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Old 08-04-2006, 09:57 AM   #127
Novnarwen
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
 
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Eirnar

He didn’t need a knife to protect Aedhild. He had a club, crafted with his own hands. “Protect Aedhild at least,” he mimicked silently to himself as soon as Khamir was out of sight. Though he didn’t mind taking care of Aedhild, as nobody else seemed up for the task, he didn’t like the idea of being seen as her personal protector, or her nurse for that matter. She was an unusual woman, yes, and he did seem to understand her better than most, but did that automatically leave him with the sole responsibility for her? It was not his fault that she was incapable of taking responsibility for herself; selfish as this sounded, he reproached himself for the direction of his thoughts. He should not, he could not forget that he had been blessed, he was alive and well after years for torture, and acknowledging this to himself, he realised that protecting Aedhild should be but a small task, and he should do it both willingly and dutifully.

**

Aedhild was already asleep when he settled down. Although he had done everything in his power to forget about today’s encounters and intrigues, he couldn’t quite let it go. He had been so fierce in his critique of Khamir, his actions, and yet, at the end of the day, Khamir had still offered him a knife. Eirnar had narrowed his eyes and reacted with disbelief and scepticism. Was it really Aedhild he needed to protect, or was it himself? Was this just part of the game the Southron was playing? Whichever game he was playing, he was sure good at it. Finally, he had to conclude that he could not know what was in the Southron’s mind.

For some time now, he had been suspicions of Khamir. Though careful to not give away too much of his thoughts in case his suspicions had truth in them, he could not help thinking of having been too prominent in his critique. It hadn’t brought any good, and Eirnar had to admit that today’s events did nothing but confuse him further. Had Khamir been sincere? Had he intended the knife for him to protect Aedhild, who supposedly was unable herself? Smiling, he remembered when the woman had charged at him for no apparent reason. She herself didn’t seem to remember anything of the sorts, and Eirnar felt no particularly urge to tell her either. No, she was capable to protect herself; at times she was as aggressive and threatening as the slave-guards at the plantations.

If it wasn’t for Aedhild’s protection, was it for his own? After having openly confronted him with his complaints, maybe the ex-slave had viewed it as a challenge. Perhaps he regarded him as a threat. Perhaps Khamir was getting cold feet; if the slaves started doubting his abilities as a leader, started doubting his intentions, started doubting him, his plan, whatever it was, would without a doubt fail! A slight shiver ran through him as he realised that if this was the case, then he would be a target; he would be someone Khamir would sneak up on at night, and with a slit throat, he would be taken away before the others would rise. Who know? Maybe the kidnapping of the children had been planned. It suddenly hit him that it was a trap. It became so painfully obvious that he had difficulties believing it. Had Khamir resisted going after them so quickly to purposely allow more attacks? Did he want to delay a pursuit until whoever it was he was in league with were ready for them?

Taking a hold of the knife, which he had hung in his belt, Eirnar examined at it carefully as if it would help him come to a conclusion of what he ought to do. If he abandoned the group, he was on his own, and he wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not. Not yet. The danger of staying seemed greater at this point though; the tension in the camp was palpable, and who knew what happened tomorrow… he would take his chances, but not a moment longer than he had to.

Last edited by Novnarwen; 08-04-2006 at 02:58 PM.
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