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Date Posted: 13:49:18 02/27/03 Thu
Author: Adaron, Talarin, Leila, Igon, Astariel, & Elomir
Subject: The Road to Challerain

Leila was already seated atop the chestnut mare as she watched the elves finish preparing for the commencement of their journey. She was dressed in grays and greens. Gray pants and well worn boots of the same color. A green tunic with a cream-white shirt under it. She wore a deep forest green cloak that was the same shade as her tunic, despite the warm weather in Eldamar for she knew it would be cold still on the outside, and there it could also rain. Her mare weaved sideways before coming to a halt again. A deep sigh from the rider as she was now forced to begin braiding her hair all over again because the jolt had caused her to lose her piece. Her facial expression showed little, though her eyes told a story of worry, which could explain why she just stared at the horn of the saddle she rested upon while she tried to tuck and pull her hair into submission to be hidden under the hood of her cloak. Where were Talar and Adaron? Come to think of it, where was Igon?

All were assembled for Talar came across the bridge astride a trotting, saddled, Atarod...which was odd. He was bridled as well....as were all the other Elven trained horses. Atarod was directed to trot over to the edainme atop the chestnut mare. He was clad in dark green/brown soft leathers. His tunic was a soiled green shade, his undershirt, cloth, a light gray. A dark brown leather belt was at his waist though no weapon did it girt to him. He wore a green/gray cloak. Upon his back was a quiver filled with arrows. His bow was positioned there as well. The handles of short Elven blades could be seen, a light red wood with golden runes. His pants were a dark brown as were his boots, the transition between the two almost seamless. Wrist bands were fitted to his forearms, and into the leather more runes had been carved and the reached nearly to his elbows. With a soft word the white steed slowed to a walk and came to stand next to the mare, his head tossing, eager to be on their way. "Ready?" He gave his Elf Friend a wide, reassuring smile.

"I am as ready as I imagine that I shall ever be," she said, lifting her head to smile at him. "Or at least I will be when I get this braid right." And as she said that she lost the piece again and just dropped her hair to let it unwind itself. "But at this rate, I shall never be ready," a playful grin given to him then. "Where is the Lord of Stoicism and Lacking Facial Expressions?" An awful long title for her favorite elf.

His lips sealed shut and he gave her a reprimanding stare. He sobered then and lifted his head, a shoulder lifting once in a half shrug, his hands placed upon the front of the saddle, not the saddle horn, because it didn't have one, and rose gently from his saddle as if to stretch, though it wasn't needed. "I am not sure." His head turned left, then right, and finally his torso swiveled to let him peer behind him. "Ah. There, Lord Mallorn and Prince Igon as well." And seemingly with his own intentions Atarod tucked his head and turned a tight turn, the Elf shifting so that he may keep his gaze upon the trio that crossed the bridge.

Lord Mallorn kept stride with Adaron, who led a tacked dapple grey steed. To Adaron’s left strode the young Prince of the Realm, leading the War-horse, Rust. Mallorn wore a shimmering silver-blue over-robe. A gold headpiece sat upon his brow. After crossing the bridge the three moved to the group. The Emissary and the Prince waited quietly as Mallorn’s ocean blue gaze shifted over the riders faces, coming to Talarin and resting finally upon the female before seeking out his daughter. He never regretted that Astariel had a strong will...yet a darkness loomed in his heart and he feared greatly for her. When he spoke, his voice was loud for all to hear, yet still sounded gentle. "The Everdark looms to the north of Keep." All had heard such. "War threatens Midland and all must answer the call of High King Aurion. I would that my kindred stay in Elvenhome, but that is not possible. For that is what War does: leads us down dark pathways we otherwise would not have trod. All present here are willing and I trust all of you to see Prince Igon safely to the Keep. Aid the King in any way you can. I plan to see you all in three weeks time." His hand lifted slowly as he bade them farewell. "Aa' menle nauva calen ar' ta hwesta e' ale'quenle." He paused for half a second before a blue fire burned in his eyes and a firece, tight grin came to his lips. "And may the Spaunen feel the might of the Edalie!"

