[ignorant heathen...]

[Jericho]

[Spring settles in as winter fades away into the mist, becoming naught but a mere thought of the past. Temperatures ascend at alarming rates, white crystal shards kicked up brutally by the season and replaced by new-blossoming flowers and warm earth. Trees gratefully loose their leaves to the elements, landscape about blossoming with youthful greenery. The proud oak, majestic ash, beech, maple. Still virulent winds flay about, bending the heads of the trees which had not long ago been so denuded to their whim... And it was warm, now... So warm.]

The feared and the fearful...
You are far from home.

[A single misted eye peers forth from aegis of the now-plentiful undergrowth. All this reflected from hence, more in than seen without. Cold glint of steel mitigates its pariah wielder...]

You walk a lonely road, do you not?
Ignorant heathen of the dark light...

[Blade twitches as wielder does so commensuratively. Misted eye flickers a bit, another opening sullenly beside it. The ethereal orb gives an insipid cursory glance about itself before its owner extracts himself from the patronage of scalding shadow in which he had enveloped himself. And it was not cold. The now-unveiled eye lambastes the rising sun irritably, that which had torn him from the recesses of troubled sleep. A harsh grunt embellished upon raw atmosphere denies presence of this pariah, manifest footfalls careless in their volume. The 'normal' eye flickers shut as a gentle hand fondles the aforementioned blade, afterward drawing another from his belt.]

Ignorant heathen...

[Recusant is revealed in time making his idle way toward the inn--he'd not sleep there--he'd not slept in a civilized place for years now--but the drinks they served would certainly suit him... Cloaked in lucid shades, hood drawn up about his face, he seemed to attract attention whilst trying to, apparently, avoid it. After what seemed to be a much longer expedition than it had truthfully been, the stranger pushed his way roughly into the place called the 'Green Dragon', attained a strong ale from the bartender with as little talk as necessary, and found a suitable place under the eaves in partial shadow from whence he could observe those around him. Two mismatched eyes gleamed from under the stygian hood, following the antics of those within as mistrust shone in their depths.]

(ooc) A note, due to some concern from a number of people: Yes, I am starting this thread as my character heading into a npc-owned, fairly crowded inn actually called 'The Green Dragon'. This is an RP thread. Anyone's welcome here... although don't expect a warm greeting, if a greeting at all, from Jericho.

[Orclord1990]

Why don't you come over to my bar and we will talk about your new tread and some other.

[Orclord1990]

My bar is the rivendell bar in the green dragon inn.

[Calime Silvana]

Night time had fallen, time had past, and a far away glimmer in the East proved to be the betrayal of an early rising sun. Darkness shrank into shadow, and shadow to brilliance when, without warning, the sun burst into the sky and painted the clouds with fire...The effervescent rays reflected upon the shining lake, and bouncing off, seemingly kissed the closed eyelids of the sleeping figure laying beside it. She had been staring at the ceiling of stars the whole night, and having just finally traveled into a discomfited sleep, she awoke rather unhappily, as pain erupted into her eyes...Morning was come. Gathering her few things and donning her gray cloak, she departed hastily, concealing herself by using the path less taken that laydeep inside the forest. The day was hers for leisure as it always was, yet all the while she walked briskly, often breaking into a sprint, and stopping for nothing. Some 9 hours later, weary with fatigue and desperately in need of sustenance, she stumbled upon a secluded inn. Tarwëyn hated inns...but this one was out of the way. After walking in, she was confronted by her worst fear. A small-town, curious audience who were currently staring at her intently. Knowing what they were thinking, Tarwëyn answered their silent questions by staring them down. It might be unacceptable for an elvish lass to travel alone, but then..her life was full of unacceptance...so she thought little of it. Alas! There was one who wasn't piercing her with his gaze...Secluded in a far corner, she could make little of his features, except that from underneath his hood, two eyes glowed back at her...After ordering a light ale, she cautiously walked over to the cloaked stranger, and sat beside him. Neither spoke. Two wandering rejects, they had nothing of import to say to each other....Or so they thought. She took off her cloak...The fire brought out her pallid features green eyes..."should I talk?" Tarwëyn thought..

[Jericho]

[Recusant shrouded himself in hood and shadow, penumbra which had already been present in his recess building such into darkness that would provide sufficient cover for nearly any. He christened 'Jericho' by those who had encountered him, for he did not seem to possess a true name or a concept of want for one, did not need most of it--he was of fairly slim build, but that was hardly discernable in his loose, flowing attire. After a short juncture of his gaze roaming shallowly about the inn, its residents, and its accomodations, he let moonwashed lampistra fall. An air of brooding hositility emanated from him as his brow furrowed, unseen by all, and a hand ran its way across the weathered wood of the less-than-perfect table at which he had taken temporary respite from the ravaging abyss of agony which his life had become.
[A slight shuffling of onyx boots and the man, life in the darkness being harsh on the body as well as on the mind of one such being, leads his gaze to stray back from the table once more. It reverted to shallow speculation, mostly scanning the variety of drinks behind the bar, until turmoiled eyes are forced to turn their silent contemplation unto this new arrival. He knew not who she was, nor what her intentions may have been, yet his indifference registered plainly as he returned attention to his hands. The stranger gripped the edge of the table, uncaring as shards of splintered wood cut into his palms. Knuckles pale from exertion, he finally pushes himself backward slightly, chair scraping across stone floor. He makes to arise, then stops, shifts his weight, rests forearms on the table once more... Still basking in silence.
[An inaudible sigh--she made no difference, not now. A simple woman seeking a place to sit and have her drink and stay out of the way in shadow. She had no business with him, and he was in search of nothing but the survival that such a wild being is geared--and feared--for, this dark one having nothing to share, no joy to be found... From his shadowed orbs flows only untouchable solitude, a cold dispassion. And he questions his existence, as evermore a shadowed soul... Solitary, alone, to watch others ignore his quiet pain.]

[Calime Silvana]

Upon her sitting down, the cloaked stranger gripped the table, and made as if to get up. She hadn't wished to drive anyone away...Only for a companion. "Sir.." her voice haltered..He looked -or rather turned- expectantly toward her, waiting for a question, a remark..an apology for taking him away from his seclusion. "I had not meant for you to leave...Only to be away..from the crowd.." She nodded towards the drunken lot of hobbits and some mortals, who would dizzily turn to speculate them every few minutes or so..She had not meant to offend him.."I will leave, should you wish.." He gave her no answer, however, but continued to face her.

[HobbitGirl]

Lonely, cold and lost. That's how Lita always felt. Strangers shyed away from her, fathers frowned upon her, and even children didn't know what to say. On the outside she was just a hobbit; a hobbit whose plain, stained, and travel-worn clothes reflected her wandering lifestyle. She wandered because she was not accepted. She was not accepted because she was different. Not freakishly deformed, not a shady killer whom everyone feared, but simply a hobbit who had too much energy for her own good. People said she was spazitc, they said she was hyperactive. She wore everything she felt right on her sleeve and she never held back. She walked as if her feet itched to jump into the air because of the neverending energy that she always possesed. For this reason she was shunned. Lita was an outcast because closed-minded people were too shallow to figure out that being hyper did not make her a freak. They never knew what to say.

Her wandering ususally led her into the wilderness; there were less people there, and Lita was tired of people staring. Watching the sun rise as she walked, Lita almost ran into the inn before she saw it. It was a shabby place; a tiny little inn on the edge of a podunk little town, but Lita had been wandering long and far, and she sought a place of rest. She stepped into the inn with her ever-present vigor, unintenionally drawing strange looks from a few of the drunken patrons. Doubts about the inn pushed thier way into her opimistic mind. She had almost decided that she would give up ale and a warm bed so she wouldn't be pestered by the other people when she noticed a man sitting in the shadows as if he was brooding over the fate of the world. A woman looked like she was trying to talk to the man, but he would not come out of his dark thoughts.

The first thing that sprang to Lita's mind was that these two would be people worth talking to, for they were obviously outcasts, like her. Usually Lita would walk up to someone she wanted to talk to and just begin talking, but the hobbit had learned that that was not taken well by most people, especially not the kind that normally kept to themselves. Though Lita desperately wanted some companionship, she decided to wait for a while before approaching either of them. She ordered an ale and sat down at a small table against the wall not too far away from the corner where the man was. The hobbit put her hood back as she sat down, revealing red-auburn curls and bright, grass-green eyes. Lita sipped her ale, tried to keep herself from figeting, and waited.

[Calime Silvana]

Cowering under the stranger's gaze, she felt uncertain whether or not her presence would prove welcome to him or a threat. Seeking relief, her eyes strayed around the room, looking for nothing imparticular, just trying to not annoy this respectible personage. Her eyes rested upon a hobbit...She was pretty..this hobbit.. She had aurburn hair, just her own. Tarwëyn looked away, for she didn't want to be impertinent, but the power of stare drew the halfling's gaze to her, and for a brief instant, green eyes locked. Tarwëyn offered a half smile, very rare, and then quickly shifted her gaze lest she bring unwanted attention to the stranger sitting near to her. The hobbit's eyes, however, did not stray, and though Tarwëyn pretended to be indifferent, she could see the halfing's kind stare out of her peripheral vision, and for the briefest of instants sincerely wished that she would walk over and talk to her.

[HobbitGirl]

Trying to look as if she was bent intently over her ale, Lita looked up every now and then to look at the two people in the corner. They looked like they wanted as little attention as possible drawn to themselves, but then again, so did Lita. Watching the woman's body language for a few minutes gave Lita a few hints pointing to insecurity, and when they met each other's eyes, Lita got the feeling that this person wanted to be talked to as much as Lita wanted to talk to her. You can't be sure of what someone else is thinking, the hobbit told herself. Wait just a little longer. Lita's foot began to twitch in impatience as if it had a mind of it's own.

[Calime Silvana]

Tarwëyn felt sick. Oftentimes elves died of broken hearts...--she felt certain that she would soon join their number, for she had noone.- She didn't even have the reassurance that a few words from an utter stranger could bestow! Being thirsty, she rose, pulled off her cloak, and stepped into the light to get a drink. Looking up, many in the inn gasped--she was beautiful...She had sorroful green eyes, and wore a pale green dress etched with silver-embroidered leaves--it appeared that she was trying to best thg spring-- Her hair, falling to her waist, was the color of the leaves of Parth Galen in the fall-auburn, with hints of gold, telling of journeys in the sun. Her skin was pale, unusual for so avid a traveler, but her most tale-tel feature were her ears-so palpably elvish- Her countenance was one of pain, mingles with sorrow and gried...This lass had known great trajedy. Ignoring the offers to help her carry her scant items adn the envious sighs from osme of the mortal women, Tarwëyn, amid many protests, bought herself another ale and returned to sit down, though this time, farther away from the cloaked stranger. "What am I wasting my time for?!" She chided herself, as she finished her drink and prepared for departure. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a large group of southern men outside, cursing, and preparing to rob the inn! THey would more than likely (as was their way) kill everyone inside of it. With luck, maybe she could clip by unnoticed through the side door and escape. But Tarwëyn had no luck. As she turned to step out one of the men snatched her off her feet like a rag doll and began to search her. Within a minute he had her sword, Anathros, her silver elvish brooch made by Ufareynm a quiver of arrows and her emerald ring. The mortal now her her fast, and pulling oput a razor-sharp dagger, he brought it perilously closer and closer to her neck. Her once still-born scream now erupted, causing the cloaked stranger to whirl around abruptly and the residents to become wild with panic. Tarwëyn had blown the enemy's cover, and as if in payment, received a sharp blow to her right temple by her captor, causing the room to spin..Blood fell into her eyes in rivulets, her senses reeled, and her captor and his comrads cheered as she fell, limp and lifeless into his arms.

