[Amanaduial the archer]

Smoothing his shirt a little self-conciously, Atharen regarded himself a little dubiously in the mirror. Clothes suitable for a smart dinner had prudently been laid out on a chair in his room, obviously not deeming the ranger's rough garb appropriate for polite society, and Atharen knew it would be rude not to comply by putting them on. Nothing too smart mind: dark brown breeches of some soft material, a white, cotton swordsman's shirt, the sleeves loose and baggy until the cuffs, and a black jerkin made of the same material as the breeches. Pulling his own nearly knee-high, black leather boots on over the soft trousers, he took another glance at himself in the mirror, rising. To his surprise, he actually felt quite dashing - in the naive, foolish sense that aristocrats might romantically aspire to, he added cynically. Still, he would do. It isn't often that I get to play fancy dress...

Realising that to wear a sword at his sword would be too obvious, he debated for a moment, then attached it anyway. Frankly, with the Lady Maen's safety at risk and he her protecter, Atharen was taking no chances. And the same stood for Crystal. Walking down the corridor to the dining room, his face softened as he thought of her, of their kiss earlier, then he pushed open the door into the room, where the other guests were already seated. They all turned to look at him and a wave of self-conciousness took over Atharen: still, he didn't show any of it, no blush showing on his pale skin as he lifted his chin proudly, smiling charmingly to all there.

"Apologies for being late, Lord Arriten."

"Ah, not at all - and just Arriten will do. You are...Atharen, are you not?" Atharen couldn't help taking a liking to the man, and the ranger was a good judge of charcter. He had too much experience not to be.

"Aye," he replied, his Rohirrim accent coming out strongly as he shook back some hair from his forehead. Seeing Crystal on the other side of the table, he simultaneously saw two free chairs: one seat just a place or two down from Arriten's arrogant young son, the other opposite him, beside Crystal. Remembering his...fabricated past with Crystal, he caught Crystal's eye and grinned. As her fiancee, there was one obvious place. She smiled back, a slightly mischievous glint in her eyes as well. This should be fun...

Moving around the table, Atharen passed behind Crystal, his hand trailing across her shoulders casually as he passed, a natural, affectionate gesture. Leaning down, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before seating himself. To her credit, Crystal didn't flinch, and smiled back up at him. The whole scene would have seemed perfectly natural...to all except the few of their confused companions who exchanged baffled glances. Atharen suppressed a wicked smile and, under the table, he gave Crystal's hand a quick squeeze before releasing it, not looking at her but with a smile meant for her.

"How do you know he is here my girl?" The suddenly sharper, less indulgent tone of Arriten's voice drew the ranger's eyes instantly to the man's face. He didn't need to have been there earlier in the conversation: it was obvious what was going on. Maen pressed on easily though, her voice calm but her fiery eyes and passionate face coming alive as she realised she was onto something.

"The fact that Lysia acquired some information; you are the Lord of this place, aren’t you? I would think you know where people live."

Arriten was tense, worringly so Atharen deemed. Turning to his meal calmly, he kept the corner of his sight always surreptitiously on the Lord of the household.

"Yes, a Lord should know, but alas I do not, though I do have lists. Arridan will take you into the cellar after dinner there you may look, but now lets eat and be content." The look that passed between Arriten and his son was unmissable, as was the stunning unsubtlety of the suspicion in Arridan's returned look. Arriten continued, "But only you will I allow there, no one else, Privacy matters must count for something."

Instantly, Atharen was on-guard. Alone? I don't think so, my Lord...she is going nowhere out of the sight of myself or one of my companions... Arriten was unaware of the ranger's unease though, and smoothly changed the subject. "You noble sirs, tell me of yourselves and your reason for being in this young lady's company."

It was more a demand than a question, and the man's eyes instantly turned to Atharen. "You are a ranger, are you not?"

Atharen laughed softly, a delicate sound, and he exchanged a look of with Crystal, a natural, easy look. "Aye, but 'tis not why I am with Maen. She and my fiancee, Miss Crystal Fallowheart, are good friends, have been for several years, and when Maen took off, Crystal insisted on following! Why, I am merely along for the ride!" Atharen gave another little laugh and, catching on, Maen and Crystal followed suit. Crystal even went so far as to roll her eyes, squeezing Atharen's hand where it lay on the table. The ranger had to restrain himself with all his might from kissing her again, the shock of her touch shooting through him.

"Aye, indeed, Atharen." It was Arridan who replied this time. His voice was civil, but he was evidently after something. "But surely it must be of some consequence that you are a ranger on such a dangerous mission?" There was more than a hint of mockery in the man's voice.

But Atharen was more easy with deceit than he was sometime comfortable with. He shook his head, with maybe a hint of regret. "Nay, well, if Maen wanted a ranger for protection, she could have chosen a better one than myself."

"Why is that? I mean, if you don't mind my asking..." Arridan added, to soften the bluntness of the question.

"Why, because I am hardly much experienced."

"But your scar...?"

"Ah, a childhood wound, I'm afraid - much as I could dress it up as a battle wound!" Atharen replied cheerfully, smiling and rolling his own eyes as if the thought of the scar's true nature was a ridiculous concept.

"Your childhood..." Arridan paused, but subtelty was evidently not a strong point of his. Atharen neither liked not disliked him - yet - but he certainly didn't trust the man. "When was that?"

"You mean, how old am I?" Atharen replied, quite as frankly. He looked straight at Arridan as he replied. "I am but twenty four years old, Arridan. Hardly an ancient old warrior, hmm?" He smiled genially and took a sip of wine. The deceit was complete. Both men believed him, he was sure. Looking across at Arridan, he settled forward a little, moving into the conversation. "And yourself, Arridan? I heard from Maen you are a soldier... I suppose you will have served much?"

'I heard from Maen'...sure, a little flattery never did any harm...