FicWad

Caladwen (Light) - Kah . Lahn . When
Castien (Tender) - Kah . Stee . En
Daerwen (Great One) - Dire . when
Dramorian (Explosive) - Dra . More . Ee . An
Dûrian (Dark One) - Doo . Ree . On
Landion (Broad) - Lahn . Dee . On


~002~

It was with a sharp pounding in her skull that consciousness slowly returned to Caladwen. Whomever had hit her had most certainly not used restraint, or, if they had, had used an amount not worthy of being mentioned. The ache in her temple seemed to stretch down into her neck and shoulders, bunching the muscles and making them protest to any sort of movement. The rest of her aches were a result of the cold ground with which she lay; its temperature seeping into her as though trying to use her body heat to warm itself. She wanted desperate to move. She wanted to stand and warm herself, but her Father’s voice whispered in her mind, telling her to remain still until she could better piece together the situations he had awoken into.

With her senses stretching outward, she found first the aches and pains of her own body before she managed to expand outward, searching for any sign that she wasn’t alone. Feeling the sun on her skin, she knew, at the very least, that she had been unconscious through the night, left to the mercy of either her attackers or the creatures of the forest. Between the two she hoped for the animals, but that was too much to hope for. One of her assailants had seen her hair and eyes. It was outrageous to assume that they had simply abandoned her to her fate. At the right price, she could earn any moral-lacking individual a small fortune with the right buyer. It was the reason she’d taken such care to remain out of the public eye. Her Father, a merchant himself, had seen many a unique Elf slip through the cracks between this world and the one below, gifts from the Old Ones left in their place. Those stories had frightened her as a child, but worried her now as an adult. They weren’t just stories and she knew the dangers. Childhood innocence had left her and she would be useful in more ways than she cared to imagine.

Forcing those thoughts aside, she focused on figuring out her surroundings It didn’t take long for the picture to become clear, finding what she was looking for almost immediately: the low tones of voices. One male and the other female.

“It’s no wonder you have such trouble with women, Dûrian , going around punching them like that. The poor thing didn’t even see it coming,” the voice was soft, but lifted in gentle amusement as she teased the other. “You know these country girls aren’t like the ones at the academy. They’re delicate and you can’t just go tossing them around.”

“She hit me with a tree branch. There’s nothing delicate about that.”

Under other circumstances, Caladwen might have found the comment amusing, but instead she was caught by the sound of the voice. Unlike his female companion, the man’s voice was low and smooth, reminding her instantly of the way they had moved in the shadows the night before, shifting in and out of focus like thin smoke against a dark background. Above that, Caladwen could easily recall the strange grey eyes that had held her own; surprise and curiosity shinning hesitantly as though they were not used to displaying so much emotion. He’d been the one to hit her; in retaliation, she assumed, for the blow she had dealt him in her attempt to flee.

“I think you’re just unhappy that you were bested by a pretty set of eyes,” this time a soft, tinkling laughter accompanied the amusement, giving the woman’s voice an all new quality. It was a quality that made Caladwen want to listen to her, just for the pleasant sound of her voice. “The great Dûrian, bested by a woman with a tree branch.”

There was no response this time, but there was an irritated tension on the air, causing her body to stiffen in response as it registered a possible threat. Among the continued laughter of the female, there was something else. In a strange way it sounded like a boot crunching against the bark of a tree, but she couldn’t be entirely sure. The forest spoke around her, its varying sounds mixing with the woman’s laughter and making it difficult to be compeltely sure.

“She’s awake, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

The male voice was different this time. There was disdain clear in its tone, but it was muffled and further away. Was he leaving? Had the woman’s comment driven him away? Whatever the cause for the change had been, Caladwen had not the time to decipher it. They were aware that she was awake. If they were planning to do anything to her, she would soon discover the extent of their plans. The fact that they had not harmed her yet did nothing to soothe her nervousness.

The fact that only a single set of footsteps moved toward, however, did catch her attention. If the man had truly left, she might yet have a chance to escape. With only one assailant her chances were much better than if she faced both, of that she was certain. She had no weapons to defend herself and she would not be able to outrun them. She had failed the night before in good health, she couldn’t pretend that her current state would benefit her efforts. Any successful escape would depend on whether or not they had removed her from the camp ground. If the cabin was still in close range, her plan from the previous night might still be salvageable. Even with their quick movements, she might still be able to make it if she had the element of surprise on her side.