A smile to match the kings had slipped over Adaron’s lips. And after Elven Lord was finished a great cry rang up from the small company of one-hundred elves. Each lifting a clenched fist into the air.

With a cry of "Hai!" Prince Igon’s own fist shot into the air as he turned with a wide grin to mount upon the War-horse. He sat up straight and tall, his clearly gray gaze fierce. Only he and Adaron were not clad in a forest colored cloak. Theirs were scarlet. For Igon. scarlet and gold were the High Kings colors. For Adaron, he was the Elven Lord Mallorn’s personal Emissary. The youth’s light mail gleamed upon his breast, his boots and breeches a rust red. A sword was girded at his hip. As it had been when he arrived, a leather a steel helm, embellished black-iron studs adorned his head. He waited for Lord Adaron to mount up.

Sometimes she wondered if her adoration for Adaron was so apparent as she watched them cross the bridge. Her attention then was drawn to Lord Mallorn as he began to speak. She wasn't sure if his words had only inspired for fear or had calmed them. Elven might, of course, but what of the two humans that journeyed with them? When Igon mounted his horse she reached behind her to pull her hood up to mask her facial expressions. A soft sigh slipped past her lips and she was worried that perhaps she was the only one that was dreading this. She hadn't fought anything other than humans, with the exception of the Nazgul that came after Talar, and if what they were fighting were anything as terrifying as the great dragon then this was going to get so much worse. She was dressed in no such mail, though her sword was bound to her hip, it was concealed by her cloak. Her hands took up the reins then as her mare danced in a circle, eager to go. Leila wanted to speak to Lord Adaron, but then again, when didn't she? Perhaps they would luck out and she would stay quiet for most of this adventure...maybe.

Nearly all of the population of the Elven Realm and turned up to see the small company off. A total of some fifteen hundred. Lord Mallorn had stepped back to the bridge, his hands folded before him. Adaron moved to the gray's side. His foot went into the stirrup and he mounted up fluidly, turning the steed away from the city at one in the same time. He sat up tall in the saddle and with a face lacking any form of emotion his voice called out loudly. "Arator'Velahr......." An arm lifted and whooshed forward slowly. Then the gray started up, the red War-horse falling in step next to it, others falling in behind as the steeds began the trek up the hill, moving away from the Elven City.

The mare was turned around and given a soft squeeze by both knees to signal movement. A slight snuffle given by the horse before she jolted forward, trotting merrily as though she knew not of what her rider felt, but in reality, perhaps she was trying to cheer her up. For the nonce, Leila had closed herself off into her own little world, her view limited to what was visible past her hood, which fortunately was Adaron. She made a soft sound, something that was reminiscent of what a smirk or a scoff would sound like if they made sounds.

A rider behind Adaron bore the Elven standard. Behind Igon a rider bore the High King's standard. At the end of the long column rode two more Elves who bore the Elven flags.

Atarod fell into step with the mare, Talarin taking a deep steadying breath as now they came to the hill to ride up the steep incline. He leaned forward, giving more weight to the white steeds center of balance. Brows risen, he glanced to the right at the hooded Leila…

~*~


The days had passed slowly since the small group set out towards the Keep. Every mile behind them was another degree colder, though it was hardly noted by the elves. Some kept on at a steady pace, others lagged a league behind more casually - but the distance that fell between the company was not considered great. It would be with ease they could catch up if the need arose.

Sitting comfortably upon the tall steed, Astariel rested. Her eyes remained open and she was well aware of her surroundings, but mind drifted into peaceful reveries which reflected well upon that serene visage.

Humans would not have survived this far, Elomir thought. But how wrong he was, proven so by Leila. How she had made it this far was beyond him; almost surprising. Each step he took in his tailored boots made no indentation in the deep snow. Any other creature that may have been following would have fallen, getting stuck in such deep snow. Elomir put his hood up, so that it covered his hair. Although the cold didn't bother him, the snow flying in his face and eyes was quite a nuisance. His eyes every once in a while roamed from his path towards the princess, who's side he walked.

The maiden's head was dipped slightly as they continued on in silence. The hood of her cloak had been pulled down upon her shoulders and back leaving the flakes of snow to settle upon her golden blonde crown. Blue eyes continued to stare forward at the road which they were traveling.

