Private Tales For King and Country

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Cautiously, one of his hands reached out toward the little creature. He was unsure of how it would truly react, but the worst that could come is a bite - but only if he spooked it. The back of his fingers finally reached, and he gently ran calloused skin across its fur. He repeated that several times, thinking how relaxing it was. He'd never owned a pet, or animal companion, but he thought he could appreciate the allure.

"Perhaps we should go back and search..They might've, lost their way."
​
His eyes rose to join her in looking out toward the forest, and he considered her thoughts. There was little reason to assume the monsters were hindered at all by the light, but even if they weren't they'd not get the better of him so easily again, especially not in the light. And, if there were only the two of them on horseback, any conflict could be easily avoided.

He straightened his back, and replied, "perhaps we should."

Though he feared they may find something they did not want to see, at the very least it would serve to distract them for a short while from all the hardship they'd just endured.

 
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The vixen sized Faulkin up with dark brown eyes, her body lowering closer to the ground at the touch, but she accepted and quickly eased, front paws stepping up onto his leg as her face drew closer to his, her tail swishing merrily with the attention he paid her. The moment his attention was divided however, the little fox bristled and took umbrage, quickly scarpering back to Yvaine's lap to settle.

Yvaine hadn't expected the answer that Faulkin gave, her surprise no secret as her brow rose. "Oh.. Right." she nodded firmly and got herself to her feet, her arms pulling Juniper to her chest. She'd assumed he'd dismiss her suggestion, insist she remain where she'd be safe, or at least send someone else. Her lips curled in appreciation. The last thing she wanted to be to anyone was a burden, and she was clearly pleased that he'd accept her company at all.

She set the little fox down in the still rocking seat she'd vacated and the fox happily burrowed into the bundle of warm blankets. "Just let me change.." she cleared her throat, having fallen asleep in her mud and blood-stained clothes. Yvaine offered a somewhat shy smile before she disappeared back inside. It didn't take her too long to wash and dress, and when she returned to the porch she tossed him a skin of fresh water and an apple.

"Let's go."
 
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In the short time allowed for himself to get prepped, he went back to the wagon and grabbed another shirt to throw over him before harnessing his sword belt. He rifled through a few other things, took a final swig from the bottle he'd nursed all night, and then returned to the porch to meet her. She returned just a moment after him, and having almost forgotten her visage without the muck and grime of their trials, he nearly fumbled and dropped the items tossed to him.

Giving his head a mental shake, he turned his eyes up from his hands and nodded before taking a healthy bite out of his newly gifted fruit.


Covering ground was much easier with a smaller party - especially one of just two. Their horses, though likely tired still from yesterday, had much breath in them yet, and carried them without hesitation as quickly as they were demanded. But the road in through the wood was long, and winding, and within it their pace slowed. And even now in the light of day, as it was before in the night, the forests seemed darker, and malevolent, like their presence angered the very trees themselves, only they were unable to speak it.

Striding leisurely now, Faulkin turned and asked Yvaine, "how are you doing?"

It might have seemed like he meant the ride, but really he still wondered what she meant the other night - the warnings she mentioned, the fears she'd had, and how she could have ever known what they might have come across. But also, he felt concern over the toll of what she'd seen.

For in all his years by the sword, he thought that had to have been the most horrifying night of his life.

 
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Veres dwarfed her. The ebony friesian stood taller than most other horses, a steed fit for the burliest of soldiers, a war horse that would let none ride him but her, with whom he'd always been gentle. The thundering of hooves split the silence of the forest, wind whipped her hair back from her face, and for a brief moment her eyes closed and a smile broke the worriment on her face. Just for a short time, she forced the horrors from her mind, forgot about the inevitability of returning to Drennantor, erased the dead faces from her memory and ignored the whispers. For this breath of time she was entirely free of it all, with Faulkin, and she felt her soul breathe.

The deeper they wove into the thick of the forest however, Yvaine's skin tingled, and her paranoid mind played tricks, imaginingevery fallen tree or misshapen root to be moving and every plot of rustling thicket to have red eyes staring back at her. Her fingers tightened on her reins and her knuckles paled, the whispers creeping back into her mind as she focused on the winding ahead which seemed to contort and shrink into darkness. She gasped as Faulkin spoke however, and in a blink the road had returned to normal.

Yvaine pulled in a deep breath and let it slowly slip back through her lips as she considered his question and how to answer it, her brow furrowing gently as she shot him a half smirk.. "Have you ever come to a certain point in your life, when everything changes, and you know that even if you turn back and leave it behind that it won't ever be the same again?.." her head tilted.. "Like adding honey to tea.. It's just never going to taste as good without it, even though before you wouldn't have known any different." her lips pursed, and she looked at him and laughed as she heard herself.

"Sorry I... I suppose I'm just trying to make sense of everything in my head, and each time I find a tether of sense it unravels. Everything I thought I understood has been tipped on it's axis, and now everything from before seems to be clicking into place but I'm still missing so many pieces.. It's terrifying, but, I feel like I am where I'm supposed to be." she sighed and rubbed at her brow. "I should be careful what I wish for in future." she muttered to herself and offered him a soft smile.

"Thank you, for asking.." she bit down on her lip for a moment and returned her gaze to the path ahead. "Same question."
 
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Yvaine was not the only one to grow more uncertain as they rode deeper into the wood, but as a force of habit he did well to hide any concern from his face. It was his duty to stand defiantly and confidently in the face of adversity, and though often deep within there was turmoil and doubt, his ability to stifle these things had made him what he was. It drew men around him, and rallied their courage - and he knew this, he feared this. How many had he failed? How many had cursed his name on their final breath, having led them to their demise? He carried this, and kept it.

Her response made him think, and though he nodded along and listened, he found his mind drifting through echoes of the past. Her words ran like gentle waterfalls, trickling through and rousing his memory. Yes, he knew how she felt, how there were choices to be made that could not be undone - changes that would remain, scars that would never fade.

"...It's terrifying, but, I feel like I am where I'm supposed to be." she sighed and rubbed at her brow. "I should be careful what I wish for in future." she muttered to herself and offered him a soft smile.
​
A smile crept across his lips. He remembered being a young boy, training as a knight, and seeing Yvaine scurrying through the grand corridors and up and down wide stone staircases. And here they were now, and she shared with him things he could appreciate all too much. He too, despite the tragedy of all that he'd seen and done and felt, also knew he was where he was supposed to be - he was what he was supposed to be. The wish for honour and glory had been one of his since youth, and yea, at times, he too regretted it.

