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Old 02-19-2003, 02:07 PM   #1
Lyra Greenleaf
The Diaphanous Dryad
 
Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: R toL: 531, past the wild path
Posts: 1,152
Lyra Greenleaf has just left Hobbiton.
Silmaril

In front! The sword slashed as quickly as the thought came into his mind, piercing the belly of the wolf. Now, to the left. Once again,Telpeheled's arm beat his trancelike thoughts. He did not know how long the fight lasted. It could be it was mere minutes, but it seemed like an age.

The arm stopped, sword still piercing the side of a wolf breathing its last on the ground. Somehow, an instinct had told him there was no longer a threat, but once again the brain had not caught up.
"Telpeheled?" Automatically the arm came up again. Telpeheled span.
"Are you alright?"
This was no wolf, instead Telpeheled found himself threatening Maeralagos. He might have apologised, or he might have laughed, but exhaustion stopped him. However the trance of battle left him, and he sheathed his sword.

The two Elves stood quietly for a second, Maeralagos still awaiting a response. At last he realised Telpeheled would not be providing one.
"Come" Maeralagos led him to the far end of the clearing, where Telpeheled hazily heard the voices of the others. One asked Maeralagos if he was alright, though Telpeheled could not place the voice.

"What about you?" Maeralagos asked. His voice seemed strange, somewhat menacing. Telpeheled shook his head to clear it.
What was the correct response to that question? Telpeheled could not quite remember. He thought hard. Inspiration hit him.
'Fine, thank you' he heard a voice answer. It sounded like him, though very far away. He fought back the urge to laugh.

Maeralagos, reassured turned away. Telpeheled needed to rest. He walked to the edge of the clearing and leaned against a tree. His head felt very strange.
It's all sticky he thought, touching the nape of his neck.

Never mind, I'll worry about that when I wake up he thought. Sound and colour faded...

[ February 22, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]
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“Sylphs of the forest,” I whispered. “Spirits of oak, beech and ash. Dryads of Rowan and hazel, hear us. You who have guided and guarded our every footstep, you who have sheltered our growth, we honour you."
the Forbidden Link
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