Elomir's gaze found the path that had been laid before them once again. Somehow he had managed to tear his eyes from the princess. He had discovered, each time he looked at her, it became harder and harder for him to look away. Yet, he did not know how she felt for him. Did he repulse her? The Prince certainly hoped not.

"You're impatient." Her voice broke the silence after a long while. The prince seemed restless to her, and though she had been sleeping in the way elves do, she knew his every movement all the while. Her head lolled to look over at him, a small smiling coming to rest on her lips. "We will be there soon."

"Perhaps I am," he said to her, allowing a smile of his own to cross his lips. "But not of this journey. Many other things plague my mind, and I have grown impatient with them.'' More like insane.

"Are you curious of the humans?" She asked in a casual tone. Blue eyes flickered up toward the tops of the bare trees as they traveled under them. She sensed night drawing close as the sun continued to sink behind the rolling gray clouds.

"No," he replied. "I know much about them. It is other things I am curious about." His eyes that rested upon the snow peaked mountains fell once more to the Princess beside him. True beauty was the only word that could be used to describe her.

"They are fickle and wild with emotion. I ponder them." Astariel reached forward and guided a hand along the neck of the horse in appreciation. "I will not press you for answers."

"I would not mind if you did," he admitted, once more forcing his eyes from her and to his.

"Well, what ails you?" The elf leaned back then after patting the horse, her gaze turning to him in wait.

There was a long moment of silence before Elomir spoke again, he was sure to make careful of the words he chose. "Since my arrival in Tel'Oira Eldamar.. I am not sure of what people think of myself." You in particular.. he thought to himself.

"Have you not been treated with kindness from your kin?" She asked, her back straightening some. True,. they were from different places, but they were still all elven folk.

"I only know you and the human, Leila," he told her, looking down from his steed over to her. "It is not that I have not been treated with kindness, I only wonder if some accept me."

"I do not see why you would not be. Lay your worries aside; my people are kind and good. Troublesome times plague us, and under different circumstances you would have been received differently."

"Yes, I understand." Yet another long pause before the prince spoke again. "And what does The Princess think of me?"

"I find your presence agreeable." She smiled in her way and her shoulders rose in a small shrug. "You have done nothing to make me concerned. Why do you worry so?"

Agreeable? That was... good? Yes! Very good. The Prince allowed a slight blush to arise to his cheeks. "Why do I concern myself.. you ask. Perhaps it is because I think so highly of yourself."

A smile touched her face and she dipped her head respectfully. "I thank you." That said, she looked back towards the road, her eyes fixating on the distance.

The smile on his face widened at her reaction. "Really, I do," he told her honestly. He kept his eyes on hers.

Her attention returned to him for that moment and she again offered a smile. "I do believe we should hurry along. The sun will set soon."

He bowed his head to this princess. "Yes, I must agree with you, My Princess." And they hurried along.

Gently her heels dug into the horses sides and she whispered to him. The horse neighed and started off in a quickened trot.

~*~


For more than four days they had been outside of the temperate weather of the Elven realm. The cold wind bit at Leila's nose and face, her head bowed to try and ward some of it away. The flat landscape that they had ridden on for the last day and a half was doing nothing to block the wind as the rising hills and vales had for the first two days of their journey. All of the Eldalie around her seemed unfazed by the bitterly cold temperatures, and Leila was in sheer misery. Her hands were uncovered and completely numb which made holding the reins almost unbearably painful. It would be a wonder if sickness didn't fell her before they ever made it to Challerian Keep which was still another two days off. Her head lifted for a moment to scan the plains. It was empty, only flat land for as far as she could see and it was beginning to snow. Where would the company take shelter in a place such as this? Perhaps by the time they had ridden far enough by night fall there would be somewhere that could at least shield them from the wind.

Talarin, rode beside his human friend, quiet, for the most part, expect when a bit of conversation struck him. The miles has vanished underneath the companies feet, and new snow falling would cover their tracks, though they worried naught about them. The frigid wind had strengthened today. The Elf had the hood of his cloak up, as did all the others, only to fend off the wind, the chill and sometimes blowing snow did not bother him much. His Elendil on the other hand, seemed terribly put out. In two more days they would reach the warmth of the keep, though he silently feared that the harsh winter weather would take its toll upon the edainme before their arrival. He turned his head to the right, glancing at her from within his hood. With a soft word given to Atarod, the white steed below him, he fell out of line and spun the horse towards the end, to the pack horses, moving him into a trot to hasten his errand.