But some things can never be changed.

"I believe you are too," he replied with a comforting smile, "I believe you will understand in time. Things happen very quickly sometimes..."

"Same question."
​
A long breath left his nostrils, and he felt like his mind had ground to a sudden stop.

How am I?

In truth, he wasn't really sure, but he did know a few things with certainty, "I am fortunate, more so than many of my men... it is their plight which burdens me. I never could have imagined such creatures would attack us in these lands..." his gaze drifted out into the surround, and his mind wandered a bit, "I was once in line to become general, and appointed advisor to the King himself..." he started, his tone a little droll as he was certain she already knew, but the rest he was certain no one knew but he and those involved, "...this was many months ago now...my men and I were sent into the Falwood. The King had learned of a temple where a strange artifact was said to exist, one of untold value and power."

Another long breath escaped him, remembering, "Two contingents were sent. My men and I, and some of King's Guard, with captain - now general - Dalgarren himself," Faulkin's tone screamed of his distaste for the man, who many would say was a pretentious and impersonal sort. Faulkin's hands tightened around the reins in them, and a stroke of frustration flashed across his eyes, "when we arrived, we found there was a village of elves rooted around the temple, and they kept it and worshipped within..." he turned his head away, uncertain if he should continue - but he did, "captain Dalgarren had known of this, and told the King they would be exterminated... He approved."

He looked to Yvaine, "I could not allow it to happen. I placed my men and I against them, and nearly drew the blood of my own countrymen. Dalgarren withdrew, and informed the King of my treachery. I was imprisoned for several weeks, but... I suppose there are too few warriors who can lead as it is..."

His voice trailed off as another sound grew in the distance. The sound of approaching horse riders, coming up from the south. A flash of colour through the trees told Faulkin who drew near, and if she'd caught it Yvaine would know too.

The Kings Guard was approaching, yet to notice them.

Yvaine
 
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She remembered that smile. She'd watched it grow with him, from afar, usually. As each year passed the lines would deepen upon his face in memory of it, but he would grow more handsome still, as though his soul shone through his skin. Despite the horrors he'd faced and was no doubt yet to face again, his presence alone soothed her, but his smile comforted her with a steady warmth like a blanket drawn around her shoulders, and she leaned into it as she watched him visit his memories. The gentleness of his words drew a sigh from her lips, and her smile tilted with a slight dip of her chin in appreciation.

"I believe you are too," he replied with a comforting smile, "I believe you will understand in time. Things happen very quickly sometimes..."​

"I hope so.." she answered, her fingers daintily stroking Juniper's ears as the vixen nuzzled at her hand in a grumbled demand for attention. As she did so she listened, her face a soft frown of understanding as he spoke of his burden and heard the sorrow of it in his voice. She would've told him that he couldn't blame himself, that the men who had perished had did so with honour and bravery and that he wasn't to know what would befall them on this journey. But none of it would have mattered, and Yvaine hated nothing more than empty placations. Leaders were leaders for a reason, and he was good and decent and of course he would carry the burden; who was she to tell him otherwise?

She had known that Faulkin had once been due promotion, it was the topic of much gossip between herself and her handmaiden, Soraia. Though she recalled that her uncle had refused to divulge the reasoning behind his change of heart, and so she listened with added curiosity as Faulkin explained. Her eyes lit up slightly at the mention of Falwood and temples, but the excitement was short-lived as the mention of Dalgarren's name on it's own made Yvaine's skin crawl with revulsion. She had never understood her uncle's favour over the brutish man, or his trust for that matter, and in truth she had a suspicion that the man held some sort of bargaining chip. He'd been from a wealthy family, and Yvaine had feared that if failing to secure her a suitor from another kingdom that General Dalgarren might have been an even more loathsome alternative.

It was like the frustration radiated from the Captain, as though she could see it around him and feel it tangible in the air. But unlike her uncle's anger, or the General's for that matter, she didn't fear it. It pulled her toward him, contorted her face with concern, made her want to reach out and offer some modicum of comfort, but as his story rolled on she felt her expression pause with confusion as he looked at her.

Yvaine's lips parted to speak, but the words turned to stone in her chest and for a moment she forgot to breathe. Her gaze dropped from his face as she pulled back on Veres' reins, unable to move forward until she had stopped and processed. She swallowed a pain in her throat and finally met his gaze again, her own glassy as she felt her heart break in her chest.

She could still remember the day that her mother's heart broke. She could still recall the lamenting cries that had come from the woman's bedroom as Yvaine had stood outside the door only to be led away. "Your father won't be coming back, dear child.." her mother's handmaiden had told her. "He has left you. And there is nothing more to be said..Now... Keep those ears of yours covered."

"He.. Approved?" she asked in a breath, and as she blinked a tear spilled free to race down her rosy cheek and she stared at him incredulously. Her mother had taught her as much as she could about her father, about the elves and their forests, and she'd instilled an intrigue and longing in her from a young age. Her uncle had done everything in his power to snuff out her wonderment and as much as he'd seemed to care for her, she'd always known that her mother had brought him shame.

"Wh--" Why, she'd been about to ask in confusion. A naive question, of course, but one of a niece who didn't believe her uncle capable of such things, particularly when she, his own flesh and blood was half elven. Those were her people, in some regard, and he'd have butchered them for power. But the thundering of hooves caused her attention to snap to toward the approaching riders, a brief flash of relief in the hopes of seeing Tor, but she felt the colour drain from her face and wiped quickly at her tear as she realised that her time had run out.

"They've come to take me back.." she said, her voice quivering with panic. She'd known that the delay would have cost her the freedom she'd hoped to find, she'd already resigned herself to the fact that she would undoubtedly be returning to Drennantor. But things had changed so dramatically so quickly, and in the last few seconds alone she’d felt as though her life had been whipped out from underneath her like a dirty carpet and she'd landed face first in everything that had been swept underneath it.

Veres was backing up, Yvaine's terrified gaze searching, waiting for some path to reveal itself.. "I'm not going back." she decided resolutely and looked to Faulkin with a stubborn frown, and it was obvious that she intended on running.
 
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It had been a hard thing to say, to her of all people, but he could see quite plainly and as much as he'd expected - it was far more difficult a thing to be heard. He could imagine the confusion and grief such a reality could bring, for your own uncle to condemn innocent kin to death for such a frivolous thing - knowing full well the sanctity elves felt in their ancestry, almost inherently. He wished he could say something to comfort her, but the sound of the coming knights could not have been more startling, and even caused Faulkin to pause and panic for a moment, his eyes shooting left and right.

