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Date Posted: 12:09:00 03/27/03 Thu
Author: Leila & Adaron
Subject: Inside the fortress (part II)
In reply to: Most characters 's message, "Inside the fortress" on 19:02:25 03/24/03 Mon

Nothing sounded in the room. The bed was made, warm coals were in the fire, though why the Elf would need a fire lit you'd have to ask him. There was a desk like table and chair near the canopy bed and a couch was positioned against the wall near the door that she had entered in. Two lamps in the room were lit and the door to what appeared to be another room or perhaps walk in closet was open. Having heard the other door open, an elf walked out of the closet clasping Elvish arm bands to his forearms. He looked up to see a figure wearing a scarlet cloak. Both brows rose, his hands dropped to his sides and a long knife, his only weapon at the moment was drawn from its sheath silently. Long strides silently brought him up to the figure before. His free arm swept up and wrapped about the lower half of the figures torso, ensnaring their arms. The blade rose to press against the figures neck as they were drawn close to him. Oh, surely and Elf could recognize their own cloak, especially if it was Elvish made...and he did. But, he would teach her a bit of a lesson sneaking into rooms. Not that he suspected any foul thought or deed on her part. She seemed to have had a bit of fun at the celebration, he would have his.

And Leila had indeed been taken quickly by surprise. A gasp sounding from her throat as she was forced back against her assailant, if one could call him that consider it was his room after all! Her breath was held, every muscle in her body rigid. Reason had gone out the window and in her mind Adaron wasn't even in the room, so that was someone else behind her. There was no way she was going down without a fight. Gathering all her strength, she put one fist into a flattened palm, reared up and then slammed her elbow full force into his solar plexus, but that was not the end of the assault. One hand pushed the knife away while a foot jammed down with her heel into the instep of his foot her other hand, the one in the fist came up and struck him right in the nose, and for a final blow, her elbow came back once more with the same force, but lower to strike him in the groin.

He had grunted at the elbow into his stomach. His head had rocked back with the force of the blow to his nose and upon the strike to the groin he had doubled over. Well apparently she did not know it was him as he knew it was her. He wasn't embarrassed at the ass kicking, she would have been dead long before. He could have even made it impossible for her to not move with a single striking of the heel of his hand. He stayed in that position for a moment before straightened. A firm hand grasped her shoulder and spun her about to face him. His other hand went to her other shoulder and purposefully he shoved her backwards, moving with her, until she was pinned up against the wall. Of course, he did not slam her against it. He knew there was something amiss with this attack, he had brought it upon himself.

Once she was pinned against the wall, the hood fell from her head and the cloak opened up enough to reveal the dancer's costume still in place. Green-gold eyes were wide with what was probably shock that it was Adaron she had just pummeled. No words came, but it was obvious that she hadn't known it was him. It was a mix between panic and relief. She moved from her position on the wall to kneel beside his bed, her knee resting on the floor, her head tipped up to look at him. "Adaron, I am so sorry...I had no idea it was you." Which in hindsight didn't seem to make an awful lot of sense consider it was his room. "Are you all right?" Oh she was crushed. "I am so very sorry. I would have never..."

"I know, I am fine. I should not have startled you as I knew it was you and you had no idea. Though...it is my room, I would like to point out." He made no move to ask her why she was in his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, bent, his knees spread, elbows upon them, hands limp in between. He was clad in the blacks pants he had worn at the party, boots as well. He had removed his shirt as he was readying for bed, though that didn't account for replacing the arm bands, but Elves are crazy.

Now that she knew he was okay she took note that he was wearing less clothing. A bit of color came into her cheeks, but it was difficult to notice it. She pushed herself into a standing position then, resting her weight on one leg, the other rested on the ball of her feet. It was a dancer's starting position, but was habit that she took such upon standing. "Why do you wear your armbands when you are getting ready to sleep?" curiously. She decided not to address the fact that she was in his room and neither of them were sure why.

"Because...." Suddenly his gaze lifted abruptly, eyes latching onto hers. "I do not sleep with them on." As if he was making any sense. "Why are you in my room?"