Her hood was pushed back by the wind and her eyes squinted at the sudden assault of cold air. She forced her hands to relinquish their grip upon the reigns painfully so that she could pull the hood back over the braided black locks of hair. Amazingly enough she had not grown sick, but it was coming and a cough was developing, though she mostly suppressed it as not to worry her edhel toror'. Was the prince not suffering so much? Perhaps it was because even though it snowed in Aragon, it never got so bitterly cold. Now that Talar had broken ranks though she allowed herself to cough a few times before she took up the reigns again to urge her travel-weary mare onward.

His equine fell into step with one of the burdened pack animals while he leaned over and fidgeted around in one of their loaded packs. One of the thick wool blankets that were used when sleeping was pulled out and layed over the front of his saddle. The bag upon the other horse was closed and with a soft touch Atarod lightly loped forward back to the woman and the mare. He slowed to a prancing trot and finally a walk, the animal hardly wearied from the journey. He snatched up the blanket and laid it across the withers of the mare and the front of Leila's saddle, giving her a grin before falling back behind her, hurrying around to be on her left once more. And of course the prince wasn't too bothered, he had been prepared for the trip, though perhaps his nose was a bit cold.

Leila tipped her head enough so that he could see her smile to him. "You are my hero," she said in a playful voice that seemed a little too rough from lack of usage as it was far too cold to sing, besides, it probably would have done little more than irritate the Elven company that surrounded her. The blanket that he brought to her was mostly left where it was, though was unfolded enough to cover her hands and the top of her legs which provided some comfort from the stinging wind. This weather was hell on her complexion. Yet through all of this it remained she was...still the prettiest.

Talar had heard the sound of hoof beats before the human. Still, he had not heard them until they were nearly upon them due to the howl of the wind that whisked across the open plains. At nearly a full gallop the rider sped past, making for the head of the column and the two in the fore in the scarlet cloaks. Talarin's brows furrowed slightly as it seemed almost visible in his mind that the wheels turned. It was Loric, a messenger from Eldamar. In his haste the young Elf's hood had flow backwards and he bothered not to right it. There seemed to be quite the commotion up ahead as the messenger relayed his news. Startled cries went up from those that could over hear. Then hurried conversations passed between pairs of riders. The two riders in front of Talar and Leila received the news. A startled exclamation went up from one of the two. "Losa e' Eldamar? Lle lakwenien?! Sut??" And their two steeds stepped closer to allow the Elves to speak more quietly and still be heard over the wind. Talarin’s eyes flew open wide, his mouth agape, and for the moment he sat there staring at the two ahead, listening intently. Those behind them had heard the outburst of the ones before and were quickly relaying the message.

The only word she understood out of all of that was 'Eldamar' and 'How??' Green on amber eyes looked to Talar, though it required her to turn slightly to do so. "Mani marte?" she asked loud enough for him to hear her from their varying positions. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good. Her hood was blown away from her face again, the wind slapping her with its icy hand sending her into a coughing fit. Her hood was tugged back up and she cleared her throat, waiting for Talarin to respond to her.

As they steeds pushed ever forward Atarod stepped lightly to the side, close enough so that Talarin's leg nearly leg brushed against the mare behind Leila's leg. He bent his head, for a strong gust of wind pushed against them from he north. "It snows in Eldamar!" He exclaimed to her, reminded once more that though she knew some of their language, she did not know all and it was his duty that he took upon himself to inform her.

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Sut??" Exactly. And in the back of her mind she knew it was an omen that could not possibly foretell of anything positive in the future.

"So Loric has said." He spoke loudly during the gust but slowly let it lower as the wind gust died. "It is not as it is here, but there is snow that falls. When last that occurred it was only when the Everdark cloaked our Realm in its Shadow Light." The faces of the Elves in the company were grim, for they feared for their precious homeland and desired to fend it from Evil at any cost, yet they had pledged to aid High King Aurion and so they would for also they had a strong desire to serve his need.