Then he turned and locked his eyes on her.

"I'm not going back."
​
He studied her a moment, and there he found himself in a precarious situation. With the knights bearing down on them, and Veres ready to bolt with maybe not even a word, there was little time to think. But it became clear very quickly, like it had that day in Falwood, and especially here looking at her now he realized what it was that had fueled his defiance that day. He'd never have been able to live with himself if he'd slain those elves - he could never have hoped to ever look Yvaine in the eye, not like he could now.

He cast one look back. The Guardsmen would likely see them soon.

"No," he said, "you are not," he pulled on the reins, urging his horse around as quickly as it could go.

"Go."

 
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There it was again.. That rapid rush of relief that he so often managed to summon that seemed to mollify any and all worry with something as simple as a smile, a word, his very presence. She could not have asked him to run with her, but she knew the sort of man that he was, and he wasn't the sort of man who'd allow her to run on her own, and so she wouldn't argue. She dipped her chin and pulled Veres about before kicking at his sides with a soft click of her tongue, her grip tightening on her reins as the horse took off at speed.

She drove the horse off of the road and down into the valley, and as she rode she listened. She could hear the hooves of the King's Guard horses, hear their voices call to one another, she could hear where the leaves rustled at their thickest, where the river started to rush and where the waterfalls crashed against the beaten rocks, and she could hear how the sound echoed..

Caves.

Yvaine didn't spare a glance behind her. She trusted her senses, trusted Veres, and trusted Faulkin to keep up. Water sprayed into the air behind her as she led the horse into the shallows of the pebbly river, and even as she urged him forward toward the cold face of the waterfall, his trust in her remained unwavering. She couldn't see what was beyond it, and her eyes closed only briefly as she was drenched by the sheet of water and the sound of Veres' hooves became a thunderous echo until she pulled him up to a stop and wiped the water from her face.

The caverns were large, ribbed with crystal and ore that seemed to glitter and reflect in the rock pools. Yvaine turned Veres about quickly and then stilled him to a hush, her gaze on the curtain of water as she held her breath, and waited.
 
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He was still. He was quiet. His blood still ran hot and fast through his veins. But his breath was steady, and his eyes were like sharpened spears fixed on their mark... which had turned and slowly moved away. Watching Dalgarren and his men depart was a sweet relief, but it left a bitter sting. He could hardly believe that he could attempt such a thing.

"What do we do now, capt'n?"

"We'll stay here for the night, and make for Drennantor in the morning..."

Surely Dalgarren would make haste back to the capitol, and inform the king of Faulkin's doing. But he felt that once he arrived to explain the situation more clearly, all would be well.


Even over the sound of pounding hooves beneath him he could hear the shouting in the distance. They'd been heard, but not seen, not yet. But despite their fortune in that, there was a greater cause for concern - amid the voices behind them there was one in particular - the general himself, no doubt all too eager to spin this situation in his favour.

Water splashed his face, and sprayed up around him. And toward a wall of water they raced. His heart quickened. His hands grasped tight.

But he trusted her.

She plunged first in through the water, and just moments after he too was upon it. He took a deep breath as he plunged into it...


Faulkin entered into the throne room, and approached the king where he sat. There was silence in the air, and only the crackle of torches joined his footsteps, echoing through the hall. He came before him, drew his sword, and knelt.

"My leige," he announced.

The king responded with only the flick of his fingers. The rest happened... very quickly.


It was cold, and fast, but luckily short lived. He passed through the water, and slowed to a stop and remained quiet. As he wiped his face, he nodded to Yvaine with an almost nervous smile, and then looked back, and listened. The shouting grew louder, and louder, the horses running hard... then quieter... quieter... leaving.

He let out a breath he'd forgotten he held, and gave his head a gentle shake before taking his first look around. Though it was dark, it was not so much he couldn't see the brilliance of the cave's interior. He climbed down to his feet, and after giving his horse a thankful pat on the neck he approached Yvaine, saying quietly, "we should be safe here... are you alright?"

 
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Fear smothered her like a pillow over her face, allowing just enough air in to keep her body functioning and yet crippling her all the same. She held the shivering vixen to her chest, more for her own comfort than anything, her heart thudding louder that she wished it would, and she prayed that the drum of it was beating only in her own ears. She returned a silent look to Faulkin and watched the blurred window of water, too thick to see anything other than the brief flashes of the kings colours and the dark, distorted shapes of their horses as they crossed the river and continued on up the other side of the valley.

A tremulous breath pushed it's way passed her lips and she lifted her hand to her forehead and steadied herself. She could have laughed with relief had she not been so afraid they'd hear her, that her escape would be too good to be true. The reality of her situation waited in the wings, ready to come crashing into her as soon as she had calmed herself enough to think straight, and so as he dismounted she focused for a moment on the the cavern.

There was a power and a brilliance in the tranquility of it, a place of stillness even in the roar of the water, a beautiful infinite dream. She wondered for a moment, if she might just set up camp and stay here, for she knew that her home would never be the same place again.

“Are you alright?”​

The sonorous sound of his voice, as comforting as deep, rolling thunder, brought her back to now. Back to what he’d just told her, what she’d just run from. Her honey gaze drifted to his face, studying him for a moment before slowly shaking her head.

“No...” she answered honestly, her wavering smile small and mournful and her gravity-drawn shoulders slumped with a deep sigh. She set Juniper down and slipped down from her saddle with a slight stagger on the rocky ground, her hand reaching reflexively to his arm to steady her footing. Yvaine gave him an apologetic look and let go..

“Gods, Faulkin.. I’m sorry that I’ve dragged you into this mess. I.. will make sure my uncle is aware that you had nothing to do with any of this. You’re a great Captain, and I fear I’ve caused you far more trouble than I’d like..” she sighed irritably at herself and pulled her soaking hair around her shoulder to twist and wring it of water. “You have enough to deal with.” she added, her tone low and solemn.

Her mind was a violent storm, and her resolve a crumbling shore. Just a few short days ago she had been sitting in the gardens with Soraia, oblivious to the darkness, and to the sort of King her uncle truly was. She wondered for a moment whether she would have preferred to continue with her life of blindness, but the thought was fleeting and her brow creased in a soft frown over it as she looked up at him.

