:G i v e:M e:A:B r e a k: (Open)

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

Nostariel pushed the large wooden door open, feeling the slight tingling as smoke danced across her skin. Not many of the drunkards turned to look at who had entered. Why should they care? To them, it was probably just another one of their kind come in for a drink. The Elf bit her lip and walked over to the bar, pulling her cloak's hood further over her head. "What'll you have sir?"

"Would you happen to have any water?" She didn't look up, keeping her voice low. Heaven knew what the men would do if they discovered a woman there. He laughed hoarsely, drying a wet mug with a dirty rag. "You want water? Go stick your head in the trough." She smiled calmly, daring to look him in the eyes. His widened in shock at the Elf's smooth face and soulful eyes, but narrowed. "Shh.." She grinned, putting a finger up to her mouth. "I'll have some bread then." He nodded, hurrying into the kitchen. A series of excited whispers drifted from the back, but they did not sound like the barkeepers. Arlenwa assumed they were his wife's.

"Here." He grumbled, throwing the small baked thing at the counter in front of her. She dipped her head slightly in thanks, "Rim hennaid" He stared expectantly as Nostariel reached into the darkness of her cloak, pulling out round, silver pieces and dropped them into his hand. "I don't want that kind of language around here." He growled as he walked away to serve another man who had just entered. "Ae anírach. . ." She mumbled quietly, eating the bread in the manner of the men around her. It was better to blend in than to worry about simple traveling clothes.

"I'm sick of this war. It's the same thing day after day."

"My brother's in the cavalry, and he said-"

"That king shouldn't've built the damn thing in the first place! The people were smarter than he was!" A somewhat clean man shouted at three other men he was speaking with, slamming his ale on the bartop and letting it slosh over the sides and all over his arm, as if that would prove his point.

"It's not our business to worry about walls and wars." A man with a pipe in his mouth muttered, glancing at the door anxiously. I wonder what he expects to happen.. Nostariel turned her head slightly, listening more intently.

"It's the Elves' fault too. Those bastards of theirs cause trouble every fifty years!" Nostariel's body instantly tensed, but she calmed herself out of habit.

"You. What is your name?" Nostariel stood and moved to face them, still keeping her face covered and voice low.

"What does it matter to you?" He gripped his ale tightly in annoyance.

"What makes you such a great king of men that you may judge the actions of others you know very little, or nothing, about?" The Elf maiden moved closer, exposing her face, and pushing her hair behind pointed ear so he could see the elegant tip. His face heated with anger, but he knew what could befall him if she chose to harm him, but that was not the way of her people. Instead she smiled, and dipped her head as she had to the barkeeper. "No galu govad gen. May blessings go with you," She translated. Instead of returning to her seat at the bar she pushed her way out the heavy door again, and walked over to the river's edge, her long black hair finally free as she pulled her hood back. Her pale skin glimmering slightly in the soft moonlight.

It was sad to see how much the humans held against her people. After all, they had been on the side of the people of Anorith when they opposed the king's idea to build such a wall to show the magnificence of the Anorian kingdom. Nostariel sighed, looking down at the reflection of the forest in the moving water, her fingers running over the hilt of her sword. The blue-green of her eyes slowly turned to a lighter, icy color as she looked up into the light of the moon, the whole of it nearly becoming silver.


She could see them.. Their faces full of fear, and hatred for their enemy. The men screamed, roared, some even cried. Nostariel could feel the emotion of each soldier as she looked at their dirty, blood-smeared faces. Both armies gave one last cry and ran towards their opponent. Bodies collided, bones snapping, skin being pierced and torn, and bodies had already began to litter the earth. The battle raged on and on, Nostariel remembered it all... all the death- the gore.

Whatever was left of the victorious side's army began looking for the wounded, shaking their heads at some of the screaming and crying men. They would be gone before the first light of morning kissed the wounded earth where they lie. Some ended their comrades' lives in the quickest way that they could.


The she-elf's memory from the past ended, and in closing her eyes, a single tear slipped down the face of porcelain. Her fists clenched, and she opened her eyes, staring at the moving water of the river. Why had she choosen to seek out the imagery of this battle? What significane had it held? She didn't know, but maybe it was just her anger and sadness from the things the men had said in the tavern. Nostariel hadn't known the hatred towards her people had become so terrible. The world was slowly deteriorating. Her people would live to see all of it.. Every battle, every loss, every great civilization that would fall. Enough painful memories were implanted in each of their minds. Nostariel took a shuddering breath, fingers resting gently at the base of her neck.