[HobbitGirl]

As soon as the southern men walked into the inn, Lita pushed her chair back and put her hand on the hilt of her short sword. She disliked the look and feel of the men immediatly and felt that they were the sort to start a bar brawl. When one of them attacked the elf that Lita had met eyes with, however, she leapt up from her table, spilling her ale. Mugging an innocent was done out of evil in Lita's opinion. As soon as man punched the elf and she fell unconcious, Lita leapt onto a table near the man and jumped on his back. Before he knew he had a hobbit on him, she had slit his throat and turned to face the others.

The mugger's cronies hestitated only a second before charging with throaty yells. Lita darted out to the way of thier weapons, using her height to her advantage. She wove in between them in a red-topped blur, stabbing and slashing as she went. Soon two men had one less foot and three more had unusable kneecaps. Lita jumped onto a table, her green eyes seeming to glow with fierceness, daring any more to come near her.

The hobbit did not come out of the short spat without wounds. She had a bleeding gash under her left shoulder, a bloody nose, and several large, purple bruises. She switched her sword from hand to hand as she stood on the table, panting and waiting for another assualt.

[Calime Silvana]

Tarwëyn opened her eyes..Agh...how the light hurt them! As she looked up, she noticed the female hobbit lying in a pool of her own blood...Yet her mind was not registering the horror and monstrosity at this point. Her gaze shifted...There were few soldiers, but it seemed as if the small band there had called for back-up, as the sound of approaching hoof-beats and swearing filled her ears with dread...

[Calime Silvana]

OOC:backtracking...
The captor who held the unconscious Tarwëyn quickly shot out his hand over his shoulder, and with a strong heave, threw the female hobbit over his shoulder before he had the chance to be murdered by her.

[HobbitGirl]

Lita lay on the floor surrounded by her own blood, her eyes sliding in and out of focus. The man she had attacked first was not dead, and many of his cronies were badly injured. But she had not been able to hold off the southerners. The hobbit lay bleeding profusly from various wounds, too woozy to lift her head. Don't die! she thought fiercely to herself. You can't die! You have to help! Suddenly Lita saw that the elf was concious again, and gave a small sigh of relief. She's ok. Good. Now if only I could get up... The hobbit stirred, but she was too weak. Can't die! You have to hold on! Hold on! Hold... Her thoughts swirled as she lost conciousness. Feet trampled around her as the hobbit lay in her own blood, her chest gently rising and falling, but she niether stirred nor made a sound.

[Calime Silvana]

Tarwëyn's mind was focusing..there was her captor, slowing getting up, and heading for her..she couldn't scream...and her body was paralyzed.."why cant i move?!" her mind raced with questions, and with an extraneous effort, she attempted to sit up...The mortal loomed closer and closer, the room thickened with evil, and Tarwëyn watched in horror..

[Jericho]

(ooc) Backwriting on my part too! -grin- This is really long... sue me, I had a lot of time on my hands and I hadta go back and keep up with you silly people! Oh well. Have at ye... You asked for it.
(bic)
:The reclusive stranger was a bit surprised when his uninvited companion spoke to him. He'd taken it for granted that she was merely another seeking the same solitude in the same place as he. He'd thought she'd have her ale and be on her way, but... it seemed she had other ideas. He knew his brooding silence and palpable hostility drove many away, but this one seemed a bit more persistant than most others... Still, after an awkward moment she offered to leave. Recusant knew of her desire to be away from the reeling drunkards inhabiting most of the remaining tables in this place, and what remained of his conscience bid him not necessarily welcome her, nor to drive her away with his moodiness. A dismissive wave and a shake of his hooded head bid her stay, for he was indisposed... So long as she did not irritate him. This place worked its own strange magick, depressing the soul or lifting it without explaination. Perhaps it was not here that he should seek respite, at any rate.
:The dark man noted another peering furtively in their direction, a young hobbit lass. She was of no consequence, either. He was alone. Always alone. Idle hands scrutinize the weathered table once more, loose, unconnected thoughts pondering the idea of leaving this place to continue his pointless, futile wanderings elsewhere... Elsewhere more pleasant. After a brief juncture he lifted the glass that sat untouched before him, letting the amber liquid it contained swirl about, reflecting what little light made its way into the shadow, twisting and deforming it within the tawny depths, and throwing the shafts back out in a myriad of directions and intensities. Perhaps he'd drink himself into oblivion, out of this clinging depression... perhaps even out of life. A grunt, and he allowed himself a draught of the stuff. Not of the best quality, not in this ramshackle place, but still... much better could not be expected, and would be mistrusted.
:The elven-femme got up presently, obtaining another drink for herself--she seemed to have finished the last one. As she arose, he had to practice well-learned self-control to avoid letting his jaw loosen or even drop completely, though the widening of his eyes was enough to mitigate his thoughts. Still, his face was in shadow, and none would notice. His gratingly perfect composure was regained quickly enough, however, and his eyes fell. Still... shards, she was beautiful. Even for an elf. But he'd banished such thoughts from his mind long ago, and they'd not come now... He swore softly at his weakness. Forming a single flame in his mind's eye, he fed the thoughts, the turmoil, the anger and resentment and everything else included in the plethora of emotions that riddled him--he threw them mercilessly into the mental flame. Soon only the flame remained, then he let that go as well, fading into complete darkness in his mind... complete lack of emotion, numbness. No fear, no anger, nothing. Not anymore. Only the void remained, and he operated outside of his consciousness. He began drinking again, silently, as the femme sat once more at a table a bit farther from him.
:Crystalline gaze falls about, a decided tension corralling the buoyant atmosphere... it emanated from her, and was directed to the doorway. His eyes follow hers to a band of southern men... Raiders. He'd dealt with them before, but in this place, with so many people, it'd be hard to prevent death, as he'd taken it upon himself so often to do. His discomfort was swallowed in the void. Still the emptiness remained. It rippled with the energy of him, but kept itself intact as it always would unless he released it. At any rate, he felt no need to move. Not yet. He did, however, allow a hand to stray from the table to his belt, running nimble fingers over the multiple blades that found their refuge there. His hand finally paused, and he left off at tapping the crosshilt of a lightweight dagger with a curved blade and ivory hilt, having passed over lengthier and heavier weapons--the broadsword, for instance--for favor of something small in these close quarters should a fight break out. He surveyed them with delicate care, remaining still... until the elven woman was brought down, abruptly and unexpectedly, by one of them. Her scream brought him into action with only a slight hesitation--she was not his business, but he'd pledged... Shards, no life should be ended here. These things always had to follow him... As the red-haired hobbit went crashing from the man's back, through the air, and into a table, he made a sudden lunge at the southerner. The elven woman was bleeding profusely--as was the hobbit, now, and both seemed to be unconscious, if not worse... Though the hobbit had given quite a fight before falling. The dark one made no sound as he launched himself into the fray, a booted foot impacting with surprising force dead center into the elf's captor's chest. The man fell heavily under the dark one's weight and found the aforementioned curved blade pressed threadeningly at his adam's apple. If the man so much as swallowed as the blade was held now, he'd be cut--not fatally, but enough to reassure him that he needed to hold still. The stranger very literally crouched on the southerner's chest, one leg extended backward slightly to pin a wrist that had once held a blade as well, but now had been pacified with the pain that pressure coming from the ridged grips on the boots could bring. The man cringed openly, not daring even to plead for his life due to that which could so easily take it pressuring his windpipe. He'd disarmed him quite efficiently and, with a sharp blow to his temple which did not break the skin and would only leave the mugger with a splitting headache, knocked him unconscious with very little thought. The void still consumed him--he was still operating on instinct and reflex. No time, no allowance for emotion to press through now.
:He knelt by the elf-woman--touched a surprisingly gentle, light finger to just below her ear, sliding it toward her neck until her pulse was found in her jugular groove. A pensive moment and he let it fall--she was alive. Her head wound would need tending, but it wasn't bleeding as profusely as it had been and the hobbit seemed to be in a much more dire situation presently... he shifted the she-elf to a more natural position, resting her head on an overstuffed cushion that he pulled from one of the chairs.
:A soft grunt as he rose--the remaining southerners seemed to be rallying again, and reinforcements arriving. Quickly he made his way to the hobbit, taking great risk in picking her up and relocating her near the slowly reviving elf. If she had a back injury, the movement could kill her, but it was necessary in this situation, and the risk was worth it... He checked the hobbit's pulse as well--weak, but there. Her breathing was ragged... he winced slightly, and the void shuddered, but remained. A quick slit to the bottom of his stygian cloak and a strip was torn off, tied in a makeshift bandage over her left shoulder, tightened to the point that it served as a temporary tourniquet and would hopefully be enough to save her from excessive loss of blood--and her life. Her other cuts were not nearly as severe--mostly bumps and bruises. A soft sigh escaped parted lips as he rose once more. His gaze reverted, turning toward the door... the men were indeed rallying, and soon there would be much more trouble to deal with should something not be done to intervene soon.:

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian had been tracking the southerners for days. She was just on their tail when she heard them talking outside an inn. She watched them enter from the bushes. She knew their intent was to rob the inn. They had done it before. A moment after they went in, screams resounded and clashing metal could be heard. She crept up to a window and stared in. Seeing others, she stepped in. Non of the men saw her. She threw back her cloak, drew her sword, Orelinde, and waited for them to attack the strangers.

[Calime Silvana]

Tarwëyn adbruptly woke up to a soft touch on her neck and shrank back...Where was she?..Reality set in and her gaze softened as she gazed at the dark stranger kneeling before her, checking to make sure that she was alive. She started to cry..Why couldn't she have died!? What was there for her here!? No body loved her, almost nobody knew her, and certainly NO body thought well of her. The touch of the stranger revived her and she moaned unhappily. Trying to look into the masked face, she could distinguish nothing..Nothing except a lock of black hair that had strayed from behind the cowl. She extended her hand.."I thank you for saving me, master.." she winced.."But your time would have been more productive elsewhere."

[Jericho]

[the stranger gave his own slight wince as the she-elf before him, at whose side he knelt, came awake abruptly and made a soft intonation of thanks after a short lapse of memory about the previous events. She was... crying... The void quavered dangerously within him, but he forced emotion down and it reinstated itself, becoming stable once more. He noted her studying his face, concealed in the dark refines of the shadows his hood cast, and stood slowly. A nod was the only recognition that he gave in response to her words, though his pallid eyes held her emerald ones for quite a time longer than necessary for such. As another elven female ingressed upon the inn, his head snapped back around to her and those opposing. He was unsure of who she fought for, but it seemed more likely that she was ally than foe. Still, she didn't show inclination either way.
[As he turns, the light which had become stronger both for the opening of the door and his exit from the complete shadow of his previous elysium reveals slightly more of the features of the left side of his face. The eye was an incredibly pale azure, more offwhite than any real hue. And just below the eye and curling around it was a stark black tattoo, flowing line mixed with jagged edge and receding circular shapes all merged to create an odd work of art. His features were certainly not unpleasant--he had a heavy brow that was probably just enhanced by the intent expression he wore, the curve of his jaw was fairly shapely, and though a bit rugged, he seemed decently kempt. The rough features fitted him and his character perfectly. He'd often been mistaken for a Ranger... but he was not, no matter how he fit the bill physically, and socially, for that matter.
[A soft grunt... He absently brushed a few strands of lucid hair out of view as more of the southerners began to take new resolve and ready their weapons once more. After all, he was just one man.]