She laughed aloud then. "If I told you the truth, you would never believe it, so let us just say that I came to return your cloak," she said, unclasping the scarlet cloak and shrugging it from her shoulders before it was offered to him. The hair that had been supported by the cloak fell into place, the beads clinking freely as they came to rest.

Slowly he rose from his seated positioned, and he seemed to be looking a bit better, able to move more. He took the cloak from her and slowly, yet no longer hobbling, walked it over to the table and chair and laid it over the back of the seat. "I would prefer the truth." He turned to glance at her over his shoulder, both brows arching in questioning of their own.

It was one thing to have that much skin exposed publicly when performing, it was another when it was private. Velvet-sheathed arms wrapped about her waist to hide her belly before she looked up to him once more, not saying where her eyes had been when he had his back to her. Ahem. "Fine then...it started out as a game of 'tag, you're it,' and then I ducked into a door and followed some steps down. I knew Talar was following me, so I scaled a wall and got up on a rafter and walked myself a few walls over before I dropped back down...unfortunately where I was there was really nowhere to go except through this heavy wooden door, so I went through it and I was brought here. I heard voices, so I waited. I thought there was no one here when I opened the door. I was just going to sneak through and go back to the barracks, but then...you caught me." Her cheeks had taken on a very becoming shade of red under the caramel skin.

His head had tilted to the side and he seemed impressed with her tale and if one thought about it, it did seem amazing. And just for the record. He was obviously not chubby. Bare arms were well defined, though veins weren’t popping out, each muscle corded underneath youthful, fresh, skin. His back and chest were much the same. Both lacking hair except for maybe itty bitty baby blondes. His stomach, though not a bulging six pack was defined as well muscles outlined by a slight indentation. He sat on the edge of the table, just barely, and began to unclasp the wristbands. "Are you sure that you will not need the cloak for the travel back to the barracks? It would not be wise for you to become ill in the midst of a siege or else of the like."

Leila knew he was speaking, she even saw his mouth moving, but for a moment the words were not registering. Think, woman! Say something. Finally, "I will be fine, if traipsing around in cold, wet shoes for over an hour does not give me pneumonia, then I am hardly worried about the short walk back to the barracks." He was so beautiful and she knew that she sounded muddled. Hating herself right then.

He nodded once, shifting his weight to push himself away from the table. "Maybe you should warm yourself before you dare the winter night." Looking out from under dark brows, with a glance he directed her attention to the glowing embers in the fire place. A tinge of a smile was upon his lips, almost a smirk. Grabbing the back of the chair, instead of dragging it, he easily lifted it and carried it with one hand over to the fire, setting it back to the floor.

Leila could not believe this was happening. In a piteous voice, "Eu não posso ganhar..." [I can’t win.] with a soft sigh before she walked over to the chair with a dancer's gait. She sat down in the chair gracefully and tried to find something to give her attention to, unfortunately the half-naked elf seemed to keep most of it until she finally made herself stare at the floor.

He moved around to stand next to the hearth, arms lifting to fold over his chest. He was obviously completely oblivious to the fact that he was half naked. As Talarin had said, modesty at bathing and a few other times was not necessary. Though, he would not have walked around completely naked in front of her. But surely without a shirt was nothing. Still, he was also more aware of Men and their customs and so after standing there for a moment he headed off into the closet only to reappear wearing the silk blue, silver embroidered top he had worn at the celebration. "You were troubled earlier, about Haddon. Pray tell, how do you fare now?"

"I feel better, though I still worry for him. Is he doing well? Will he live through the night?" she asked inquisitively, turning then in the chair to look at him, one leg folded beneath her, both arms resting on the back of the chair. She hadn't minded him being half-naked of course, but at least now she could do a little more to focus on articulation.

He remained standing yet leaned back against one of the posts of the bed. A single nod was given to her. "I believe that he will survive. I am quite sure that the poison was caught in time." His blue eyes glanced from her to the embers in the fire place. Again he was moving, over to the place to kneel down and put three small logs over the embers, blowing softly. He was obviously fine, but he thought she might still be a bit chilly in the Old Fortress.

