Brotherhood, A Story from the Last Alliance:RPG thread

[Bêthberry]

Cuthalion's game begins with this post:


Melost rode at the head of a company of Elves fitted out for war. As he rode, he looked forward into the future for many reasons, not the least of which that his beloved awaited him in Imladris and there he knew they would travelling to soon, there to mingle Lord Elrond's host with that of his own
lord, Gil-Galad.

Afar off he could distinguish Men, standing atop the outpost of Amon Sul, watching for their arrival. The glittering panoply of their armour made a heart-stirring sight as it rode ever closer to the encampment of Isildur. He
began to wonder if he dared hope that the friend he had made years ago would
be among the warriors on the hill-top.

Memories brought a smile to his lips. Memories of a young boy, of noble Numenorian blood, who had sat at his feet, desperate for stories of the Undying Lands. He especially liked those that contained Dragons and valiant
deeds. His father was a warrior and it was plain that the boy already showed great promise in that area as well. His father had been a great ally of Gil-Galad and when he was slain in battle, the boy and his mother had
sought refuge among the Elves then dwelling in the south of Middle Earth. Melost found himself the object of the boy's fascination.

He shook his head, clearing it. Many years of Men that had been and many battles fought. The two had lost touch and Melost wondered why the boy should so suddenly appear this clearly in his mind's eye...this would be the
last place he would ever choose for them to meet...

[ March 06, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

[Cuthalion]

Among those waiting for the arrival of the Elven-Host was Arthain, a warrior mighty in arms, close to the ear of Isildur himself. As he looked out over the land, he watched for a certain banner, for beneath that banner rode his friend Melost, an Elf of surpassing skill with the bow and messenger of the High King. Too long it had been since they had last sat together, telling tales by a fireside, Arthain prodding Melost for more details of the West. Beside him as always rode his shadow, Thelian, Melost's close kinsman and shield-bearer.

As he strained his eyes, At last! There it was! Gil-Galad's banner and Melost proudly bearing it up the slope to the fortress, announcing the High-King's arrival in a clear, ringing voice. Arthain turned and ran to greet him...

Upon seeing Arthain, Melost mingled his pure, clear tenor with Arthain's resonant baritone...

O menel aglar elenath
Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!

Arthain looked at the Elf in wonder, for in all the long years of their friendship he had never heard him sing. "Mellon, why have you never sung with me before? Your voice has such purity!" Melost gazed at him, a wry grin on his face. "One must never reveal all one's gifts. How ordinary I would appear in your eyes if I couldn't amaze you now and again." He stood gracefully, stretching his legs. "Ai! I am used to travelling afoot! Light-footed though she is, my Estel has tried my muscles this day!" He looked up into the star-dusted sky and broke into a radiant smile. "Arthain! Behold Menelmacar as he strides among the stars."

Long he stood, gazing upward, lost in the beauty of the sable night. Arthain shifted, moving nearer the fire. He was used to Melost's reveries. In time they would resume their conversation...

[ March 12, 2003: Message edited by: Cuthalion ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Arthain welcomed his friend eagerly, running up to him. But such a greeting was in order; it had been too long since they had last seen each other, years had passed and Arthain knew he must have changed alot in the elfs eyes. But the elf still had some tricks up his sleeve, and his beautiful voice, as clear and pure as a mountain stream, shocked Arthain into stopping.

"Mellon, why have you never sung with me before? Your voice has such purity!"

Melost grinned mischieviously at Arthain as he replied. "One must never reveal all one's gifts. How ordinary I would appear in your eyes if I couldn't amaze you now and again."

Arthain mock bowed slightly. "Ah great words from the wise Melost!"

His friend raised an eyebrow slightly, still smiling, and stretched his legs. "Ai! I am used to travelling afoot! Light-footed though she is, my Estel has tried my muscles this day! But Arthain! Behold Menelmacar as he strides among the stars."

Arthain humoured his friend, looking up at the sky with him, but he had never been able to see such beauty in the things that Melost rendered so wonderful. He knew how much it meant to his elven friend to find beauty in little things though, so he didnt interrupt, but sat down at the fire again and waited.

After a moment the elf turned back and sat down with him. "You would rather sit by the fire than survey the beauty of such a night?"

Arthain shrugged. "I suppose my personality hasnt changed much, friend. Like your looks." He flicked his eyes up and down the elfs still youthful body, and his unlined face, still like that of a twenty year old. The elf was centuries older than him, but he felt ancient beside him. Melost shrugged. "You havent aged much either, Arthain."

"You are a silver tongued liar, Melost!" Arthain shoved him playfully. "Nay, many years have passed since last we met. Too long."

"Aye, too long. And many things have no doubt happened for both of us in the time since."

"Indeed. Come, tell me Melost, what has been happening to you these long years?"

[ June 14, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

[Mattius]

Thelian marched into the camp of men lowering the banner of The High King, passing it to a younger elf behind him and giving him instruction to keep it safe. He removed his helm and rubbed his short black hair. His kinsmen Melost was by the fire with a young man laughing and talking. Melost was glancing up at the stars and was waving his finger to and fro attempting to show his companion the beauty of the night sky. Thelian smiled, 'old friends' he thought to himself as he looked around the area.

In the old days Thelian had been a loner, travelling the world by himself, trying to find his place. Melost had given him more than a place, he had given him a meaning. Although usually mildly suspicious of men Thelian was at ease, these were men of Numenorian blood and could be trusted. And anyway, thought the elf, any enemy of orcs is a friend of mine in times of war.

Just as he thought that he might find a place to rest himself and perhaps find a mug of ale or even water a young man walked up to him.

"Greetings!" The black haired man said.

"Good evening young warrior, would you perchance be able to point me to a place where I could have a little bite to eat and perhaps some drink?" The man smiled showing Thelian his teeth before he spoke.

"I am glad to be amongst such noble warriors as you and your kin."

"Well, if you show me where I can find some food, erm..."

"...Dorlas"

"...Dorlas, then I will discuss such matters with you further."

[ March 16, 2003: Message edited by: Mattius ]

[Cuthalion]

As the night drew on, the two friends talked until their throats were dry. Arthain went in search of wine and when he returned, he noticed Melost sitting with his head down as though in deep thought. He accepted the cup and a haunted look crossed Melost's face as he looked at Arthain, then quickly away. "He knows me far too well." he sighed, his thoughts darkening. Arthain's brow furrowed in concern. This was unlike Melost. Quiet he might be, but never morose. He reached across and placed a steadying hand on his arm. "Tell me..."

"I fear death, foolish I know for one of the Eldar, yet fear it I do. I foresee my death in this great under-taking of our Lords and I fear it! The halls of Mandos hold no appeal for me, I desire life and it's wonders too greatly to have them slip away so needlessly..." He poured his wine onto the ground and tossed his cup into his gear. "Enough! Tell me more of your family."