“They’ll chase me all the way to Elbion. I should change my course, find a safe town. For all they know I died in the attack.. It would be wise of you to leave me behind.” She smiled weakly at him. The Captain had a job to do, and despite already knowing what sort of man the King was, he’d continued to do his duty and she wasn’t about to stand in his way.
 
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"You've done nothing of the sort," he replied, softly.

As she spoke of Elbion, he leisurely made his way over to the cavern wall, and reached out to touch with a gentle hand the crystals within it, resting his palm against it. It was odd, it almost felt warm. He was quiet for a time, thoughts rushing through as he considered what he was about to say - but really, what did it matter if she knew. In fact, she was likely the only one he would tell.

"I... do not intend to return to Drennantor..." the words fell loosely from his lips, "...I have thought this for some time now, that my place was no longer there..." he turned, and there was a clarity in his eyes, like a calmness that had never before been across raging waters, "I have come to believe that the King never meant for us to return..."

More than this, there was something in him that urged and ebbed, like the whispering of fate, singing a song of destiny.

"I would come with you, if you'd have my company..."

Yes, there was still Tor to be found, and Alwin. He of course would uphold his duty to them both, and see them reunited in Milvahn, but after that...

 
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There was kindness in his voice, a gentleness that soothed as it reverberated around the grotto. She believed that his words were not empty placations, and so she smiled and accepted them with a brief nod. She watched him thoughtfully as he walked toward the glittering ribs of the cave, her gaze lingering on his back for a moment before Juniper stole her attention with an impatient tap of her paw on her shoulder. Yvaine laughed under her breath as she looked up at the vixen, her usually downy and lustrous pelt hung soppy on her tiny form, now an angry shade of burnt umber.

"I'm sorry Juni.." she murmured and reached to lift the fox from Veres' back and set her down on the pebbly floor, and she shook out her fur with a disgruntled grumble and went off to explore. Her hand reached to stroke her friesian's long face appreciatively, the horse not at all bothered by the sudden deluge of water that now ran in rivulets of diamonds down his dark fur.

Faulkin's words grabbed her attention straight back however, her expression one of consternation. She'd been about to interrupt, assuming it to have been an impulsive decision, but he was already explaining that her assumption was wrong and her lips parted and closed again with a slow shake of her head. She might have argued his point about her uncle had she not believed what Faulkin had already told her about his treatment of her kin, but he had always seemed in some way fond of the Captain.. at least before he'd imprisoned him. She realised she knew her uncle better than that, he was a man who held grudges, a man who did not like to be opposed, and she sighed deeply.

The apprehension that had been creeping over her like a slow frost was suddenly thawed with a surge of warmth at his request to join her. The journey in her mind had been daunting and aimless, the thought of travelling alone when she had only just been introduced to the terrifying world outside of her home was admittedly terrifying, and so the offer to join caused a flutter of warmth in her chest.

Her throat cleared rather than answer, her lips twisting in a smile she attempted to keep hidden for there shouldn't have been much to smile about in their current predicaments. A pregnant silence fell between them as she leaned her head against Veres and let her fingertips stroke idly at his neck. "Why?..." she asked finally. "If he wanted rid of you why not just exile you, or leave you in that cell..? Why send you on this venture and lose all of those men, not to mention the merchants and nobles you've escorted..?" she asked and chewed on her lip to quiet herself. It was a distressing thought, to think the King capable of such things, and her mind was venturing down paths that she she didn't want to tread.

With a huff she moved, her gaze wandering over the ruffled surface of a pool as she walked the few stepping stones that bridged one side of the cave mouth to the other. She hugged her arms tightly to her ribs, feeling the cold cling to her wet clothes and hair, and she found herself standing in front of him before she let her gaze rise again.

"Were you really going to just leave without saying goodbye?.." she asked quietly with a soft, awkward laugh, but her propitious gaze was dim with the thought, eyes void of the mirth that gave them their brightness.
 
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Yvaine said:
"Why?..." she asked finally. "If he wanted rid of you why not just exile you, or leave you in that cell..? Why send you on this venture and lose all of those men, not to mention the merchants and nobles you've escorted..?"
Click to expand...

"We are all hated now, we all stood against the King's order. For the people... how would they have it that one of their beloved captains has been put to death with no proper reason? He could never say the truth, and he is not so boldly to lie... No, this is better... as for the nobles..." he chose to let his voice fade. He imagined that they too had at one time crossed him, or they were simply an acceptable sacrifice and contingency should they actually manage to arrive at Elbion. He knew these things to be bitterly cold coming from any man, but of her uncle - he felt - she had heard quite enough.

He heard her breath leave her, heard her footsteps softly touching against stone. He watched her as she approached, and as she drew close a tightness formed in his chest, like he could feel an uneasiness from her.

Her eyes met his.

Her words, and her voice, both revealed the uncertainty.

"Were you really going to just leave without saying goodbye?.."
​
Her question was one that he did not expect, but it was one he could say he had an answer for. He closed his eyes, giving a gentle shake of his head, "no..." His voice was quiet, and soft.

His eyelids slowly opened, and a cast down gaze lifted to meet hers, and the oceans of his eyes showed a depth they'd never before shared. His hand raised up, brushing softly against her cheek. He leaned a little closer.

"It is with you here that I am so certain... for now, even if I am wrong and my men and I were to return to Drennantor with all else being well, I would know, that which I truly fight to defend is gone..." he edged himself yet closer, "Yvaine, if you are leaving... then I..." his voice trailed off, and his eyes flared with shock and anxiety.

Splashing. Heavy, hastened footfalls through the water, drawing close.

Quietly still, he put himself between Yvaine and the opening. Whoever they were, their direction was certain. They were coming straight toward them. Faulkin drew his sword. There grew a dark place in the water as someone approached, and Faulkin tensed. Passing through now, he prepared to strike. And then they emerged, and relief washed over Faulkin's tired body.

Tor.

"Capt'n," the old warrior said, a broad smile breaking past the blood, sweat, and dirt on his face which had been poorly wiped off, and now ran down and dripped off his chin.

Faulkin stared for a moment, and almost hollered in his surprise, "how in Arethil did you find us here?"

Tor lifted his hand and pointed behind him with his thumb, and just then there was another who passed through the water. This one was hooded, but carried an air of benevolence. And while Faulkin could not see it straight away, Yvaine likely would - a familiar aura. The same that had called to her.

He was an elf.

He, was from Aeraesar.