"Is it in danger?" she asked quietly, her head turning enough for her eyes to search his, hoping that they weren't so expressionless as Adaron's, for it would be much easier to assess the situation if she could read his emotions. "There are still enough of the eldalie there to defend it, is there not?"

~*~


For nearly a total of five days the company consisting of 102 Elves and two Men had been traveling across the lower hills and open plans to Challerain Keep. The winter weather had been harsher than most, even now it was heard that snow fell in light flakes even in Eldamar. Such had never happened even in Era's past...except when the Everdark had crept over the land, and here it was again. Challerain keep was in sight of the company. Far behind it there seemed to be dark clouds lurking on the horizon, but all knew better. It was a black wall that rose over a mile into the air. A wall that the Sun could not penetrate. Behind the Everdark was a terrible Winter Night, though few in the company had even been into that bleak Shadow Light. Long ago, in very ancient times, there had been no city of Challerain; it was merely the name given to a craggy mount standing tall amid a close ring of low foothills upon the rolling grassland prairies of Rian. Then there came the stirrings of War, and a watch was set upon Mount Challerain. Various kings of beacon fires would be lit as signals, to warn off approaching armies, or to signal muster call, or to celebrate victory, or to send messages to distant Realms. These tidings were sent via the chain of signal fires that ran down the ancient range of tall hills called the Signal Mountains and south from there over the Dellin Downs into Harth and the Lands beyond. War did come, and many of those signal towers were destroyed, but not the one atop Mont Challerain. After the War, this far northern outpost became a fortress--Challerain Keep. And with this establishment of a fort, a village sprang up at the foot of Mont Challerain. yet it would have remained but a small hamlet, except the High King himself came north to the fortress to train at arms; and he established his summer court there, where he could overlook the approaches to the Rigga Mountains, and beyond, to Gryn. Year after year the King returned, and at last a great castle was raised, incorporating the fort within its grounds. It was then that the village grew into a town, and the town into a city. The city prospered and it, too, was called Challerain Keep. This it had been for thousands of years. As the city grew steadily before them, Talarin's ocean gaze widened at the sight. Though he had seen it before, even now it amazed him. His body rocking slowly with the motion of his white steed, Atarod.

Leila's eyes widened a bit from their half-closed state as she'd nearly dozed off several times on this last leg of the journey. The cold was quite more than she could handle, and the blanket that Talar had provided her with yesterday was doing little to keep her warm at this point. Furthermore, she was more exhausted than anyone had the right to be, but perhaps that weariness came from the cold. A smile touched her lips as she saw the city come into view. Her head turned, tossing the hood back enough so that she could see to her left. A smile was cast then to Talarin if nothing more than to assure him that his elendil was still doing just fine. Green and gold eyes glanced up to the head of the company then to Adaron who was dressed in his armor and red cloak, a noble elf to look at. A sharp, bell-like laugh erupted then from her lips and she just lowered her head so that the hood would fall once more down to obscure most of her features in shadow.

At the head of the column that rode in doubles sat the young Prince of the Realm. Behind him on a steed an Elf bore the standard of the High King, a golden griffin rampant on a field of scarlet. He sat straight and tall in the saddle. Chocolate hues drifting upwards at Mount Challerain that rose before them. A smiled graced the youth of fifteen summer's face. He was glad to be home, and here he intended to stay. His mind had strayed to his father and brother. Did they expect him? A soft breath whitened the air as it was released from parted lips as a sense of comfort and, though trouble times lay ahead, ease.

The quickened trot of horses gained toward the front of the company as it descended upon the Keep. Astariel and Elomir had decided to make haste for they didn't wish to lag too far behind. The Princess spoke softly to the horse and it slowed its pace, rearing off slightly so not to cut the line as she made her direction towards Talar. Snow had made a dusting blanket over the elven maiden, but such conditions were hardly felt as they continued on the shoulder.