[ March 17, 2003: Message edited by: Cuthalion ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Arthain frowned at his friend, wondering about the elfs depression. Melost was not an elf to waste words, but he had never seen him so depressed seeming. He laid a hand on his friends arm and Melost seemed to jerk out of his thoughts, looking up at Arthain and seeming to take a moment to realise who he was. Then he looked away again.

"Tell me..." he murmered.

The elf looked like he might just gloss it over with one of his elusive smiles, but Arthain knew him too well. He sighed. "I fear death, foolish I know for one of the Eldar, yet fear it I do. I foresee my death in this great under-taking of our Lords and I fear it! The halls of Mandos hold no appeal for me, I desire life and it's wonders too greatly to have them slip away so needlessly..."

Arthain frowned again. Needless? Not needless, surely. Is this how the elves are thinking, that if they have to join with men, they really have to be desperate... Melosts next line put thoughts of the alliance out of his head though.

"Enough! Tell me of your family...how do they fare?"

Now it was the mans turn to look away, biting his lip. Melost realised he had said something wrong and winced slightly, and he looked inquiringly at his friend. Arthain took a swig of his wine and looked directly at his friend, his eyes seemingly hard now, but Melost could see the emotion swirling beneath this false cover.

"Theyre dead." The man answered, his eyes as hard as the false cover he covered his emotions with.
"What?" Melost had been almost expecting it, knew it had been happening to so many, but he couldnt believe it.
"Dont make me repeat it, Melost." Arthains voice was softer now and he looked away now. Arthain hadnt shed tears for years, but his friends sharp eyes could see how his eyes shone with tears. "Wild men attacked. It wasnt even personal, they just....hewed them down where they lay. And I...I wasnt even there with them. I didnt protect them, Melost."

"Ah, Arthain...I am so sorry..." Melost didnt know what to say. He touched the mannish soldiers arm lightly and Arthain looked back, a small tight smile on his face as he wiped his eyes. He threw the remanants of his wine into the fire, making it momentarily spark blue.

"What could you have done, friend? Anyway, this is what we're fighting for. This is what I will fight for, and this is what I am determined to win for." His voice and eyes had a harder edge and Melost could see that the man was determined, and Arthain was; with every nerve in his body he was determined that he would avenge his wife and son, even if he died trying.

"And I will help you."

Arthain looked with gratitude at his elvish friend. Melost had always been loyal to him, and he knew how unusual it was for an elf to be so loyal to a man. He clasped his friends hand and smiled at him. "Thankyou friend." He sighed and tried to revive the conversation. "Anyway Melost, how goes your life? Found a pretty elf maid?" He teased.

[ March 19, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

[Cuthalion]

Melost glanced up at his friend and smiled. "Ah! Now there you touch upon a subject very close to my heart. She is a beauty of surpassing loveliness and wit. I fear you shall be jealous for I have never seen a woman of your race to rival her. Though tis true that at times she has the tongue of a viper!" He shook his head. "We have been betrothed for many years, yet my service to my lord has kept me from her. In Imladris you will have the privilege of meeting her, for she is in Lord Elrond's care. Beware her charm! She is most cunning, yet I cannot help but love her."


He opened the front of his tunic and held up a stone that hung from a gold chain. Arthain took it in his hand, turning it this way and that as it caught the fire-light. "Beautiful! What is it?" Melost returned it to its place with a sigh. "This was given me by her at our last meeting. She bade me return it to her as soon as I could, on our wedding night." He rubbed his hands together as the night grew chill. "Should we survive this war, will you stand with me when we marry? We do not have formal ceremonies as you do, but I would consider it an honour."

[ March 21, 2003: Message edited by: Cuthalion ]

[Mattius]

Thelian stood upon the south wall looking south east and thinking upon how far away Sauron was, sat on his throne breeding his hideous orcs in the bowels of Mordor. He feared Sauron, above all he feared him but was prepared to risk his immortal life to defeat him, and that was the true courage of Thelian. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder amongst his thoughts of the dark enemy and his armies and spun around half preparing to fight. Dorlas saw the unfriendly look in the elf's eye and backed away a little.

"I am sorry Dorlas," he said truthfully, "I did not mean to startle you, I have just been thinking on the enemy." Dorlas nodded at him understandably.

"Believe me Thelian, you are not the only one who fears what we must do- but it must be done. If we do not have an ultimate victory then Sauron may one day rise again and it will be our future people who will suffer and I would rather die trying than see that happen."

"Indeed," Thelian replied, surprised that Dorlas was so deep and knowledable- he was afterall, a man. Perhaps he was wrong about the race of men. Thelain was untrustful of them but those of Numenorian blood were more akin to elves than any other men were. He looked at Dorlas, his young face already grim and ready for war, his black hair blowing in the southwardly wind. Dorlas caught Thelian searching his face and smiled.

"I have heard that the elves can find out more about a man by looking at his face," Dorlas said, "than they can with ten questions!"

"Perhaps it is true," Thelian replied, "but a look into the eyes of a man can be worth twenty at least!" Dorlas laughed again as the chilly southward wind rose again. "Come," he shivered, "let us find a fire dear Dorlas and warm ourselves up a bit." The two of them made their way back to the main encampment. "Tell me, do you have a family?"

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Dorlas considered Thelian's question carefully before answering, something that the squire rarely did. No, his family and past were no secret and were thought about often. Dorlas just wasn't asked about his family much. He became satisfied with an answer as he and Thelian neared a large fire.

"Yes. I have family still, unlike many in these times. My father was the one who sent me with Arthain. My brothers are studying the lore of your kind, in Rivendell. Hopefully, I'll get to see them when we get there. My sisters are part of a traveling music company. That's it," Dorlas finished with a smile. How he missed his family!

Coming to a large grouping of men and elves, the two were offered some food and drink, and they sat near the fire. It blazed and cackled against the cold, bitter air. Into the sky rose smoke that billowed into clouds as ashes were flung into the air.

"What of you, Thelian? Why are you here? What brought you into this mess left by the deciever that we must clean up?" Dorlas asked Thelian as the two walked closer to the fire.

[ March 23, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Should we survive this war, will you stand with me when we marry? We do not have formal ceremonies as you do, but I would consider it an honour."

Arthains eyes widened and he smiled and gave a small laugh, almost surprised. His gaze went from the stone to the elfs face then his tongue returned. "Twould be an honour, Melost my friend. And honour. And I shall look forward to meeting this cunning and beautiful wife of yours. See if I can steal her off you, eh?" He grinned mischieviously as he added the last part. Melost feigned horror before grinning also and patting his friend on the back.

"Thankyou, Arthain. Thankyou."

"The pleasure is all mine Melost, I promise you." He looked up, hearing a familiar voice in conversation. "Oh, hello. Looks like my squire has made the aquaintance of Thelian. Shall we join them, friend?"

[ March 24, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

[Mattius]

Thelian smiled, placed his hands behind his head and sighed deeply.

"My story is a lonely one I am afraid to say. I am an orphan, I have never known what happened to my parents- I assume they have passed away." He looked up at Dorlas who had a sad expression on his young face.