[Calime Silvana]

As the stranger turned, she caught a quick glimpse of his face...Strong and determined..and there were scars. It appeared that he was beginning to rise..She lightly took his hand and tried to make more of his appearance, holding it longer than necessary. As they withdrew, she noticed several angry red slashes across his palm. Tarwe asked no questions, but instead, rummaged in her satchel, and after searching a minute, she brought forth a small, clear vial. Tarwe brought the injured hand closer, and looked into his face.."This might sting.." She removed the cork, and poured two precious drops upon his flesh. The stranger didn't even wince as the flesh quickly healed.

[CelebrianTiwele]

One of the men near the back saw a patron's gaze travel past him. Celebrian silently cursed as he whipped around, shining blade in hand. She ducked a blow just in time, bringing her sword for his legs. But he was no orc. His blade caught hers and he put his muscle to it, throwing her back. She couldn't regain her balance and flew into a table. Pain shot up her spine, but she got up. Seeing how many there were, and though it was horribly dangerous, she brought her bow out. His face contorted as he fell with an arrow in his gut. She braced herself for the next onslaught.

[Jericho]

[a sudden hindrance--the she-elf taking his hand lightly--caused him to pause as he rose and turn back to regard her with something that would have resembled mild surprise in his pallid orbs but for the carefully shielded expression that hid it. Oddly enough, he did not pull away as he normally would have, as he had in the past. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he held her gaze for a long moment before letting it fall. He was irritated with himself--he tried to make a point to not let his scars show, for they mitigated a palpable weakness, what he considered a character flaw. But perhaps she'd only seen the scars, and not the eye that he now closed for concealment of its misted depths. She was trying to see more of his face, to study him, and he turned slightly so that his right side was hidden from her. He'd reveal as little of himself as possible until she gained his trust--if ever. She gave up presently and noticed the cuts on his palms, saying nothing, but opening the satchel which still hung at her side and withdrawing a flask. As he allowed her to pour the liquid on his hand, he wondered at himself--why did he trust her? She could be poisoning her, for all he knew. He didn't even know her name.

...But then again, you don't even know you own name.
...And you don't trust yourself.

[The liquid stung, he figured, but the void consumed the pain and alleviated it. It'd probably come back to harass him later, when he released the void, as many things did, but still. No weakness to show, not presently. His gaze swung about again as commotion erupted once more, eyes following the other elven woman as she fought valiantly against the onslaught. It lulled again as her arrow flew true, burying itself in an opposer's midriff. Still the southerners outnumbered them, but they'd shown their will and ability to fight--perhaps they'd decide to find an easier, less truculent target and leave them to their own devices.]

[HobbitGirl]

Lita struggled in her mind, trying to keep from being consumed by darkness. She didn't want to die. In death there was nothing. In her life there was not joy, but in living there was hope. At last the hobbit slowly opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry and her head was too light, but she was awake nonetheless. Faintly Lita could see a face above her, a face who's hands were bandaging her wounds. The hobbit tried to speak, and at first nothing came out but a ragged gasp. Finally she got out two groggily spoken words: "Thanks, friend."

Still trying to do everything she could to stay awake, Lita turned her head where she lay to look around her. Sitting next to her was the elf for whom she had attacked the southern men. The hobbit's head was a little bit clearer, and she said to the elf, "Are you..." and here Lita took a breath, "...are you alright? Sorry I couldn't...couldn't get him...quick enough." Lita ended in a gasp. Speaking was hurting her. Everything was hurting her. Not enough blood, the hobbit thought. Stay awake, Lita! You have to say awake!

[Calime Silvana]

She had expected the stranger to draw back..He didn't seem the type to just sit there...For all he knew, she could be poisening him! He hid himself from her questioning looks, and turned to face the onslaught..Ah yes, the fight..She noticed the mortal from whom she had been rescued was still alive and fighting..--carrying HER precious and scant items--She smiled inwardly..Good thing he had not checked her cloak for hidden pockets...pulling back one of the soft folds, she revealed a small zipper, and began to open it. The stranger indifferently looked on. She pulled a dagger out, small, precise, and to the point. Walking boldly up to her past captor, she tapped him on the shoulder..When he whirled around to see who touched him, he found an empty space. His countenance of perplexion quickly became one contorted with pain as she drove her little dagger into his spine and he sank to the ground. Neat as a pin, she quickly reclaimed all of her stolen items, and kneeling by him, whispered loftily into his ear, "Don't take my things. There aren't many, you know." And grinned crookedly at the man who had saved her life. Tarwëyn looked around the room, examining the worst of the fray, and quickly diving into it. She noticed an elvish lass, not unlike herself, fighting bravely, and joined her. Nimbly fitting an arrow to her bow, she aimed for the chest of the apparent leader of their attackers, and fired. Within seconds he died. Tarwë smiled at the elvish lass beside her, and asked "Where are you from?"

[Calime Silvana]

Stepping out of the chaos, she quickly ran to the hobbit.."are you badly hurt!?" She demanded. Do not apologize, you did everything you could. I owe you my life...Here, this might sting, but after it sets in the pain will stop almost as quickly as it started..."she once again took out the little vial, and, opening it, poured a few drops on Lita's shoulder and other wounds..."Is there ANYTHING i can do for your comfort?"

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian ignored the elf and continued fighting. A tall man with a smirk advanced toward her, "C'mon pretty little elf, wutcha gonna give me?" he taunted. She answered with a slash to his legs. Still grinning, he lept away and brought his own sword out. They circled, fighting, for awhile, neither able to get the upper hand. Finally, Celebrian pulled out her bow once again, but the man apparently had been waiting for this. In one movement, he pulled out a small dagger from his boot and flung it at the maiden. Celebrian gave a wail of pain as the dagger sunk into her belly. She doubled over with the pain, but now in a blind fury, charged the man. He hadn't been expecting it and she sliced his head from his torso. Having accomplished it, she sank to the ground in pain. She was now surrounded by the southerners. If one had gazed into her eyes, they would have seen the dark years washed away by a fear. A fear that inhabited every man, elf, hobbit, and orc. The fear of death.

[Calime Silvana]

Tarwëyn's attention shifted as she heard a scream of pain, and whirled around just in time to see the elf fall to the ground, face twisted in pain. The elf was curled into a ball, her hands around her middrift, gasping for air. Tarwëyn quickly pulled the dagger out and breathed a sigh of relief..it was not poisened..For one so small, Tarwëyn was v. strong, and lifted the maiden to put her somewhere where she could receive no further pain. The lass looked into Tarwëyn's eyes, imploringly, a silent call of help. Tarwëyn recognized her call, all too well, and for a brief moment blue eyes and green eyes locked...she understood. The shouts soon called her back to reality, and she dashed to the corner where the stranger had helped her..Once again her vial found it's use, and within minutes the lass looked much better..

[Jericho]

[The dark one acknowledged the hobbit's thanks with a hand on her shoulder and a slight nod, checking the tourniquet to make sure it was still in place. It could be taken off eventually, after the wound itself stopped its bleeding and scabbed over... no doubt the absence of the simple cloth device would have proved fatal from the amount of blood she'd already lost without it. No doubt a smile and words of reassurance were socially necessary, but alas... he could not supply such things. The gentle touch would have to suffice. As the she-elf entered the fray, he allowed his eyes to follow her. She still had a head wound, bleeding or not, and jarring it too much, even a soft blow, could reopen it. Even so, he could hardly stop her and they needed all the help they could get. He'd have to watch her more closely, however, to ensure her safety... What was he thinking? Why did it matter to him? He shook his head in self-exhasperation, rising again to approach the confrontation himself. He cringed under his hood as the elven woman he had rescued slew the man who held her possessions. A glance backward at the one who had held her captive when he came--the man was still unconscious. Death was a such repulsive thing... The blade in his hand he held only as a defense--a weapon that he'd not survive without, but that would not kill--not while he held it.
[Still, there seemed to be need of it. A look at the present situation confirmed that--the second elf had taken what seemed to be a dire blow... he paused only briefly to stare at the hilt of the dagger that protruded from her midsection before leaping in front of her, bringing a southerner down as he hit the man squarely in the back and caused him to topple. The man was quick to regain his wits, however, and threw the dark stranger off before a disarming or incapacitating blow could be struck. Recusant rolled quickly to his feet, squaring himself in front of the elf. No more death--not on this side of the battle. The blade was light in his hand, and he was light on his feet, the void consuming him, tuning his reflexes to perfection. He provided the vanguard as the other elf carried the injured one away to a safer place, putting her out of danger, though he hardly took notice of them, consumed as he was in watching the southerner who was now circling about him, attempting to find a crack in his stubborn defenses.]

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian had never been one to want help, but she had never been in so much pain before either. Physical pain, emotionally, she had been to the depths. She was grateful for the elf's help. And grateful for the potion given to her, whatever it was. She silently closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, Tarwëyn's concerned look met hers. She gingerly sat up, then sank back down as a wave of pain washed over her again. A few more minutes, she thought. The southerners were still in the inn, she had no time to sleep.

[Calime Silvana]

After making sure that one of the keepers of the inn could take care of the elf, Tarwëyn turned once more to do battle. What was this?! They were..retreating..And why not? What, with a dead leader and such..And then again, the inhabitants of the inn were not exactly allowing themselves to be picked on...So they were leaving...Tarwëyn breathed a sigh of relief, mixed with disappointment. The stranger would leave, and she would never see him again...She would...miss him. "What..--what are you doing!?" she chided herself.."you dont even know him! He is a simply wanderer..like yourself. He couldn't care less about you." Still...Her eyes betrayed her mixed emotions as she watched the stranger defeat his opponent in battle so effortlessly. He was experienced. All of the southerners had left. She walked up to the stranger, and again softly thanked him for what he had done for her." Then she smiled at him...Not a quick, slight grimace, as she customarily gave, but a true, light-up-your face beam..What was she doing?! He probably hated her. She started to walk off..