He rode next to Prince Igon, at the head of the company. His own cloak scarlet, though not worn to bear the colors of the High King, he was an Emissary of Lord Mallorn. Behind him an Elf bore the colorful standard of the Elf Lord of Tel'Oira Eldamar. In silence he rode, though behind him a ringing laughter chanced upon his ears. Though from ahead, a silver call rose into the air. Someone knew they were coming.

The Prince had never retreated from the princess' side as he rode atop his steed. They were almost there, Elomir sensed. A song played over and over in his head as he rode. "In the shadow.. boy meets man. In the shadow.. boy meets man." Over and over it played within his head. Just a song he had known all his life. Elomir's gaze fixed ahead to the party traveling ahead of them; already he could tell there were two humans among the elves. He knew one of them, the other he did not. The Prince bore a great knowledge of the race of man, and he also held within his heart such a disgust for them. However, he had grown to.. tolerate them. His eyes fell upon The Princess as his horse continued it's trotting through to snow. It had surprised him the one human had no frozen yet. He was sure that by this time she would have been a solid block of ice. A smirk crossed his lips. Yes, he had seen that before. "We draw near," he told The Princess.

Huge battlements loomed starkly 'round blocky towers. They gray castle stood within the grounds consisting of gentle slopes that terminated in craggy drops stepping far down the torn sides until at last they fetched up against another massive rampart rearing up to circle the entire mount. On these Kings grounds there were many lone giants standing in the meadows, many trees bereft in winter dress. There too were several buildings, perhaps stables or warehouses, and of course, the citadel itself. Below the Kings grounds began the city proper. There stood tier upon tier of red, blue, green, white, yellow, square, round, large, small, stone, brick, wooden, and every other color, shape, and size, and type of building imaginable, all jumbled in terraced rings descending down the slopes. Running among the homes, shops, storehouses, stables, and other structures were three more massive defense walls, stepped evenly down the side of Mount Challerain, the lowest one nearly at the level of the plain. Only a few permanent structures lay outside the first wall. The night before, from where the group had camped, it had seemed that a massive army had been camped outside the city. Hundreds of fires had been lit. Out on the crests of hills to the east and west sprawled the encampments of massed armies, yet there seemed to be less activity than could be expected from the extent of the bivouac--fewer Men and horses, as it were, for the number of tents. All this and more the company saw as slowly they came toward the hills and unto the city. Finally, in late morning, the company was riding up among the sparse buildings flanking the road they were on, the Post Road, to come at last to the open city gates, laid back against the first wall with a portcullis raised high. Fur- and fleece-clad, iron-helmed soldiers from the nearby camps streamed to and fro. Atop the barbican stood several Men in red and gold--the gate guard--and one leaned on his hands on the parapet and looked down upon the company with wonder in his eyes. And he called to his companions, and all looked in surprise at the pointed eared and fair-haired ones below.

She felt the weight of his gaze upon her and finally turned to look at him with a pleasant smile that brightened her features which were reddened from too much wind. "'tis something I will have to share with you later, Talarin. For now, let us just say that I am...enchanted with all that I see." She gave him a look that should have told him right then what she meant by that. The blanket that she had wrapped around herself was now taken off and folded in front of her. Leila had positively bloomed to life at the thought of being anywhere but out on the open range on horse back! Warmth, actual food, but more importantly warmth! "I think that I could sing for hours in my joy to see some form of shelter, my friend, but I shall spare the ears of all," with a playful wink, especially considering her voice was becoming well-known among the elven folk as much as she sang in Tel'Oira Eldamar, and it was not at all unpleasant [an example of litotes!] Her voice practically bubbled, a change from her more demure tones.

An inward sigh was deeply drawn in though it was silent. A nod of her head ensued and the Princess swung her gaze over to the Prince as he spoke. A quiet smile was offered, snowflakes kissing her face and eyelashes. After a moment she again looked forward, her eyes scanning the distance with ease. "Yes, true."

A beaming smile was upon the lips of the Prince as his head tilted back, his great roan War-horse coming to halt before the open gates. "Ho!" He called up to the gate wards and a hand lifted in greeting. "Ho Prince Igon!" Came the exuberant replies, all glad to see their young Prince returned safely after hearing of the destruction of the small town of Kern by the great dragon. "Where can King Aurion be found?" He spoke formally of his father and felt a bit foolish at asking where he was to be found. But who knew with the likes of him! He could be behind the Everdark himself! Yet the guardsman merely smiled, a clenched fist going to his heart, saluting his prince, and called back that he would be found in the Keep.

