[Amanaduial the archer]

Seated on the bench, the ranger looked at the woman, startled, as she covered her hands, but not before he saw the tears sliding down her pale cheeks from her usually so-fierce eyes. "My lady, what is wrong?" he exclaimed quietly, surprised. She hadn't struck him as the sort to cry easily, and here she had no automatic reason. Unless he had done something...Crystal looked away, shaking her head and sniffing, trying to clear away the tears and making sure he didn't see them. What did I do to have such an effect? And why is she so uncomfortable with me! he thought hopelessly.

Her hair had fallen across one shoulder more when she had shaken her head sharply, and now a few blonde strands attached themselves, slightly static, to the ranger's jacket. Her hair was beautiful, he thought, beautiful, long and silky, much lighter and even than his own streaks locks. She was beautiful, in fact, in a way he had never seen before - it wasn't the reliable, ruddy beauty of the country girls, or the warm, welcoming beauty of Meren, the tailor's daughter, his dark eyed Gondorian and good friend, but neither was it the blatant, thrusting attraction some felt towards the gaudy girls who walked the streets, all cheap jewellery and cheaper perfume that only moved Atharen to pity. Crystal was completely different in both looks and personality from any of them in a way he didn't quite understand, a way that he had seen only in a few before, and none of them mortal. She gave a quiet, restrained sob, evidently trying to get a grip on her tears and, after a second's hesitation and hoping he would not cause offence in the abstract way he was apparently so apt at, he reached an arm out and placed it around her shoulders. "Crystal, what is so wrong?"

Apparently this was not the right move, for the woman immediately stiffened. Atharen withdrew his hand, cursing himself again and again inside, and stood, immediately all formality and awkwardness. "I am sorry, my lady, I thought only to...I sought to comfort you in some...I apologise, lady, indeed."

The ranger held out a hand to her courteously to help her to her feet, and she stared at it for a second, regarding it with a strange expression that then moved up to his eyes. He held it, but didn't move, and she took his hand, standing. He was careful not to make any bold move though, as they started back to the Archives, not standing too close, worried she might think he had other intentions, and a feeling he was not altogether used to crept over Atharen - he was used to joy and pleasure, to anger, to sadness and melancholy, to understanding, and to awkward places, to not belonging, but this was different. Embarrassment? Probably, he replied bitterly to himself, steadying his thoughts. But another thought, which he hadn't previously taken in, sunk in as he turned the corner back to the Archives building and scanned the courtyard for any sign of the others.

When you put your arm around her, she didn't pull away.