[Jericho]

[The dark one used the blade in his hands to inflict numerous cuts and abrasions upon his opponent when the man got too close, but none lethal--just mandate warnings. This hellion was not one to be toyed with. Finally, bleeding from a myriad of small injuries and utterly disheartened, the southerner backed off with the rest of his kinsmen, leaving the fighting man in... well, not peace, but something more remotely resembling it. In a short, more intense juncture of the scuffle, however, the southern man had managed to get his own knife to his faceless combatant's chest, which was deflected enough to leave only a shallow cut across his collar, and which was, in turn, hidden underneath the flowing cloak that he wore. The more grievous part, however, was that the southerner's arm had caught the dark one's hood and pulled it from his face in that same strike. The dark one's forearm raised to cover the right side of his face, bowing his head and turning as the she-elf approached him. He could not don his hood again without revealing that which marred him, his weakness, but it was obvious that he hid something under the cloth of his sleeve. The pallid eye that could be seen, the pale azure, offwhite orb, followed the retreat of their opponents until they were out of sight.
[At her thanks, the dark one only regards her quietly, still sheilding his face. The visible eye locked with hers, expression changing slightly as she gave a true, impulsive smile. His lips parted slightly--surprise could be seen now, mixed with even a bit of curiosity... still, his restraint, his self-discipline, could be observed as well. The void was slipping away from him, and he allowed it to go. With the battle over with, he didn't need it anymore... or did he? ]

[Calime Silvana]

Tarwëyn gasped as she watched his defeated opponent --as a last defiant gesture-- pull the cloak off of the stranger's face. During the short time that she had known him, she had wondered at the cloak..Surprise registered plainly on her face...She had not expected this. He was stunning...Moreso than any celestial being. His face remained impassive to most..But Tarwëyn noticed a flicker in the eye facing her..Of pain. She had offended him...By the way he quickly began to shield himself again, she realized that he believed her to think him ugly. Her retort was one of shock...How could anyone think him ugly? He was lovely by all accounts...Yet what race was he? He was too beautiful for a human...She could not offend him...Surely he must see this. Before she thought the words slipped out of her tongue.."Ro naa vanima, Heru en amin. Why do you hide?" (You are beautiful, master..)She doubted that he knew elvish. She needed to go, he must hate her, she was wasting time, valuable time..Time that would otherwise be spent wandering.

[Calime Silvana]

ooc:this is before jericho's next post.

Tarwëyn strided to the wounded elf.."Are you any better, my lady?"
She touched the elf's hand..Both faces registered surprise..Their hands had met before. "Do I...Do I know you? You remind me very much of someone I knew very well..before we were separated." Oh my, Tarwëyn thought..Why am I wearing my emotions on my sleeve?! Maybe this wound to her head was deeper than she thought..

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian searched her eyes. Green eyes. "I know you," she said "What is your name? I am Celebrian Tiwele."

[Calime Silvana]

Unbelief mixed with astonishment registered themselves in Tarwëyn's eyes...Her voice haltered.."Celebrian..Celebrian Tiwele?!..I am Tarwëyn...Tarwëyn Silimaurë" Disbelief became both of them, onlookers smiled, and the girls embraced.

[CelebrianTiwele]

For the first time in almost 500 years, Celebrian's eyes filled. She wept with happiness at meeting her long lost friend. "Tarwëyn, Tarwëyn? What happened? Where have you been?" She laughed, a sound not heard from her. "Tarweyn, mellonamin. It is so good to see you."

[Calime Silvana]

Tarwëyn's eyes also filled, and she laughed...something very rare. I have been looking for you. And for my brother..There is barely any question in my mind that he is dead now..." A shadow fell over her gaze, and her eyes darted to the cloaked on who stood watching them. Joy entered back into her eyes, lighting them like lamps. "And you!? Where have you been?! Countless nights I have wept for you, and alas! You are here!"

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian's face fell. "Your brother, you never found him? Oh Tarweyn, I'm so sorry." She guided her old friend to a chair. "Sit, sit! Tell me, what happened after they carried you off?" Her blue eyes glazed over, remembering. "The last thing I remember was the men, their grasp, I couldn't get away. And they carried you off. I searched for you. I searched so long..." her voice faded.

[Jericho]

[The dark man knew she'd seen his scars--those did not concern him nearly so much as what they ran athwart--but had she seen his eye? He doubted it, from her reaction of simple surprise... Most who knew his weakness had responded with something more closely resembling shock, discrimination, contempt for his fault. He knew, also, that she wondered of his race--his rugged features were not quite the beauty of elven, but he hardly seemed a man, either... And yet his swarthy tresses covered his ears quite efficiently. Another thing that he did not often reveal to those who expressed their curiosity.
[...And the elven-femme was speaking softly to him, her svelte voice and dulcet tones a pleasure to the ears of any and all. Her words were melodic, even if she hadn't meant them to be. He could hardly imagine how her song would sound... But he banished the train of thought before it could establish itself completely. He could catch snatches of her intonation, having learned a bit of the language in his travels--that was necessary for survival. Still, he was unable to make out her entire phrase until the last soft question. It took him aback, carefully shielded eyes managing to hide most of his inner turbulence. Elven, he'd found, tended to increase the eloquence of its speech with the beauty of the words it portrayed... And he could only imagine what she'd spoken to him. He realized then that he'd not said a word to her in the entire time they'd known each other--and that before that, the last being he'd spoken to was probably an animal... Sentient contact was not often come across by him. He searched for words, but found he had none that he felt could compare to her flowing tongue. So he remained in his silence, but the slight softening of his features expressed his regret at being unable to communicate eloquently. He still shielded his face--she'd no doubt look down upon him as so many others had for his flaw, if she knew.
[As she turned away, he felt a more heavy sense of regret, cringing inwardly. She moved to the other elf and he held his position, watching her for a moment before turning. The two seemed to know each other, to be long-time friends. They had each other, and were not of his concern now... The reeling inhabitants of the bar were going back to their drinking presently, having considered the brawl nothing of importance. The dark one almost gave a harsh laugh--if it were not for he, the hobbit, and the two elves, they'd like as not be dead now. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of someone that looked like a troll exiting at a quick step, having left something behind on the table he'd last seen the other at... A quick glance about to make sure none were studying him any longer, and he bowed his head and deftly pulled the hood back over his face--and ears. He then moved to the table that the troll had departed from, took what seemed to be a rolled-up strip of parchment, looked searchingly out the door for a moment, then unrolled it and studied the writings upon it, perplexed.]

[Calime Silvana]

Tarwëyn told Celebrian of her struggles, her hopes, her fears, her woes..They laughed..And cried together, totally absorbed. By the time Tarwëyn had finished telling her tale, her look was one of bittersweet memories...Contemplative and tender. She wondered whether or not the stranger had heard her. Turning around to look upon him, alarm rang in her eyes as she discovered his absence from his spot. Searching around the room, Tarwëyn spotted him, and breathed a sigh of relief. 'I wouldn't even be there if he hadn't helped me..few of us would.' She was slightly hurt and very disappointed when he didn't speak back to her, and displayed her emotions openly. Celebrian nodded to him, and stretching, Tarwëyn got up and walked over to talk to him. She noticed that he was reading something, and somewhat hesistantly inquired, "Master..if you are not otherwise engaged..May we talk?" She spoke earnestly, and profusely hoped for an answer, a nod..anything..

[HobbitGirl]

Lita awoke slowly, a blank, water-damaged cieling coming into veiw above her and a soft bed beneath her. The pain in her shoulder was nearly gone. Lita wondered at this, then remembered the elf woman using her vial before the hobbit had blacked out again. Her head was far clearer and not as light anymore, though she was still a little woozy. The hobbit rubbed her eyelids and tried to sit up. She managed to prop herself up on her elbows so that she could get a better look around.

Lita was in a small, shabby room in the inn. A small, rickety wooden nightstand beside the bed held small piles of bloody and unused bandages. The hobbit figured that after she had blacked out a second time someone in the inn must have brought her to this room to recover. I wonder...was it either of the two outcasts? The ones who saved my life? The man with his bandages and the woman with her vial...I owe them my life. I need to thank them at least... Lita sat up and put her legs over the edge of the bed, but a wave of dizziness swept over her, and she lay down again. I can sleep now, the hobbit thought, because someone cares...

[Calime Silvana]

OOC: this happened before Tarwe talks to jericho..
Tarwëyn walked into the room where the hobbit lay, and being careful not to awake her, with a gentle touch she felt Lita's head to make sure that fever had set in. She breathed a sigh of relief...She was one lucky hobbit...and she was going to make it..Maybe there was some good in the world.

[Jericho]

[The dark one studied the parchment for a good length of time and, unable to make much of it, gave a slight shrug to himself and placed it carefully in a pocket concealed within his raiment. It didn't concern him, particularly, but it might prove to be something worth having later... Especially if he re-encountered the troll that had left it. The two elves were consumed in talking to each other, it seemed--of their pasts, memories, good and bad times, dreams, fears, hopes... Things he himself possessed, but never expressed to others. After a moment he sat again, letting his arms rest on the table and fighting the urge to rest his head upon them. He was tired... or it seemed, but it was more the lull after the adrenaline that pumped through him during battle, the lull after releasing the void, and the onset of pain that he should have felt earlier that beat him down again. Nothing he'd not felt before. The small cuts lacing his forearms--defensive abrasions that could hardly be avoided--stung persistently, but that did not phaze him--it was the deeper, ragged laceration across his collarbone that burned and overwhelmed the others. And the sticky warmth that caused his tunic to cling to his chest below the cut was hardly pleasant. Still, to tend it now would be to take the tunic off, and that... well, obviously wouldn't be done, not here, not now. He could wait.
[He glanced up as the first elf-woman approached him yet again, wanting to talk. He couldn't deny her question--whether he wanted to admit it or not, she intrigued him just as much as he obviously did her. And she seemed earnest, and she had healed the slits on his hands without hesitation. A brief pause and he gave a slow nod, gesturing to the untoppled chair near him, if she wished to sit.]

[Calime Silvana]

Tarwëyn sat down beside him, and was about to say something, when she noticed the uppermost region of his cloak saturated with blood..She uttered a soft gasp. Leaning over, she reached into her pocket, took his hand, and then let go. Where air had been the little vial layed, rainbow facets gleaming in the firelight. "Keep it.." She said. "First..I wanted to let you know how indebted I am to you..Few would be left alive if you had not been here..if there is anything i can do..please tell me. Also..what is your name? Amin naa Tarwëyn Silimaurë...I am also a wanderer like yourself..Why do you not speak to me, master? Do I offend you that much?" With this she looked down, a picture of disappointment..

[Jericho]

[The she-elf noticed his injury, though he was glad that she did not insist on treating it herself... as others had in the past. That made for very awkward situations. She placed the vial in his hand, and he stared quietly at it for a moment before allowing his fingers to wrap around the multifaceted glass and withdraw it from the table, relocating it into the same pocket that the parchment had disappeared into not long ago. When he replaced his hand upon the table, his eyes swept up to meet hers simultaneously. As she asked her questions, his barrier slipped, the shield of ice which he had erected about himself and his emotions pulled slightly away. Even in such a small crack, many things could be percieved in the one pallid eye which could be seen. The hollowness of him... how alone he really was. That which he pushed down--his loneliness, the fire that burned in him that caused such anguish in the man. Also fear was evident, something haunting him... Though not just the fear of those who could end his meagre life, but fear of himself, fear of his solitude, and at the same time, fear that allowing anything to get through to him would pull him out of it. Life in the darkness was harsh, but you didn't get hurt this way... He allowed the silence to linger longer than it should have before answering her. When he did, his voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, and accented strangely--he was obviously not from here. It was harsh, bordering on a light rasp, as if something was wrong with his lungs or larynx. Still, it was not unpleasant, and the accent was smooth, flowing.]

"You can do naught, my lady, to express yourself to such as me. 'Tis not necessary... You need not associate yourself with an unkempt renegade. What I've done is only what conscience drives me to do. I... To tell you that I was christened Jericho would be an untruth, but that be what I am known as, among many less desirable aliases."

[He took a slow breath, breaking their gaze. His eye told too much. He chastised himself for his openness... and at the same time, it was relieving that someone knew something of what was contained within him.]