She tipped her head, watching him move. "I should apologize for the way I acted earlier, but...something about searing flesh just does not sit well with me," a half-smile was given. Her hands dropped to her lap, a fingertip trailing along the string of gold coins along her belt. It was good to distract herself, though the warmth was making her sleepy. She gave no outward indication of it. "It pleases me to know that he will live. If I have time, I shall visit with him on the morrow to check on him in between my shifts of singing on the ramparts."

Adaron, who was still on one knee before the fire, blowing softly, stopping in mid blow to glance at her yet again. "He leaves on the marrow with the last wagon train. He will still be sorely wounded for a time and cannot serve his purpose here. Though he would stay, it is best for him to leave with the others. You would have to make your visit early. I deem it would do him well to see you." Again he blew slowly at the orange coals, flames licking to life. A half smile came to his lips. "I do not think searing flesh sits kindly with many, elendil."

"I always wake far earlier than I should. I will go and see him before he leaves." She tugged on a coin upon her hip for a moment before she glanced up at Adaron, his smile, slight as it was, was terribly infectious to the young gypsy, and she smiled as well. "You are probably right." Both ankles rotated for a moment. Feet were still wet, but were becoming warm and wet at least.

Why she was still wearing wet clothing was beyond him. His hand swept out to gesture to the ballet like slippers she wore. "You should remove them and let them hang over the fire. They would dry more quickly." One hand pressed upon the ground gently as he rose to his feet. He didn't ache so much now. "I believe that your watch begins again tomorrow eve. Be sure to get plenty of rest."

She groaned softly. "I detest evening watch more than you can possibly imagine," she informed him before she pulled the ankles of her pants up so that she could unlace the slippers that laced up her calves and then hung them over the fire as he suggested. Her feet were so small, but were quickly tucked under her to hide them because she was not fond of her tiny feet. "Are you feeling better, Lord Adaron? I did not pull any punches, and I may be small, but it is to my knowledge that I hit fairly hard."

His chin dipped and he looked to her from under dark brows almost in a way of You've got to be kidding me. Then his head shook slowly and he even chuckled, lightly, a clear sound. "Uma, elendil" Then with another chuckle. "Lle naa belogohtar. It was wrong of me to startle you so, though I new it was you." As easily explained as that.

She drew herself up a bit straighter. "Well, it serves you right...for being in your own room like that. What were you thinking?" Leila laughed then and turned green-gold eyes towards the fire, allowing them to close for a moment as she soaked in the heat. "I did not understand the naa belogohtar," she told him.

A brow arched and he was silent for a moment before spoke. "Indeed...." Another pause as he leaned sideways against the hearth. "It is best that you do not understand." He teased, if that was possible. Then he gave in. "I told you that you were a mighty warrior." He did not grin though. Not this time. And one might have a difficult time guessing if he was serious or simply teasing her. Perhaps it was both.

She raised a smooth black brow and leaned forward, her elbows and forearms resting upon her thighs and knees. Her head tipped slightly and the beads fell from behind her ears and clinked against each other under her chin before coming to rest. "I am unsure if I should think that you are serious or if you are teasing me." Her eyes narrowed playfully. "If I have learned anything from Talarin, it has been never to take tone of voice for face value."

"Face value?" There was now that Adaron that she had first met. "Apparently, you have stated, more than once, that I have little to no face value and that..." A brow arched, his chin tipping upwards, as he regarded her. "...perhaps I feel no emotion." He only did this for a brief moment and soon, to reassure her that he was not upset, a small quick smile was given before once again his face became expressionless, though, in the relaxed sense. Not that the first Adaron was bad. He was after all, the same person, and did not fake who he was or try to mask it.

Her head bowed for a moment, her shoulders rising and falling with a sigh before she looked up to him again. "I will not lie and say that it still affects me not. It makes me crazy how well you can hide your thoughts. However, I know full and well that you possess emotions, and strong ones at that." She was talking about when he had grown so angry at those who had tormented her, but it could have easily been construed as her speaking of something else. "Although..." she laughed softly, relieved when his face relaxed once more. Her thought was never finished. Either way he was Adaron, her emotion did not change, though she tried to conceal it.

