[Durelin]

It was the thrill of battle? No, Calenvása would never call it a thrill. Though it heightened something within him, it numbed his mind, his heart, and the movement of his body felt unreal, all feelings, both physical and mental, were those of a separate person. His conscious being was separate of his body as an observer of what occurred surrounding his physical being. It left his body feeling numb, and his head in a haze. But since no thought could penetrate that haze, Calenvása was relatively content, even feeling a bit free. For those thoughts were quite a burden, and for them to be completely lifted from him, for his mind to be completely blank, even for a short time, it was blissful in a frightening way. Yes, it frightened him. But it was the thrill of battle that set him free.

But it lasted so short a time in his mind. In one moment he was with his back to Thorvel, downing an orc with a slash across the chest. He risked a glance around him, and saw Ambarturion, with one of his guards by his side, looking as cold as ever, any fury he might receive in battle seeming little different from his normal state. One could wonder what went on in that elf’s mind till the Last Music, it seemed, but now was not the time to start. Coromswyth fired her bow nearby, of course, but who was guarding who was hard to tell. In another moment, the orcs were all but eliminated, certainly scattered and finished. It seemed they realized this, as Calenvása made his way over to the two ambassadors, breaking into a run as he watched Ambarturion prepare to slit the throat of an orc There were two left, clearly captured and of no danger. And yet it seemed hatred called the elf to make them forever of no danger.

“No!” he cried out, watching the ambassador put his dagger up to the orc’s throat. “Do not slay them. We might be able to discover from them where their army is headed.” Ambarturion was supposed to be a wise diplomat, and yet he acted on a gut instinct, and hatred at that. Of all the people who might see the mistake in this, he should be the one. Calenvása had seen him as cold and collected, thoughtful and considering. He had been wrong. Sighing quietly and bitterly, he realized what he had done. He had had a feeling, when he watched the ambassador take automatically take command with a forcefulness that would have been offensive to anyone with a more heated temperament, and that feeling was an uneasiness that told him that, for some reason, he should not like what Ambarturion did. A gut feeling he had not listened to.

“They are but the maggots of Mordor, they do not know anything of use.” The fierceness in his voice, while remaining his severe self, made Calenvása remember that feeling he had had concerning Ambarturion clearly. It was not at all a good feeling. He watched as the knife went again for the orc’s blood. “NO!” he cried out again, finally listening to that feeling, and letting it fill his voice with anger. “I said do not kill them!”

Ambarturion’s eyes were filled with his own anger, one of indignant disobedience that would have stared down Calenvása only moments before. But now the Captain had come to a decision, come to a conclusion. He did not like it, but he was free from constant doubt and worrying, a constant need to think about everything logically, that never brought him to conclusions that he felt were fitting. For now, at least, he did not care if any of his decisions were ‘fitting’, whatever that meant. All that mattered was that he would be making decisions, driven by feelings and logic, using both in as much of a balance as he could. They did not mix well, though.

Holding the ambassador’s gaze, he felt his grip tighten on Ambarturion’s arm, finally realizing that he had grabbed his wrist. Coromswyth started to speak to the elf softly, and Calenvása found himself feeling grateful for this. “Ambarturion! What would you do? Are you not ashamed to offer violence where you should be paying gratitude? Were it not for these our brethren we would surely have been taken and…killed by the orcs.” She paused for a moment, and Calenvása lost the rest of her words in his mind as he concentrated on the minds of both of the ambassadors. In a strange way, it seemed they complimented each other.

Ambarturion pulled his arm away from Calenvása, and the Captain watched him drop the orc, and then sheathed the knife. The order in which he did this was important to note, and was of no surprise. He quickly left, and Calenvása followed him with his eyes to find that he was searching for weapons. The Captain sighed, and turned back to Coromswyth. He gave her a short bow, passing a thanks to her through his eyes. He did not like words, at least not anymore. Perhaps at one time he had found them useful. Now he found them troublesome and mostly empty. Targil soon joined he and the lady elf, and Calenvása charged him with looking after the prisoners for now. “Notify me when they find their minds,” he said briefly, and was surprised to find Targil chuckle softly at this. The Captain simply smiled, and it felt good on his lips.

But then he heard someone speak behind him. It was Thorvel. “Calenvása,” he whispered urgently. “I have found Lómarandil. It seems the orcs remembered him and his weakness, and that was used to their advantage. He received only one more wound, but I am unsure of what kind of shape he is in.” Calenvása gestured to Thorvel to lead him, and he followed his companion without a word. The elf took the time to voice some of his concerns to his Captain. “I do not trust Ambarturion with any kind of authority, Captain.”

Now he chose to call him Captain. Those under his command confused him to no end, and this had brought many worries to Calenvása in the past. Today he chose to listen more closely and observe more closely, and know what he could about what went on in their minds, and not concern himself with foolish worry. “I know,” he said, with the most surety that he had felt in weeks. Thorvel looked at him for another moment before realizing that he would get nothing more from his Captain. Calenvása expected him to be content with that. But then he found Lómarandil, within a patch of bushes and other growth, and he worried.