Deawen tensed as she heard Arandur Laugh outside. She couldn't help her dread at the situation, she wasn't sure if Arandur would punish her for trying to escape again. She figured her leg was enough but Deawen learned never to trust men unless you knew exactly their motives, even then one had to be wary. When Arandur came into the tent Deawen didn't move, even when he lightly probed her leg a tinge of pain ran through her but she didn't move. She thought he might strike her but it never came, he seemed more surprised at Deawen's fear than angry. She wanted to tell him she was sorry and she would never try to escape again , but he left and courage fled from her like a stag.
"I am sorry." She said quietly it was all she could muster.

_________________
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

Maenel woke in her tent, her clothes damp under her body. She had a splitting headache, but first concentrated on finding dry clothes. She pulled them from her trunk before making a bitter tea for her head. The next thing she could think of was food. She went to the cook and recieved her portion. The woman was jovial with most of the members of the camp, but was always a bit removed from her. As she turned to go back to her tent to eat, she noticed a small gathering at the senior healer's tent. She decided to investigate. She asked the guard what had happened. "The prisoner escaped again, only to be caught like a wild animal. I figures! I..." his joking was silenced by the slight move of her dark eyebrow above her stony grey eyes. "I don't know anything else, ma'am," he finished. "Then that's all," Maenel said softly. He nodded and suddenly became the model sentry. She decided to enter the tent when Arandur strode out. She was surprised, blushed, nodded, then entered her teacher's tent.

She saw Deawen on the cot, heavily bandaged and drugged. All she could find to say was, "Finished now?"

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Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

" Aye, " Deawen said with a heavy sigh. " I am, no use fighting fate I suppose." Deawen said with a second sigh. "Its not that bad here really, slightly annoying but I guess I could adjust.." she said with little humor.

_________________
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

Maenel let the humor pass. A beat passed before she said anything. "I think I will let my senior treat with you from now on. I don't need the distraction. I wish you well." With that, she left the tent and returned to her own and the two patients she still had. One had his own bed curtained off because he had a fever. The other was awake but had taken an arrow to the shoulder several weeks before. By not telling her for a week, it had become infected and required at least a month of attention. He sat up when she came in, and she greated him before retiring to her bed to eat.

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

((Sorry I havn't posted for a while. I've been quite busy))
Fearan shook off his remaining sleepiness as Deawen began to wake up.

"I take it I am not dead?" Deawen asked suddenly.

"Apparently not. What a pity." He teased. But the smile left his face as she struggled to sit up. Fearan knew what it was like to be helpless. The feeling that anyone could take advantage of you at any moment was terrifying, not so much because some one would, but because some one easily could.

"It looks more painful than it really is.." Deawen muttered, a tear slowly couring down her cheek.

"I'm sure it is. You'll be upright and terrorizing the world in no time." He smiled, just as sombody walked into the room. Fearan rose to his feet to see who it was. It was Arandur. "Arandur, good morning." He said, giving a small nod of respect.

"You have a knife, you could always finish the job..." Deawen said with dry humor. She couldnt' help a small smile at his words she looked at her leg bleakly. " I owe you my life Fearan, I am sure you will ask me to stop escaping... or trying to. So I will." she said slowly she looked down at her hands feeling helpless. She had no idea what was to become of her, imprisonment forever? Or just as a hostage, to keep the Phantoms from attacking. It was a clever plan to keep her as a hostage to ward off her comrades, but she knew they would sacrifice her for the greater cause, it was only a matter of time really. She was nothing to them ,expendable.

_________________
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

Arandur walked away from the healer's tent, sunk in thought. The problem of Deawen was foremost in his mind, but he knew he would have to put it aside for the more important issues at hand. She would be out of the way at least, until her leg healed. In the mean time, they would continue on towards Fornost Erain; if the weather held, he hopped to make it within three days, despite being slowed down by the wounded.