 
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And further down that dark, winding path her mind trudged; at the end of it, the disturbing reality of the man her uncle truly was. She let Faulkin's explanation sink in, and as it did she answered more of her own question in her mind, assuming that even if Faulkin had survived her uncle's sacrificial offering to whatever darkness plagued these lands, the nobles and merchants that Faulkin was responsible for would not. Her uncle wouldn't need much excuse to brand Faulkin a failure, he'd take whatever faith his people had in their captain and crush it in one voracious hand.

She felt sick the more her mind dwelled in that place, but once more she followed the soft sound of his voice as though it roused her from the nightmare. In those 'waking' moments, remembering what she'd been so frightened of was more and more difficult, like trying to remember a dream. Suddenly he was close to her, her eyes searching the depths of his gaze as she listened, drinking in his words as though his words were golden, like some elixir she'd been waiting all of her life to hear. Nothing had ever been a more soothing sound to her than the rush of water, and yet now her pointed ears refused to allow it to drown out the gentle rumble of his voice, the tone of it resonating along her very bones as though the sound were something physical that her body could react to.

His touch was as much a caress as a spring breeze, and she found herself leaning toward its nurturing warmth like a new bud, desperate to grow. What was he trying to say? She believed she knew, but she wouldn't be so callow as to assume and look a fool if she were wrong. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of what just a few more inches closer would feel like, her golden eyes studying his lips as they moved, and she swallowed as he moved closer still...

She heard the approach before he did, and she flinched out of the wistful moment and back into their bleak reality, her head snapping toward the mouth of the cave with a quiet inhale, the breath held in her lungs as she peered passed Faulkin and through the distorted curtain of water at the approaching figures. The sound of his blade scraping free of it's scabbard caused a chill to spider-walk across her spine, her heart pitching to a staccato beat in her chest.

The breath she'd been holding poured from her lungs with a whine in relief as her eyes settled on Tor's dripping wet face, her body relaxing so rapidly her knees felt momentarily weak. She had started toward him, fully intent on tackling the battered man with an embrace, but when she didn't recognise the second figure she paused, and stared.

She knew that she'd never seen him before, and yet Yvaine couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him. Her skin bloomed with goosebumps at the unnerving sensation, and she looked between the elf and Tor for a moment before she finally spoke.

"Thank you for bringing him to us.." she said quietly, her voice betraying her uncertainty. As she looked back to Tor, her warm smile returned. "It's so good to see you." she breathed, her voice cracking slightly. She opened her arms as she strode to him. Despite believing it in her heart that he was alive, to see him so was a weight off her mind, another life spared, another death avoided that she could have prevented.

"How in seven hells did you get out of there?"
 
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"Thank you for bringing him to us.."
​
The elf's hand was placed on his chest, and his hooded head lowered in a bow. Indeed, the elf had through some unseen means been able to find the two, but all, as it had been to Tor and the other survivors, would be explained.

"How in seven hells did you get out of there?"
​
A warm chuckle rumbled from Tor's chest, and he crossed his arms, "I may be old, but I am not so much so..." then he shook his head, "no... for a time I managed to hold them and rally all I could, but in the end they'd have had us if it were not for Tinúviel."

Faulkin's gaze turned to the newcomer, and he recognized the name as elven. This realization brought on a mix of questions and emotions that he was not fully prepared for, but this was put aside and he turned back to Tor at the mention of survivors.

"How many?"

"Just over two dozen..." Tor replied, his face long, but he stiffened his shoulders and with the nod of his head finished with, "...just outside, awaiting your orders."

While Faulkin was saddened by the deaths of many, he was thankful for those yet with him. Their number was still more than enough to carry on, and now they only needed to resupply before departing from Milvahn. That is, after dealing with their other unsavoury development. Faulkin turned to look at Yvaine with a mixture of relief and uncertainty in his eyes, but he sighed almost comfortably, confident that he and his would, and could do right by her. So be it that Dalgarren had come. He would leave empty handed... or not at all.

Then he turned to Tinúviel, and took a few steps forward as he sheathed his sword, "It would seem I now owe you my thanks..."

Tinúviel raised his hand in a modest protest, "you owe me nothing Captain," from under his hood his eyes briefly glanced to Yvaine, "but I would ask you allow me to join you on your journey."

Faulkin thought for a moment, and turned his attention again back to Yvaine, and said quietly, almost only to her, as if asking her, "I hardly see the harm..."

 
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Tinúviel...

Yvaine's brow furrowed in a fleeting moment of surprise, her amber gaze settling on the hooded male. She felt a very odd sense that she'd been in this moment before, that she'd heard that name and saw that face, though she was entirely certain that she had not. Perhaps she'd dreamt something similar.. She became suddenly all too aware that she was staring at the elf, all thoughts and questions no doubt evident in the blankness of her paused expression. Her head shook, and she forced a gracious smile as she dipped her chin in further thanks to him as Faulkin addressed Tor.

She turned to look back at the captain and met his gaze, her heart heavy with the news of so many more deaths, and yet that any had survived at all was a blessing. It set her wondering further of this Tinúviel, and of how exactly he had come to their aid. Of whether he heard the same whispers as she had...

An impatient pawing at her knee dragged her gaze downward to the little vixen, her downy fur still bedraggled. Yvaine bent wordlessly to lift the fox to her chest and took a step closer to Faulkin, her fingers idly stroking at Juni's ears as she observed the elf with intrigue. Her damp skin seemed to tingle and she was unable to suppress a shudder that she tried to pass off as a chill and she gently squeezed at the purring creature in her arms.

I hardly see the harm...

Her gaze shifted back to Faulkin and her slender brows rose as he sought her consult. Her mouth was suddenly dry. Somehow she felt this elf held answers to the questions that she had, but she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to know. Every minute that had passed since leaving her home had been more and more shattering, and she couldn't help but feel apprehensive that every question answered would be like more pressure on cracking glass. Then again, last thing she wanted was to clash with the monstrous horde in dwindled numbers, only to lose more lives, if she had a say in that there was only one thing she could say.

"Of course.." she answered finally with a small smile to the elf and Tor before she looked to Faulkin. They hadn't intended on continuing on to Elbion, she wondered if his plans would change. She'd understand if they would, but it was not a discussion for now.

"We should return to Milvahn.. Your men will need rest and food.."
 
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"Of course.."...

..."We should return to Milvahn.. Your men will need rest and food.."
​

And so, after taking only a short time to exchange a quick and warm greeting to those that remained of the men who he had ordered be left behind, Faulkin and Yvaine led the wearied warriors, slowly, through the crooked wood, to the better kept road, and on to the sanctuary of Milvahn. All the while there was apprehension in his heart, for as they drew nearer he feared that Dalgarren would have guessed his chosen path, and followed the remains of his troop there to this place. But, this anxiety was not one for fear of being dragged back, no.

