[Everdawn]

Énien had sat by the fire. Calimir was right. It was not her job: But if i do not who will, can I trust them to live? She resolved no to think about it. Calimir wanted first watch. He stared at her. "Sleep Énien, tomorrow you can think and be stubborn." Énien frowned. "I am not tired yet, but I will be, im going to sit up for a while."

Already Turthôl had gone in search of the hunter. The elf knew exactly how he felt. Wren had told her about his episode with Sartir and it explaned it clearly. The Elf thought back two decades to Rivendell. Yes, she remembered the black-haired boy who used to run around teasing the elven horses, barely. From the very east balcony Énien used to sit playing her harp watching below, the scenes as they unfolded.

Énien was brought back to reality, the small boy, had turned into a man, and this man suffered a horrible tradgety. Now he kills in cold blood. She thought to herself. The elf gazed into the burning embers of the fire. She remembered how the word came to Rivendell, it had been Elrohir who had told her, that her brother Énden had gone missing;

"What do you mean, missing?" she had said. "I mean, he has not been seen in two weeks, last time anyone saw him was outside Bree." Elrohir had spoke to her.

"Well im going to find him, since you probably havent looked properly." She had said in anger, this was the first time Énien, normally placid had spoken out. With her parents long since passed to the havens, Elrohir knew there was nothing he could do to stop the young elf.

"Here" he had said, "At least now you can protect yourself." He had presented her with a daggar, one wich she carried even now. The memory was still sharp, the first time she had seeked out adventure had turned to an ugly blood bath. She strayed across the woodlands outside of Bree, seeing an elven button on the ground Énien knew that he was near. If only she had not seen. There covered in gashes and pinned up to a tree was the blackhaired, grey-eyed brother she always looked up to. He was dead. Énden was no more.

In a way it had hardened her and made her the person she was, but never did she kill in cold blood.

Énien took a sideways glance at Carmalita who was tending to Rangar. Now she felt guilty. Her cloak which she had used to attempt to stop Ranagr's bleeding was thrown to one side. She walked over and threw it into the fire.