As the light footsteps came to a stop beside her, Caladwen made a quick decision and cracked open her eyes in an attempt to take account of her surroundings. Directly ahead of her rested two dark books, the size a little larger than her own and the style obviously feminine. Behind them, the ground continued until it dropped out of her site to be replaced by blue sky. Her relief was almost tangible. They hadn’t moved her. If her memory served her right, the cabin lay roughly twenty feet behind her. It was a manageable distance. The man had still not made his presence known, which left her to assume that he had left or was simply uninterested with her current state. If she was going to attempt any sort of escape she would have to do it now, while she still had an advantage.

Returning her attention to the boots in front of her, she readied herself as the woman’s weight shifted onto her toes and she squatted down, bringing the majority of her legs down into Caladwen’s view. They were encased in a dark material she couldn’t name, a thick strip of what appeared to be dragonhide spiralling up around them, causing her to pause in confusion. That couldn’t be right. The sale of dragonhide had been banned in the Kingdom for years. It was extremely difficult to acquire, now found only in markets not endorsed by the King. Whoever this woman was, she was clearly quite familiar with the underbelly of society and, Caladwen was sure, if that was the case, the her and her counterpart would have no trouble at all finding a market for the rarity that Caladwen, herself, would offer.

When a hand reached out to turn her over, Caladwen’s breath froze in her chest as she reacted instantly, her desire to survive took hold of her fear and shoved it out of her way. In an instant her arm swung up with a speed that surprised even her. Digging her nails into her palm, Caladwen slammed the heel of said palm into the woman’s chest, pushing her out of balance even as Caladwen’s legs swung up and kicked the woman’s feet out from under her. Already scrambling to her feet, she heard the woman’s back hit the packed earth. Twisting around, she sprinted once again toward her last hope of safety. Her left knee slowed her, stiff and sore as it was from her fall in the forest, the pace only mounting her desperation to reach the cabin. Ten feet. That was all that kept her from her goal. A mere ten feet.

With her heart pounding loudly in her ears, Caladwen almost missed the return of crunching bark, this time coming from above her. The other man hadn’t gone at all. She had been a fool to assume that he had. He was in the trees. Had she had the ability, Caladwen would have screamed her frustration to the world as the dark clad figure dropped from the branches above, his knees bending just slightly to absorb the impact with barely a sound. As he straightened, a dangerously sharp blade was extended with perfect balance toward her chest and grey eyes, cold and hard, froze her in her tracks.

“I don’t care who you are. Try that again and I’ll run you through.”

As disappointment and frustration over took her, Caladwen remained where she was, her gaze holding his. She may be determined, but she wasn’t a fool. The tone of his voice and the seriousness on his face told her that he would follow through with his threat if she gave him reason to. Rather than uselessly fighting and armed man when she, herself, had no weapon, she returned his glare. It was the first time she really had the chance to take in his appearance and she was slightly startled to find that he did not look like any of the Elves she normally interacted with. Instead of the usual ware of country Elves, this man was dressed very strangely.

His outfit matched that of the woman’s, which cause a raised eyebrow on its own. Black boots rose to mid-calf before dark trousers, molded to his thighs, continued upward over slim hips. The same dark material wrapped over the cloth, once again making her wonder the possibility of dragonhide. Over that a long sleeveless tunic covered his chest, fitting snuggly until it reached his waist where it hung loosely down his legs. Around his waist a belt was wrapped from which an empty scabbard now hung, its sword still an extension of the man’s arm, which, she noted, was covered in the same dark material as his legs. Her eyes travelled up the extended arm to a set of strong shoulders, where a dark traveling cloak hung securely. Continuing their upward path, she once again found herself staring into stormy grey eyes, the colour almost as rare as her own. His skin was pale, which was only highlighted his eyes and heightened by the dark colour of his hair. Unlike the usual tight braid worn by most young men, he had strands of hair hanging down around his face, obscuring his eyes from time to time as the wind rustled them freely. The rest of his hair had been pulled back and tied securely with a length of twisted fabric. It made him look menacing, particularly when his eyes were lost among the strands of his hair. Strangely, she thought he could be quite handsome if only his eyes would stop promising death and the scowl faded from his lips.

“A quick little birdie, isn’t she?”

Her attention shifted as a small hand reached out and pushed the tip of the blade away from her chest, allowing the female she’d knocked to the ground to step between them. Dressed like her male counterpart, the woman was slender but had the tone figure of someone used to traversing the forest. Her eyes were the exact shade of grey as her counterpart and her features were extremely similar, leading Caladwen to assume a close family connection tied the two together. Siblings, possibly.