{Word Count: 962}
{Meh.. My posts'll get better.}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas a shadow in the night

The road was long and lonely. It was one of the first things Doronlas had learned when he had declined to take his father's lordship some fifty or so years ago. Rather than go to the elven realms like a sane person, Doronlas had sought solace in none but his bay mount and the handsome hawk that swooped above him hunting in the night with the silver light on his wings. It had not been as easy as rumors claimed, for him to turn from his family and decide to chase the horizon in the company of equine and bird. It wasn't a soulless act of betrayal or hate toward his family but it had been a selfish act. Doronlas harbored no wish nor need to be a lord or live his sister's life in the court of Aglar Arda though with each visit her offers to take him under her wing became more intense.

Sighing to himself, the elven warrior gazed into the distance through the gloom of night with his piercing green gaze. The lights of a far-flung inn broke the darkness, the smell of smoke growing stronger with each of Dagnir's galloping strides. Overhead Olmec let out a screech and wheeled in the sky before taking wing to the east toward the shadowy trees. Doronlas did not fear he would not return but knew the hawk must see the human dwelling ahead. Only certain humans kept hawks and a hawk without a tether in the possession of a supposed traveler would look most suspicious. Coming closer to the inn, Doronlas let Dagnir slow his powerful stride from a gallop to a trot. The cloud of dust that had risen in their wake for a majority of the day slipped away as the horse's hooves beat with less aggression upon the weather-beaten road.

In the yard of the inn, Doronlas swung lightly from his mount, patting the bay's neck. Dagnir snorted, huffing from the long gallop but lipped at Doronlas' arm, seemingly content so long as his master was. Doronlas whispered softly to the stallion before watching the stallion canter off toward the trees where Olmec had earlier flown. A horse with no bridle or saddle was another suspicious thing but Doronlas refused to use such things just to hide among the humans.

Pulling the hood of his dark cloak up to hide his long hair in warrior braids and his pointed ears, Doronlas made his way to the inn's entrance. It seemed however, there had been something to cause a stir before his entrance because Doronlas could hear snatches of mutterings among the drunks, the bartender looking ill at ease and a few men that looked simply livid. Raising a brow to himself in question, Doronlas ducked his head and made his way to the bar though he had no intention of drinking.

Purchasing bread to last him a few days on the road, Doronlas paid the barkeeper and turned to make a quick exit. He never spent much time in bars or inns, simply because the longer he stayed the drunker men got and the more questions they tended to ask. The smoke from their pipes and the hearth fire alone was enough to assure Doronlas he would find more rest in a thicket of thorn bushes than in such a place. Slipping out of the inn, Doronlas stood still just outside of the door, listening. His vivid green eyes scanned the darkness. The moonlight above provided more than enough light for Doronlas' keen eyes to see by though he wasn't sure what he was looking for.

Within a moment his eyes came to rest on a slender figure standing several yards away at the riverside. Doronlas hesitated in summoning Dagnir, knowing the stallion needed rest but also not sure if he was facing a human or elf. From the slender structure he assumed a woman, no matter the race but he sensed a subtle hint of sorrow or unease perhaps?

Frowning slightly, Doronlas took several steps forward so he stood now between the inn and the woman at the river. "Are you well m'lady?" he asked, melodious voice giving him away as an elf within a heartbeat.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Are you well m'lady?" Nostariel was startled by the voice, but wiped away her tear calmly, quickly composing herself. It was a silly question. 'Are you well?' No matter how it is asked, you will almost always get a lie or a rushed answer that means they don't want to speak to you. The Elf nodded even though it was dark, "I am fine. Rim hennaid" She spoke the latter without doing so in a whisper. She didn't care if anyone heard her now. Be it man or any other creature.

Nostariel could tell he was an elf, and her muscles relaxed as she turned to face him, finding comfort in seeing one of her own people. But did he know of what race she was? "Man sâd telil?"(Where are you from?) She asked him, stepping a little closer to see him better even though her vision was that of an elf. Perhaps using Elvish would make him slightly more at ease as it did for her? Or, maybe it would make him uncomfortable. Roaming elves were sometimes felt different ways about their heritage, wanting to push it away and never think or hear of it again.. but others- others embraced it and wanted to hear it outside their homeland.

The female wasn't entirely sure why his precense comforted her. Was it just because he was another elf, and she could relate to him? Or, was it a selfish reason. Someone to comfort her and save her from the drunken men that occasionally stumbled out of the tavern? She doubted it was the last one since she was perfectly capable of caring for herself. She began wondering what had brought him here, what he wanted from the world, what motivated him? Had he seen such horrors she had? Nostariel continued pondering things about his existence for a moment longer, but pulled her mind back to him.