"You hardly offend me, milady..."

[Calime Silvana]

His reply brightened her day...Trying to look upon his face once more, she gazed into the recesses of his raiment and sighed. “What are you hiding, master?” Her hand progressed up to his hood...Grasping the edge of it; she leisurely drew the soft black folds away from his head until they rested like a soft mantle upon his shoulders...So this was why. The left side of his face was perfect—the side she had seen—But the right side...His right eye was wholly silver...and clouded. Three serrated scars ran across it, and a lock of white hair lay on his cheek. Her visage betrayed nothing, lest she inflict pain upon him. He was still beautiful, even more so now, she reflected. Her eyes never left his as her finger traveled up the surface of his left cheek, and sketched the pattern of the tattoo coiled beneath and around his eye...slowly. Her face softened. “You have known a great sorrow...You are...alone” The hand that had taken off his hood and now gripped his right shoulder tautened, as she leaned her head near his face and softly sang into his ear,
"Hard Farewell,
With no greeting to come.
Sad farewell,
When love is torn away..
Long farewell,
Till Death dies...
You are isolated,
You are alone."
After singing, she looked into his eyes, expectantly...

[Jericho]

[Jericho was not nearly as surprised as he probably should have been when the elven woman's hand strayed to his hood. Others had done as much. It seemed that the covering intrigued people quite often... Curiosity was a dangerous thing. Still, for a reason that was unknown to him, he allowed her to push back the aegis, blinking in the light that could then find its way into his eyes. Or rather... well, only the one good eye blinked--the other seemed to be held permanently open by the scarring that had denied him the use of its sight. Its clouded depths were blank of anything--empty, as the other had been not long ago. Nothing would be found there. The eye was obviously and profoundly blind. The cringed inwardly, shrank a bit from her touch. He knew it was disfiguring, but he hardly cared about his appearance. Usually. Even so, now he found himself to be acutely self-conscious under her unchanged gaze. Unchanged? Yes, it really was... The flaw had not altered her expression a bit--or if it had, there was only more tenderness present that had been before.
[Her hand found its way gingerly to the tattoos encircling his good left eye, and he was aware of her fingertips tracing it gently, the flowing curve that would turn abrubtly into jagged edges, and the circles intertwining that made up the flat black stigma that contrasted so with his fair-hued skin. And then... then she began to sing, sing into his desecrated ear, sing of his past, of their pasts, of memories shared, though they'd never before met...
[As her song ended, he allowed his eyes to travel to hers, pulling back slightly so that he could look into her face. And something new was there--reciprocating recognition, something common between the two. And companionship. Openness. An outlet for all the sorrow, the pain, the isolation that they'd clung to in... their former lives. The start of something new.]

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian watched the two. She was so glad that she had finally found Tarwëyn. Tar, that had been her childhood nickname, hers Cel. This stranger, she knew nothing of him. She had no part in what took place between the two. Her mind wandered to the hobbit. She got up and went to the small room that she had been placed in. Looking in, her eyes were closed, she was obviously fatigued from her wounds. Celebrian went to a small chair at the foot of the bed and sat.

[HobbitGirl]

Lita opened her eyes and blearily looked at the new elf who was stitting at the foot of the bed. Vaguely she remembered a smililar-looking elf fighting in the inn before Lita had lost conciousness...or maybe this was the same elf? The hobbit wasn't sure. Lita lifted her head up to get a better look at the elf. She was clearly female, and she possesed the beauty and grace Lita had found common in many elves. Lita had never been jealous of elves, but she found most of them hard to talk with nonetheless. They knew things that they did not say, and they always seemed to be too preoccupied with important matters to have a sensible, lighthearted chat. Few to none of them would talk with Lita anyway; her excessive energy chased away even the normally tolerant Elves.

However, this elf niether spoke nor stirred, but watched Lita with clear, ice blue eyes. Lita wondered who she was, and what she was doing there. Why would she care about me? Lita thought. Lita, instead of speaking right away like she usually would, waited for the elf to speak first.

[Calime Silvana]

Tar came into the scantly furnished room where the hobbit lay, delighted to find Cel also in there. In one hand she carried a light ale with a hint of tart rasperry, in the other she held the weather-roughened hand of Jericho. His hood was down. Letting go of his hand, she smiled and walked over to Lita, helping her to sit up and rest against the pillows, and giving her the ale. "I hope this helps.." she said softly. "Not only is the taste pleasing, but there is a special healing element mingled with it that will alleviate pain for good, and speed the healing process." As Tar helped Lita drink, she made a quick surveillance of the tiny room.--A fireplace, two chairs, a bed, and a small bureau-- And it was very cold.."Could someone put a few logs on the fire?" she inquired..

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian got up and went in search for wood. As she passed Tar in the doorway, their eyes locked. She smiled. She found the wood at the back of the inn and put it on the fire. She turned to Lita and surveyed her. "The potion may have helped, but you will need several days rest still." She looked at Tar and spoke softly to her in the language they had invented as children. Tar smiled at the memory. She then turned to Lita, "Get some rest little friend. Sleep well. I doubt we will meet again, for I am a wanderer, and the sun is high." She then exited the room with Tar and the stranger following her.

[HobbitGirl]

OOC: This is before Cel leaves.

Despite her fatigue, Lita smiled broadly as the elven woman and the other outcastish man entered the room. The woman who had healed her greeted the elf with ice blue eyes with delight. They're friends. Well, that may be why the other is in here, Lita thought. After the woman helped her to sit up, Lita thanked her heartily and began sipping the ale. She glanced up from her mug to smile at the man in the dark cloak, not even noticing at first that his eye was scarred. It was only when she lowered her head to abesent-mindedly take another sip of the ale that Lita realized the man had a blind eye. That didn't matter to her in the least. She knew that because of the eye he must be shunned. He knew how it felt to have no one. Realizing that one of the people who had helped save her life had something else in common with her made the hobbit smile into her ale. She looked up to speak to the two, her head now much clearer and her voice stronger and wtih more of her usual energy in it.

"I don't really know how to say this...but thank you. You two saved my life. If there is anything in all of Arda that I can do to show my grattitude, name it and it will be done. I owe you my life." Lita blushed slightly. "I know you probably don't want to hear something like this, someone gushing out their thanks like some fancy little water fountain. But I just wanted you to know that I will never forget this." The hobbit hoped she hadn't sounded stupid or anything to that effect, but talking on and on was just something she couldn't help.

[Jericho]

[Jericho had begun to pull his hood back about his face when the two had risen from the table, but the elf... Tarwëyn, he reminded himself... had stopped him in mid-action. Something about having nothing to hide, something about confidence and not keeping to himself all the time, about pushing people away before they had a chance... And he'd not argued. The look in her eyes told him not to, that it couldn't be done, and at any rate, it was of little importance now. She led him into the room where the she-hobbit had been lain, and he followed, his hand held in hers. He room was small, hardly well-furnished, but at the same time, acceptable, although a bit chilled. As the other elven woman exited to find fuel for the fire, he stood quietly, watching Tarwë and the hobbit lass converse in subdued tones. The hobbit seemed to notice him then, noted her gaze flickering over his face, his scars, his eye. Then she smiled. He blinked, met her eyes for a moment, then let the connection fail.
[When the other returned, both of the women began to speak in their native tongue. Jericho's disfigured ears caught bits of the phrases, but not enough to make out their conversation... Nothing that meant anything to him other than that the words were beautiful. The hobbit expressed her thanks to Tarwëyn... and himself. He avoided responding--he didn't know how to--then the other spoke to the hobbit, bid her farewell, and they exited. The dark one hesitated, gazed at the small lass in the bed for a moment, seemed to wish that he could find words to say to her, then turned and followed the other pair noiselessly, stygian cloak flowing in cruel ebbs with the motion. He knew not where they'd go... But it seemed right to stay with Tarwëyn, and Tarwëyn would want to be in company with her long-time friend. Apparently they had, in a short time, become not three wanderers, but a trio of travelling companions.]

[Calime Silvana]

The hobbit seemed to be doing well, Tarwëyn noticed...Upon hearing her profuse thanks, Tarwëyn nodded and gave a simple "You're welcome." Glancing into the far corner of the room, she saw Jericho watching her, and smiled at him...The three left the room to let Lita sleep, and Tarwëyn, noticing the manner b/t Cel and Jericho, introduced them. She told Jericho of hers and Cel's history, how they were eternal friends, and how they had been separated by southerners...With a look from Tarwëyn Cel went to go get something, and Tarwëyn beckoned Jericho to sit. "I know you have noone..I do not either. I also know that you value your solitude, Jericho...But I cannot help wondering if you will stay with us. I do not know you very well...But.." She looked into his eyes imploringly, "You understand." she said simply. Taking both of his hands, she beseeched him, saying, "Nobody has understood me for so long...as I have given no chance for them to. Please come with us." Emerald eyes met pallid ones, and she waited.

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian watched from a distance. He hadn't seemed particularly interested in their history, but neither did she care about his. Still, she could tell there was an understanding between Jericho and Tar. If Tar wanted him to come, wherever they were going, Celebrian wouldn't care. She never wanted to be seperated from her friend again. That was all she cared about. She waited for a look from Tarweyn to return. As she waited, she turned back to the bar. "Three light ales please," she said to the tender, and set the change on the counter. They would need a drink before they set off...

[Jericho]

[Jericho listened stoically, his usually taciturn manner still remaining stubbornly in place. The two seemed to have quite a history together. The dark one sat when bid to do so, still incredibly conscious of his unveiled countenance, and when she'd made her request, at length nodded slowly.]

"I will stay whit' you, milady, for at least a time... An' aye, I do understand. Your desire. But not you."

[His eyes met hers again, palest blue and clouded argent meeting resplendent jade. He very nearly drew his hands from hers, almost starting slightly. The eyes--they were his... They were the same that he had seen often in the calm reflection of a pond surface, in the cold of a steel blade, in the sadness of another's tears. The sameness he found there was shocking, something that he'd never encountered before. He nods again half-consciously, idle thoughts pounding about in a relentless cacophony in his head. Sometimes blackness, absence of thought, could be a blessing. Right now he was confused, and it could be easily discerned... Tension gathered across stalwart shoulders spreads down into arms toned to near perfection. Her eyes, they frightened him... Those eyes that mirrored his own...]

"Although... Per'aps, in time, that will be remedied."

[Calime Silvana]

Tarwëyn squinted into his eyes, trying to see into the pallid and clouded depths..What was he thinking? A flash of recognition flooded in and she let go of his hands promptly and stepped back, amazed...Had he noticed it? Tarwëyn's coutenance was one of surprise mingled with joy; when he told her he would go, she breathed a huge sigh of relief...a weight had been lifted. "I thank you for accompanying us...Jericho." The name sounded strange on her tongue..Strange and delightful. "I need to wash up and gather my few things. Then, by your leave, we can depart. We are traveling to Parth Galen, where Cel and I used to live, before.." Here she looked down, not finishing her train of thought. "..And we wanted to visit..." she added hastily. Cel smiled and nodded, and muttering something in Elvish, and grinned at Jericho. "We will be ready soon milord.." She added as Tarwëyn and Cel dashed upstairs to clean off.

