to have Nostariel's friendship. She may never see how deeply Doronlas treasured the friendships he kept though he kept few. Perhaps it was the scarcity of friendships that made them so close to his heart or just his elven nature but whichever it was, the bond was strong. At the moment it seemed his friendship with Nostariel was stronger than perhaps his body. Nearly dying seemed to certainly take it out of a person and having an arrow slice through your gut was far from energizing. He didn't even know where his bow and knives had been taken though he hoped Rowena had kept them from unsavory hands. Even though he had moved little, Doronlas felt exhaustion creeping in and cursed himself for it though he knew he could do nothing about it but let himself rest.

"When I am strong enough, I will most likely ride" Doronlas said, a touch of sorrow in his voice. "Rowena will be offering me shelter until I am strong enough to move freely and draw my bow. I will not stay within the palace longer than I must. It suffocates me and I've only been conscious an hour, it is not a place I wish to linger but yet...I am reluctant to leave."

Doronlas looked at their hands, his still between both of hers. It was interesting to see the contrast. Mortals said all elves were the same but Doronlas could see the differences. Her hands were elegant, those of a lady raised in privilege but still he could feel their strength, built from years of wielding a heavy blade. His hands by contrast were slightly larger, holding more of a willowy strength much like that of the bows he wielded, not made for holding heavy weapons though they held the strength to do so. The contrast was fascinating but Doronlas turned his gaze back to Nostariel, searching her eyes.

"Someday I hope you will ride with me again, Istui-emel" Doronlas murmured, smiling softly for her. (Wise-heart)

Though a majority of the time he seemed to spend with Nostariel ended or involved him being wounded, Doronlas did enjoy her company. She was an elder elf, mysterious to him but still so familiar though their knowledge of one another was minimal. He wanted to know her better but knew he would once more leave. Why? He wasn't really sure. Maybe he didn't trust the elven armies enough to bother joining their ranks so he acted as a freelance soldier? Every year Rowena asked why he continued to leave and his answers changed. He had friends to help or a settlement was in danger, the humans needed to know elves wouldn't hide in their fortresses so he would wander among them. Each excuse weaker than the other but perhaps if he could not stay away more than a year, Doronlas would return for good if not for any other sake than to make sure Nostariel was well.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"When I am strong enough, I will most likely ride." The she-elf winced. That would probably be soon. As little as she kenw Doronlas, it seemed that if he felt trapped somewhere he'd get out of there even if he was half-dead. As long as he would be able to stay on Dagnir's back that is. "Rowena will be offering me shelter until I am strong enough to move freely and draw my bow. I will not stay within the palace longer than I must. It suffocates me and I've only been conscious an hour, it is not a place I wish to linger but yet...I am reluctant to leave." Nostariel bit her lip, unable to see what could possibly slow his departure from here. The palace was beautiful, but here she felt confined.

"You should leave while you can." She smiled briefly, as if were funny to her. He had the perfect chance to leave before anyone could offer him a position in anything, although he could decline.. How could someone be so free? Not bound to anything but the earth and sky?

"Someday I hope you will ride with me again, Istui-emel." Nostariel smiled weakly at the nick name, already dreading his departure. She would be alone again soon. Only left with Aras and Amarth. Not that they did not make her happy.. It just wasn't the same. "Lady Nostariel?" It was another member of the council. "Yes?" The she-elf slowly pulled her hands from Doronlas', visibly frowning as she turned to face the other elf. "We are ready for you." Nostariel sighed, standing as the elf left. "Would you like me to take you back to Lady Rowena?" She asked, looking down at Doronlas.


{Word Count: Too depressing..}
{Notes: Woof.}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas smiled though it lacked humor when she mentioned leaving while he could. The only thing that bound him to Algar Arda apart from his race was his sister and family name but those were easily dealt with. Rowena was glad to know he was alive at all and never bound him to taking back their family's position. She was content so long as her hawks were cared for and her people were safe. She did not confine him as others did but she did understand him more than others. Still, it felt wrong to leave while Nostariel lacked the freedom to do the same. It was simply too oppressive to think she could not wander far from the palace now that she was bound to the council.

Glimpsing the servant a moment before Nostariel did, Doronlas reluctantly withdrew his hand from hers though he missed the feel and warmth almost at once. He kept his face passive as the servant approached, knowing it was not the elf's fault he had to interrupt. Someone higher up had probably sent him to be bothersome as a fly but Doronlas resisted the urge to swat. Smiling sadly as Nostariel rose, Doronlas shook his head to decline her offer though he did wish to spend longer in her company.

"No, open air and the earth will heal me faster than any prodding her healers can do. I would bow, my lady, but I hope you will understand my inability." Doronlas ignored the glare from the servant for not bowing to a court lady but the elf didn't know Doronlas was close to her rank. He just decided not to pull ranks. "Ná Elbereth veria le, ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín." (May Elbereth protect you, may her stars shine on the path of your life)

He wanted to add that he hoped their paths crossed again but decided it would be best to leave things polite and proper while under the eyes of others. The last thing he wished was for Nostariel to recieve grief for a relationship with a "lowly wanderer" or whatever the staff thought he was. His lively green eyes met Nostariel's and he inclined his head in a polite farewell though he wished it was not. His recovery would be swift and he would be expected to leave again. Nostariel would most likely soon be too busy to bother a spare thought toward him and he would have once more nothing to hold him in Algar Arda.

From his perch above where Doronlas and Nostariel had been, Olmec lit from the branch. Circling Nostariel, the hawk chortled, obviously curious as to the Kind Lady's departure. The hawk seemed to glare unhappily at the servant before settling once more on the stone bench where Nostariel had been, Doronlas' hand raising slowly to stroke his head while the keen-eyed hawk glared at Nostariel and the servant.