A small red panda trotted over to the she-elf, staying hidden behind her. The animal placed a paw on her leg, obviously wanting attention. Nostariel didn't notice Aras, and glanced over at the tavern as more men stumbled out. Her body tensed instantly, this time anger instead of sadness welling up inside her. They were the same men from the tavern, but she would not take revenge on them. It would not look very well for her people. Attention again had to be turned back to the male elf. "Forgive me. Before I loose myself, I am Nostariel." Again, even though it was dark she dipped her head forward slightly in respect. If she didn't introduce herself, she would become uncomfortable and do something to embarass her kind.


{Word Count: 444 AHH! It burns us!}
{Notes: Sorry D= <3}

[Doronlas]

It was always a mystery to Doronlas why creatures over used the words "I'm fine" when it was painfully obvious they were far from it. How many times had he soothed Rowena when their father had been in a rage or when a death had troubled her to where she would withdraw for weeks until coaxed into the light once more? Doronlas had never recieved an answer for his question especially since he himself was guilty of using it too much. He would claim he was well even if there were three arrows in his back and someone had cut his leg off. Why? He had no clue. It was both stupid and utterly pointless, a waste of time but it was still an automatic response, like breathing, no one thought about it before they said it. Doronlas shook his head in wonder before turning his vivid green eyes once more on the elleth before him as she turned toward him.

Seeing her face, Doronlas could not deny she was in fact one of his kin, if not related in blood. Only an elf or perhaps a very lucky half-elf could bear a face so fair. Her words flowed through the air too him, a tongue he had missed speaking and hearing though he often spoke or sang to himself in the tongue of his birth. Doronlas nodded politely to the elleth, bowing slightly at the waste though it wasn't a full bow, just a show of respect and peace from a fellow elf.

"Im garo baw bar" Doronlas replied smoothly. (I have no home). "Ceri le renio eriol?" (Dou you wander alone?)

It was an honest question, no harm meant though Doronlas was aware he could be treading on thin ice. Some elves frowned upon those that roamed among the lands of humans, claiming them to be blood traitors or some other nonsense. If she was among them, Doronlas would leave her be and make his escape on Dagnir whom he could barely see on the edge of his vision, grazing lazily just within the nearby wood.

When the elleth introduced herself, Doronlas nodded once more to her, the posture of a lord's son seemingly embedded in his body so that he naturally stood tall and confident though he doubted to himself that this elleth would be of royal blood or even a member of the court. What lady or lord's daughter would come among drunken men at this time of night? Then again, what was he doing out here? The lord of a son claiming no home. What an odd world he lived in.

"I am Doronlas m'lady, it is a pleasure to meet you. Forgive my forwardness but I find it difficult to believe you come here for the company of drunken men."

He meant no offense, simply that he found it odd. If she was in some sort of trouble, he would try to help her but if she was well he would most likely still not leave her alone with no real village until farther up the road where he saw several drunken men heading back for their homes. The Dancing Deer was one of the few inns open to travelers and if she intended to linger, Doronlas could not in good conscious leave her here alone.

My elvish is rusty, I apologize if it's not right ^^"

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Im garo baw bar" So he was a wanderer as well? This intrigued the female. "Ceri le renio eriol?" She nodded, "Yes and no. I travel with Aras." Answering in the common tongue, she picked the animal up, his soft fur brushing her skin.

The she-elf could remember when she had first found the little red panda. A trader from Battonia had come to sell exotic animals, and Aras was in a small, wooden cage beaten bloody. She had bought him, but it had taken nearly half her money she carried with her. Even at the moment she dropped the coins into the devilish man's hands she had never once regretted saving Aras from almost certain death. He was one of the only true friends besides her people that she had. "And you, do you travel alone?" She smiled, admiring the male elf's face. It looked so much kinder than those that drank and lodged in the tavern. The unclean murderers that most of them were.

"I am Doronlas m'lady, it is a pleasure to meet you. Forgive my forwardness but I find it difficult to believe you come here for the company of drunken men." Nostariel smiled, "It is a pleasure to meet you as well Doronlas." Her smile turned to amusement at his last statement. "I do not come here for company. I only stop at taverns and inns when I absolutely need to. I know of the evils they hold." Indeed she did. If the men ever found out she was a woman, they would make unwelcome advances on her.. and when they discovered she was of Elven kind they grew angry and violent.