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian took off her cloak in an upper room of the inn. "This really needs to be washed," she thought. After a bath, she changed into some fresh clothes. Light breeches, a green tunic and, naturally, her black cloak. Black, like the years she had suffered. She glanced at where Tar was getting her things ready. A smile crossed her lips. Parth Galen. Their home. She gathered her weapons. Her bow, arrows, sword, and dagger. She turned to Tar, "Ready?" she asked.

[Calime Silvana]

After taking her bath and having her clothes washed and dried, Tarwëyn donned black breeches and an emerald green tunic--the exact shade of her eyes--She then donned her gray cloak, and after gathering her re-claimed items, flashed a grin at Cel and replied "Yep!" Wonder if Jericho is...She thought to herself and grinned demurely at the thought of Jericho actually taking time to improve his already perfect appearance. Taking Cel lightly by the hand, they strolled downstairs, ordered breakfast, and waited for Tarwëyn's new-found friend.

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian ate quietly, wondering when they would start. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. After finishing, she pushed back her plate. She and Tar chatted about old times while waiting for Jericho. She hoped they would get started soon. They needed to cover alot of ground before nightfall.

[Jericho]

[Jericho nodded idly as Tarwëyn and Celebrian departed. He allowed himself to be consumed in his own thoughts. He should probably tend to the laceration about his collar, but... At present, he was content to sit and await their return. He'd not peruse the accomodations of the inn--he mistrusted any such thing. He'd managed to keep himself fairly kempt in the wild and would continue to do so, even with his soon-to-be travelling companions. He continued reflecting upon the events of the day and his previous travels until the two returned. They'd changed clothes and packed up their belongings quite efficiently. Jericho... he had nothing but the clothes on his back and a small satchel containing flint and tinder, a few sharpening tools, lockpicks, and a number of small vials of which only he knew the contents. He was prepared to leave anytime that the women were.]

[Calime Silvana]

ooc:back writing, coz Jericho had been there the entire time. -silly me-
Tarwëyn ate a light breakfast of a small can of peaches, for they had a long journey ahead of them, and if they were going to make good time, they didn't need anything weighing them down. After her short meal she rose and sprang nimbly over the broken remains of a chair from last night's fight; and when she landed, pain erupted into her head..Agh, how it ached! Biting back a cry, she turned around right into Jericho. "Beg pardon," she mumbled, and bit her tongue so hard to keep from crying that blood soon accompanied by bile filled her mouth--all salty and corrosive and sweet. She nimbly stepped around him, and, signaling a young lad, gave him a coin and had him prepare hers and Cel's horses. "Also," she told him, "Find an extra horse from the dead southerner's out there for my friend, and make sure it is of the finest quality!" Tarwëyn spoke those last words so forcefully, that the poor lad who had never before laid eyes on an elf could only mumble "your-will milady!!!" and run fearfully outside. Tar flashed a wry grin at Jericho and Cel, and paid the innkeeper for all of their breakfast's. After one last look at the rubble of the unkept room, Tarwëyn said, "Let us away, friends, the sun ever rises in the sky!", and walked out the door, followed by Jericho and Cel. The lad had done his work well, for there were her horse Káriersilmë and Cel's horse Eldalote waiting for them outside...And one thing more..Beside the two mares stood a magnificent stallion, proud and regal, and as black as midnight. His eyes held a fire within him, and Tarweyn knew that this was the perfect companion for Jericho. He reared up when the travelers came outside, but under Tarweyn's hand he tamed..No doubt the same result would come forth from Jericho. She grinned at him, bemused. "Looks like those Southerners were good for something after all, milord! Let us away!" And upon mounting their horses, they shook the dust from their boots of the dirty little inn, riding like fury, and stopping for nothing.

[CelebrianTiwele]

The wind whistled through Celebrian's hair. Eldalote snorted, for the day was new. The sound of hooffalls echoed throught the barren terrain. The mountains loomed in the distance. When the sun was high, they stopped for a bite of lembas and a drink of water underneath a tree. Eldalote gleamed with sweat, but was not weary. Celebrian brought her some water and stroked her fine head. Her face was white, with a small curve of white underneath her mouth and 4 white socks above her hooves. Other than that, she was solid chesnut, with a dark red mane and tail. When all were ready, they set out again, and three cloaked travelers could be seen riding off.

[HobbitGirl]

OOC: You...you left without me? <sobs> No matter. I will catch you, no matter how fast you fly. You cannot escape me! <evil laugh> :D

IC:
Lita awoke from a long sleep, feeling very refreshed. All of her pain was gone and she was no longer woozy at all. She felt well, and even her excessive hyperactive energy had returned. Remembering the ones who had helped her, the hobbit quickly dressed, put her leather studded armor on beneath her tunic, and belted on her short sword. She gathered up the rest of her scanty belongings and hurried out of the room.

When she arrived in the common room Lita saw that none of the three people who had helped her were present. Her face fell. The hobbit walked up to the bartender and asked them where they had gone. "Hm...I think they left just a few hours ago, actually. Rode away like the hounds of the Dark Lord were on their heels," the barkeep said in answer to Lita's question.

"Gone?! Curse it that I should sleep in! Betas! Blood and ashes!" Lita stopped cursing to take a breath. She fished some money out of her pocket and walked out to the stable. She walked up to the stableboy.

"What can I do for you, mistress hobbit?" he asked.

"Did the southerners who were killed here have any ponies?" she inquired hastily.

"Yes, mi'lady, they had one."

"Please get it ready to leave."

"Excuse me?"

Lita sighed frustratedly. "I'm going to ride the bloody pony out of here. I'm paying for the pony and whatever else it needs. Do I need to be any more clear? Now please, I'm in a hurry!"

The stable boy did what she said with a fearfully mumbled "yes, mi'lady." Lita shoved gold coins into his hand, thanked him hastily, and hopped up onto the pony. The hobbit dug her heels in and the pony took off like a shot, following the tracks the other three riders had made only a few hours before.

[Calime Silvana]

OOC: Hobbit Girl: Not to be rude, but this is now a private RP. A rp between Me, Jericho, and Celebrian. We tried to tell you nicely by just up and leaving, but apparently you didn't get the hint. No offense...Perhaps we can rp somewhere else?

[Calime Silvana]

They traveled for nine long hours, and upon considering the horses' stamina, stopped to make camp-which consisted of a small fire, and three thread-bare blankets. Celebrian, as she always did, went on a long walk to meditate, leaving Tarwëyn and Jericho to sit by the fire and talk softly. They talked of many things, though Tarwëyn could not get on a'tall, for she had no idea what piqued his curiosity...--He was so exressionless-- After talking for about thirty minutes, she noted that Káriersilmë, who was tied to a nearby obliging tree, whinnying anxiously, and went to investigate. Seeing that all was well, she sat back down, breathed a few words of assurance in Elvish to her horse, and once again face Jericho. Ah...His eyes questioned hers, and before the connection was broken she asked quickly, "Lle quena i'lambe tel' Eldalie?"

[CelebrianTiwele]

OOC: This is while she is meditating...
Celebrian strolled among the trees. The stars were shining brightly, Elbereth the brightest overhead. She rested her mind, not paying attention to her surroundings. After a while, she returned to the present, but soon found herself remembering old times. Her time in Lortlorien, in Greenwood.....Good times. She smiled, remembering, and returned to camp. Tar was teaching Jericho Elvish. Cel ate some lembas and laid down upon her blanket. She soon fell into deep dreams as the stars glittered overhead.

[Calime Silvana]

Getting up, she went to look for Celebrian, and smiled upon her sleeping figure.

[Jericho]

[Jericho trailed the two out of the inn after draining the strong ale which he'd found good company with. The stablehand had done a satisfactory job--as was expected of him--and the dark man marveled silently at the mount he'd provided. The steed truly was of the highest quality, as the she-elf had mandated. Swarthy, virile and massive, with a fire in his step and his eyes that the dark one had never seen in an animal before. Recusant laid a hand between the beast's nares, allowing it to fling its head about until it had accepted his presence, then moved to its side.
[He inspected the saddle for a moment--it would do fine, although Jericho, when he did ride, usually did so bareback. Still, the saddlebags would be necessary for this journey and a saddle would be more comfortable at any rate. The man slipped a boot into a stirrup and leapt easily onto the tall equine's broad back, running fingers through the stygian tresses of the beast's arrant mane. He'd need to think up a name for him, eventually... but now, his concern was leaving this place before he attracted any more trouble than he already had.
[They rode, setting a quick pace that proliferated to a dead gallop as the sun rose and fell in the sky. Not only was the stallion impressive in his size and strength, but his stamina as well. When the time came to make camp and settle for the night, the brute had worked himself into a sweat, but after but a few moments his breathing was coming normally again and his cochlea laced about with energy that seemed boundless. Jericho pulled the weighty saddle from the animal, stripped him of the saddle blankets and inspected him dutifully. The beast met all his expectations... and exceeded them. The animal was magnificent, resplendent in all his attributes. The dark man found a length of cloth and roughly scoured the lather from the horse's neck and shoulders, inspected his halter for signs of any chafe, and, finding none, turned to the obstacle of binding the animal for the night. After a moment he decided against tying him to a tree as the others had--the horse's spirit, it seemed, would not allow for such confinement. Jericho pulled from the southerner's saddlebag his second option--leather fetters would work perfectly on the animal. He danced in place as his rider bound his forelegs, but soon calmed under a few soothing words spoken in what sounded to be a harsh, foreign tongue.
[Having tended to the horse, Jericho returned to the small fire which Tarwëyn had lit central in their camp. She spoke to him... and he to her, in his odd, slightly rasping brogue, accented words contrasting sharply with her flowing speech. He remained closed to her for the most part, but that was expected. He spoke not of his past, his scars, his stigmas... only of the present. As it was, Tarwëyn herself did most of the talking. At her question, however, he looked upon her with a new light, pallid eyes gleaming with the fire's reflection. He knew the name of her language in her tongue, but the rest of the sentence was lost upon him. Still, the questioning lift of her eyebrows led him to infer its meaning.]

"I do nay speak yore language, if that is what ye ask of me. Merely Westron and a tongue of my own people... which be of small use to me here."

[His eyes turned momentarily to the other, Celebrian, who had returned from her meditation to sleep. Tarwëyn went to her, and he was left to himself for a moment, sitting on the fringes of the weak light which the fire cast and gently fondling what once could have been a resplendent blade which hung on a scabrous strip of leather around his neck.]

[sauronbill]

OCC: Hey can i join this Rp? I know its private, but i was thinking i could add a little heat and action to it. If you want i have a great experience playing bad guys, so if a bad guy is what you need, i can give you one. Here is an example. This happened later the night the southerns attacked the inn.