The smile that had been on his lips for probably the past several days widened. His cheeks almost hurt; he had found himself smiling nonstop in the presence of the.. of his, Princess. "Do you look forward to arriving?" he asked, gripping the reins tighter on his horse. The cloak he wore hung loosely off his shoulders, as any weather change did not bother him.

With the response to the Prince the gray stud was urged forward with a soft word, and again the company was moving forward. Smiling faces greeted them by those who passed and those who stopped to watch the train pass, all overjoyed to see that the Elves had come in their time of need, though, they would have had more...yet surely there were other variables to consider.

Talarin knew his Elendil well and simply shook his head, coaxing Atarod forward, a light breath of laughter escaping. In through the twisting cobblestone passage under the wall they rode, looking up at the machicolation through which hot oil, or missiles could be rained down upon an enemy. At the other end of the barway another portcullis stood raised, and beyond that the company rode into the lower levels of the city proper, and the smells and sounds and sights of the of the city assaulted them, and their senses were nearly overwhelmed, for they had ridden into an enormous bazaar, the great open market of Rian at Challerain Keep.

The square was teeming with people, buyers sellers. Famers from nearby steads were selling hams, beef, sausages, bacon, geese, duck, and fowl of other sorts. They offered carrots, turnips, potatoes, grain, and other commodities. And many customers crowded around the stalls, purchasing staples. Hawkers moved through the crowds, selling baskets, gloves, warm hats, brooms, pottery, and such. A fruit seller peddled dried apples and peaches and a strange orange fruit sad to come from far south. The odor of fresh-baked bread wafted over all and mingled with that of hot pies and other pastries. Jongleurs strolled, playing flutes and harps, lute and fifes, and timbrels, and some juggled marvelously. Here and there soldiers and townsfolk warmed themselves over fires of charcoal set in open braziers and talked among themselves, some laughing, others looking stern, some nodding quietly, others gesticulating. there soldiers and townsfolk warmed themselves over fires of charcoal set in open braziers and talked among themselves, some laughing, others looking stern, some nodding quietly, others gesticulating. Through the ebb and flow of the crowd rode one-hundred-and-two Elves and two Men, all on horses, hooves clattering on the cobbles. Many of the townsfolk stared, for only seldom was it that even a single Elf came to the Keep, and now there was a great mass of them! Low did the bow upon the passing of the young Prince. At last the column rode out of the market square. Now they moved between shops of crafters--a cobbler's shop, a goldsmithery, mills, lumberyards and carpentries, inns and hostelries, blacksmitheries and ironworks and armories, kiln, stoneworks, and the like. And above many of the shops and businesses were the dwellings of the owners and workers. And the cobbled Post Road wended through this industry, spiraling up and around the mount, climbing toward the crest. Narrow alleyways shot off between hued buildings, and steep streets slashed across the Road. But for the signs at each corner, perhaps even Talarin could have been lost in the maze of the city, had he not the ability he had, as did all the others of his Kind. Following the well-marked Post Road, they clattered through the streets of shops warehouses and work yards. Yet as they rode, they might notice that many of these businesses stood abandoned. Again they came to a massive wall and followed the road as it curved alongside the bulwark. At last they came to a gate, and it too, was guarded but open. Through it and up they rode, now among the colorful houses, roofs covered in snow. Hardly were there people, but where there were, they stopped and leaned out windows to watch the company pass. Once more they passed through a barway under a great rampart--the third wall-- and again they wended among houses, now larger and more stately. Again there was the aura of abandonment, for people were sparse and homes unattended.

"I am. Will be a comfort to settle for a time." The blue gaze of the Princess was turned to the people and a gentle smile was offered to them in her passing.

The Prince said nothing more to her. He himself had grown used to life not settled in one particular place. Elomir wanted to converse more with the princess, but he did not know what to speak of.