This was a fear for what he may be led to do.


The sound of horses and gleeful shouting woke him. Alwin's head throbbed, and he wished he could say it was from last night's drink. No, whatever they were giving him for the pain did well in the moment, but the aftermath was even worse than a hangover. That or those beasts had really done a number on him, and the fact that he was laying here in this bed made that a very likely possibility. But as he came to, a rush of shock came over him, curious as to how long he'd been out.

"Nurse, nurse!"

"Yes, yes! Are you alright?" the nurse shouted in return, scrambling her way in as quickly as she could.

"Yes, yes," Alwin replied, rubbing his head, "it's just... how long have I been asleep? Where is the Captain? Where is Yvaine?"

Relief, and then irritation washed over the nurses face, and she resisted the urge to give him a light wrap on the arm, "M'lady and the Captain left just this morning, but-"

"Good," replied Alwin, and struggled to lift himself from the bed.

"Now you just sit yourself back down, or I'll-"

And without protest, Alwin collapsed onto the bed, and promptly passed out from the pain. The nurse checked him, and he had developed a mild fever. In a slight of panic, she rushed off the find the doctor.


With their number, and how many of them were wounded, it was not until nearly sunset when Milvahn was again in their sight. As the Sun had drawn closer and closer to the horizon, he would be lying if he said he hadn't grown more and more nervous at the thought of nightfall. The thought of facing those monsters again. He wasn't even sure that they couldn't have attacked at any time, but as they dark came closer and closer, he felt in his heart this was so, and each passing moment became more and more difficult. A glance out into the eyes of the men showed that he was not alone in this anxiety, that indeed, they all felt it, and urged themselves to move faster, especially once the town's lights came into view.

The bell sounded.

Riders and carriages raced out to meet them, and take those who were unable to carry their own weight. The town's militia, expecting them this time, was eager to lend them aid.

Faulkin, by now having gave up his horse for one of the wounded, followed up the rear of the survivors and ensured not a single one was left behind. As they were guided into the warmth of the town's torchlight, he cast a look back out into the dark...

...and saw two red eyes.
Watching him.
Stalking him.
​

Night descended over the small town, and quiet gripped the air. In the street, odd footfalls and the crackle of torch light were the only sounds, aside for the infrequent echoing of distant laughter from a small gathering down the road.

On the wide porch of the healer's home they sat, discussing things under hushed tones.

"You're telling me you know what these are?"

"Yes... these are merely beasts of the land, reshaped by a relentless curse which had taken hold over a hundred years ago."

"I've traveled these lands my whole life, why have I never heard of these things before?"

Tinúviel hesitated, looked between each of them, and then continued, "this curse had first befallen my people, and decimated our realm, and we have worked to cleanse our lands of this evil... but we have failed. The fulfilment of it has come, and all our peoples' are doomed if we do not stand together."

Faulkin looked up to Tor, who stood with his back to the group with his hands upon the rails of the porch, looking out from beneath its cover.

It was raining again.

"I suppose this is why Drennantor lost touch with them..."

With Faulkin's attention turned away in brief discussion with Tor, Tinúviel turned to Yvaine and spoke, "you have heard the curse's song, haven't you?"

Though she heard his voice, his lips didn't move.

Yvaine ​
 
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Yvaine’s posture was befitting of her family name as she rode. When her uncle was weary, he never let it show. Whenever he was stressed or worried, he kept his broad shoulders squared and his chin held high, his expression one of determination and pride. He was many things, but he was fearless. If there was anything that she had learned from him, it was this, and so despite the solemnity she felt and the trepidation that weighed heavily on her shoulders she led on in silence, her back straight and her chin lifted. Her attention remained dead ahead and she had to resist the urge to look at Faulkin, or to the wounded men, or to the elf who’s presence she felt behind her whether she looked at him or not.

Her mind drifted to Milvahn, to the General and his men whom she had fully expected to be there waiting for their return, to the twisted forest around them and the strange pull it seemed to have on her, to the occasional rustle of leaves in the canopy above and the ghostly whispers that accompanied them. She didn’t flinch, she betrayed none of what fear gathered in her mind other than the slight paling of her knuckles at the faintest hint of a scurry. Yvaine’s hearing was keen, and so too was that of her mount and the little vixen who’s ears pivoted toward every sound they picked up.

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as she tried not to pay attention to the gathering shadow that followed at their back and instead she dragged her mind back to the grotto. She thought of the Captain’s comforting closeness, and she tried to imagine what he might have said to her had his words not been cut short. She thought of how he’d held her outside the infirmary. Even without him by her side the thoughts were consolatory, and she let her rigid muscles slacken.

Another rush of relief eased her yet further as they reached Milvahn to be greeted by Faulkin’s men and not those of Dalgarren. It was then as she was loosing a breath that she turned to catch Faulkin’s eye with a look of deliverance. Perhaps they’d turned back.

Yvaine tended to her horse and shared a quick bite to eat with Juniper. She had attempted to visit Alwin but he’d been in the depths of sleep, and she’d offered help to the healers only to be turned away with gratitude and the assurance that they had everything in hand. A pyre was being built out in the field, and those who had perished would be burned later on in the evening. Yvaine paled at the news, and found the others on the porch to inform them of it.

She was quiet as she listened to the men speak of the garish creatures they’d been attacked by, her eyes glazed and distant as she replayed the nightmare in her mind, the sound of screaming, the great beast as it mauled Alwin, the dead faces she’d seen moments before it had happened, and since.

It was Tinuviel’s voice that dragged her back to the present, though she was certain that he hadn’t spoken. She glanced toward Faulkin and Tor, confirming that they hadn’t heard him. She pulled the blanket she’d been shrouded with around her shoulders a little tighter to fend off the chill that fell over her at the eerie sensation.

If he could speak to her, could he read her mind?

She tried not to look as anxious as she felt and narrowed her gaze as she answered. She had never had a conversation in her mind, and though it felt intrusive, she couldn’t suppress her curiosity.

‘Song?’ Her brow quirked as she thought the word back to him. Songs were pleasant, at least in her experience.

‘…No. I have heard whispers and words and the screams of those yet to face what caused them. I have seen darkness and death and I have seen monsters…but no song.’ She glanced to the others and swallowed, now certain they had no idea of the conversation going on in her mind.

