[Amanaduial the archer]

Coromswyth nibbled lightly at the end of her lembas, not feeling particularly hungry: there was something in the atmosphere of the plain that made her uneasy. She looked around surreptitiously, taking in the area they sat in: the tight trees made it useful in several ways, of course - an enemy would never be able to attack on horseback, any large force would have to break down and so couldn't hurl elves with their full force, and even the trees were of a sort that would shed leaves all year around, to dry up and stop any force from approaching silently. It was not too small, either, allowing space to fight if it came to it, and gave an advantage for defence, especially for archers, as it was on a hill, and the copse would provide some defense...

But then, archers, if they managed to moved through the trees or with extra stealth - or maybe if a sentry guard was not vigilant enough in the depths of an uneventful night - archers would be able to get into place entirely surrounding the elves at the centre. And those leaves, shed so usefully to stop attackers, could be the undoing of those they were attacking if they needed to retreat down one side...and Coromswyth knew, from the loss of half of her family, that retreat should not be underestimated, no matter how cowardly it may seem: for there is nothing much noble about a girl waking up one morning, alive with some dream she wished to share, and realising, as she had done every morning for a lifetime of men, that her twin brother will never be able to share it with her...

Coromswyth paused suddenly, freezing, then slowly finished her mouthful and looked straight up into Ambarturion's grey eyes. "How long have you been watching me, Ambarturion?"

"For as long as you have doubted my judgement, my lady," came the cold reply. The older elf did not blanch as Coromswyth addressed him, and he still radiated a sort of paternal disapproval. He thinks me beneath him for my years... "You doubt...why is it that you doubt this place?"

"I am sure I misunderstand, Ambarturion..." Coromswyth began carefully. She saw no sense in angering Ambarturion with explanation of her misgivings about this place: there would be no point, for she had no wish to dent his considerable pride. And besides, it was not a bad spot - had she thought that, she would have said so, for too poor defence, even in such a simple journey, could cost their lives, and more.

The other elf shook his head jerkily, angrily, but didn't say anything for a few long moments. The elf woman watched him without speaking, the silence growing awkward and cold in the oncoming night air. Eventually, Coromswyth rose, stifling a sigh as she did not want to provoke Ambarturion, and crossed the open space between the trees to where her horse was tied to the low hanging branches of one straight trunked, regimented tree. The stallion gave a soft, low whinny of pleasure as she approached and lay a hand on it's muzzle, murmuring softly to it as she ran her long fingers down it's muzzle tenderly.

The lengthy silence continued to stretch until Ambarturion eventually spoke. "Why did you insist upon bringing that beast along?"

Coromswyth looked over at him in surprise, eyebrows raised, then opened her palm and allowed the horse the last of her lembas. "I am sure you have some ideas why..." she replied softly, not looking at the elder elf.

"Aye, maybe." His reply was spartan and cold, telling Coromswyth with more eloquence than words could have managed how he felt about it. She smiled very slightly to herself. Possibly he guesses it is merely spite, a will to go against his wish...or that I did it so that I may have some high ground above him, maybe? How foolish and frivolous you must think me, Ambarturion, that you think I can only voice my ground in a few feet of horse!

"Maybe?" she prompted, teasingly, smiling a little more. "Ah, Ambarturion - please, I shall not doubt your judgement if you do not doubt mine. For after all, yours has proved fine as yet - I make no criticism upon your choice of resting place." She traced her fingers down the horse's neck gently, weaving an invisable pattern of leaves through it's fur, then gave it a final pat, smiling into the horse's eyes. Crossing the open space once more, she caught Ambarturion's eyes once more: the elf did not look away, but Coromswyth wished he were a man of more words, for what wisdom or debate he might impart from the fire and consideration that had settled hand in hand in his eyes. A mystery indeed and one, she thought with a little mischief, that she would take pleasure in unwravelling.

"Goodnight, Megilaes, Caranbaith," she said softly, her voice velvety as she nodded to each in turn. They inclined their heads to her, then to their master, before departing wordlessly to their sentry posts, their golden hair seeming to glow slightly in the darkness, silent spirits to sit as sentries for the two Ambassadors. Turning to Ambarturion, Coromswyth smiled, courteously and gently rather than with mischief or mockery. "Good night, sir Ambarturion."

He paused for a second, then looked away, preparing to sleep. "Sleep well, my lady," he replied, and Coromswyth was pleased to hear no rebuke in his voice as she had feared. With a pleasant sigh, she rested against the tree nearest, settling her back against it's trunk as she crossed her arms and fell to dreams...