[Amanaduial the archer]

Arthain felt around his side gingerly where the orcish blade had gone on. The bandage was securely in place, and underneath Thelian had put on some sort of cooling salve or poultice from his own first aid kit, and the heat of the wound seemed to be fading. Moving his hand away, knowing it was unwise to touch it lest he damage it even more, Arthain looked up at Thelian were the boy was kneeling in front of him, and smiled tenatively, not knowing whether it would be accepted.

"Thank you," he said softly. "Thats...thank you, Thelian." The words didn't seem enough, and Arthain wished he could find words to express so much more to Thelian.

The elf did not reply, nor did he smile. His face remained indifferent as he stood, turning his back on Arthain and walking away towards the carts. Arthain sighed as he watched him go, following him with his eyes. The smooth, elegant way of walking, the fairness of his face, the music in his voice...the elf was so like his master. The thought, absent-mindedly floating into Arthain's mind, stung suddenly as Arthain realised it, and the grief and anger at himself came back to him. While he had been fighting, the thoughts of Melost had not been there. For the first time since the elf who had been Arthain's best friend burst in on him and the woman the former loved, his mind had been free of Melost.

Watching Thelian systematically searching the wagons for any sign of damage, and knew that Thelian felt the same pain. While the squire did not feel the guilt that came with it to Arthain, the man knew that the anger carried, and was, ironically, directed the same way - at Arthain. A thoughtful look had settled over the elf's face though now, as Arthain watched, and Arthain could not help hoping that maybe it was a good thing. That maybe...maybe forgiveness was not so far away.

"Don't be such a bloody fool. You dont deserve forgiveness." The bitter thought hit Arthain with venom, and he almost flinched. Thankfully Anwenelme was nowhere nearby, thank the Gods. Thank the Gods....Arthain's lip curled slightly at the irony of the thanks that came so automatically. There were no Gods.

Standing carefully, Arthain went to find Dorlas, and when the boy came out of a tent suddenly, he shocked Arthain into stepping back. Arthain was unable to look his squire in the face, but Dorlas's voice was not cold as before when he spoke. "We need to start going again. I doubt any of the ladies were hurt, and the can get over the shock as they ride." The tone in Dorlas's voice when he said the last part told Arthain that his squire thought as little of the 'ladies' as he did. Dorlas continued, "Thelian is just checking for any damage. I'm just alerting the women in these tents."

Arthain nodded, glad of his squires organisation. "I will start over at the far side. And Dorlas," Arthain laid a hand on his squire's arm as Dorlas nodded and started to turn away. His voice was soft when he spoke. "Thankyou."

Dorlas opened his mouth, then shut it again, and simply nodded, before continuing away. Arthain watched him go, then turned towards the tents he had said he would alert. Then he realised his mistake.

Anwenelme's was the first.

He cursed under his breath, and for a moment, he wavered, before making up his mind. The snake would not get the better of him, would not send him cowering away from her like a whelp. Purposefully and with a grim expression, Arthain started towards her tent, unaware of Thelian's eyes watching him. He hesitated at the tent opening, counted to five under his breath, then opened the curtain, clearing his throat quietly to announce himself.

The black haired elf turned, and Arthain was surprised to see a smile on her lips. But that was not the only thing on her lips, and as she spoke in that first mili-second, her face was transformed into that of a young girl, delighted to see someone.

"Melost-!"

She stopped, as she realised he wasn't who she thought he was. But before the expression of practised disgust settled onto her face, she could not conceal the look of pained disappointment. Arthain delivered his message quickly and indifferently to her back, as she had turned away, then left the tent speedily, but with more to think about than when he had gone in.