Rather than the loose strands of hair preferred by her partner, the woman’s hair had been pulled back into two thick braids that draped down over her shoulders, stopping just above her bottom rib. What stood out the most to Caladwen, however, was the open emotions in her eyes. Unlike the cold glare of the man behind her, the woman’s were actually full of amusement, despite having just been knocked to the ground.

“Where did you learn that little trick?” she asked, reaching up to rub the spot where Caladwen had hit her, “You certainly do not look like you could land such a solid blow. I would have been surprised if you could even lift a sword.”

Caladwen couldn’t answer. She couldn’t give herself away. She knew she’d broadcasted her thoughts the night before when she’d called out for her Father, but there was a chance they hadn’t realized what had happened. It was small, but the chance was still there and she wasn’t yet willing to let go of it. It didn’t matter how friendly this woman seemed to be, the less they knew about her the less they could use against her.

Holding her glare and letting her frustration take hold, Caladwen’s eyes focused on a spot in the distance, watching them out of her peripheral. She remained tense as the male slipped his sword back into its scabbard with ease before shifting to lean back casually against the trunk of the same tree he’d dropped out of. What had the woman called him? Dûrian? As his arms crossed and a bored look settled on his features, Caladwen could no longer be bothered with remembering his name. He could go by slug and she would have only thought that it suited him well. His indifference angered her. Normally, she would have given anything for the both of them to have taken no notice of her at all, but after his rather successful attempts to keep her among the present company, she found it rather insulting. If she was so boring than why not let her go? Why keep her trapped here?

Without quite realizing it, her glare shifted with her anger, leaving her looking directly at him. Dûrian, as he’d been called, seemed to notice first and the lazy arch of a perfectly sculpted eyebrow had her internally raging. Never before had she so badly wanted to throw something. Having an older brother, herself, she knew irritation well, but this was entirely different. She could all but picture picking up one of the many rocks that lay at her feet and hurling it at him, watching as it sailed neatly through the air until it slammed into his irritating face. It was a delightful image, but one that brought with it a memory she’d ignored until it had been forced back by her anger.

Flicking her eyes upward, she examined his face for a second time. Rather than just taking in the sight of him, she was now looking for something in particular. He had said it himself, she had hit him with that tree branch the night before and the evidence was there. She just needed to find it. Resting just above his dark brow, a small cut peeked out from behind the curtain of his hair, the mark a vivid red against the pale quality of his skin. The sight of it gave her a strong sense of satisfaction. As her eyes met his once again, a smug smile stole over her lips, earning her a dark glare in response. She had not bothered to hide her search and he was well aware of what had caused her smile. It was clear to her that he was still quite angry about the blow and that only made Caladwen all the happier. Served him right. He was just like any other male she’d encountered; egotistical and petty. Heaven forbid a woman point out an error.

Her smugness, however, did not last as long as she would have liked. It didn’t last long at all, in fact. As his knees bent slightly and his body sank down, she watched as his muscles seemed to coil briefly beneath his skin, as though he was a snake preparing to spring. Caladwen instinctively took a step back, preparing for an attack, but as the tension unfurled he didn’t spring toward her but into branches above. The speed with which he moved made it difficult for her to follow his process. Half way up, she lost sight of him in the leaves and was left to stare after him with a mixture of irritation and awe. Without quite understanding how, she realized that she had just lost that silent battle. It seemed a day of firsts for her.

It was a light chuckle that brought returned her attention earthbound. Even with him in the trees, Caladwen still had his female counterpart standing in close proximity to her and she doubted the woman would give up her questioning so easily.

“Pay him no mind,” she smiled, glancing up briefly into the trees and catching Caladwen off guard once more with her amusement, “He isn’t very sociable.” Even as she finished speaking, she was stepping out of the way as a large branch fell to the Earth, having split from the tree with a deafening crack. Caladwen had to move, herself, as the branch slammed into the spot the woman had been standing only a moment before.

“See. Not sociable.”

For a moment, Caladwen just stared at the fallen branch. If she was honest, she had no idea what to think. They acted like quarrelling sibling but both had the obvious skill and ability to keep her bound to the current situation. She still did not know whether they were interested in selling her to the highest bidder. The male seemed as though he could be a member of any raiding party, but the woman didn’t? She seemed friendly enough and from the stories she’d heard of raiding parties attacking villages, she didn’t particularly fit the role. It was bad enough that she didn’t know what they were planning to do with her, let alone feeling the need to watch the tree tops to ensure no more branches were going to strike her down. Landion had still not come for her and she could remember clearly the bright flames rising into the air as her beloved home had burned in the distance. She needed to leave. She needed to find them; her Father and Brother.