"Taverns are not the ideal places for conversation or sleep. I usually find shelter elsewhere." Aras shifted uncomfortably in the she-elf's arms, and she ran her fingers through his red fur quietly, remembering each time her fingers touched the soft hairs where his scars from the beatings were. Nostariel stroked his head, scratching gently behind his ears and anywhere else Aras welcomed the attention. "Why do you enter into such establishments, Doronlas?" She smiled at the name. It was a strong name. A good name for such an elf. Nostariel pondered her own name. It seemed too delicate for her. She enjoyed using a bow, and being in battle. If it were not for the screams, blood, and other horrors of war, it would almost be enjoyable. Aside from the killing of course.


{Word Count: 400 sum again x.x}
{Notes: Lalaa.}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas chuckled, watching the fine elven lady reach down to retrieve her familiar, an exotic looking creature Doronlas had to admit ignorance to. He had never seen such a beast but it seemed harmless enough, seeking the attentions of its mistress and occasionally watching him with keen brown eyes. "My path has company enough" Doronlas replied with a kindly smile before letting out a soft whistle that floated on the breeze like a sung note. Within a moment's time the steady thud of horse hooves came from the woods as Dagnir approached the path. His dark bay coloring blended into the shadows until he appeared in moonlight, striding regally to his master with a soft snort, intelligent brown eyes watching the lady his master was keeping company with. Following the equine's appearance Doronlas picked up the sound of Olmec's powerful wings. The distant hawk-cry told Doronlas the hawk was not likely to return to his side before dawn as usual.

Leaving the hawk to go about his nighttime business, Doronlas pat a hand on Dagmir's neck as the stallion snuffled softly. "My nights are seldom spent within a tavern or inn. The smoke is enough to choke a forest and lands such as this are not quite the safest for an elf."

Many times when he had been new at dwelling away from his parents' home, Doronlas had made the foolish mistake of not bothering to hide his pointed ears or the elegant bow he now wore slung under his dark cloak. He had believed his elven status would protect him from the rowdy drunks or at least convince them to leave him in relative peace. That had been far from the case and in the end he had been in several fights with foolish humans that had tried to drown their worries and self-imposed pains in putrid ales and bitter wines. Now he wore his quiver and bow hidden under his cloak, his long knife strapped against the quiver and though it made his back seem a bit oddly shaped when someone approached him from behind, it was less likely to draw attention when he was entering an inn and he spent as little time as possible with his back to any sort of human.

Glancing back at the inn, Doronlas saw several more men come tripping and stumbling out of the doors making him frown. Foolish humans, just as bad as dwarves when it came to drinking. "Come, I feel the forest may be far safer than the road" Doronlas said, to Nostariel. "The words of an elf are not welcome here and a drunk man is as violent with a sword as without."

Patting Dagnir's neck, Doronlas stepped off the path that wound alongside the river while the big bay made his way along ahead of his master swishing his tail and pausing here and there to nibble plants around the trees. Doronlas pushed aside a low branch and caught sight of a moonlit clearing where a brook that fed into the larger river was rippling past. Looking back for Nostariel, Doronlas stepped into the clearing and pushed back the hood of his cloak revealing a handsome face, bright green eyes and long ebony hair braided in the typical fashion of an archer. Dagnir trotted over to the brook and lowered his head, drinking contentedly from the water, the moonlight highlighting the reds and browns in his dark coat.

"Do you come to this land often?" Doronlas asked Nostariel.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"My path has company enough" Nostariel smiled softly as Doronlas whistled, a stunning creature moving over to meet his call. The cry of a hawk caught the lady's attention, and she looked briefly to the sky, but saw nothing. "My nights are seldom spent within a tavern or inn. The smoke is enough to choke a forest and lands such as this are not quite the safest for an elf." The elf listened quietly, a small still ever present on her face. To Nostariel, it seemed all lone elves traveled in a similar manner. Of course it all made sense. Humans did not eaxactly like having elves around. It either turned out very violent or worse.

"Come, I feel the forest may be far safer than the road" He spoke again, his voice seemingly holy in such an unclean place. "The words of an elf are not welcome here and a drunk man is as violent with a sword as without." The elf kneeled for a moment, releasing Aras and whatever comfort he brought with him. The animal continued to follow her as she walked after Doronlas. As a group of men passed near her she wished she had left the hood of her cloak up, but it made no difference now since she would soon be hidden from the eyes of drunken men.

Nostariel walked more slowly as she was in the safety of the clearing, the shouts and laughter of the tavern drunkards was nearly non-existant. It pleased the she-elf greatly that she had been able to make company with another elf when she felt so alone in the world. As he pulled his hood back, she studied his face, noting the way his hair had been fashioned.

