[Amanaduial the archer]

Something inside Atharen melted and for a second he seemed to be in a place far away from this hill... riding towards a house on the outskirts of the plains of Rohan. As he slowed to a trot, he shaded his eyes against the bright sun and watched as a woman came out of the house, fair and beautiful, the golds of her hair catching in the sun so she seemed to glow, celestial and idyllic. She smiled widely with a mystery that only Atharen could understand so well...

But it was only for a second. The ranger leant his head back against Crystal's, so he was leaning against her. She would age, he would not, yet the ranger knew that they would nonetheless grow together. "You make a fine choice, Lady Crystal," he replied quietly, happily. "And there is no choice I would rather make than to take that path with you, no matter where it will lead."

Reaching back, he felt for Crystal's hand in her lap and, as she took his, he squeezed it gently. "Thank you..." she said quietly.

Sighing contentedly, Atharen then let go and returned to the hillside, straightening up again and facing Maen from horseback where she stood, gazing out across the hills in the distance, her arms wrapped around her against the chill in the breeze and the cold of her 'failure'. "Lady Il Galoth," he said, a clear address. She didn't turn, but he knew she was listening. "Lady, I do not think I can say anything more than has already been said by these companions with whom you have travelled for the past weeks. Each from different circumstance, each from different origins...and look around and listen to us, Maen, and hark at this, will you? You cannot have failed: for all out differences, you united us in one cause."

"A failed cause, Atharen," she replied angrily, turning sharply, her face and voice bitter beyond her years.

"Maybe it was simply the wrong one, my Lady," he replied, quietly, calmly, then continued. "You say you have no reason to go on, Maen, but look at us: we are your way of going on. Oh, of course, the faces and the names may change: but your leadership skills will only mature as they do so. You formed us, for whatever reason, have united us, given us a joint purpose, and you have led us, Lady Il Galoth. And in a military family, in these still-changing times, that is your gift. That is your future."

Maen contemplated him silently for a moment, holding his deep, dark gaze for several long seconds. Then she seemed to smile, very, very faintly, so little that someone who didn't take quite so much care towards expression might miss it - but it was not lost on Atharen. Without another word, Maen moved towards Hittai - and even the fiery little horse seemed gloomy in the atmosphere - and mounted her smoothly. For a second, in his mind's eye, Atharen saw a glimpse of what she could be in the future: hair braided back, a sword in her hand, brandishing it towards an enemy, any enemy, a worthwhile cause that she would lead men against because she believed in it.

"Come - we shall return to Lysia's," she announced quietly, and although her voice was low and suppressed, still disheartened from such a crushing, the quiet, natural confidence in it was now obvious to all in the company. Atharen rode up to her side and, carefully, reached out and let his gloved hand rest on her shoulder, just for a second.

As they rode on, the rest mounting up again and following swiftly, Atharen turned his head fully this time and smiled at Crystal. "We all take our own paths," he announced clearly to the whole company, then dropped his voice so as only to speak to Crystal. "But better that we do not ride it alone."