[Novnarwen]

Tarkan

And so things had taken an interesting turn. It was obvious that Evrathol had something on his mind; why else had he come? Tarkan was overly convinced that the elf’s visit was not caused by his sudden urge to pray in the temple to the Goddess, as the elf seldom had been here. Nor was it very likely that he was here to really see his mother, as he had been pretty short with her and Zamara. Tarkan doubted Evrathol had all of a sudden turned very religious, and so, already, the Priest concluded that the elf had come to see him. At the banquet, the previous night, Tarkan couldn't help noticing the elf casting long glances his way; the elf had seemed very eager to catch his attention. Remembering this, the Priest's eyes lit up, now kindling with a strange light. He guessed what the Elf was thinking of; the Emissary. This would probably be the subject of their conversation. Greatly excited by this, what seemed like newly gained popularity; Tarkan invited the young elf to eat breakfast with himself and Pelin. Politely, the fair creature accepted.

Pelin and Evrathol settled themselves on two gigantic cushions; meanwhile the Priest placed himself, cross-legged, on the low divan in front of them. It was only fair that he did so. To them, in the Temple, he was their superior; he was their Priest. Shortly after, a young girl came trotting in, holding a tray laden with bread and fruits. Tea was also brought to them, smelling deliciously of various herbs. The three men accepted gladly.

"So, my dear Evrathol.. Have you come here to join the midday prayer?" Tarkan asked, being almost certain that it was not so. He tried to study the elf's reaction towards this blunt question, but he wasn't able to, as the dim light made it impossible to make out his fair face's true features. Instead, not even being slightly annoyed by this, as he was confident that the elf was thinking of the Emissary rather than the midday prayers, he sipped his tea. By the sound coming from Pelin, Tarkan judged he did the same.

"I must admit that I haven't," the elf replied calmly, after a moment's silence. Just as I guessed.. the priest thought to himself, holding his mask. Evrathol's voice was shaking slightly as if embarrassed by the Priest's inquiry. Tarkan frowned; he hoped he hadn't been too frank with him, but it didn’t matter in the long run care. (Evrathol would never be useful to him, so why care?) He had only been polite, trying to start a conversation. Curious, but polite. He didn't after all mind that Evrathol was here. In fact, he would be rather happy if he had joined the prayers, but the Priest knew that there was something else.

No one spoke for a few moments. It was as if none of them dared to speak, afraid that a secret that none of them would want to take part in, and keep secret, was going to be revealed. The strange feeling that had risen inside the Priest’s chest, when first seeing Evrathol, came streaming back. He felt petty where he sat, having no control over anything whatsoever. He had no idea what he was supposed to say, and he certainly didn't know anything of Evrathol's doings here; only that the most probable was that the Emissary’s visit to Pasthia was constantly on the elf’s mind, and that he thought the Priest could help him. Could he? He wondered. Could he help him? He had not himself been able to form an opinion of the stranger, and he had no idea when he would be given the chance either. His Brother seemed to have no interest in his thoughts on the matter; of the Emissary’s coming. Was it not natural to take council with friends, families and religious leaders? Realising this, Tarakn frowned in disgust. Again, he had been ignored.

"I must speak with you, about the Banquet.. and about my mother, Arlomë.."

Caught of guard by this sudden statement, coming from the man whose outlines he couldn't see properly, he felt his body tremble with anxiety to know what the elf was speaking of. Being absolutely stricken, not knowing what to say or do, he swallowed and said to himself: This has indeed taken an interesting turn..