Post by kipspul on Sept 1, 2006 18:32:45 GMT 1
Just to see if I still could write something in English... hope you guys can read it all, because I'd be very dissapointed if nobody read this...
... Jaron poked with his stick in the red-hot embers, his face half hidden in shadows, half burning in orange light. I shivered and layed my head against Illiath's shoulder. He didn't seem to mind - in fact, he laid his arm around me and smiled his warm, shy little smile. I smiled back to him but felt my happyness fade as I saw Cillir staring at me, at us, from across the fire.
His face reminded me of the man who killed Leënad this morning. Poor Leënad, naïve and aristocratic as he had been. The bandid had showed no mercy as his blade struck, rusty, singing a song of death. Killing the halfblood elf without a second thought. And now Cillir looked as if he'd kill Illiath. If Illiath would touch me one more time, if he smiled one more time...
Cillir looked away, to Jaron. Jaron met his glance without hestitation - however fear shone in his face. The blond boy I had known all my life stood on the brink of becoming a man. He now had the courage to face his fear. But would he have the courage to face Cillir?
Youriach, the one who said we'd call him Different, whispered something to Aurorin. Aurorin, silent Aurorin, shifted nervously as everybody's glances fixed on him. 'We should go rest', he said at last. 'Different just told me... the wolves won't bother us. And we'll have to rise early if we want to escape Arachan's searchers.'
Cillir sighed. 'He's sent the Hunters, hasn't he?' Again, Different and Aurorin exchainged glances. Finally, Different nodded. Cillir squared his shoulders. 'Allright,' he said. 'Just tell me... if they see us or find our tracks, will we have to...'
'Yes,' Aurorin nodded. 'You know they never give up when they've found a track.' Cillir sighed again, but nodded, and his eyes went cold and aloof. Nothing lived in there. He would kill his former friends, even his own family if he'd need to. My glance went to Jaron and I went even colder. Jaron's eyes looked exactly the same. Just as cold and fearless.
'It is a game,' he said flatly. 'Arachan's playing games with us.'
... Jaron poked with his stick in the red-hot embers, his face half hidden in shadows, half burning in orange light. I shivered and layed my head against Illiath's shoulder. He didn't seem to mind - in fact, he laid his arm around me and smiled his warm, shy little smile. I smiled back to him but felt my happyness fade as I saw Cillir staring at me, at us, from across the fire.
His face reminded me of the man who killed Leënad this morning. Poor Leënad, naïve and aristocratic as he had been. The bandid had showed no mercy as his blade struck, rusty, singing a song of death. Killing the halfblood elf without a second thought. And now Cillir looked as if he'd kill Illiath. If Illiath would touch me one more time, if he smiled one more time...
Cillir looked away, to Jaron. Jaron met his glance without hestitation - however fear shone in his face. The blond boy I had known all my life stood on the brink of becoming a man. He now had the courage to face his fear. But would he have the courage to face Cillir?
Youriach, the one who said we'd call him Different, whispered something to Aurorin. Aurorin, silent Aurorin, shifted nervously as everybody's glances fixed on him. 'We should go rest', he said at last. 'Different just told me... the wolves won't bother us. And we'll have to rise early if we want to escape Arachan's searchers.'
Cillir sighed. 'He's sent the Hunters, hasn't he?' Again, Different and Aurorin exchainged glances. Finally, Different nodded. Cillir squared his shoulders. 'Allright,' he said. 'Just tell me... if they see us or find our tracks, will we have to...'
'Yes,' Aurorin nodded. 'You know they never give up when they've found a track.' Cillir sighed again, but nodded, and his eyes went cold and aloof. Nothing lived in there. He would kill his former friends, even his own family if he'd need to. My glance went to Jaron and I went even colder. Jaron's eyes looked exactly the same. Just as cold and fearless.
'It is a game,' he said flatly. 'Arachan's playing games with us.'