He was silent as he waited for her thought to finish. He simply continued to look at her, waiting. When nothing came, slowly did one brow lift in questioning if its own, and then the other.

Her eyes turned from the fire to him and she realized he was waiting for her to speak. "I am sorry, I forgot what I was going to say," which wasn't entirely true, she just couldn't say what she had thought to say. Her head tipped sideways for a moment. "I wonder if Prince Igon is going to be able to look at me tomorrow before he leaves without turning such a lovely shade of sanguine," she laughed at the thought.

"Indeed, he was entertained by your dance. I am certain in all the Princes years, " which wasn't much, but he wasn't thinking that either, "he has never seen such a dance nor experienced how he did. I am sure that he enjoyed his birth date celebration." He stepped away from the side of the hearth to the fore of it, his hand lifting to lightly touch her footwear, checking for wetness. Not satisfied he continued to let them hang. "Are you warm enough?" Blasted Edain and their susceptibility to the extremities.

She started to speak, but then stopped, once more thinking better of it. "Yes, I am fine. There is no need to worry about me. I have enough common sense to stay warm...most of the time." A thought back to their first meeting. She'd walked in the snow until she could no longer move and he had no other choice but to pick her up and sit her upon her mare. That drew a laugh outright before she even realized it was going to come out.

"I see." He was obviously not convinced. He was thinking of that time as well as her nearly freezing yet again on their way to the keep. "If you are to wake up early, you will not be getting much sleep tonight. I know others have told you sleep, but sleep may be less than possible in the near future."

"Others also tell me to eat," she said, waving her hand lightly. "I can not leave to go to my bed until I have my shoes back unless you would have me walk barefoot through the snow?" Though while she waited she began to pick the braids and beads out of her hair, placing them on the corner of the hearth whenever she got through a braid. It would prevent her from having to do it later. Each braid that was unfound fanned out over the rest of her hair, giving it more of a wave than it already had.

"I would that you not do that." He began to move away from the hearth yet paused, turning to her to add. "I would also that you eat." And then he continued on to pass behind her to settle himself down on the couch on the other side of her.

She didn't respond to that and simply leaned her head against the back of her hand. Her elbow resting on her knee. Leila stared at the fire then, hypnotic the way those flames leaped. It was barely two minutes before her eyes had drifted close and she had fallen asleep basking in the fire's warmth.

Adaron had sat silently, watching her as her eyes slid to a close. He watched as her breathing slowed, her body relaxing before his eyes and she fell into slumber. He waited a few moments before her stood and walked over to chair, quite aware that she had been through quite a bit that evening. He gently lifted her head from her hand, his free hand grasping hers to lift them up and wrap them about his neck. Then his arms slipped about her and he gently lifted her from the chair. Carrying her then, he gracefully moved to the bed where he fluidly laid her down. She was extremely light to him and he had no problem getting the covers out from under her to gently place them over her body. His eyes remained up hers that were closed, her soft lashes gracing her cheeks. It was only for a moment before his gaze dropped and he straightened. He moved back over to the couch, sitting at the corner. Slowly did his mind go, eyes remaining open, focused upon her as he rested his mind in the way of the Elves; retiring into gentle memories, yet ever alert to the going-on's around him. Tomorrow night he would get a good night's rest of normal sleep, for he too could only rest this way for so many nights before he became exhausted and needed the other.

Leila only fell deeper into slumber now that she was comfortable and warm. Furthermore, the bed smelled like Adaron, which was a comfort in itself. And she slept deeply for some hours. The fire had died down, as had the lamps and the room was dim, though Adaron would easily be able to see that she stirred within the bed, a soft whimpering indicating tormented sleep; a nightmare.