"That is a sombre beginning to your tale," he said. Thelian nodded as he looked into the fire. He began to talk soon after.

"I was adopted by a young elf who brought me up till I was but a century old and then he also was killed and I was forced to wander this harsh world alone, surviving as I could." He was silent for a good few moments thinking about the hard times, and the terrible times. Thelian looked over to the next fire a few feet away,

"Shall we join them, friend?"

It was Melost's human companion. After seeing Melost he turned to Dorlas again smiling.

"But then I met a great warrior of might and mind whom I would follow through thick and thin and now to this place," said Thelian. Dorlas looked over at the elf Arthain was talking to and saw that they were making their way over to them.

[Cuthalion]

Melost greeted Thelian with a clap on the back, then nodded to the young warrior sitting across from him. Arthain shoved Dorlas over and claimed a warm spot by the fire. He cast a sharp glance at Dorlas, then winked conspiratorially at Melost. "It seems that Thelian has picked up some trouble in the form of my young squire here!" He reached across and clasped hands with thelian. "Good to see that you're still with him, Thelian. We both know how bad his aim is."

Thelian arched an eyebrow at Arthain, then looked to Melost who rolled his eyes. "My aim with my bow is as poor as your eye is in picking out a comely wench, which is to say they are both excellent." Melost then looked at Dorlas speculatively. "Your master is remiss, young one. What is your name? From whence have you travelled?" As he asked these questions his heart went out to this young man. Would survive this campaign, or would he, like so many before him, end his life far from home on a bloody battlefield?

Thelian sensed his kinsman's mood darken and looked at him in concern. He knew of Melost's preoccupation with death and he knew also that it was his greatest fear.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Arthain sensed the sudden darkening of Melosts mood once more, and saw Thelians glance towards him, saw the elves eyes meet. Melosts moods now seemed as changeable as the weather. He wondered why; Melost always seemed so pleased with life, so happy, so filled with satisfaction. Maybe that was the problem... Elves said of men that they were cowardly, that the strength that ran in their veins was weaker than that of the immortals themselves, but was it possible that they feared death more than men? Men lived short lives compared to the elves, like dragonflys lives to those of men. They knew death would come, after so many years, knew that their bodies would grow old and weak, that their minds would fail and they would return to dust. But elves would never get old, their bodies would remain as youthful as they wishes for generations of men, their minds sharp. They stayed young, the immortal elves, and so, in a way, they would die young when they fell. So even the elves had a fear; the fear of death itself.

Arthain shook himself out of his reverie, returning to the conversation where his young squire had already introduced himself. Dorlas was eager, keen and ready to learn. Aye, and young. Too young for this. Too young for a death on the battlefield...

He inspected the sky critically. The weather was still damp but the rain was still keeping away. He stood with a sigh, but not one too melancholy; he didnt wish for Melost to wonder about his fears. "Come friends, we should get going towards Rivendell while the rain stays away. No doubt we will be leaving soon enough, but maybe not soon enough for Melost; he has even more reason to get there than us, I think, what with the lovely lady waiting for there." He winked at his friend and offered a hand to him. As he was pulled to his feet, Melost pulled back on Arthains hand, making him stumble forward slightly to the laughter of all, including Dorlas. At this, Arthain jumped on Dorlas, getting the boy in a headlock and ruffling his dark hair. For a few moments, it was as if their troubles didnt exist, or their ages or races. Dorlas struggled free of Arthain, joining in the laughter, and good spirits remained with them.

[ March 25, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

[Daniel Telcontar]

The soldiers had camped, and Gil-galad sat in his tent. The sun was warm, and those of his men that had finished their chores, sat enjoying the weather. Gil-galad longed back to those days when he was still a youth, enjoying the beaches of Falas.

But he had responsibility, and matters to attend to. He needed to discuss the recent news that he had received with Isildur; that Sauron had returned, and not died in the Downfall. Once again his orcs filled the land of Mordor, and had already waged war on Gondor.

But before making rash decisions, he needed some answers and sat down by a table. His servant brought him pen and paper, and he wrote a letter. Then he thought of a trustworthy messenger. He remembered Melost, his kinsman, was also camped somewhere. He decided for some company.

He summoned one of the guards standing outside his tent:"Bring Melost to me, and his squire if he wishes, to have dinner with me tonight."
The guard bowed, and left.

Gil-galad leant back, and took a deep breath. He looked at his soldiers, a vast army of the finest elven troops. Here and there the sun was reflected by newly polished armour; He felt proud, knowing that all these men would follow him into death itself; but this feeling was soon replaced by a fear of what lay ahead. Gil-galad knew, that he was probably leading these men into death.

[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Arthain looked up as a messenger walked towards them into the ring of firelight and recognised him.

"Darthin! Come, sit and have a drink with us." He gestured to a place beside him, but the messenger declined with a regretful smile.

"No, Captain Arthain, I cant stay. I bring a message to Melost, kinsman of Gil-Galad."

"What does my Lord say?" Melost stood up at the mention of the elven leaders name and stepped forward, a few steps from the messenger. Darthin bowed slightly to the elf then delivered his message.

"Gil-Galad asks that you would join him for dinner, and invites your squire also, if he so wishes."

[Cuthalion]

Melost smiled and told the messenger that he and Arthain would be along directly. He then turned to Arthain. "My king is not very patient, my friend, therefore we had better join him soon. He will also have something pertinent to tell me regarding our movements if I know him, for he is not one to waste his time in idle conversation."

Arthain stretched out his arm and they clasped hands. "Be off with you then! Dorlas and I will see if we can sleep before we get the order to break camp." He pulled Melost aside, "Will we see you before then?" Melost spoke briefly to Thelian, bidding him prepare to present himself to the King. Thelian nodded, grinned at Dorlas and left. "I will be sure to speak with you before we march. Sleep well!"

Melost strode away into the darkness to make himself presentable to his Lord and kinsman. He respected no one more than Gil-galad and he had determined that if he must die, it would be in his King's service. He shook his head, trying to escape his dark mood. He thought of his betrothed. How was she and did she still begrudge the fact that they had not wed before he had had to leave?

He drew back the flap on his tent to find Thelian waiting for him, whetting his sword. Melost squeezed his shoulder as he passed by, then stripped out of his tunic and hose after finding a pitcher of water and a cloth waiting for him. As he cleansed the grime of the road from his body he thanked the Valar for Thelian's presence. They balanced each other well in combat and he had come to depend on the younger Elf to watch his back in all situations.

Melost dragged on fresh clothes and threw his best cloak around his shoulders. "Come! We would do well not to keep our lord waiting."

[Daniel Telcontar]

Gil-galad looked up as Darthin presented Melost and his squire to him. When Melost saw the empty table, he knew that the dinner invitation was just an excuse. The King had another mission for him. He sighed, and hoped dearly that it would not delay his return to Rivendell. Gil-galad graciously allowed them to sit, and fruit was put on the table. Gil-galad beckoned to them to take, and Thelian took an apple, but Melost did not. He tried not to look at his lord while waiting for him to speak.

