Anger flared in his mind as Melost lay still a moment after the man had threatened him. It was obvious that something was very wrong and part of him urged caution for he was far from battle-ready, yet all his mind knew was that he was in danger. Instinct took over and he rolled to his feet, his boot-knife in his hand. Vlad tensed as he watched the Elf, but appeared relaxed, ready to move in case the Elf attacked. He eyed the Elf as one would a potential enemy. He had moved with grace and speed, probably had strength as well, but was pretty banged up and therefore not too serious a threat.
Melost watched the reactions of the humans closely. Why had these people left the army? Who were they? And why was a female with them? His head pounded from the sudden movement and he had to fight not to sway on his feet. His eyes roamed over each of them in turn. The man with the cultured voice and kind eyes grinned at him shyly and he nodded to him without lowering the knife.
His eyes slid side-ways to rest on the woman. The very sight of her beautiful dark looks stirred something within him, but he felt repulsed, and he retreated from her.
Two insolent looking men stood lounging against a tree trunk, snickering at him and muttering comments as they looked him over. Melost straightened and returned their disrespectful looks with one of his own. He twirled the knife in his fingers and smiled lazily. "Ah, so it was you who soiled my clothing with your filthy hands! When I have acquired new ones, I will expect you to clean them!" He had dealt with new recruits in such a manner and it came easily to him. The larger one might outweigh him, but he began to feel lighter as adrenaline flowed through him.
His glance flickered to that of the man who had been calmly watching him the whole time and he was mesmerised. The man was lean, muscular like an archer or swordsman. But it was his utter calm caused Melost to take notice. He knew the man was assessing him and Melost sheathed his knife and moved toward him slowly, hiding the pain of his injuries. He extended his arms out to his sides, then stopped.
"Mae govannen! My name is Melost. Are you of Isildur's army? Have you seen Arthain?" Silence greeted his questions and fear clenched his gut as he watched the others exchange glances. What had he stumbled into and why couldn't he remember?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gil-galad and Elendil had been in conference for two days with Malgalad, Celeborn and Galadriel. It could hardly be said that Isildur had attended for he had sat glowering in a corner in order to distance himself from the others. His pride would not allow him to skip it entirely, so he had removed himself as far as he could while still being able to listen. Elendil had been shamed by his son's actions, but the Elves did not appear to notice. Elendil at last found himself needing to escape the oppressive silence that hovered about his son. Gil-galad noticed his friend's discomfiture and offered to walk with him as he went his way.
That morning had dawned crystal clear and as they walked amid the great silver trunks of the mallorn trees. Elendil marvelled at the peace and timelessness of Lothlorien. He felt contentment as he had never felt it before. Suddenly Gil-galad gasped and clutched his head as his knees buckled. Elendil caught him and knelt beside him in order to steady him. "Gil-galad, what has happened?" His voice was taut with concern as he awkwardly mumbled words of comfort. At length, Gil-galad drew a deep breath and looked sadly into his comrade's eyes. "Melost..he seems to be badly injured, possibly dead...I can no longer sense his presence."
[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: Cuthalion ]
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