"What is the woman who was hurting to you?" Kaldir asked.
There was scarcely a second of hesitation as Silvanis came to a rapid decision and answered, "She was to embark upon travel as was I, and we were going to journey together for a time."
Kaldir sensed the beat of hesitation. A lie, perhaps? He let it pass. "She is a lovely creature," he said pleasantly. "Very exotic for these parts. I was worried that I might be treading on your toes a bit in admiring her. I am glad to know that you and she are merely friends."
Kaldir was curious to see what Silvanis' reaction would be to his broad assumption that the desert woman and Silvanis were merely friends. It would tell Kaldir if the lie was intended to protect Benia or was merely a lie of discretion to safeguard a new liasson that was developing between the two of them. Unfortunately, he never received a response from Silvanis as the Ranger's attention was distracted first by the arrival of the desert woman's hobbit friend bringing a bowl of soup, and then by the laughter of a young woman at the next table. Kaldir felt a flash of frustration and annoyance, which he got out of his system by way of a rather menacing smile at the desert lady's hobbit friend, who looked distinctly disturbed by it. She fled to the safety of the kitchen rather quickly, which amused Kaldir no end.
His amusement evaporated abruptly as Silvanis finished taking a long draw at his tankard and said in a very low voice, "Raven Falls."
Kaldir's pale eyes narrowed and his face darkened. Leaning forward, Silvanis continued, "The Mitheithel headwaters was a dark day..."
"What do you know of the Mitheithel headwaters?" Kaldir asked, his own voice dropping to a barely audible level. He studied Silvanis' face, trying hard to place it. Had this man been among his party that day fifteen years ago when they had been ambushed by orcs in the very shadow of the Falls? They had been so desperately outnumbered that day. They had all fought valiantly, and Kaldir had nearly lost his life, but his memories were so vague. During the melee, he had been struck a crushing blow from behind to the side of his head. When he awoke, it was to the burning sensation of orc medicine on his throat, strengthening his battered body only enough to survive the forced march south to Mordor. The scarred side of his face twitched in remembered pain. Raven Falls was not a place he thought of lightly. Raven Falls marked the place where he had been changed from a Ranger to a nameless spoil of war and a slave.
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