Gil-galad studied Melost's face long. Melost was an expert at hiding his feelings, but Gil-galad noticed that his eyes looked back and forth, without patience. Apparently he was waiting for something.
"Melost, I have a task for you. Isildur is coming, and we will meet him in Rivendell. Yet I wish to know before that meeting some information. Therefore, take this letter and bring it to Isildur, and get his reply and return here swiftly."

Darthin gave Melost a message, which he sat with long and watched. He was relieved that it was nothing requiring longer time, and when his mind accepted the fact he raised himself slowly. He then bowed, and was going to leave but his eyes finally met Gil-galad's. The king's gaze pierced his soul through his eyes, and revealed his thoughts. Before he allowed Melost to leave, he gave him a final instruction, although he did not remove his eyes from Melost's.

"I doubt there is any servants of the enemy nearby, but if there is risk of capture, memorize it and destroy the letter. Should you have no ways to escape capture, kill yourself so they cannot extract the content of the message from you. I do not wish for the enemy to know of our presence here yet."

Melost did not say anything at these orders; during the war 1300 years ago, he had often acted as a messenger from Lindon to Rivendell, and had to travel through enemy-held territories. Thelian could not help to gasp, though, and when Melost left the tent Thelian followed quickly, still looking a bit schocked.

Gil-galad rose and watched them as they dissappeared between the many tents. Thelian was surprised at the last order he had given Melost; another one of his soldiers, who was not ready yet to die, Gil-galad thought to himself, not without a sense of bitterness.

[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]

[Cuthalion]

Melost reached forward and took some bread and cheese. "My lord, long it has been since we sat at table like this. I thank you!" He raised a goblet in salute to Gil-galad, who merely nodded in return. Melost sat back, wondering what was running through Gil-galad's mind. His kinsman had always been one to keep his own council, but now, with so great a battle looming on the horizon, he had become positively grim. Melost looked at Thelian askance, knowing that he was also weighing what Gil-galad had said. The enemy here? Unlikely, yet stranger things had happened.

As he drank, Melost's thoughts began to wander as Thelian engaged Gil-galad in light banter. He thought of his beloved and how he could not wait to run his fingers through her raven hair once again. He recalled their last parting and how bitter it had been. He regretted leaving her, but he knew that no matter what, Sauron had to be defeated. She had not understood and so he had left her, standing proudly, unbending. And he had watched as she turned away and did not look back.

His hand strayed to the stone that lay next to his heart. "I will return to you, my love, if only for a short time. My thoughts are ever with you!" He shook himself from his reverie and stood. "My lord, by your leave, Thelian and I will leave this night. With any luck we will return shortly after day-break." Gil-galad stood and clasped hands with Melost. "The Valar go with you, cousin." They both bowed and left the pavilion in search of their horses, talking quietly of the road ahead.

[ April 01, 2003: Message edited by: Cuthalion ]

[Maikadilwen]

Back in Imladris, Anwanelme was sitting alone in a quiet room, reading. It was something she had become very fond of doing, both to be alone with her thoughts, but also in order to escape her mother's nagging. She meant it well, she knew that but although she loved her mother, Anwanelme was tired of having her tell her what to do.

With a sigh she rose and paced a little, then stopped to look up at the night-sky where the stars were shining brightly. She loved the stars and her thoughts drifted, memories of times past sweeping over her. She remembered walking with Melost in the moonlight and the beginning of a smile played on her lips.

But he had left her!
Abruptly she turned away and threw the book she had been reading on a nearby table.
He had preferred the war over her and even postponed their wedding, leaving her behind to stay here with her mother.
It had been a long time since she had really been thinking about him, she realised that now, but she shrugged off what little guilt she might have. She didn't even know where he was and besides, she had other things to think about.
Her mother had been the one who talked her into being betrothed to Melost but soon she had gratefully accepted, hoping that he would be the one to take her away from her mother.
But here she was, still without a husband, having to listen to her mother's "advice".

Turning, she stood for a while, gazing out into the darkness. She heard someone coming and sighed when she recognised her mother's steps but she didn't move to greet her.
"What do you want, mother?" she said, her voice calm and cold.

[ April 02, 2003: Message edited by: Maikadilwen ]

[ April 03, 2003: Message edited by: Maikadilwen ]

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

As Dorlas left the company, he could only wonder about the future, if there was one. Not to be pessimistic, but he didn't see too much hope against such a powerful force. Yet Dorlas would still fight. Why? He'd fight for something he believed in: A better life for others, and treating a neighbor as you would yourself. For, in the end, was not this war for those who came after the men who would perish? Doing such a big favor and giving such a wondrous gift to those lucky enough to live into another age would cost many lives. It would be worth it though, and Dorlas kept this thought fresh.

Returning to a small hill, Dorlas let the wind whip at his hair and light cloak. Arthain had went to find rest. Dorlas would not find any, he knew, for now it was like finding a needle in a haystack. Dorlas was too carefree! He had felt the need, as the great progress neared their fate, to let all the things that had bothered him before drop. That way, should he meet his end, he'd be unafraid and ready to say "well met".

Yes, Dorlas did fear death at the time. Who didn't, when they had a family and a life to leave or return to? But Dorlas, unlike some, thought he was ready for anything at that point.

And what a grand world it is! Thought Dorlas, as the chill air wrapped about him like his own cloud. Such a grand world it is, where small boys understand the tactics of war.

What the boy did not realize, however, was that to die so young would not just be to die; it would be to lose such a large part of life.

[ April 02, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelya quietly entered the room. She saw her daughter had been reading, but now stood by the window. Her daughter only gave a slight nod of recognition as she walked into the room, her back still turned. She sighed, debating whether she truly wanted to deal with her daughter at this time. She finally decided that, if she did not speak with the girl now, it would only be that much harder in the future.

"Daughter," she said quietly, "I did not see you at all today. What were you doing?"

"I was reading," Anwaelme said, not turning from the window, "I might ask the same question of you, Mother."

Menelya had been around most of Imladris, in truth, so it was impossible that, if Anwaelme had strayed from her room at all, she would not have been informed of where her daughter went.

"I had errands," Menelya said, "I traversed most of Imladris. You, however, did not leave your room at all, so it seems."

Menelya was not completely sure of this as an absolute truth, but she wanted to see how her daughter reacted. If Anwaelme showed any emotion towards her, loving or otherwise, it would be an improvement to this cold, monotonous voice that her daughter had taken on with her. Ever since her betrothed left.

Menelya often wondered if her daughter truly loved the Elf, but only feigned indifference to him because Menelya was the one, in fact, that pushed for the bethrothal. It seemed that the girl pined for the boy whilst he was in combat. Either that or she was trying to get as much freedom to herself until he returned and she would once again be bound to him.