"Do you come to this land often?" The female thought for a moment, reminding herself of all the places she had traveled. "I cannot say. It depends on what you consider often. This is only my first time coming here in three months." Aras reached his elf's side, curling into a red ball on the earth beside her. "Is there a place you visit most often?" Her eyes flickered over to Doronlas' equine companion, and seeing her own animal wandering over her body tensed. Aras wasn't the most friendly creature when it came to other animals. To her relief, he became bored of the equine's scent and wandered over to a tree where he began climbing.

"I do not visit my homeland often. I find it makes me feel... uneasy about returning to my travels, and I become used to safety and violence affects me more." She struggled to keep her side of the conversation going as her mind kept drifting to other things. Where was she going to sleep tonight? Would there be enough food for both her and Aras? Her smile faded, and she shifted in the moonlight, studying Doronlas again.


{Word Count: 479}
{Notes: Mah posts are blah today .-. <3}

[Doronlas]

Approaching Dagmir, Doronlas unclasped his cloak and hung it by the hood on a low branch as Nostariel spoke. Without the cloak his normal traveling garb was visible as mainly muted browns and earthy greens. Across his back Doronlas' long bow and quiver hung ready for use, the sheath of his long knife attached to the quiver. Shedding the weapons, Doronlas leaned the bow and quiver carefully against a tree and slipped the knife into an empty sheath at his hip. Leaving his handsome mount to guard the weapons and cloak, Doronlas watched as the strange bear-like animal Nostariel kept started to climb up another tree. It certainly was a curious beast.

"I come here from time to time if I feel there is news to be heard" Doronlas said to his newfound companion. "Though it is not the best place for an elf, the lips of men are loose when drunk and news is easy to hear if one knows when and where to listen."

That was actually an almost direct quote from his father when he had been teaching Doronlas about how to deal with other lords and politics in general. Apparently his father had put it as everything was about listening and hearing. It was a delicate balance of knowing who to listen to and where to look for such people. Taverns full of drunk and usually unhappy farmers may not be the best place for such things but many people claimed rebellion began with a tankard of beer. The poor of the human realm and far-flung wanderers were often the best places to figure out where the unrest was and what lands were best avoided because of famine or other troubles.

"My home no longer exists. It was a small outpost in the woodlands but was disbanded some years ago. The only land I bother to travel to regularly is Aglar Arda for my sister's sake and even that is only because I am bound by my promises to her for, as you said, it is hard to return to a place once called home."

Doronlas sighed, thinking he would soon have to go to his sister to assure her that he did indeed still live. He could send Olmec to her but that would only bring her fear, making her think he either no longer cared to fulfill his promise to her or that he was dead and would never return. Usually Doronlas made a point to go to Algar Arda during the spring or summer when the festivals made it easier to get into the city among the proformers. Any other time he ran the risk of having to tell a guard who he was just to get through the gates and then would be treated as a lord which was the opposite of what he wanted. According to rumors the human prince and princess were much the same way but Doronlas had no way of knowing that for sure since he avoided the human realms when possible.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"I come here from time to time if I feel there is news to be heard. Though it is not the best place for an elf, the lips of men are loose when drunk and news is easy to hear if one knows when and where to listen." Nostariel nodded at this, though it was more of a nod to herself than anything, as if it would keep her mind on the present conversation. She remembered the conversation she had been eavesdropping on between the group of semi-sober men. They had been shouting, slurring, and insulting various people and races. She sighed, pushing some of her hair from her face, blue-green eyes focousing on the world around her.

Aras was somewhere up in a tree, no doubt chewing on something he had found in the refuge of leaves and branches. There was a scratching sound coming from above Nostariel, but she ignored it, knowing it was Aras and a stick. The noise wouldn't startle anyone really since it was not very loud anyway. "All I ever hear are insults and cursing." Her voice was quiet, but it carried around the clearing easily. "I never do have much luck in hearing important news. If I need a reliable source of information I head to the home of someone I know I can trust. Although, I suppose it is hard to know who to trust these days."

"My home no longer exists. It was a small outpost in the woodlands but was disbanded some years ago. The only land I bother to travel to regularly is Aglar Arda for my sister's sake and even that is only because I am bound by my promises to her for, as you said, it is hard to return to a place once called home." Nostariel's expression turned somber and knowing. She knew, or believed she did, how he felt. "I am sorry to hear that." She spoke sincerely, not with the false care that phrase usually carried. "My first home, the one I was born into, was destroyed long ago, but I consider the palace in Aglar Arda to be my home now. Well, I suppose I used to..." and the whole of my family was slaughtered before me.. she added in her mind.

