[Amanaduial the archer]

"So you would answer a question with a question?" The anger which had flitted across Melost's face for a moment was now gone, although concern still reigned on his face. "Very well. You seem ill at ease as though heavy things were on your mind. When we go into battle, we cannot afford to be distracted by our emotions. It would be better for you to share the burden, if burden it be." He looked closely at Arthain, but his friend looked away. He did indeed have many things on his mind, but would Melost understand? Understand? How could he understand? Do you always understand him?

Arthain tried to cut the little voice off, and kept walking down the path, exclaiming about the wonders of Rivendell, although truly his brain was sinking back into his own troubles. He decided to tell his friend of them, and turned to where he had been walking beside him. “Melost, I—“

He stopped, feeling foolish at talking to mid air, and, puzzled, turned back to see Melost standing some way back down the path. Once again, the angry look flashed across the elf’s face, and Arthain’s thoughts of telling him almost went out of the window. Why was his friend in such an odd mood? Usually they understood each other so well, but today he seemed so turbulent, and so far away from Arthain, even when they were right beside each other. He frowned, but resolved to close the gap; he had to, as Melost himself had said.

"You ask what ails me? Very well, I am...well, it has just been a very strange day," He was half-stalling, as he tried to make up his mind whether to tell Melost. "And...I've just been so nervous about coming to Rivendell, of meeting the fair folk?"

Melost looked almost relieved, and for a while, at least, his boyish grin returned. "You have met the fair folk before- you have met me!"

Arthain raised an eyebrow, his face mock-disdainful as he exaggerated the action of looking Melost up and down. "Well, you're certainly folk." He conceded, then also grinned, as a look of indignation spread across Melost's face.

"Why, you-" He marched up to Arthain, as if about to cuff him or pretend to fight with them, as they had done so often in the old times, but Arthain stepped back, wagging a finger at him.

"No, no, no, what would the lovely Anwanelme say?" He remonstrated. Once again, that shadow flitted over Melost's face, but was gone once more as quickly as it had come, although maybe not as quickly as the last time. What am I doing wrong?!

"You say lovely-" Melost cut himself off, stopping and lapsing into silence. Arthain looked at him curiously, but Melost would not return his glance. He suddenly spoke again, his voice seeming overly bright to Arthain. "So, that's all that has been troubling you, just a few quibbles about seeing the immortals, the ones who-" Once again, he cut himself off, then carried on, hurriedly. "Dinner is at sundown, it is a formal occasion," He smiled at Arthain, but as he did so his eyes seemed to miss him, to go past or through him rather than at him. "Do try and drag up something suitable to wear.

They both laughed, and Arthain punched Melost playfully on the arm, but it was all fake. It wasn't right. The laughter was put on, the playful punch incredibly light, only lasting a moment, and Melost's last comment before he went, which would have been so normal usually, made Arthain wonder about how sincere Melost had been.

As the elf departed, leaving Arthain alone, he left the captain with one more thing to think about. As Arthain had watched Melost leave, he couldn't help but notice his tightly clenched fists.

[ June 01, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]