He gave the order to strike camp, and swiftly packed his few things from his tent, rolling them in a course wool blanket and tying behind the saddle on his horse. He himself would ride out to reconnoiter the ground they would cover that day.
As he swung into the saddle however, his mind turned again to Deawen. A thought struck him, and he suddenly wished she hadn't been injured. If he let her 'escape', he could simply follow her to wherever she came from. He would certainly get more information that way than he ever would be keeping her prisoner...But she'd come and gotten caught in a trap, and even that plan wouldn't work now. He grunted sourly.

Fearan held back his breath. Did she just sacrifice her freedom for him? In the short time he had known her, he felt sure she would never try to escape. It wasn't her nature. But now...Fearn didn't know what to say. He chuckled nervously to break the silence. "As if." He smiled. He would have let her go, had she not gotten her foot trapped. When he followed her, it was just curiosity, maybe even protectiveness that drove him to watch her leave. But now, the thought that she would willingly let herself be penned up....That couldn't be right.

Maybe he could help her escape. Again the thought flashed across his mind, and again he pushed it away. He forced himself to remember why Deawen was a prisoner: she had tried to kill a Gondorian lord. She was a Phantom, feared and hated across the land. If he helped her escape he would be accountable for all her murders.

He didn't like his thoughts. "I'm going to go get some food. Do you want some?" He didn't see the healer around, but he figured Deawen wouldn' die if she ate regular human food instead of that horrible concotion he had been giving to her.

It unnerved Deawen for Fearan to be so responsive to her and staying with her so long. She was wary but was glad for the company.
" Yes I would love some, I'm famished." Deawen said greatfuly.

_________________
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

Fearan slipped out of the tent and trotted off towards the mess hall. The wafting smell of a warm breakfast greeted his nose. He filled two plates with bread, eggs, and a slice of what looked like deer meat. Careful not to spill, he brought the steaming food to Deawen. "Not the best fare, I'm afraid, but the cooks do wonders with what they have." he stet the plate and utensils near Deawen. "Eat up!" he smiled.

Deawen laughed, “ I would have been grateful for bread and water.”
She relished the eggs since not having tasted them since her childhood it was a rare treat.
She ate quickly as if afraid that at any given moment someone was going to snatch it away. Looking out at the camp through the tent flap Deawen seemed forlorn almost edgy. “I could always escape later after your leg heals..” she thought absently, then quickly scolded herself for thinking such, she gave her word and it was final. Deawen sighed as she heard the call to break camp. “Where are we headed?”she asked not really meaning to say 'we but she felt she was going whether she wanted to or not.

_________________
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

(Hello, I just saw the open sign and was wondering if there was room for another?)

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

(You bet! Jump right in. )

(Fantastic! Do you want a bio first? Or shall I just toss my character out?)

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

(A Bio would be nice, but you don't have to.)

(Alright, here's my bio. I figured she'd work best because she just seems to be everywhere there is trouble.)

Maethoriel Heledir

Age: Far too old (as she generally says, she's in the 5 digits)

Race: Half-elf

Appearance: Short, dark brown hair and eyes. The left side of her face has one long scar starting above her brow, skipping her eye socket and finishing at her lip.

Weapons: She predominately uses sickles, and knives. She finds swords too cumbersome and is completely useless with a bow.

Maethoriel was born in Mirkwood, and is probably one of the first half-elves of Middle Earth. Her father was a merchant and met her mother when he was trading goods with her father. Her mother died when giving birth to Maethoriel's younger sister, her father was able to hold off on leaving Middle Earth for 100 years before his grief overtook him. He entrusted his daughter's care to her grandfather.She became rather restless in the town and left one night without a word, only to find herself in Mordor, she quickly succumbed to the offer of power and learned the way of the sword. She earned the high rank of general before she deserted. After her experience she was greatly changed, often working on both sides to prevent herself from being injured. She was strange in her choice of friends and met a dwarf lady by the name of Nin Irohand, the two were fast friends due to similar interest, after Nin passed on and Maethoriel befriended her son, Grair and the two were nearly insperable. Her last name, Heledir (Kingfisher), is more or less a title that she adopted. It was given to her for various reasons. She has few close friends and tells them little about her life.

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me