Anwaelme would never tell Menelya how she felt. Menelya knew that Anwaelme did not trust her. Menelya, however, only did what she thought was best for her daughter...or so she though. Sometimes Menelya wondered if her intentions truly were not, in fact, of the most benevolent nature, but were, in truth, a greed for power. Menelya shook off these thoughts - and accusations by her daughter - by assuring herself that she did not want the power. The power was all for Anwaelme, to give her a better life.

"Is that all, Menelya?" Anwaelme said, coldly referring to her mother by her name, rather than calling her Mother.

Menelya gave a start, realizing she had been standing there. She looked at Anwaelme, who had returned to her desk, and now sat, reading again. Menelya wondered, again, whether she should go on.

"Did you leave this room?" Menelya finally asked.

"Of course, Mother," Anwaelme said, coldly. Menelya could still tell, however, that the girl was being truthful.

"Well..." Menelya faltered, "I think you should get out more. It is not good to be inside too much. You will wither without the sun and joy of the outdoors."

Menelya knew that Anwaelme no longer believed this tale, but she just could think of nothing else to say. She moved over to the door and left Anwaelme to her peace.

*****

Once in her room, Menelya looked briefly out the window, thinking of her long-dead husband. Had she been happy with him? Menelya did not really know...

Menelya sighed, breaking once again, some time later, out of her thoughts. She crossed to the candles dimly lighting her room, blew them out, and climbed into bed, preparing for a night's rest.

[ April 03, 2003: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]

[Mattius]

Thelian left Gil-galad's company bowing low before his exit.

"Good-evening my Lord," he had said appropriately before the High King had nodded to him. As he pushed back the canvas door way he slipped his hand into his pocket and brought out a green apple.

"High King he may be, but he didn't see me swip this fruit!" Said Thelian to Melost. Melost smiled at his squire knowing that it was a certainty Gil-galad had seen him.

"It seems so!" Melost humoured him before departing from his company to find some place to think in private.

Back in his chair Gil-galad smiled inside thinking of how Thelian had believed he had took an apple without him noticing.

The chilly wind was beginning to pick up as Thelian wandered around the camp looking for a friendly face to talk to. For some reason the young boy Dorlas came into mind, he may be feeling lonely what with him being but sixteen. The majority of the soldiers were at least in their twenties. The elf asked around and it wasn't long before a soldier pointed up towards one on the high points of the camp. With his keen eyes Thelian could just about make out Dorlas against the night sky, hudled in his cloak and staring out onto the wild.

In silence Thelian climbed the steps and sat himself beside the boy. It was a few minutes before Dorlas noticed the elf sitting there, gazing silently onto the stars.

"A beautiful night," Dorlas began as he looked upwards.

"It is indeed, I have seen many like this but I seem to be appriciating the night sky more and more." Thelian paused and looked at Dorlas who turned to him. "I believe it is because I fear they may be my last few..." the elf trailed off. Dorlas looked back up to the stars, somehow feeling not as alone. Thelian was scared of death too, Dorlas had always believed that elves wouldn't fear death. The other soldiers hid their fear and Dorlas felt alone. To know that someone else harboured the same thoughts picked up his spirits.

"A beautiful night indeed..." Thelian echoed as he tossed Dorlas an apple who smiled in return.

[ April 06, 2003: Message edited by: Mattius ]

[Cuthalion]

Arthain was snoring loudly, when suddenly he felt someone nudge his shoulder. His eyes flew open as his hand closed around the dagger at his side. He looked up to see Melost laughing silently, and he growled, "Have you lost your mind? What are you doing here?" Melost crouched down beside him. "Not quite the greeting I expected! I have been given an errand on behalf of our lords and my king has given me leave to choose a companion to ride with us. Interested? Or shall I look elsewhere for a guard?" In an instant, Arthain was on his feet. "You wouldn't dare!" he said, pulling on his clothes. "Dorlas! Where is that useless squire of mine?" Melost retreated outside the tent while Arthain made ready and went in search of his horse.

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Or shall I look elsewhere for a guard?"

Arthains eyes snapped back open immediately and he spun quickly, jumping out of bed to face his friend, and stubbing his toe as he did so. He winced then turned back to Melost. "You wouldnt dare!"

The elf laughed, stepping back out of the tent. Arthain glared at him, continuing to pull on his clothes. He did up his shirt and pulled on his tunic quickly, before starting to look around for his armour.

"Dorlas!" He called, as loud as he could without wakening the rest of the camp. "Where is that useless squire of mine? Dorlas, wheres my armour!?"

He flung aside the flap adjoining his tent and his squire's and raised an eyebrow, seeing his squire snoring away. He went right up close, until he was behind the boys head, then spoke right into his ear. "Dorlas!"

The boy shot up immediately, scrambling out of bed sleepily. "Im up, Im up, Im-" he stopped, turning and looking at Arthain. "Arthain? Why..."

"The elven Lord Gil-Galad has asked Melost to take a message for him. Now it may be that elves never sleep, for Melost has certainyl chosen the most awkward hour to ask me to accompany him."

"Accompany him? And as for me?" Arthain could hear the excitement in the boys voice and smiled.

"Aye, youre coming with us. Provided I can find my flaming armour- where've you put it? And my sword."

Dorlas pulled on his clothes and they quickly prepared. Barely five minutes later they were outside and ready. Arthain grinned to himself- so much for Melost, trying to catch him off guard in the middle of the night! Muttering dark things about the inconsideration of the Melost, elves and the world in general, he went to find his horse.

As he tacked the stallion up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and he threw on the saddle and made him ready, he yawned widely, not able to restrain it any longer.

"Tired Arthain? Not the worlds greatest riser, hmm?"

The soldier whirled around at the mocking familiarity of Melosts voice and saw him leaning against the door, loaded saddle packs draped over one arm. Arthain glared at him again, but once more, then elf only grinned. Arthain raised one eyebrow at him, then, rather grudgingly, not able to stay anygry, he smiled slightly back. Melost breathed a sigh of relief. "Phew! At last, I am assured that this is my friend Arthain, not just some wild faced barbarian warrior who had killed him and was lying in wait for me in his tent!"

Arthain took the offered saddle bags, attaching them deftly to his horses saddle. In a smooth motion he mounted and turned the stallion easily. "Maybe a barbarian indeed, when woken by an unsleeping, inconsiderate elf, masquerading as the noble Melost, at this ungodly hour. And as to where the noble Melost is, I have yet to find out."

"Oh, you wound me Arthain!" Melost fell back, retreating outside, and the man followed, rolling his eyes. Once outside, he found the sleepy eyed Dorlas, Thelian and the fresh faced Melost already mounted. Nodding at them all, the group set off under the caver of the velvet blanket of the night.

[ April 06, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

[Daniel Telcontar]

Gil-galad stood at his tent, looking after Melost and his squire as they left. It was still early morning, and he could feel the chill in the morning, the sun had not yet risen. Around him, the troops were awaking to a new day, some already busy with whatever duties they had.

