Shadow of Starlight
Join Date: Mar 2002
Location: dancing among the ledgerlines...
Posts: 2,397
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Anwenelme raced past Arthain so close he could feel the breeze, but she did not look up, her head bowed low; all Arthain saw was the glitter of tears in her eyes and on her pale cheeks. He closed his eyes, and lowered his head, biting his lip. Melost was doing it for a good reason, of that he had been sure, and the ringing of her slapping Melost still stung as if he himself had been slapped...but she was so tragic looking, her face deadly pale in shock and anger, the tears flowing down her cheeks, the sound of her sobbing quieting as she tried to stop, to hold herself up in front of her mother but still audible. And the pain in her voice had over ridden the anger.
Looking up again, Arthain saw Melost alone, on his horse, staring after his beloved. In his expression was confusion and hurt, but more than that, there was pain. Not the pain from his cheek where it was already an angry red, but the pain that Arthain had felt himself in his heart when he himself had lost his sweet one, his Yilsa. And in that moment, Arthain knew exactly how his friend felt; although their circumstances were slightly different, the pain of losing one so dear would remain the same, a deep, aching throb that beat inside your heart, with your very heart even, making it throb to the rhythm of the pain that will never go away.
Melost turned his eyes to Arthain, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears, and his fingertips brushing his cheek where Anwenelme's hand had slapped it- the rest of his face was as pale as hers. She would be feeling the same pain, but in her own feelings would lie betrayal as well, the betrayal of the heart. But Melost turned away now, riding ahead silently, alone with his thoughts, his prayers, and his pain, while behind, Anwenelme vented out her anger at her mother, her pain turning to anger- anger that she couldn't do a thing against this, and that hurt even worse. So much pain from both of them, pain that he himself could feel as if it was the day he had learnt of Yilsa's death, and yet Arthain couldn't do a thing to comfort either of them.
Sighing, he shook his head and let a tear of his own fall for his friends, both old and new. Amidst the silence of both the elves breaking hearts, the group rode on into the evening to the camp.
When they reached the camp, still Arthain was powerless. In silence, Melost left his horse with Thelian and departed swiftly without a word into his tent, while Arthain gazed helplessly after him. He should go after his friend...but behind him, without even looking around, Arthain could feel Anwenelme watching him, could feel her gaze scorhcing the back of his neck with white hot, hurt-fuelled anger. He couldn't go after Melost without hurting Anwenelme, and he couldn't comfort Anwenelme without doing even more damage to Melost. With a heavy heart, Arthain saw to his horse and went, alone, to his own tent.
[ July 05, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]
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I am what I was, a harmless little devil
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