Even in his resting, yes, he saw her stir. He blinked and sat up slowly, his back no longer resting against the couch sides. He stood and silently crossed the room to reach her. Standing by her bed, he gazed down at her for a moment before lowering himself down to sit next to her. Hands to himself, clasped, on his lap. Her hand shifted, moving from her side to rest upon her chest and her head tossed lightly. "Pare-o! Deixe-me sozinho," (Stop it! Leave me alone) in a mumbled fashion, and then more plaintively, "Eu não fiz nada errado..." (I have done nothing wrong…) Her breathing had shifted from the slow, rhythmic breath of sleep to the erratic panic caused by whatever image played in her mind.

His brow furrowed. He lifted his hand to place it upon her blanketed shoulder, leaned slightly over her. "Elendil...." He spoke softly, moreso to wake her from her dream then to soothe her. But it came soft and soothing as well.

At his touch of his hand, at the sound of his voice the ragged breathing slowed and the lines in her face smoothed away once more as she settled back into peaceful slumber. Well...that seemed a little too easy. He would find that she would not so easily be soothed away from the wicked dreams that plagued her.

Satisfied now with her sleeping state he recoiled his hand and rose from the bed, making his way back towards the couch where he would once more take up his Elven resting.

And a few more moments passed before once again her sleep grew troubled, leaving the young gypsy girl to toss and turn. It was no wonder she did not like to sleep if such dreams so often came to her, and eating induced sleepiness, which would be reasoning for her to avoid doing it in excess as well.

Now from this distance is when his brows furrowed, thinking perhaps he should have woken her, but she had seemed content enough and needed her rest. He stood, and this time he took up his scarlet Elvish cloak and carried to the bed. He gently laid it over her, sitting down next to her once more.

Her sleep was still troubled, though it was quiet and the only indication now was the facial expressions. Her fairy-nose would crinkle up and her head tip as if trying to get away from something. Another soft whimper was given. The cloak was not working as he'd hoped?

He leaned over her once more, this time his hand resting on the other side of her, his arm brushing her side. "Leila..." He softly called to her. "Mani naa ta? Lle tyava quel?" (What is it? Are you well?)

Movement stopped from her limbs, but her face echoed something of a deep dispair that was hidden by day. Her forehead pressed against his arm and hot tears poured from the corners of her eyes after soaking through the feathery layers of thick lashes. "It hurts..." an echo of what she had said on a night long ago when she had been unable to stand for her fear and sorrow.

Slowly did his voice come, haunting, tones and pitches rising and falling in an attempt to soothe her yet keep her sleeping. The words were in his native tongue. And though softly, ever so quietly did he sing, his voice came easy and clear. Her face had turned into his arm and he had shifted so that his hand gently cupped her cheek.

The petite nose nuzzled against the palm of his hand and she silenced completely as he began to sing. Once more the lines in her face smoothed and she seemed at peace there near him. She looked so perfect that way, high cheekbones, smooth skin, and a full mouth. A beauty that would fade with time. It almost seemed a sin for it to do such.

Again he brought his hand away from her, back to his lap. Slowly and gradually did his voice fade into silence. Sure that she was resting peacefully now, he rose from the bed and made his way over to again what was glowing embers in the hearth.

Poor, poor Adaron. He had not even settled down before she tossed again, her hand twisting in the sheets so tightly that it would cut off the circulation to her hand if she remained like that. "No!" she yelped loud enough that it startled her sleeping mind into near wakefulness. Even her eyes fluttered but never fully opened as her body settled back into a fitful slumber.

Adaron had turned quickly at the calling out. How in all of Midland was he ever to get any sleep? Troubling days were ahead and troubled dreams even not of his own conjuring were keeping him awake. Well, it appeared that she simply needed some company. Just as before, he made his way back to the bed. Gently he eased her over, placing her near the wall, after untwisting her hand. He laid on top of the covers, on his back, his head turned to the side, watching her, seeing if this, in fact, was a working remedy.

Well, it almost worked, but since the fire was dying the room was cooling so she cuddled up right beside him for warmth. Quiet now and her breathing slowed, deepened. It would be best if he just accepted the fact that he wasn't going anywhere.

And that he did. It would do him good to get a deep sleep in before the coming days. So hands folded over his stomach and blue eyes were covered by lids. One eye drifted open for one last check before drifting to a close. His breathing slowing, he fell asleep.

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