"If I may, who might your sister be?" Nostariel thought back to the elves who stayed in Aglar Arda, looking over their faces for one who seemed similar to Doronlas.


{Word Count: 407 -.-}
{Notes: I think.. I repeated myself from my reply before this one... but I'm not sure.. =O}

[Doronlas]

Oh drat. He'd talked himself into a corner. Mentally kicking himself for not keeping quiet about Rowena, Doronlas tried to think quickly of a way to dodge the question. Finding none, the young elf decided he might as well give in. Perhaps if Nostariel had been near the palace recently she might have some news of Rowena? "My sister is Lady Rowena. Her banner bears a field of red and golden hawk for the bird I left with her many years ago. She could always handle court much better than I though she is seldom known."

It was true he rarely caught any snatches of Lady Rowena even when he met a group of elves from the palace. He wasn't surprised. His sister was the type for silent strength, often wasting away hours in the libraries with musty books or standing at the battlements as he had often seen her while Marab, the hawk he had given her, swooped and screeched at the guards and random passersby. Since she was not one of the more promenant ladies of the court, Doronlas wasn't hopeful that Nostariel would know her though one could never be too sure.

"What of you? You say the palace was once one of your homes, what ties you to the high court of the elves?" Doronlas asked lightly.

He was hoping he wasn't talking to some runaway princess because if he was than he would be in serious trouble if anyone found out. Either someone would find out or he would have to take her back to the palace to save the royal family some sanity. Racking his memory for any glimpses of her he might have had while in the capital, Doronlas found none though that didn't mean a lot since he usually came and went quickly and as subtly as he could possibly manage. Most often it was only Rowena that was ever made aware of his presence which was just how Doronlas liked it. The last thing he needed were guards chasing him about or one of Rowena's advisors snapping at him about the importance of his family being a long line of lords and ladies loyal to the royal family.

Don't get him wrong, Doronlas would go to war of the royal house called for it but Doronlas did not see the point in being in the capital all year. He could serve the royal house from a distance by making sure the borders were secure and just going about the business that only a roamer could, acting as somewhat of a spy. If he ever came across anything earth-shatteringly important he would be sure to report it directly to Rowena and allow her to pass it on to the royal family through the proper channels he had no connection to.

If however, Nostariel was someone important among the court, then he may very well be accused of kidnapping if she had an armed guard trying to hunt her down. That would not be a pretty picture for someone trying to maintain obscurity. Since his family hadn't been overly important to the royal family and he had escaped fancy feasts as an elfling as often as possible, Doronlas assured himself he was very much obscure and unknown. There were probably rumors that he'd run off with a secret lover or was simply a traitor but either way, he didn't need rumors of Nostariel enforcing earlier rumors about unknown lovers and whatnot. That would simply not due though he would still have the honor to make sure she was taken care of if she was someone with power to be weary of.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"My sister is Lady Rowena. Her banner bears a field of red and golden hawk for the bird I left with her many years ago. She could always handle court much better than I though she is seldom known." The elf nodded, thinking of all the ladies of the court. "I believe I have heard her name before. If only once, but I remember the name. I don't recall seeing her though." Nostariel listened to the scratching in the tree, listening for Aras' annoyance with another animal. She waited for the question that was sure to follow.

"What of you? You say the palace was once one of your homes, what ties you to the high court of the elves?" The elf closed her eyes, smiling sadly. She breathed deeply and opened her eyes, looking at Doronlas with a creeping shame. "I-" She tried desprately to think of a lie, but could not find excuse enough not to tell the truth. Nostariel sighed, running her index finger along the soft skin of the underside of her right wrist, sitting down on a fallen log. "I was a part of the council of elders." The bitter smile remained on her face as she relaxed, leaning back slightly, eyes searching the skies. "For a time."

Doronlas' question had distracted her for a moment, but she threw the thoughts aside. "Why does your sister remain there? Is there more of your family in Aglar Arda?" Family. Nostariel thought of her cousin, Beriadan, and wondered how he was faring in the army. It always amazed Nostariel how they Anorian army had been able to accept an elf into their ranks, but then again, he was an amazing fighter. The elf wished she had as much skill with a sword, but archery seemed to be her strength. It saddened her a little, but she figured it was all for the best. Why waste all her years on something that she might never be skilled at? Then she would be useless in a fight.

Fighting was one of the reasons Nostariel had left the council. There was too much arguing, and rarely peace. In a way, it was depressing that a normally peaceful race could have such heated and very rarely, but still present violent debates. The she-elf sighed at her thoughts, awaiting Doronlas' answer.


