[Aylwen Dreamsong]

After Vlad rejected Jaheira's suggestion, the girl had stormed off in momentary anger to sit behind one of the many trees, leaning on its trunk. She was not far away from the fire pit where Melost and Khalad sat, merely a tree or two away. Jaheira tried overhearing their conversation and succeeded in catching snatches of Khalad and Melost's words, but those were enough to get Jaheira suspicious of both of them.

Khalad had asked something about someone named Sauron, and he asked about an alliance. That was all Jaheira could hear before a bout of silence overcame the area. Jaheira turned around just in time to see Melost nodding his head yes. Then Khalad asked why Melost was in the mountains, but Jaheira could only see Melost's lips moving in answer; she could not hear his soft reply.

After this Jaheira turned back around to face away from Khalad and Melost, contemplating what to do with her new-found information. She could tell Vlad or she could keep it completely to herself. Jaheira began to think that secrecy was the best way to hold the conversation and information. Besides, Vlad himself had reminded Jaheira that she trusted none in the group and none trusted her. Why waste such knowledge on a man that would never truly trust her?

Lost in her thoughts, Jaheira was vaguely aware of a slight whimper from a tree nearby. As the area around Jaheira became steadily quieter save for the sobbing, Jaheira stood to find who was making the noise. Surely 'tis no one from camp, Jaheira told herself. The outlaws were too strong to cry. Maybe it is one of Melost's friends, come to save him!

Jaheira drew one of the many daggers she had and began to walk towards the tree from which the noise emanated. Rounding the tree, Jaheira lifted her arm to grasp the neck of the being in a headlock. Jaheira missed completely, for the human was too tall! Her arm smacked its back instead, and in the dim light her opponent whirled around with an axe in hand.

It was only Fidrohir, so Jaheira soon came to realize. Jaheira snorted as she saw glistening tears falling from his green eyes. He lowered his sword when he saw it was only Jaheira, and Jaheira lowered her dagger in turn.

"What're you crying for?" Jaheira murmured, laughing inwardly at the man before her as he sobbed and sniffled. "Outlaws, theifs, bandits, warriors...we don't cry. Crying is a sign of utter and complete weakness and cowardice."

Fidrohir glared at Jaheira, as if what she had said confirmed whatever he was thinking. Jaheira rolled her eyes and turned on her heels to walk away from Fidrohir. He was certainly not the smartest person in the band out outlaws, not the bravest or the most clever. Perhaps the only reason he was in the group was because his height proved to be a simple advantage at times. Jaheira still remembered the night she had picked the lock of the local jail, and let some of the criminals that were still in the group free. Fidrohir could be replaced if he was such an insubstantial and impuissant being.

Jaheira walked away from the weakling Fidrohir, looking for Vlad. Oh, there was so much to tell him! Besides, Jaheira thought, He may not want my counsel, but perhaps he may need some...comfort...

With that last thought, Jaheira weaved through the wounds, finding Vlad standing against a tree just out of earshot from the camp. He was being moody again, Jaheira knew. Most other days he was more jolly and merry, but something was troubling him and it was obvious to Jaheira.

"Vlad, are you alright?" Jaheira murmured, her voice audible, but only to the man she was now standing next to. Jaheira smiled at him, wondering what he was thinking or what he was planning.

~*~

Dorlas fought and parried blows with the orcs as if it were a game. He noted every mistake he made, every flaw and everything he could have done better. Dorlas would think to himself as he blocked a blow to his head that Arthain would have been disappointed or that Arthain had taught him to do something before he needed to block. It was as if he saw the skirmish from someone else's eyes, and under Arthain's scrutiny. Despite this, Dorlas felt he had done all he possibly could to fight in the manner that Arthain had taught him.

Dorlas saw Arthain deflect an arrow from hitting Thelian, and began to wonder if Arthain would have done the same for him, in such a state their relationship was then. Dorlas had been cold to Arthain and had turned away when Arthain had tried to make amends. And now there was no telling when they could make amends. It was not a huge battle or life-threatening war, but in the back of his mind Dorlas still felt a tinge of worry.

Then Dorlas saw an Orcish blade being withdrawn from Arthain's side. Dorlas could see blood slowly oozing from where armor had been carelessly thrown on. Arthain bit his lip, but his rebuttal was twice as strong and fatal to the opponent. The Orc dropped, and Arthain doubled over along with it, clutching his side.

Dorlas couldn't let their fight keep him from helping Arthain.

Arthain's squire sprinted across the grass towards his master and was distracted only once to dispose of an Orc along the way. Dorlas dropped to his knees when he came close enough to Arthain, and examined his master's wounds. Healing it would be beyond Dorlas' skill, but perhaps it would all be well with the help of Thelian or one of the Elven ladies. How badly did it hurt? Dorlas couldn't ask such a question. Arthain refused help or Dorlas' orders of cease, but nodded gratefully at his squire's willingness to give said help.

[ July 27, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[ July 27, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]