[Aylwen Dreamsong]

“Suspended? Suspended? Suspended!” Dorlas shouted to Arthain’s back as they left Elendil’s tent. The words were at first spoken incredulously, dripping with disbelief, anger, and shame. The last time he spoke the word his tone was exasperated, as if Arthain were a child that needed scolding. “Arthain, don’t walk away from me! Turn around and look at me! What are we going to do now, Arthain? Suspended! What are we going to do?”

Arthain turned slowly. "What do you mean, 'we'? Elendil did not suspend you! Elendil did not relieve you of your duties! Dorlas, do not speak to me in such a tone! You don't understand this. You were not asked to stay with me!" Arthain roared, eyes showing hurt and anger. Dorlas stopped walking toward Arthain, standing still and aghast.

"Are you suggesting I turn my back on you? What sort of squire do you take me for?" Dorlas finished his words quickly, realizing what he had said a minute too late. Thelian didn't follow Melost... Dorlas reminded himself, though he quickly shook the thought from his mind. It was not right to bring Thelian into the matter, even if it was only in Dorlas’ thoughts. It was an insult to the human squire, though, to be questioned by his own master. Questioned loyalty was not taken lightly with Dorlas anymore.

“If you stay with me, Dorlas, do you know what will happen? Do you?” Arthain retorted, eyes flaming fiercely. Dorlas shook his head, and in his mind he was resolved that no matter what would happen Dorlas would stay with Arthain in the end. It was his duty to stay with Arthain, and even if Arthain left in a crazed frenzy as Melost had, Dorlas was adamant to follow Arthain to whatever end.

"If you follow me, and you come with your suspended master," Arthain began, his tone suddenly serious and devoid of anger and judgement. His voice lowered volume, his words became soft and sorrowful. "If you follow me, you will be considered a deserter. Dishonoured, and your name will be the topic of shame and betrayal to Elendil's army. Is this what you want? Dorlas, do you want to be a deserter because of what I have done wrong? A deserter because of the mistakes I have made?"

There was a pause. Deadly silence between both men.

"What a grand world it is, when loyalty is scorned by those who most desire it," Dorlas murmured. "I am sworn to loyalty, both to you and Elendil. What am I to do? What am I to say, now that Elendil indirectly wishes me to betray you? I am forced to choose between my master and friend, and a my king. I serve both willingly, and still I am forced to choose."

Another pause. Who knew that silence could be so loud?

"But I do not know Elendil like I know you, Arthain. I do not question Elendil's worth, but I would trust my life to you, Arthain, before I would to him..." Dorlas finished quietly, letting the silence hang between him and his master.

~*~

"Is your speech quite finished, Snyd?"

"Yes, I am."

She hadn't meant for her voice to sound so soft, so weak and pleading. Jaheira was too weary for Snyd's explanations and musings. No, she was so sick of them that she thought she might wring the man's neck should he speak so again. Then again, Jaheira knew that Snyd was right. Jaheira was loathe to admit her agreement, but Snyd was so right in what he said. So correct, he had said exactly what Jaheira was thinking, only to a lesser extent. Well, less violent extent.

Jaheira let Khalad and Vlad go through with their little tiff of a confrontation. She was too tired to do anything about it. All Jaheira felt she could do was sit there and curse their rivalry inwardly. They needed to move camp. They had no time for Khalad's foolish chivalry and Vlad's ego. No time for any of it. The Elf was the cause of all of it; he needed to be disposed of.

When silence had again floated over the band of outlaws, Jaheira stood from her spot, drawing two daggers as she did so. Her eyes were on the elf. Her icy grey eyes met and locked with his angry blue ones, and she did not dare break the gaze.

"As much as I hate to say this, Vlad," Jaheira began, chuckling slightly before continuing. "As much as I hate to say this, Snyd is right. We need to be rid of Melost or we need to move on. But I am happy to say that Snyd's stroke of brilliance ends there. For he is wrong. No soldiers will come for this filthy elf. If he was worth something, or if someone truly cared for him, we would all be dead now and he would be off with his lover or off with his army. Melost is probably a deserter. We have no use of him whatsoever, Vlad."

Vlad said nothing.

"If you will not do something, I will! If you will not kill him and let us move on, I will, Vlad!" Jaheira continued, raising her voice considerably. She pointed her right-handed dagger at Melost, as if she were aiming. Then she turned and threw the blade to wedge it into a tree to her left. Jaheira glared at Melost first with fierce anger, before directing the same glare at Vlad and twirling her remaining dagger threateningly in her left hand.

[ September 01, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]