Gil-galad paid little attention to them; his eyes followed the riders whom he had sent. He knew that Melost was reluctant to go, and he could identify with that feeling.

Right now he wished for nothing else to be back in Lindon. He could see the sun rising slowly above the Misty mountains. On such a day he might have gone out hunting.

But such was not be his fate. He had no choice but to face the threat to his people. And that had required of him to travel to Imladris. Duty was sometimes a heavy burden, yet a great relief to fulfill.

[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]

[Mattius]

For the opening part of their journey the only sound Thelian could hear over the hooves of the horses was the occasional yawn of Arthain, but mainly they belonged to Dorlas. At one point Thelian was so sure the young squire would fall asleep a top his war-horse that he was ready to attempt a dangerous mid-air catch. Fortunatly a rather large bump on the ground jerked him back to full conciousness. The boy looked over at Thelian who smiled back,

"You were almost there that time Dorlas!" The elf chuckled. The young man smiled back sardonically, which only added to Thelian's amusement.

"Here," he said riding closer to Dorlas and handing him something, "take a bite of this, it will wake you up a bit." Dorlas looked down at the lembas and broke a piece off.

"We wouldn't want you dying of a broken neck miles away from the battlefield would we!"

Dorlas ate the elvish way-bread and indeed did feel himself waken up an amazing degree.

"This is amazing Thelian," spoke Dorlas, "it tastes like nothing I have ever had before, if we eat this all the way to Mordor I will indeed be happy!"

"Thats what you say now Dorlas, the lembas loses its edge after several hundred bites of nothing else."

"Still," Dorlas sighed, "beats stale bread and stone hard buscuits."

[Cuthalion]

Melost grinned at Thelian then nudged Arthain. "Look at them. Amazing, isn't it? I've never known Thelain to get close to anyone. Your squire is an exceptional young man to attract his attention thus." Arthain rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced at the two of them, deep in some mutually interesting topic.

"I remember when we first met, Melost. You'll never understand what meeting one of your kind for the first time is like." His eyes became distant as he recalled that time, many years ago. Melost raised an eyebrow. "You flatter me, my friend. Both our races are creations of Iluvatar, both loved by the Valar. In a way, that makes us brothers after a fashion?"

Arthain looked askance at him, somehow grateful for the comparison. "Come, Melost. The sun rises!" A wicked look crossed his face. "Isildur's camp...I'll race you!" With a blood-curdling war-cry, he urged his horse into a gallop. Thelian and Melost exchanged glances, then raced after him across the open plain.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

The lembas had indeed done some good in Dorlas, for now his eyes were at least half-open, not closed. Dorlas felt he could live on lembas, if he had to. It certainly did beat the stale, tough bread, the jerkey, and the sour wine the men were usually given in the hard times of war.

"Even if Lembas does not wake one up fully, I'm glad you are there to catch me, good Thelian!" Dorlas commented as Arthain and Melost spoke in front of the two.

Before Dorlas could say any more, a bone-chilling cry filled the dawn-drenched valley. Turning to the noise, Dorlas watched as Arthain bolted towards the horizon quick as lightning. After a brief pause, Thelian and Melost followed the speeding human.

"Hey! Wait for me!" Dorlas called, but was ignored. Bidding his horse to a run, Dorlas followed the two Elves. He caught up to them after a while, and over a hill they went, following Arthain. Straight over the hill was a large army of men. It was Isildur's company.

"Whoa!" Dorlas cried, and pointed to the great mass of dark heads. He almost fell off his running horse with a jolt, but Thelian the graceful caught the boy before he made jelly of his head. "Thanks!"

Arthain was last seen riding into the camp of Men, and the three remaining friends were right behind him.

"These guys are lucky to be setting their eyes upon the Elven kind." Dorlas spoke, as several men looked up from their duties to stare in wonder at the Elves.

"They will see more soon enough, and I'm sure they will stare more to see so many of my kind. Only awe can come from the sight of a marching Elven army." Thelian assured Dorlas, and the boy nodded.

"Now where did that troublesome Arthain go?" Melost wondered aloud.

[ April 07, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[VanimaEdhel]

Menelya awoke with a start. The sun shone through her window and across her bed. The Elf sat up, already forgetting why she awoke with such violence. It was probably just a bad dream.

Menelya arose and pulled a gown from the closet. She pulled it over her still-slim frame and opened the door of her room into the hallway. She quietly slipped out and made her way to breakfast.

Imladris was its usual self, Menelya saw on the way to breakfast. There was a small amount of bustle, but a gentle calm still held over the haven. It was one of the most beautiful places Menelya had lived, she thought.

Anwaelme was already sitting at the table. The two nodded to each other, and Menelya sat at the table, silently reaching for some food.

The two ate in awkward silence. Finally, Menelya could no longer take the deadly quiet. She tried to make conversation.

"I trust you rested well, dear daughter?" she asked the cold form of Anwaelme at the other side of the table. Her voice had an equal chill to it.

"Yes, Menelya," Anwaelme said, still with a cold tone in her voice.

Menelya ignored the tone and continued, "What do you plan to do on this day?"

"Mother," Anwaelme finally said, after a pause, "I do not tell you my plans only because I do not want you with me. I only want to be alone." She kept her voice quiet and cool, "Please, Mother, if you love me, you will leave me alone for this day."

Menelya's blood boiled and she felt a flush come over her. She took a breath, trying to steady her temper, but it was to no avail.

"Anwaelme, I expect more respect from you! I am your mother, and you deserve to treat me with more reverance than you do!"

"Why should I, Mother, when you do nothing to earn that respect?" Anwaelme countered, still keeping her cool. Menelya jumped out of her chair, knocking it backwards in her rage.

"You will respect me, Daughter," she said, pulling her voice back down to a low hiss, "For what I have been through for you...for your survival...I deserve your attention."

Anwaelme looked up at Menelya coldly. "You will have respect on my part when you deserve it. Before then, it would be best for you not to push, Mother. It would be the wisest choice, I believe."

Menelya felt that, if the fight went on much longer, she would most likely strike out at her daughter, so she quietly took her leave. People stared at her on the way back to her room, obviously hearing the brief display, but Menelya payed them no attention.

A while later she heard Anwaelme return, then leave again. Menelya put her book down, went to her door, and silently left, following Anwaelme, always remaining a bit behind her...

[ April 13, 2003: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]

[Daniel Telcontar]

Isildur stood in front of his tent, looking at his army who was awakening. Thousands of númenorians, men of Gondor, standing tall with their armour and weapons ready. He looked around with an approving look, everything seemed in order. The tired guards were replaced, and all around him his soldiers prepared for the next march.

Suddenly, one of his servants came running.
"Mylord, elven messengers have arrived. I believe they are sent by his lordship Gil-galad."

Isildur lifted one brow. It seemed that his father had been lucky in his dealings with the elvenking. To be frank, he had not honestly believed that Gil-galad would respond to Elendil's plea of help. What was Gondor, and what was Númenor, that the "powerful" and mighty elves would aid them? Could they not handle it on their own?