IC: The southern men that had attacked the inn had taken their horses and flew from that place with the speed of lighting. They didn't stop untill 3 miles from there. Those elves had proven to be real masters of the skills with the sword, and that strange cloaked figure was indeed strange but also powerful. The men stoopped to make camp for the rest of the night. True the lider had died, but soon they will be part of another band. Suddenly in the middle of the night many dark figures jumped from the darkness and aimed at the southerns. They tried to defend themselves, but most of them were killed in a matter of minutes. One of the man that hadn't been spotted by the strange figures tried to run away, but he was stopped by a strong hand that grabbed him by the shirt and lift him up in the air. The southern looked down with fear and he saw a tall uruk-hai with an angry face. He was armed a heavy battle ax that he carried in one hand, and he was covered by a heavy dark armor. The others figures that had attacked were also uruk-hais, they were armed with heavy swords and maces. All of them had shields.
The captain of this band of orcs was holding the only survivor of the southerns. "Human,"said the uruk-hai looking up,"have you seen a cloaked deformed man around here? We've been looking for him for a time now. He look very dark, mysterious. Answer with the truth, or you'll join your friends. "
"Yes....Yes,"said the man with a low voice. The uruk-hai was still holding him in the air with a single hand. There was no doubt he could also twist his neck like a twig."There is an inn a few miles from here. He is accompanied with two elves and a hobbit. "
"Very well,"said the tall uruk-hai and he put the man down. "For that you'll go free this time. Go, go now!! The southern scared started running toward the woods with good velocity. But the orcs didn't followed him. They had better things to do. "I'll catch you in time Jericho, "murmured the captain looking at the sky,"and when i do I swear I'll pull your heart out of your chest with my own hands. " The captain turned around to his comrades." Let's move out,"and with that the orcs runned in the direction of the inn........

[Calime Silvana]

After talking to Celebrian for quite some time, Tarweyn gingerly sat down again before Jericho, hoping fervently to get some reponse out of him. "He must love this language.." She thought, for the moment the flowing words had passed her lips, fire was borne into his eyes. Tarweyn didn't know how much he understood, but she wanted to please him--or at least pique his curiosity. After thinking for a moment, she looked up at the stars, marveling at the seeming beauty of a luminary sky cloaked in black, and intrinsically sprinkled with small diamonds..But one was more ethereal and dazzling than the rest. Tarweyn wondered if Jericho ever took notice of them, or loved them as she did. Reaching across from her, she took his rough and square hand in her small white one, and pushing back all fingers except for his first, she lifted both of their arms up towards the heavens until he pointed at the brightest star. Looking into his eyes, she whispered, "It's Elbereth...Our most adored star." After reciting a few of the other star's names, she found that talking to him was so undemanding..so effortless..It came quite naturally to speak to so avid a listener. Tarweyn told him so many things, nonsense things, just to pass time, silly childhood stories...Speaking of an incident earlier in her life she smilingly said, "And when we got there, Nienna was there...very much so...And looked even grimmer than usual. Nienna Calaelen is one of those who gives you the impression that life is indeed a vale of tears, and that a smile, never to speak of a laugh, is a waste of nervous energy, truly reprehensible!" And Tarweyn spoke of serious things, bittersweet and saddening. Talking of Aerandir, her lost twin, she whispered, "Aeran had the most beautiful face that I have ever seen, Jericho...Features of exquisite delicasy and refinement, framed in a halo of auburn curls. His mouth was perfect, being full without pouting, the crimson lips just softly touching and curving into finely finished corners that narrowly escaped being dimpled. He had a sober, grave, meditative expression, as if his spirit was much older than his body; but when you smiled softly at him it vanished in a sudden answering smile, which seemed an illumination of his whole being, as if some lamp had suddenly kindled into flame inside of him, irradiating him all over. Best of all, it was so involuntary, borne of no external effort or motive, but simply the outflashing of a hidden personality, rare and fine and sweet.." Smiling softly, she added, "And with that one quick interchange of smiles you could become close to him before a word had passed between either of you." Then, in a sudden outburst she exclaimed "By the stars, I miss him so badly! We were 115 when we were separated..And I have never been the same since."

[Calime Silvana]

OOC:Well, factually Chrys, Celebrian needs a new mate, so you could rp him, or you could just be a wanderer who ends up with us:) Your choice, chrys..If you do decide to be Cel's mate he needs to be elvish...:)

[chrysophalax]

Silver-grey eyes watched from the trees the two sitting by the fire, deep in concentration. The Elf kept a close eye on them particularly on the one sleeping. He had followed them at a distance, knowing that they were being followed by far less friendly folk than himself. Meneldur was used to being alone, keeping careful watch over those who entered the forest too near his home, yet this time, something had drawn him to follow this group of travellers as soon as he had caught sight of them leaving the inn.

As the glittering stars wheeled over-head, he had followed them silently, mindful of the other Elves' keen hearing. He had taken to the trees once he had gotten close enough to keep watch over them and still be able to survey the road down which they had come. The voice of the Elf siting by the fire reminded him of certain ladies in the court of father, soft and melodious. A sudden pang of melancholy swept through him and he shook his head, blocking out the memories. He shifted carefully in the tree as he angled himself for a better look at the sleeping Elf.

The faint moon-light caressed her skin and something with him shifted. "She is beautiful!" he thought as he beheld her. His eyes narrowed, surprised at his own feelings. "No! I dare not! There is no reason why I should want to aid these people. I should never have followed them. They would only betray me as others before them have done."With last longing glance he began to make his way silently toward the road.

[Calime Silvana]

OOC: this is before Jericho replies to Tarweyns post before this one...
After her chat with Jericho, Tarwëyn, as she so often did, went on a walk through the trees, thinking. Her thoughts were deep and solemn, as if a great weight hung upon her young soul, dark and foreboding and shadowy. She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost shrieked when, walking back to camp, she came upon a being crouching behind the shrubs by which they slept. She halted suddenly, breaking the silence of her footfalls and causing the stranger to spin around abruptly and eye her with suspicion. "Who are you!? What are you doing here?!" She hissed, drawing out her bow. "We don't need anymore assailants trailing after us, ask your friends what happened to most of them!" The stranger said nothing, however, but Tarwëyn noticed his gaze fall back to the sleeping form of Celebrian, adoration filling his countenance. Tarwëyn's eyes softened.."She is beautiful, is she not? Do you know her?"

[Calime Silvana]

Ok, Jester, that post wasnt directed towards you, it was directed towards Chrysphalax...Do you think u could delete it?

[chrysophalax]

Meneldur faced her appraisingly, his hand hovering near one of his concealed throwing daggers. He inclined his head to her, his eyes never leaving hers. Meneldur's hair fell across his face, giving him a feral look. "I meant no harm, lady...I have but followed your journey thus far and it appears that at least one of your companions has attracted unsavoury attention. It cannot have escaped you notice that you are being tracked?" As he spoke, Tarweyn slowly lowered her bow and he moved away from her, fluid grace in every movement.

"Alas, lady, I have no knowledge of this lovely one. I saw her but a few moments ago and I sought only a glance of her face before leaving." He raised his hands as he backed away. "Why am I such a fool?" he thought, " I cannot get involved with these people, I will only bring them to harm."

[Calime Silvana]

Tarweyn didn't trust the way Meneldur watched her, and she especially doubted how his gaze kept falling to Celebrian's sleeping form. Pulling her cloak over her face, she said, "I had not realized somebody was hunting us.." Jericho must have known, she thought..He had not slept at all. Her suspicion became one contorted with bemusement. Was he following them because of Celebrian? Stifling back a laugh, she thought of Cel's hasty distrust and of the barrier that she set in front of herself...Especially around men. 'There will be an epigrammatic relationship.' Tarweyn considered. Before anything else was said, Tarweyn walked to Cel and whispered something in elvish..Cel was instantly awake. Her merry blue eyes became the color of ice when she spotted Meneldur. "We have a visitor..." Tarweyn whispered low..."An uninvited visitor."

[Calime Silvana]

Chrys is my hero. Now post something worthwhile someone. Cel, you there yet?!:)

[CelebrianTiwele]

OOC: sry. gahhh stupid parents. got in trouble. there's a first anyway... I'm here now
IC: Celebrian lept up at Tar's words. She drew her glittering sword, advancing toward the stranger. "Who are you," she said. Her voice had no falter. It infuriated her that someone could be following them and she not know it. She stepped over to the bushs where he, whoever he was, crouched. She repeated her question, harsher this time, "Who are you? If you want to fight, declare yourself and let us begin. If not, leave swiftly before I slay you." She braced herself for any blow that might come.

[chrysophalax]

"Again I am betrayed by my own kind!" he thought as he edged away from the Elf-maid. He spoke clearly, his voice deep and well-bred. "I am Meneldur and I dwell in these woods. It was not my intention to frighten or disturb any of you, I sought only to warn you of those that are even now following hard upon your heels." His unruly hair fell across his eyes once again as he backed away slowly.

"Beautiful she is and dangerous. I do not trust her, nor do I trust any of these who travel with her. Why are they so eager to attack me?" These thoughts flew through his mind as he sought to escape the situation in which he now found himself. The other woman watched him with amusement in her eyes and he felt his cheeks flush with shame. "Ah, how low I have fallen...that two women can intimidate me thus. I have no desire to harm either of them in order to free myself. Elbereth, help me now!"

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian watched him slowly back away. "Who is following us?" she asked. A smirk traveled across her face. "And I pity the man or beast that catches up to us. We have proved fatal in battle." A cloud that had been covering the moon blew away, and his face shone in the moonlight. He was an elf. A strange feeling tugged at the corner of her mind. He had perfect features. His face worn, but wise. She shoved the feeling away the instant it arrived. But she lowered her sword slightly.

[Calime Silvana]

Tarweyn's gaze softened a great deal as she noted the shame in Meneldur's eyes. He has witnessed great sorrow...She felt it, almost as deeply as she sensed her own unhappiness...”Why exacerbate his loss, what ever it may be?” She pondered. Why expropriate any last shred of joy, no matter how diminutive? Looking at him steadily, she spoke softly, “I am a hypocrite...I have judged you erroneously, and for that, I request for forgiveness—I have often been misinterpreted like that, and have paid dear...” Her voice became low with regret; “I bring myself to the level of the abhorrent by doing the very things that I loathe. As for those who pursue us, we will be ready.” Perching on a fallen log, she inquired, “Why would you help us?”

[chrysophalax]

Meneldur looked at her warily. "Assist you? If you are indeed in need of my help, I will give it...as for why...I prefer to keep my reasons to myself." He ceased his retreat and stood his ground. The Elf who had threatened him did not sheathe her sword, but she lowered it slightly, looking him up and down.

He addressed the Elf who had spoken to hiom. "What are your names and whence come you? I sense great sadness here lady, might I ask it's cause?" He crouched down on his haunches and listened attentively. She looked down at the ground and seemed lost in thought while the other woman moved nearer to her protectively, never taking her eyes from him.

[CelebrianTiwele]

Tar trusted him to an extent. Cel could see that. She put her sword in its sheath and stared at him. Her never lost their icy glare, but if he was willing to help them... She spoke first, "I am Celebrian, daughter of Rumil. We came from an inn earlier in the day. We slew many southerners there." She stopped. Why was she telling him so much? What was the matter with her?

[Calime Silvana]

I am Tarwëyn Silimaurë, this is Celebrian Tiwelë, and over there, is Jericho. Tarwëyn looked over at Jericho's figure, commanding and protective.."We are not in need of assistance, milord...But..." Her glance betrayingly strayed to Celebrian..."Another companion might be nice." Celebrian had not had a true friend in the world besides her her horse Eldalote and Tarweyn in who knew how long, she mused. Upon hearing Meneldor's next question, Tarwe laughed--an empty, hollow sound, the resonance of many things that almost nobody would understand save herself. "My pain...My pain is my own. It won't be palliated. I will not tell you of it's origin..Not now...But I can't try to do what I couldn't--hide it--" She spoke these last words so forcefully that Celebrian looked at her in surprise.

