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Airerûthiel · 12-11-2002, 03:41 PM

Airerûthiel gives a wordless nod of understanding. "You do not have to say more than you wish to. We are all entitled to our secrets, and the choice of what we reveal and what we hide from those we do not know is our own.

"It has been desirable to make your acquaintance, Elwen. Mayhap we shall talk again sometime, but now I need to step outside. There is something I must consider regarding my next move in this game we spend our lives playing." Her eyes dart towards the lone traveller a little further along the bar; she knows not his name but distinctly remembers his order of bread and water not long before. "Anar caluva tielyanna, Elwen. Namarië."

Airerûthiel then makes her way towards the door, shaking her head silently beneath her hood. She senses she might have a new friend, an ally. But for some reason, she cannot take the lies that have kept her true self hidden from Middle-earth and its inhabitants. As she leaves, a hobbit seated at the table nearest to the door notices a green shield with the image of a white horse upon it on her scabbard...

~*~*~*~*~

The night is a bitterly cold contrast to the warmth of the pub, but the deep blue sky buttoned down with pinpricks of starlight like a soft velvet cloak offers comfort to the Ranger. She pulls back her hood to reveal a sweet face that displays signs of intelligence and an honest loyalty, but also a stubborn pride and a sarcastic tongue. Her long straight black hair glints blue when it catches the inn's porchlights, and she has eyes that glow like emeralds in the relative darkness.

A compliment. A friendly conversation. Something that went beyond looks of unease and contempt and the words, "Another ale, please." Airerûthiel could not remember the last time she had actually genuinely talked to someone; indeed it may have been...no, before that night. That night when evil came to slay her family and stole her world away. That night when she became who she was. That night when her scabbard was stained with the blood of her mother, who had died trying to save her daughter.

12-11-2002, 03:41 PM	#298
Airerûthiel Wight Join Date: Oct 2002 Location: The Long Lake Posts: 228	Airerûthiel gives a wordless nod of understanding. "You do not have to say more than you wish to. We are all entitled to our secrets, and the choice of what we reveal and what we hide from those we do not know is our own. "It has been desirable to make your acquaintance, Elwen. Mayhap we shall talk again sometime, but now I need to step outside. There is something I must consider regarding my next move in this game we spend our lives playing." Her eyes dart towards the lone traveller a little further along the bar; she knows not his name but distinctly remembers his order of bread and water not long before. "Anar caluva tielyanna, Elwen. Namarië." Airerûthiel then makes her way towards the door, shaking her head silently beneath her hood. She senses she might have a new friend, an ally. But for some reason, she cannot take the lies that have kept her true self hidden from Middle-earth and its inhabitants. As she leaves, a hobbit seated at the table nearest to the door notices a green shield with the image of a white horse upon it on her scabbard... ~~~~~ The night is a bitterly cold contrast to the warmth of the pub, but the deep blue sky buttoned down with pinpricks of starlight like a soft velvet cloak offers comfort to the Ranger. She pulls back her hood to reveal a sweet face that displays signs of intelligence and an honest loyalty, but also a stubborn pride and a sarcastic tongue. Her long straight black hair glints blue when it catches the inn's porchlights, and she has eyes that glow like emeralds in the relative darkness. A compliment. A friendly conversation. Something that went beyond looks of unease and contempt and the words, "Another ale, please." Airerûthiel could not remember the last time she had actually genuinely talked to someone; indeed it may have been...no, before that night. That night when evil came to slay her family and stole her world away. That night when she became who she was. That night when her scabbard was stained with the blood of her mother, who had died trying to save her daughter. __________________ 'If they give you ruled paper, write the other way' - Juan Ramón Jiménez I love pirates!