"Show them into my tent", he said and walking back. He could feel a bad mood coming, and he had little doubt why. He was looking forward at meeting these elves, and find out who they really were.

[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]

[Cuthalion]

Melost was amused at the stares he and Thelain drew as they rode in to camp hard on the heels of Arthain. He dismounted and followed Arthain into the tent. Thelian and Dorlas waited outside, while inside Arthain presented Melost to his captain.

"My lord, this is Melost, the Elven high king's messenger and close kinsman. Melost, Lord Isildur." Melost stepped forward and bowed his head in respect as he presented a sealed scroll to Isildur. Isildur moved away from the table as he slowly unrolled the missive. He quickly scanned the contents, then turned back to them. "Arthain, we are to meet with Gil-Galad's army as they move toward Imladris. They will lead us in." He looked at Melost appraisingly. "The high king's kinsman, eh? Does that earn you preferential treatment?" Melost's back stiffened as he replied. "Nay, lord. It never has."

Arthain moved forward quickly, aware of Melost's temper. "My lord, I ask leave to return with my squire to the camp of Gil-Galad with Melost. I was chosen to act as his guard, after all." Isildur looked up, then nodded assent. "Re-join us at Imladris." He then dismissed them and they left, eager to be away.

[Mattius]

Thelian was aware of the curious looks of Isildur's men as he stood talking to Dorlas.

"These are sturdy men Dorlas, tell me, do you know any of them?" The elf asked. Dorlas looked around him.

"Aye there are a few who hail from where I came." He looked around again. "And yes they are sturdy. With the armies of the elves we will indeed by a powerful force." Thelian nodded but thought of all the orcs, trolls and wargs that would stand in the way of them and victory. And of course there was always Sauron too.

"Aye," he agreed. "What sort of man is Isildur, have you ever met him Dorlas?" Thelian asked changing the subject.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Dorlas shrugged. "I've seen him, never spoken to the man though. Isildur doesn't seem the kind of man I'd want to make friends with. Isildur is different then the honorable warriors of my home."

Thelian nodded as Melost and Arthain returned from Isildur's tent. The two spoke to each other, and their squires followed some distance behind them.

"Who do you suppose shall win this war for Middle-Earth?" Dorlas asked Thelian, and the Elf looked at the boy.

"It doesn't quite matter. Even if the Elves and Men defeat the Dark Lord's forces, there will always be evil in Middle-Earth," was Thelian's well-thought reply.

The four made ready to get back to the troops of Gil-Galad, while the anxious hurry of every soldier did not make for calm among the troops.

[ April 10, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Does that earn you preferencial treatment?"

Arthain mentally winced as Isildur spoke. He was more loyal than most to the cause and to his king, but by the Gods, he was arrogant!

"Nay, lord, it never has." Melost's reply was icy, but Arthain knew that he was burning inside. Noting this danger sign and the way the elf's back stiffened, his hand moving slightly closer to his sword, he stepped in between them, almost screening Melost, and hoping to screen completely his anger.

"My lord, I ask leave tp return with my squire to the camp of Gil-Galad with Melost. I was chosen to act as his guard, after all." He smiled at the king, putting a slight, but noticeable stress on 'his', showing that it was not the elf that was tagging along here. Isildur looked up from the letter which he was studying more closely for details now and nodded distractedly, dismissing them. Arthain bowed and left as quickly as he could without being rude, with Melost close behind him.

"The high king's kinsman, eh? Does that earn you preferential treatment?" Melost mimicked Isildur's words in a high voice, then dropped back to his own. "He was mocking me Arthain, I know it."

Arthain sighed, keeping his eyes on the road in front of them between his horses ears. "He was not mocking you, friend."

"He was mocking me Arthain. I will not be mocked, especially not be a-" The elf cut himself off sharply. He glanced quickly at Arthain, then looked away, back to the road. Arthain stared at him incredulously as the words he no doubt would have said lay between them like a naked sword. "Especially not be a Man."

"So, I will be glad to get back to Imladris, Arthain." Melost's voice was overly cheerful now, but he noted Arthains silence and now it was his turn to sigh. "Arthain, I did not mean it, you know I wouldnt have said it, and you certainly should know I wouldnt have meant it even if I had-"

"Said what? I wasnt aware you would say anything." Now Arthain's voice contained all the ice Melost's had in front of the human king. "Youre keen to get back to Imladris? Then lets go."

He immediately urged his horse into a fast trot, then a gallop, glad to feel the refreshing breeze on his face, blowing back his hair and his horse's mane, clearing such troublesome thoughts away partly. But not quite. He was confused; he knew Melost not to be like that, he had been his friend for so long, knew almost certainly that it had been his anger talking. But then, he didnt know many elves; would that be the nature of the reception he recieved at Imladris? But why should ancient disturbances and prejudices matter any more, especially when they were fighting on the same side? Why had it been those words that had risen to Melost's lips? With these confusing and disturbing thoughts, the group rode on to the camp, but even when they reached it, the hustle bustle and the comforting rush of the troops getting ready to move did nothing to soothe Arthains mind.

[Cuthalion]

Having called to Thelian to follow, Melost rode glumly back to camp. "How could I have said something so foolish?" he thought moodily. "He is my friend and in truth I do not think I truly feel the way I spoke. My irritation caused me to wound him, I will have to atone for my rash words." He watched as Arthain dismounted ahead of him, then vanished into the milling throng of men striking camp. He looked about for his friend but to no avail.

With a sigh he rode on toward Gil-Galad's tent in order to deliver Isildur's reply, hearing behind him Dorlas' voice raised in farewell to Thelian as he hurried to join Arthain. Rapid hoof-beats heralded the approach of his kinsman. Melost glanced at Thelian, who raised an eyebrow in question. "So? What has befallen, that you look so downcast?"

Having asked his question, Thelian rode in silence knowing that Melost tended to be secretive where his thoughts were concerned, therefore he was surprised to receive an answer so quickly. "I was a fool! I spoke before thinking and have offended Arthain. Our fellowship has been a close one, but now, with all this war entails, I had no desire to add to his burden. In time I will seek him out and we will talk."

[Mattius]

"Worry not," Thelian spoke to the downtrodden Melost. "I am sure that he is just as anxious as yourself to settle this." Melost looked away and into the camp, Gil-galad's tent was close by and the two elves dismounted. "This war is bigger than any dispute between man and elf, is that not why we plan to fight shoulder to shoulder?" Questioned Thelain. Melost nodded at him and smiled,
"You speak wise words old friend, and I thank you." While walking they looked to the sky which promised rain. They were at Gil-galad's tent and Thelian reached in front of Melost and opened the canvas door with a smile.
"Don't mention it," he smirked as he beckoned him to walk in. Melost gave him a hearty slap and strode into the room with Thelian following.

[Daniel Telcontar]

Gil-galad looked up as Melost and Thelian returned.
"What news from Isildur?" the elvenking asked. Melost gave the letter he had received from Isildur. Gil-galad read it quickly.