[CelebrianTiwele]

Cel took her friend's hand in comfort. Meneldur was crouched on the ground. She did not sit. "Are you hungry? We have food..." How long had it been since she had offered hospitality to a stranger? Eldalote (my horse) snorted from her spot in the nearby trees. Cel turned to her and spoke softly. As she returned to the fire, her eyes shone in the light. They no longer glittered ice blue. "Do you know how far behind us they are, Meneldur?" she asked. The first time she had said his name. She liked the sound of it.

[chrysophalax]

He glanced at Celebrian, then grinned as he watched Tarweyn as she looked at Jericho with something approaching love. "Ah, thus blows the wind, does it?" He moved forward and slowly extended his hand to Celebrian. "Well met, lady. I will not fail to protect you." He noticed the proud flash in her eyes, telling him she had no need of a protector, least of all him. Meneldur turned his head away, cursing his poor choice of words.

Glancing over at Tarweyn, he saw that she was anxious to return to the man by the fire. Inwardly apprehensive, he walked near to the fire and tried to remain unobtrusive. He sensed this amn had great power and would be one worth keeping his eyes on.

[Calime Silvana]

Tarweyn smiled innwardly between the two of them..Look at them! She mused.. So perfect for each other. And this was the first time Celebrian had EVER showed favor upon ANYBODY. It was not her way. Backing away from the pleasing new spectacle, she murmered, "I must tend to KarierSilme..You two can chat if you will." and quickly walked away.

[CelebrianTiwele]

Cel would forgive his comment. He did not know her. She gave Tar a look that pretty much said I am going to kill you for leaving me. But on the other hand, she almost wanted to get to know this elf. Casting aside her bewielderment at this new feeling, she said, "Whence have you come, lord? What kingdom do you hail?"

[Calime Silvana]

OOC:this is right before she leaves the two of them to get acquainted.

Noting the apprehensive glance shot at her by Cel, Tarweyn posed her best 'innocent look', laughed to herself, and smiled sweetly at the two of them.

[chrysophalax]

"Celebrian, I...come from no kingdom yet am noble-born. My father, an Elven lord, chose not to acknowledge me. I have lived on my own for most of my life." His long hair hid his features as he wondered what he could possibly say to this woman that had drawn him to her. What was it about her that made him want to be near her? Normally the mere sight of another Elf caused him to recede into the shadows, but now...

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian looked at him. "I was born in Parth Galen. That is where we are-" she stopped short and stood. Cel turned to the whispering Tar and spoke desperately, "Dina!" She had heard a rustle. She backed to the fire and began heaping dirt on it to put it out. Before the embers died, a great crash sounded and a group of dark riders on horses ambushed them. Cel, unprepared, fumbled for her bow, while thinking to herself, "Where did they come from? How did we not hear them?" she cursed herself for not keeping closer guard. They must have been the ones tracking them that Meneldur spoke of. Her first arrow went wild. She pulled the shaft to her ear again and a rider fell at the singing of her bow. She regained her wits and took a ready stance.

[chrysophalax]

Drawing his throwing daggers, he shouted to the others in warning. He then instinctively went back-to-back with Celebrian, baring his teeth as the nearest rider aimed his sword at Meneldur's head. He threw a dagger at the rider's exposed neck, causing him fall from the horse, blood splashing in a hot stream across Meneldur's face. He wiped it from his eyes as he heard the clash of arms behind and Celebrian was slammed against him as a rider met her sword with a heavy over-hand blow.

Rolling, he covered her body with his own and was trampled by one of the horses as it madly tried to escape the scent of blood that now filled the air. A stabbing pain shot along his left side and he gritted his teeth, his sight blurring as anger claimed him.

Beneath him, Celebrian struggled to free herself from his grip, then froze as she heard him groan in pain. Concern for him filled her and she lay still, hoping that Tarweyn and Jericho would be able to free them.

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian and Meneldur would be crushed if they stayed in one place. She gently eased him off of her. Then knelt beside him. She pulled her dagger out and flung it at an approaching figure. He fell. She turned back to Meneldur, not seeing the man who she shot earlier rise and begin to crawl toward her turned back.

[chrysophalax]

"Celebrian! Down!" He lunged at the man, stabbing him with his remaining dagger. The man howled in pain and back-handed Meneldur across the face. Meneldur went mad and slashed the attacker's throat. Gasping, he turned to Celebrian, who stared at him open-mouthed. Behind them, Tarweyn and Jericho had their hands full and Celebrian pushed past him to go to their aid.

Meneldur held his side as he looked around at what remained of their assailants. He could see four dead at least and he wondered where they could have come from. Ruffians of this sort were few and far between in these parts and he despised himself. This was his own small realm and cruelty had no place in it.

[Calime Silvana]

Five minutes after her leave, Tarweyn heard shouts and a scream from Celebrian. Alarm filling her body, she reached for her bow and ran nimbly through the trees and brush, mindless to the cold slap of the pine boughs on her fair face. When she got there, she gasped; a huge band of men had come in and were attacking her best friend and Meneldur. She had no time for emotion, only blind rage, small at first, but growing, until her thoughts reeled and she shot arrows towards the offenders, careless of where she hit them at, such fury she had. Within thirty seconds five were down, and she looked for more. Tarweyn bit back a scream as someone grabbed her mouth and pinned her to the ground. Giving her assailant a kick in the groin whichi doubled him over, she ran into the woods, seeking relief. Where flesh was a small hole had been made in her left shoulder...She winced from the pain and bit back tears as she pulled the arrow out.

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian rushed toward the exit of her friend, "I won't lose her, not after all that's happened," she thought. Before she could reach her, a dark shape lept out of the trees and grabbed her, swiftly disarming her. She batted at his face to little avail. He became angry and hit her on the back of her head. She gave a weak scream as the world went dark. The rider mounted and carried Celebrian through the trees toward the road.

[chrysophalax]

Meneldur saw Celebrian running to Tarweyn's aid and he cried out as he saw the man hit her. Pain blinding him, he got to his feet and yanked another rider from his horse. He was about to ride after her when he saw Tarweyn, slumped against a tree, her shoulder bloody. Indecision cost him but a moment and he shouted to Jericho to tend to her.

He spoke urgently to the horse and it turned and flew after the rider in earnest. He would not lose this woman, not if his life depended on it. Her face as she had been struck burned in his in his mind and he urged the horse faster, eager to slay the man who had taken her.

[CelebrianTiwele]

The rider dashed through the trees and onto the road as Celebrian awoke. She couldn't feel her left arm. The man's strong grip remained taunt, and she could do nothing. For the first time since Parth Galen as a child, she was terrified. Her eyes searched the trees that flew past.

[Calime Silvana]

As she watched Meneldur ride like fury after her best friend, Tarweyn screamed in terror and pain. "Jericho...they were..celebrian is gone!" were the only decipherable words to be heard as her world crashed down around her and she faded into darkness.

[chrysophalax]

Meneldur leaned forward, urging the horse on faster as he watched the horse racing in front of him, clods of dirt flying as it ran flat-out, it's rider very aware that he was being pursued. His anger at Celebrian's abduction was so consuming thaat his apin had vanished. In it's place there rose in his soul the desire to see her captor lying in a pool of his own blood.


It never occurred to him to wonder why he felt this way. He only knew that if anything happened to her, his lonely reclusive life would no longer be worth living. Visions of the Havens flashed before him and he shook his head violently, trying to stay focused as he watched the rider before him veer off into the woods as though the werewolves of Sauron were after him.

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian felt Meneldur behind them as she slowly drifted in and out of conciousness. Her heart lept at the thought that he would go to such means to save her. But still, if he could not catch up, if he was not able to save her and she perished... just when she had met him. The thought overwhelmed her and she cried aloud, "Elbereth! Lirimaer! Tua amin!" A cry of help that pierced the night. Beseeching the stars to intervene.

[chrysophalax]

In the moon-light Meneldur almost raced past the spot where they ahd turned off into the dark cover of the trees.Had it not been for Celebrian's cry, he might have missed them altogether. Upon hearing her, he wheeled the horse and allowing it to slow to a trot, he hung down over the horse's neck, carefully scanning the ground for hoof-prints. After a few anxious moments, he found where the horse had been ruthlessly spurred down the slope. Without further thought he rode after them.

He could hear the horse ahead of him crashing through the undergrowth, then suddenly loud cursing and a scream. His heart flew into his throat and he slapped the horse's flank mercilessly, certain he would be too late. As Meneldur rode into a moon-lit clearing, he saw that their horse had foundered and fallen, throwing it's riders. He brought the horse to a skidding halt, then watched as the man crawled toward her prone figure, a knife gleaming in his hand.

[CelebrianTiwele]

The horse had thrown them, she knew that much. Celebrian tried to crawl away from the figure advancing toward her. He had a knife. She struggled to get up but was unable to. He lept for her and she jerked away, the knife pinning her cloak to the ground. It ripped. Meneldur was coming fast, but the man made it to Celebrian first. The knife sank into her shoulder, the second time that day she had been stabbed. But this time, Tar wasn't anywhere near her. Celebrian let out an anguished scream. The man raised his knife for the killing blow...

[chrysophalax]

"NO!" Meneldur screamed as he launched himself from the horse's back and hit the ground running. He drew a dagger,threw himself onto the man's back and buried it deep under his ribs. The man thrashed in an attempt to throw Meneldur off but blood loss quickly took its toll and he died within seconds.

"Celebrian! Ah, lady, please be alive!" He rolled the body off her and she struggled to sit up, her shoulder wound bleeding profusely. "Don't move, stay still. I can help you, but you must be still." Meneldur's hands were steady and sure as he slashedher tunic at the neck and exposed her shoulder. She gasped as he gently probed the wound, but he spoke softly to her and she tried to remain still as he went to the horse and came back with a flask of water. He then rinsed her wound clean and expertly bandaged it. He sat back on his haunches and gazed at her with concern, all too aware of how close he had come to losing her.

She looked up at him gratefully and he reached to brush a stray strand of hair from her eyes , the movement as natural as breathing.

[CelebrianTiwele]

Celebrian closed her eyes at the soft touch. She opened them again and looked up a Meneldur, "Well, lord," she said with a smile, "I suppose I needed a little bit of protecting after all. I hope my harsh words earlier are forgiven." Painfully she sat up, then sank back down at the throbbing in her shoulder. Closing her eyes she thought, "I could sleep now..." her eyes suddenly flew open. "Meneldur!" she cried, "What about Tarweyn? What happened to her?" Concern filled her eyes. "We must go find them, Meneldur. We can't leave them!"

[CelebrianTiwele]

can sumbody PUHLEEEZZZ respond to my post?!?!?!?!!? I know the situation w/ calime but where are chrys and jericho? WUT HAPPENED TO YOU GUYZ?!? ::waves shiny object in front of eyes, in hypnotic voice:: "you will respond to my post"

[Calime Silvana]

Tarweyn came tumbling out of the bushes, searching frantically for her best friend. Upon a clearing, she saw Meneldur cradlings Celebrian's head ans speaking softly..She hoped it wasn't too late. Running over, she called "Cel, are you two allright!?"

[sauronbill]

The Uruk-hai company had reached the Inn days ago, and they had found out the location that Jericho and his two elves partners were taken.
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