[maikafanawen]

Ihwesta returned to her home that was just behind her mother and brother’s shop to get the few things she’d need. Minyahiniwen was already ahead of her filling new arrows into her quiver and Orodhîn had made himself useful by sharpening her two long-knives.

"Do not take Lintequesse," her mother called after her. "She will be our ransom until you come home."

Ihwesta took down her backpack from the hook beside the fireplace, monotonously placing into it the necessities she would require: flint, whetstone, lembas, and a small leather bound canteen to hang at her side.

Orodhîn entered bearing before him Ihwesta’s two long-knives now sharpened and ready for their sheaths.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as the blades disappeared into their pockets. The she-elf looked up at her brother. His face was expressionless and Ihwesta couldn’t know what he was thinking.

“Mother’s not angry,” he said. “She wants you to wait for Rildëoreion to return before you set out.”

“He is not home yet?” she pondered. “I wonder why.”

“You saw him at the meeting, sister. When you stood he made no movement of concern or dissent. He does not think anything of your decision. Nor does Minyahiniwen.” Averting his eyes from his sister’s questioning gaze, Orodhîn poured a glass of shimmering draught from the frail decanter on the table by the far wall. He held it for a moment in his hands before sipping it.

“You want to go Orodhîn. I know this. Minyahiniwen knows too I should think. One should know where one is needed and what one’s strengths are. You showed that you do at the council. Your strengths are in bowing and arrow-smithery. Mine aren’t. My talents are not as diverse as yours, Orodhîn, please remember. There is little I can give to the realm. All I have is sense: weather and tracking. The journey before me calls for such skills and so I give them freely. You understand.” Ihwesta walked to where her brother stood and hesitantly laid a hand on his shoulder. “You are stronger than I Orodhîn and our parents are proud.” She moved before him so that he had no choice but to look at her. “I am proud as well.” He smiled.

“Sister, may the star guide your path to your destiny, and may it fulfill all your dreams.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I am proud of you.”

A tear had found its way into Ihwesta’s eye and ran down the length of her smooth cheek. Her brother turned then and left the room that had been her chamber since birth.

“Goodbye Orodhîn,” she whispered. “Goodbye.”

She packed little for she needed little and by the time her father returned home she was ready to go.

“Daughter,” Rildëoreion began. “I have no words of satisfaction or vigilance to share with you, please understand. The decision you have made is your own.” Ihwesta nodded understandingly and looked down as he withdrew something from his pack. It was a book bound with red leather and encircled with a braided strip of darker crimson embroidery floss to keep it shut. On its cover was stenciled a rose of many seasoned petals: Ihwesta’s favorite flower. It contained pages of blank space for sketching and here and there were written bits from tales of old elven history. In a long thin pocket on the inside of the cover was a piece of charcoal encased in wood so that it would not break or smear onto the hands while in use.

“I want pictures and descriptions of everything you see while you’re out there. If I’m to keep up with the history of our people, I need illustrations!” Ihwesta smiled inwardly, she should have expected this.

“Thank you father.” She kissed him on the cheek and hugged her mother goodbye.

“How long will you be gone do you believe?” queried Minyahiniwen. The elf maiden shook her head.

“I do not know. Not long.” She glanced quickly at her parents and older brother. “Oh yes, Orodhîn. Ceros sends his own fond farewells.”

“Return them for me please. And I wish him safely traveled.” Nodding, Ihwesta fastened her cloak of midnight blue over her shoulders and hoisted her bag onto her back. Not able to think of anything left to say she opened the door. The evening breeze entered the foyer, bringing to life the flames that danced on their wicks in their fat candles. The fire in the fireplace snapped and a shower of sparks disappeared into the air.

“Namarie,” she said softly. The door closed behind her closing away the comforts of her home. She walked slowly down the narrow path on her way across the river to where Ceros had determined they’d meet. As her feet carried her silently over the bridge, she caught a glimpse of the star-studded sky. How many times would the stars pass by before she returned home again?

[ July 16, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]