Leila kept her head lowered a bit as they entered, at least enough to keep the shadow covering her face. As far as these people were to know, she was just another male warrior. Best not to stir up trouble so early on the arrival, for even at Challerain they would know of the gypsy folk, and her complexion gave it away so easily. Which also ruined the idea of singing unfortunately. However, she could still observe everything that went on around them with hidden amber-and-green eyes.

Igon seemed hardly affected by the crazed trade and the sudden lack of people. Some might wonder at how there might be such a brisk trade in nearly an abandoned city. A nod was given to Lord Adaron and his heels tapped the sides of Rust and the horse leapt forward ahead of the company. He would meet back with them. Just ahead he passed under the fourth wall, the one encircling the Kings grounds, the portcullis dropping shut behind him.

A light frown fell over the Elf's lips....his brow furrowing....they were headed toward that gate...Why had it shut on them but allowed the Prince through. He tossed a questioning look to the edainme at his side.

She turned her head to her friend then. "What is that look for?" she asked curiously, lifting her head enough so that she could see him clearly. "Why have they not allowed us to enter?"

He was completely baffled and his expression showed it. Both shoulders lifted in a shrug. The Princess and Prince at his side, he gave them the same questioning look, perhaps they knew?

His face void of expression, Adaron halted the steed before the gate, his azure gaze lifting almost annoyedly to the gate guards above. "Vendui' Guardsman!" He called up.

"State your business." Called down one of the Men.

This man couldn’t be serious. A roll of his eyes and an audible sight came.

Elomir's face turned to stone. So different than his warm expression towards the princess only a few moments ago. His horse neighed and kicked, and Elomir quickly calmed the beast. A glance was cast to the one called Talar. "Our business is to slit you're throats," Elomir said sarcastically, quietly.

Leila turned to look at Elomir with a raised eyebrow. "Come now, Prince Elomir. If I can hear that, so can the rest of the host."

The slyest of smiles played across his lips as his eyes darted to Leila.

Astariel edged her horse closer to Talar's. Her gaze looked towards as well and she lifted a hand, bidding him to remain quiet for the moment.

His jaw was set at the mans ignorance. "We were in the company of Prince Igon." Luckily the men did not have the ears from the height. "We have come from Elvenhome to escort the Prince and answer the High King's summons."

"We're a murderous bunch," he said so quietly. "Can't you tell by the way we dress so raggedly?" Which of course they were not. Elomir was so tired of the men.

Impressed by the very fact that he looked upon Fair Folk he was not prone to scoff at them. "One moment." He called. "I'll get my Captian!" The man disappeared behind the merlons. Shortly, another man appeared, calling down. "Are you warriors come to serve the King in this hour of need?"

The look she then gave to the Elven Prince was one that could bore a hole through solid stone. Yes, all their nerves were frayed, perhaps hers more than others, but she didn't find his jokes amusing, especially with the idiot on top of the tower babbling on. Adaron had more composure than she had at the moment, and she herself was ready to tell the man a few things on her mind in a voice that he could here.

"Of course we're not," under his breath. "We have only said so twice now."

"Silence." Astariel said to the Prince, her blue eyes clouded over with annoyance. Humans were fickle and fiery with emotion, as she said the night before -- and she thought the Prince a fool to comprise her people who stood so openly by his ramblings.

Now he was frowning as he gazed up at the new man. "The hour of need shall be over by the time that you let us through if things continue as they are......"

"My apologies," he told the Princess. There was a long moment of silence before the Prince spoke to the Princess. "I am sorry for my annoyance."

"Enter. I shall meet you." He turned to the guard squad and ordered, "Open the waybar," and disappeared from view as Men rushed to the winches. With a clatter of gears, slowly the portcullis was raised until at last it was up.

With tight lips Adaron urged the stud forward to pass under the wall, and waited, until a second portcullis was up, too, and at last rode out into the Kings grounds, where waited the guard Captain.

"I will take you to Hrosmarshal Vidron, Kingseneral, Fieldmarshal. He must be told of your arrival, for he commands the Allies if the King himself cannot take to the field. Now, follow me, we go to the Old Fort." The Man lept upon the back of a horse, and along the cobbles of the Post Road they clattered, at times mounting up along craggy bluffs, drawing ever closer to the Keep.

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