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( Ha ha you got yelled at by your mom)
Deawen " I saw you at the gate, it was my friend who rescued you, I wanted to make sure you were alright." Deawen walked slowly towards the cot, a smile brightening her face.

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Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

"Rescued me?" Durion asked. He hadn't remembered being rescued. He searched his memory. A hazy image of him stumbling towards the gate came to mind. He asked asked for passage and it was granted, but bbefore he could move he suddenly fell, blackness covering his eyes. Then he woke up, in this very room. Was he forgetting somthing. He didn't think so. "What..did he rescue me from?" He asked tentively, ashamed that he couldn't remember what he had been saved from.

"a Pair of orcs were tracking you." she said without conviction. "whats your name?"she asked changing the subject.

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Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

"Durion, my name is Durion" He replied, thought more pressing matters were in his head. "Orcs?" Durion repeated meekly. He had led orcs to Rivendell? "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I thought they had lost my trail." He had no doubt that these were the orcs that had pursued him all the way from Mordor. They were a tenasious and cruel pair. Twice he had been captured while on the run, and twice he had escaped. They wanted to kill him, Durion knew, but the command of thier master-to bring him back alive-prevented them from doing so. The second time he escaped from them he thought he had evaded them for good, and had covered his trail. Apparantly not. Fearful that he would be punished for leading orcs strait to one of the Free People's last stong hold, he looked down in shame.

"It's not your fault," she said softly sitting at the very edge of the cot. " I'm sure you didn't mean to lead them here." she said keeping her gaze locked on him. " Where did you come from before all this?"

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Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

(Woops, sorry I haven't posted in forever. I was waiting for Turwaithion...)

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Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

((I just realized that I won't be able to post for a while. I might be able to get on to night for a couple minutes and maybe friday around 1:00, but after that I'm gone until sometime on sunday. I'm going to a horse show (uber excited. My first time showing) and I don't know what time we'll be back on sunday. You can powerplay my character if you want to, or just leave him in the background. I don't mind))

Durion nodded, beathing a sigh of relief as silently as possible. Had he really been in prison so long to think that everyone was so cruel? He looked at Deawen again. "I was born and raised in Mirkwood, a long time ago." He pulled up memories that he had pulled up many times before. They were peaceful, beautiful memories.

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(bump)

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Deawen smiled at the progress they had made. She could tell these memories were happy and not filled with the darkness that now haunted him. It brought a tinge of sadness to her as she had no peaceful memories of her home. " It was peaceful then?"

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Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

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Durion nodded, but a sad smile spread across his face. "Very peaceful." He whispered. "The trees were so tall and strong and green. During the summer when the sun would shine bright and hot, the forest seemed to sing with beauty. Then fall would come, and the trees would alight in thier firey colors. I knew every path, every tree, every stream. It was my home."

"Greenwood the Great, it was called." Durion sighed. His thoughts, as they now inevitably did, turned to darkness. "But not now. Now it is a dark and dangerous place, inhabited by vile and cruel creatures. My home, my childhood, has been corrupted. I remember watching the darkness take over my homeland, as slowly the hand of Mordor cast a shadow over the great forest." Durion pulled at his blanket, slowly slipping deeper into his dark thoughts. He remembered the anger he felt as he watched the hordes of orcs trample through the underbrush, mindlessly crushing the plants and land he called home. The forest had been getting darker: the sun shone less brightly, the summer breeze was cold, and frightening creatures were spotted in the deepening shadows. Durion knew he was outnumbered, but this rape of his homeland culd not continue. And, his bold decision had its price. He was captured, put into chains, and sent to Mordor to rot in prison or tire under backbreakin work.

Mylia watched with concern as Durion lapsed into silence. Darkness slowly couded his pale eyes as he mulled over memories and thoughts of his past. "Durion, you wake!" She spoke strongly, pulling him from his thoughts. "Good. You must eat more. Herbal tea and soup." Hastily she poured a bowl of soup and handed it to Durion. He took it tentively. As she poured him tea he gulped the soup down, savoring the hot, savory taste. As he sipped the strong tea another man entered the room, resting a hand on Deawen's shoulder. This man waved a hand to him, which Durion returned.

Deawen felt the pressure of Tulminds hand before she heard him. She turned slightly startled. She smiled up at him, to mask her darker thoughts. " I think he will pull through given time." she said sounding like her mother. She bit her lower lip at the thought of her mother then her mind desprate to perserve itself fleeted away and she smiled again. " Your home was mighty and beautiful when mine was only a fledgling kingdom." she said with a brighter smile. " I am glad that you have some meausre of happiness in your past." a soft bell tolled and Deawen looked up from her musing and turned to the window. " I am sorry the hour is later than I thought. I must go, would you like me to return later?" she asked standing up. She glanced at Tulmind before dashing out the door careful this time so not to run nto anyone. It was her favorite time of the day, her only chance to do what her ancestors did best. Ride.
Deawen made her way to her room changed into her riding breeches and tunic then dashed to the stables and found her mount. A long legged chocolate palomino with four white socks and a white mane and tail. Deawen loved the unusual color and contrast with the white. She saddled quickly then led the horse to the practice ring. There was several others in the ring as well, but she was the only human in the group. She began to warm up her horse by cantering around the ring. She was joined by the others, they all merged into one large group. Their appearent instructor gave them a task of jumping over several hurdles while slashing at a dummy mimicking an orc. Deawen patted her horses neck reassuring the horse they could achieve the task at hand. The Elves suceeded without any effort, having years of practice behind them, when it came to Deawen's turn she urged her horse to the jump. The chocolate mare snorted and tossed her mane before cantering. The jump loomed ahead Deawen felt the preparation of the jump and with skilled persision the horse and rider both moved at the same time. Clearing the jump, but now it was Deawen's turn to act. She drew her sword at the last possible moment and stabbed at the dummy.

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Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

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