"It is as I feared. The war ahead of us will not be an easy one... But I can see on you, Melost, that something else happened at Isildur's camp. What?"

Melost swallowed, but said nothing. Gil-galad gave him an investigating look, but it yielded nothing. But Thelian's face was an open book, and Gil-galad guessed some of the truth. When Melost turned to walk out of the tent, Gil-galad's voice stopped him.
"I didn't dismiss you, Melost. I know you better than you think, and something happened at Isildur's camp that you won't tell me. What?"

Melost looked in the ground, not wishing to see Gil-galad's gaze, but said nothing.
"Melost, you will answer me. I cannot depend on you, if I cannot trust that you tell me everything. I need to know as much as possible, and you of all people should know better than to withold information from me."

[ June 14, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]

[Cuthalion]

Melost heaves a sigh and glanced at Thelian in apology. He clasped Thelain's shoulder. "Go, kinsman. See to the horses and I will re-join you shortly. Make ready, for it is sure that we will leave for Ilmadris quickly. Thelian smiled at him encouragingly, then he pulled aside the flap and departed, intent on other matters.

With trepidation melost turned to face his lord, who's frank gaze made it certain there would be no escape until he spoke. Gil-Galad gestured for him to sit and he dragged over a camp-stool from one corner of the tent. As he settled himself, Gil-Galad rse and poured a goblet of miruvor for him, then walked over, handed it to him, then leaned against the map-table as he looked down at his kinsman.

Melost smiled gratefully, then drank slowly, gathering his thoughts. "My lord...do not lose faith in me. It seems I have harmed my friend by speakingrashly, without thought. Isildur insulted me and I lashed out at Arthain. It was foolish of me. I regret it." Gil-Galad's brow furrowed. "That is not all Melost." he said, hoping to draw from him the true reason for his silence. Melost rose and stood with his back to Gil-Galad, then tossed down the rest of the goblet's contents. "As always my lord, I can hide nothing." He turned to Gil-Galad and spoke in a rush, "My lord, send Thelian and I on to Ilmadris in advance of the host. My betrothed awaits me and I...have put off for far too long being with her. She fills my mind as the stars fill the night sky. Give me a message, anything! Only allow me this." Gil-Galad raised an eyebrow, for he knew of the lady in question. "Is she so constant that she has waited for you these many long years? As I remember her, she was always will-ful and desirous of her own way." He saw then a cloud of anger brush Melosts's face, only to be quickly driven away. He held up his hand to fore-stall Melost's outburst. "Go,then. Bear to Elrond the message that we come in force, both Isildur and I and bid him prepare. Go!"

[Maikadilwen]

Anwanelme walked slowly through Imladris, taking her time, walking here and there without purpose or at least so it seemed to her mother.
The truth was another though and the purpose was simple. Anwanelme had felt her mother's presence immediately and knew she was following her but she pretended otherwise, wanting to lead her mother a merry chase before she would eventually give up following her.

This day of all days she needed to be alone and she certainly did not wish for her mother's company in any way. Had it not been for Menelya's "well-meant" interference with her life, everything would have been a lot different now. If only her father had still been alive....
Mostly she doubted that her mother had even loved him and she needed not seek councel in matters of love from someone who seemed so unable to love, herself.

It had been raining lightly all morning, but now the dark and heavy sky had opened itself as a waterfall and it was pouring down.
Anwanelme smiled and walked out into the open, into the rain. She knew her mother would never follow her here and a sigh of relief escaped her as she left her mother standing behind her.

It didn't take her long to reach the place she was heading for. A quiet corner with a wonderful view over the entire place.
This was where she had last spoken with Melost. It seemed so long ago now that she had turned from him in anger, leaving him standing here as she walked away without looking back.
He had taken her here to tell her that he had decided to join the host of Gil-Galad in the war against the Dark Lord and she had lost her temper.
Today it was yet another year since they had been betrothed and she was still alone and unmarried.

Her mood was as dark as the sky above her as she stood alone in the rain, wondering if her beloved would ever return to her.
The thought caused her to smirk. Beloved... Did she even love him? She could barely remember his face but did it even matter?
The last words she had heard him say had been a promise. The promise that when he came back he would wed her and do all in his power to make her happy.

But he still had not returned and until he did, her mother would treat her like a child.

[ April 27, 2003: Message edited by: Maikadilwen ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Arthain snapped the book he'd been attempting to read shut abruptly. He couldnt concentrate. He hated to fall out with Melost, but what the elf had said...

He sighed. No, he knew Melost wouldnt have meant it, knew it. But in his mind the words still spun around and around..."He was mocking me Arthain. I will not be mocked, especially not by a-"
By a man?

Surely that wasnt what Melost thought- of Isildur? Of all men? Of Arthain himself? But then, wasnt that always how elves had viewed men...always inferior...

Arthain pushed the disconcerting thought out of his head. Ridiculous idea, it was just the weather getting hum down probably, and the having to camp outside, that was all it was... Putting down the book he strode outside- and just in time apparently. Further away in the camp, he saw two figures, eleven from the graceful way they moved, checking their horses saddled and attached packs to the backs. Straining his eyes, he tried to make out the faces, and could barely believe his eyes as he recognised the pair. Hands over his head against the rain which had now decided to come down in buckets, he ran out towards the pair. The older of the two began to spur on his horse, but was stopped by the younger, who pointed in Arthain's direction. Thankyou Thelian.... Arthain grinned gratefully at the elven squire, before catching hold of Melost's horse's reins.

"Wait!"

"Arthain?" Melost seemed as surprised to see the man as Arthain had been to see Melost leaving. His voice contained a note of guilt. "What are you..?" He checked himself, and continued with a more business like tone. "We are going ahead of the host to Imladris, to announce the coming of Gil-Galad."

"Did you not plan to say goodbye?"

Melost's eyes didn't meet Arthain's. "We would no doubt see each other again at Imladris, Arthain."

"Nay, I think you shall be plently busy enough when you get there, Melost, as shall your betrothed." He chanced a grin at his friend, and Melost looked down in surprise, then, after a pause, smiled back.

"I am forgiven then?" He said softly. Arthain waved irritably at the air in a sharp movement, swatting away the words like flies.

"Ach, for what? I over reacted no doubt. Now, is this an exclusive ride out ahead, or can you bear to wait for a few minutes?"

Now Melost feigned irritation, holding out both hands and staring at the sky. "In this weather?! I will give you five minutes- you'd better hurry, Captain!"

Arthain nodded and smiled back at him before he turned back to his tent to get Dorlas. The boy wouldnt be happy to be summoned so quickly, but no doubt he would be less unhappy than he might have been, going to see the elves before the rest. Inside, Arthain breathed a sigh of relief, glad the air between himself and Melost was clear. If only his thoughts could so easily erase the badness.

"He was mocking me Arthain. I will not be mocked, especially not by a-"
By a man?