Her golden eyes shifted back to the elf with a soft frown. ‘You know what speaks to me?’’..

What weakens me, she almost thought, and thought better of it quickly, sitting up a little straighter despite the weariness in her bones.
 
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‘You know what speaks to me?’’..​

Tinúviel's brow deepened, Yes. Give thanks that you have been spared its lie, and shown its truth.

What you have seen will spread to Drennantor, and all the Falwood, and beyond...

There was grief in Tinúviel's words and sorrow in his eyes. Whatever he spoke of, he truly believed it would bring about an end to all they knew, or at least it meant to. Then, Faulkin turned back after a brief and relatively idle conversation with Tor, and whatever subtle connection Tinúviel shared with Yvaine became quiet when the Captain addressed him again.

"What is this... fulfillment that has come?"

The elf drew in a long and loathesome breath. And he said its name.

"Arkhivom."
​

Dalgarren chose patience. Though he was many things, there was still some sense of honour and dignity in him it seemed. Faulkin and his men had suffered terribly at the hands of whatever those monsters were. Yea, Dalgarren and his men had seen: the site where they'd rounded the wagons and battled the grotesque creatures. Even in death those monsters were horrid to gaze upon, and sent chills down even the General's spine.

He chose to wait now, until morning, to confront Faulkin and his men. He'd rather an encounter with them during the day rather than to risk venturing out into the night to face off with those monsters he knew lingered just beyond the town's walls. Perhaps then there was no honour in his decision to allow Faulkin and his men a reprieve this night. Perhaps it was only his selfish fears that fuelled this act.

He'd never share this possible reality with his men, but even some of them suspected as much. But they, like their commander and chief, were content with such a path.

They would remain unnoticed for now, and address the Captain, and collect Yvaine, in the morning.


"Arkhivom..." Faulkin repeated, little more than a whisper on his lips. But before he could inquire more, there was someone who had come near to the porch and beckoned to them.

"My lords," they called out, "the ceremony is about to begin."

And a solemn shadow rested over Faulkin's face, his eyes and face cast down, and then with a "very well," he rose from his seat, casting a glance toward Yvaine. And then turning toward the stairs leading down he said, "we will have to continue this conversation later..."

 
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It was the strangest thing to have a conversation without the use of her voice. Still the sensation wrought chills and caused her grip to tighten slightly on the arms of the rocking chair which creaked softly with every idle tilt back and forth, as though she were subconsciously trying to mollify her worries and lull herself back to some sense of security. Her eyes of dark gold remained set upon the elf's face, which would have no doubt looked strange to any unaware that the pair were conversing, though small idiosyncrasies such as a furrowing brow and a slight tilt of her head in question were tell tale that the pair weren't simply staring at one another.

'What lie? What...truth?' She silently asked in confusion. All the whispers had said that she'd been able to understand was one word; a place, she'd been told, but even then she hadn't understood what it was supposed to mean.

Questions raced through her mind, and she wasn't sure how to keep her thoughts to herself now that he was in there listening to her. Why do they speak to me..? Can it be stopped?..

She physically flinched as Faulkin spoke, her lashes fluttering as though blinking herself out of a daydream she'd fallen into too deeply. Her throat cleared sheepishly in her fluster and she dropped her gaze to the sleeping vixen in her lap, her fingers combing into the burnt orange fur as she listened.

Arkhivom.

Yvaine had never heard the word in her life and somehow she knew it was terrible. The sort of word that trembled from the lips that dared to speak it and carried the weight of dread. She was uncertain whether it was a who, or a what, but in her mind it was pure darkness and the form it took was irrelevant. It was something to be feared like the worst sort of death, and it caused a cold shudder across her back.

Again she jolted as another voice interrupted them, a sigh tumbling from her lips as she eased and lifted her hand to rub at her brow. She caught Faulkin's look and offered a tight-lipped smile in some semblance of support, but the smile quickly died as he turned from her and she lifted Juniper from her slumber and set her on the porch, though she too quickly followed after them.

She walked close enough for their shoulders to brush as she caught up to his side, casting a sidelong look at him and taking a deep breath. The thought of asking him if he were alright briefly crossed her mind, but it would have been a ridiculous question that he'd no doubt have answered with some brave-faced response. The entire way there she fought over what to say to him, and still words failed her, and so instead as they finally stood in front of the three pyres, the flickering, orange glow of torchlight pushing back the dark and finding home in the glistening eyes of the gathered, she reached out and wordlessly took his hand with a gentle squeeze.
 
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The crackle of quiet fire.

The gentle dance of its light.

The somber sounds of footsteps drawing near, with no words or tears carried with them.

For warriors, ended so brutally, this was a final, joyless peace offered to them.

And there stood Faulkin, his face as stern as stone. His heart wept. Only boys, he thought of some of them. Seasoned veterans too, some others, but each one an equal loss in his eyes. There was little comfort in this moment. Save for her.

The warmth of her hand in his.

He squeezed back.

And now it was for his duty. With reluctance his hand left hers, and he moved forward. He took up the burning torch, set near to the pyres, and quietly he took it and set it against each one until flame gathered and grew across and around them. And it did consume. And this was so that their bodies be not cursed to an unworthy fate of the land and instead lifted as ash into the air above. Elevated, as any who should be undone in glorious battle ought to be. Of any, there were none others so worthy in Faulkin's mind. And when he was done, with closed eyes he bowed his head, and all those present did also.

And before long, each of the pyres burned brightly with funereal fire. At this time did Faulkin return to Yvaine's side. With his eyes fixed wholly upon the burning remains of former subordinates - friends - his hand searched to grasp tightly hers again, there to remain in silence until all that remained of those fallen was naught but ash and wind.

 
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Yvaine had to swallow the ache in her throat as she watched the captain light the pyres, her eyes capturing the flames as they spread and grew, burning the faces within them forever into her mind. She wondered if her uncle had known what horrors he had sent these men to meet. Wondered of their families and whether word had yet travelled back to them that their loved ones had stared into the jaws of death and may never return. She knew the crippling pain of grief, and as her eyes closed a lone tear rolled lazily down her cheek, and she sent her heart out to those wives and children who would never see their faces again.

Her eyes opened as she felt his hand reunite with hers and she drew in a deep breath as she held tight, casting her gaze toward the clear night sky and watching the smoke and embers sent heavenward.

"Hain na sídh, lothron hain padad- in i galad." she said in quiet prayer before falling to silence once more.