{Word Count: 387}
{Notes: *smashes head into wall* Once I get my muse back I'll be magical again! *stares up at 962 word post*}

[Doronlas]

Council of Elders? Doronlas had to focus on not letting his face so much as twitch in surprise. He knew the youthful quality of elves kept them ageless in appearance but after spending so much time mixing with both humans and half-elves, it seemed to be a fact that sometimes slipped his mind when among his kinsmen or in this case kinswomen. Keeping his features composed, Doronlas ran a hand distractedly through Dagnir's dark mane making the stallion raise his head curiously from where he'd been contentedly grazing. Even as a former member of the Council of Elders, Nostariel was still a formidable elleth. For a moment Doronlas fumbled for a response but was saved from it by Nostariel's next question.

Ah he had wondered how long it would take for that particular question to come up once she knew of Rowena dwelling in Algar Arda. Doronlas rested a hand on Dagnir's wither and looked at the little stream rippling past the clearing. Why exactly did he not stay with his family? Oh he had many answers to that but which one was the right one to tell an elf like the one he now faced? Perhaps the most honest one was his best bet.

"I chose freedom over my family" Doronlas replied at last, still not looking up at the elven lady. "My father wanted me as his heir but even when we were ruling just an outpost I felt confined. I made a selfish choice and now I am certain I can not retract my choice, thus I wander alone and visit only Rowena once a year unless ill fortune befalls me. For my parents to know I were near Algar Arda, it would cause chaos because they would try to bring me back into their circle of fine ladies and powerful lords when that is the last thing I want or need. To them I am dead and to me they are unreachable."

Yes, in all honesty his reasons were that selfish. When he had left his family, he had given his life to chance and fortune. He gambled with each step he took in the wild lands and tempted death each not he braved the dark forests. Like a human banished from his kingdom, Doronlas lived in more or less a self-imposed exile. His parents would all but chain him up if they knew he was near the palace and thus he kept it simply between himself and his beloved sister as she took her place among the fine lords and ladies of the elven court. Despite her youth, Doronlas had trusted her to voice her views in her own stead as well as his. As far as his parents, they considered him more or less a disgrace now and according to Rowena didn't so much as mention his name unless asked directly. Even if asked directly she said they quickly changed subjects which didn't bother Doronlas any. If he was to be known he prefer it be for his skill or his valor, rather than his title or lineage.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"I chose freedom over my family" Nostariel watched as he looked up at her. "My father wanted me as his heir but even when we were ruling just an outpost I felt confined. I made a selfish choice and now I am certain I can not retract my choice, thus I wander alone and visit only Rowena once a year unless ill fortune befalls me. For my parents to know I were near Algar Arda, it would cause chaos because they would try to bring me back into their circle of fine ladies and powerful lords when that is the last thing I want or need. To them I am dead and to me they are unreachable."

"I-" There was a snapping of a branch and unsteady footsteps behind the elf maiden, and she continued to listen.

"Then I told the wh**e to go back to f***en elf-land she came from."

"Look! Tha's her!" Nostariel turned, and seeing the men she had confronted in the tavern, she let her arm hang next to her side. She glared, blocking out the string of profantities they unleashed on her next. They pulled out bloodied knives and began running towards her, but Nostariel was much quicker than a drunken man. She pulled out a dagger, throwing it at one of the men, he fell to the ground instantly.

The now dead man's companion stared wide-eyed, and ran to the tavern, obviously for help. There would be angry men. Plenty of them. "Doronlas, I'm sorry.. I seem to have gotten you into a very serious dilemna." The she-elf stared horrified at what she had done. "I do not ask you to stay. I can hold them." She pulled a sword out from underneath her cloak. How she wished she had her bow. She took a calming breath as the shouts rose from nearby. They're coming.

About ten or so men stormed into the clearing. Seemingly calm, the elf pulled another dagger from the darkness of her cloak, hold it in her left hand while her sword was in her right. All the men were brandishing some sort of weapon, whether it was a makeshift spear or an actual sword. As if she had no fear, she charged, killing one and injuring another. They closed in around her, but she fought on.

A man's club struck her in the back and she find herself unable to breathe as she fell onto her knees. A blade cut into the flesh or her arm, her cloak and dress sleeve slit. Quickly, Nostariel rose to her feet and resumed her fighting, ignoring the pain.


{Word Count: 432}
{Notes: Didn't know how many dudes there should be so there's like ten. Haha! Well now... like 10 minus one.. nine!}

[Doronlas]

Doronlas' head snapped up when he heard a twig break under a heavy boot. The sounds of slurred words and profanities announced the arrival of several of the drunk men he had seen in the tavern when he'd entered. He could only assume Nostariel was the source of their violent irritation. Their words toward the elven lady however, made his green eyes flash dangerously and in a flash he lunged for his bow and quiver. As his fingers wrapped around the smooth wood of the bow and Dagnir neighed loudly in seeming surprise, Doronlas heard a heavy body fall to the ground. Whirling around and pulling an arrow from the quiver, Doronlas trained the arrow on the fleeing man. The man however, was soon hidden by the trees and there was no shot to be had. Dagnir reared and boxed the air, obviously sensing oncoming aggression and Doronlas could hear Olmec screeching coming closer.

"I would not leave a lady with filthy humans" Doronlas assured Nostariel as he heard more heavy footsteps and shouting through the trees.

Raising his bow a second time, Doronlas trained the arrow on a man and released the arrow, whipping a second from his quiver as the first man fell dead. The clearing, once peaceful and quiet was swarmed with drunken men waving clubs and knives, shouting profanities about elves and everything else under the sun. Doronlas fired as quickly as he could, seeing Dagnir out of the corner of his eye rearing up and bashing the head of a man with his heavy hooves. Olmec swooped into the clearing, catching a man's beard with his talons and diving at another man ready to peck his eyes out with his dangerously sharp beak.

The men came closer, forcing Doronlas to draw his long knife. Sensing a presence behind him, the elven archer whirled around and plunged the blade into a man's stomach, withdrawing it quickly and lunging at another. Bringing the handle of the knife down on the man's neck, Doronlas left the stunned man and whirled again. His blade caught the moonlight, scarlet with blood.

One man got lucky while Doronlas was using his knife to hold off a club inches from his head. The man plunged a dagger into Doronlas' side making him cry out in pain. Freeing his knife, Doronlas called out over the din of battle.

"Dagnir, redo Nostariel!" Doronlas called. (Dagnir, find/make way for Nostariel!)

The powerful stallion squealed and reared, boxing a man in the head and charging through a ring of men that had formed around the elven lady. Whinnying loudly to the other elf, the horse tossed his head, dancing in place while trying to avoid knives and clubs. He was obviously trying to get the elleth to mount so he could go to his master.

Overhead, Olmec shrieked and swooped down on a man trying to stab Doronlas again. The hawk plunged his talons into the man's exposed neck, shrieking fiercely. Doronlas looked wildly around for Dagnir and Nostariel. The horse could outrun the humans, hopefully and he could feel the blood seeping through his light archer's armor, the drunken men starting to swarm him, seeming to sense injury.

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Dagnir, redo Nostariel!" The cry was hard to hear, but the elf heard it, and watched as Doronlas' stallion made his way over to her. Nostariel wasted no time, and lept up onto the stallion, feeling the power beneath her as he galloped. The maiden took advantage of her position, killing men as she and the stallion passed them. "Doronlas!" She shouted, spotting the blood as he spun around. "No." her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. She had done this to him. As the horse neared his master, Nostariel reached, pulling him into the saddle.

"Drego! Drego!" (Flee! Flee!) She shouted, urging the stallion on. "Avo 'osto Doronlas," she said. (Fear not Doronlas) "Garich i dhôl goll o Fír!" (You have the hollow head of a mortal) She yelled back at the men, brows furrowed as the stallion continued to gallop away. Even though they couldn't understand her, that didn't matter.

The stallion stopped far from the tavern, and Nostariel dismounted quickly, helping Daronlas down from the saddle. She put his arm on his good side over her shoulders and helped him lay down gently. "Man mathach?" (How do you feel?) The elf asked, eyeing the wound warily. She removed his armor, tearing a strip of cloth from something inside her cloak. Gently she pressed it to the wound, frowning at any discomfort she noticed. "I'll be back." She tore through the forest, pulling familiar plants out of the ground, rushing back to Doronlas. Ignoring everything else, she tore and ground the plants together, and pressed them into the wound with a grimace. Tearing a larger strip of cloth she wound it around him, and secured it.

The elf maiden sat back, and tended to her own wound. Aras was back there! Suddenly the elf's eyes widened in fear, and she stood, blood flowing out of her wound. He could take care of himself, she calmed herself, knowing she had to stay with Doronlas. Nostariel knew they needed to move farther away, but everyone needed a rest.. or they would neved get away. The men would probably be back to their drinks. Most likely, but Nostariel kept on her guard, finishing up with her arm, and with each movement she could feel the size of the newly forming bruise on her back.


{Word Count: 382? What!? I seriously thought I had more -.-}
{Notes: *growls*}