She was only vaguely aware of time passing and of those who left to retire to bed, nor that the sun was cresting the hills in the distance and that the sky had turned a thousand shades of pink and purple. Her hand remained in his and her cheek rested against his shoulder as she watched the embers smoulder and the ashes carry in the soft morning breeze. She wished it would lift her guilt so easily. She had revisited the fear, the rage, the pain, the confusion and the sorrow again and again for as long as they'd stood here and yet of everything she felt, the guilt was what caused her hand to tighten its grip on his every so often.

She turned her head slightly as she heard the little town start to wake, their cockerels crowing at the rising sun and the low murmur of sleepy voices complaining about it. Yvaine drew a deep breath and looked up at him, her eyes heavy with the tears she'd had and the sleep she had not.

"Lets get some rest.." she whispered, as though afraid he might break if she spoke the words any louder.
 
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Friends - brothers, even sisters too served under his command. And all those that remained and could attend, gathered round. Even a surprising many of the townsfolk. Some, like Alwin, were too wounded to be present - but they were there in spirit. Everyone knew that, could feel that. Many of them had only ever served in each others' company, and for the lot of them, each one another truly was as close as family. They had seen both the brightest and darkest of days with one another - but this day indeed cast a shadow over all of that, which would linger no doubt for quite some time.

The quiet of the evening was interrupted only by whispers. Silent goodbyes. Of those, only her's he could make out with clarity...

"Hain na sídh, lothron hain padad- in i galad."
​
...and the words fell upon him like a lovely melody. He knew not the meaning behind them, but the sound of her voice, even hushed as it was, sang sweetly in his ear. For that briefest of moments in the midst of their frigid, shared sorrow, he felt the warmth of joy.

He'd never really heard her talk that way before, the way of her people.

It was beautiful.


"Lets get some rest.."
​

He'd lost himself in memories, faces and names he'd never again see or hear. The hours had slipped away from him, falling away into the cloud of remembrance. Her voice pulled him back, and as he looked out over embers and ash, he realized now how long it had been. Exhaustion had washed over him time and time again, the need for sleep growing. But of him, this vigil, was required of him. He had lead these people to their deaths, and so he too saw them off into whatever fates awaited them after death.

His eyes looked up, and saw the sky awash with the beauty of the Sun's rising.

He turned to her, a sleepy smile spread across his lips. He spared a quick look around, seeing that there were only a very few still present, and he said, "yes... I suppose it is that time."

Besides Yvaine and he, only Tor, Tinúviel, and a handful of others had remained. He nodded to them, and then, with Yvaine's hand still in his, he started back. He cast no look over his shoulder, his farewells now fully and finally sent, floating away through the air and ash and dwindling smoke.


The small number that remained joined with them, bound for the healer's home. But soon after they'd found themselves on the shadow of the streets, a voice called out to them. Abrupt, and forceful.

"Halt!"

Faulkin's eyes rose up from the ground to see them who called.

An accusing hand pointed to them, and more specifically, to Yvaine,"You're coming with us."

It was the King's men. And Dalgarren.

 
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Of all of the ways he'd smiled at her in the years that she'd known him, this one was by far her favourite. Somnolent and yet not listless. He didn't have to smile at all, he'd have been forgiven for his melancholy and yet for her he did, and he was the sort of handsome that sunk into her bones and made her limbs feel weak. His voice too, quiet and gritty as though he'd just woken up, still held that sort of deep timbre that her sensitive ears and restless soul appreciated.

She was still and expressionless for a moment as she thought of all of those things, as she studied his face and let all else fade to inexistence for a pause in time before they started back along the road. She couldn't resist the small smile that crossed her lips as he kept hold of her hand, and she found herself hoping that he wouldn't break it, that wherever she found to rest he'd stay and rest beside her. Her cheeks warmed as she caught hold of the thought and she shot a glance to Tinuviel, a glint of accusation in her eyes as she narrowed them uncertainly.

Was he still listening?

"Halt!"

"You're coming with us."​

Yvaine tensed as the coarse voice cracked the soft sonancy of morning, the raised tone of it sobering her from her drowsiness and causing her gaze to widen on the male as she turned to regard him. Her expression shifted from confusion to ire and she glared at the pointed finger in response to his demands.

"I think perhaps, you forget to whom you are speaking." she answered, her voice like the calm surface of a river despite the raging torrent beneath it. Her golden eyes settled on the General, meeting his stare and tightening her grip on Faulkin's hand slightly. Her selfishness was brief, and she looked up at the Captain with regret as she slipped her hand from his, hoping to spare him any more trouble.

"I will return with you." she said sternly as she returned her attention to her uncle's men. "After I have had a chance to rest." she sighed. They already looked aggrieved, and Yvaine knew that they weren't about to take no for an answer or be on their way without a fight. Their King had demanded they bring her back, and so that's what they'd do. Faulkin and his men had faced enough and she wouldn't cause them any more hardship.
 
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He felt her hand tighten in his, and he responded in kind, but it was with hesitancy that he allowed hers to slip away, but it did, and his hand clenched into a strong fist afterward. Anger boiled in him, and if the expression on Faulkin's face dealt death, then each of those stood before them would have simply vanished into memory. But he had no such power.

"I will return with you." she said sternly as she returned her attention to her uncle's men. "After I have had a chance to rest."
​
Dalgarren's rebuttle was quick, "perhaps it is you who forgets, the authority I follow is above you, my dear," a sly smile crossed his lips, and then his attention turned to Faulkin, "it is a shame, Captain. Your treachery knows no bounds. To think that you could so easily remove Yvaine from the King's notice will be your final transgression." He cast a look to the men inmediately at either of his sides, and they advanced.

"You're under arrest."

"This is absurd!" Tor protested, putting himself between Faulkin and the approaching guardsmen.

"Stand down, Tor."

Tor turned his head to him, a look of anger and confusion plain upon his face. Faulkin placed a hand on his old friend's shoulder, and stepped ahead of him.

"Whatever fate is to come, I ask my men be spared. They only ever followed orders given by me."

Dalgarren's back stiffened, and he stifled a scoff, replying, "The King will decide. In any event, your mission is over, and all of you will return to Drennantor." He looked back to Yvaine, "get your rest, girl, we leave at high noon. You," he said, looking to Tor, "rally what's left of your men, and meet us at the southern gates in an hour."

Two of the guardsmen approached, and Faulkin stepped forward to meet them.

Tinùviel, meanwhile, had seemingly disappeared...

 
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