“You’re very strange,” the woman continued, breaking Caladwen’s worrying as she circled around her, causing Caladwen to duck out of the way as a small hand reached out to touch her hair. “With the exception of Dramorian, I’ve never seen hair coloured so lightly and not even his can claim to be this pale,” coming full circle, the woman stood in front of her and scrutinized her closely. “The eye colour is unnatural, no question there and Dûrian has caught you off guard on three separate occasions and still you haven’t made a sound.”

“She has, in fact, made a sound, Fool.”

Caladwen froze at that, the sarcastic voice drifting down from the trees. She’d hoped they hadn’t realized what had happened the night before, but the more the intelligent grey eyes studied her, the less hope she had. They’d heard her broadcast her thoughts, it was clear. He wouldn’t have suggested it if they hadn’t and now they knew the one thing Caladwen wished they didn’t.

“Not a vocal sound, anyway,” the woman corrected. “It was though your thoughts shared space in our minds. An interesting trick for a member of Faerie and all but impossible for a mere country Elf.”

A lady of Faerie? She couldn’t be serious, could she? Did they honestly think she belonged in the realm of the Old Ones?

“So which is it? Do you have their blood in your veins or are you simply one of their collective pieces having been let loose from your cage to search out their next acquisition?”

Both possibilities shocked her. The thought of carrying their blood in her veins and being connected to a world which used living, breathing individuals as prizes in some pompous show of power was bad enough, but to be used as a tool to capture others and pull them into such a fate was despicable. Her thoughts must have showed, for the woman’s face softened slightly at her reaction. “Who are you then, if not another of those mentioned?”

She couldn’t sense anything to fear from this woman, outside of the fact that she was a stranger, but still Caladwen remained silent. She was far too used to discretion regarding her abilities. Instead, she lifted a hand and pointed in the direction of the village, her eyes returning to the distant image for the first time since she saw it burning the night before. Now all that remained was a blackened spot on the horizon, wisps of smoke still rising from the ashes and making her heart ache all over again. She might not be willing to share her thoughts, but she could still converse.

“You’re from the village?”

Caladwen nodded her assent, her attention still focused on the distance until Dûrian’s feet once again hit the dirt with a sound much too soft for his size. Now that she was talking - to an extent - and not attempting to escape, it seemed he was much more interested. Granted, Caladwen was sure he was interested only in what he could learn about the village rather than what he could learn of her.

“There has been word of raiding parties forming large groups,” he spoke, making his way to look down over the ledge, his dark figure making a stark contrast against the light sky. “Though burning entire villages wasn’t among the report. Seems to contradict the purpose of raiding. It’s burned too quickly for the fire to have been started afterward.” He paused there for a long moment, considering the situation and leaving the small group in silence. “It wasn’t a raid, I would bet my life on it. They were looking for something in particular.”

Caladwen shook her head. That was ridiculous. It had been a raiding party. Why else would anyone attack a village full of farmers and a few choice merchants who dealt only with the products of the Kingdom. They had not owned anything worth the effort it would take to accomplish this sort of destruction.

Turning away from the horizon, Dûrian faced her again, the sun casting shadows over his face and preventing her from reading his eyes. “This was the village where General Castien resided, correct?”

To hear her Father’s name spoken from his lips was like a blow to the stomach, her worry over her family returning immediately. Had they come because of her Father? It had been years since Castien had retired from the King’s forces, but that did not mean he had not been remembered. Castien had been a firm but kind Father, but had he made enemies as a soldier? It was possible. There had been others in the village that had served in the army, but none had held the same rank as her Father. Surely, he wasn’t the reason for the attention of the raiders.

“Am I correct?” he asked again, urging her to answer with the impatience ringing in his tone.

Still unsure, she nodded and made a motion with her hands to signify that he had been her Father. It was probably more than she should have admitted to, but if they knew her Father perhaps they were loyal to the king. Perhaps they would be able to help her find him. It was a slime hope, but a hope nonetheless.

“Castien didn’t have a daughter,” the woman frowned, “only a son. I remember meeting him a few years ago when they’d returned briefly to the palace.”

Dûrian watched her closely as she motioned again that Castien was her Father, his eyes hard and giving nothing away. If he believed her, Caladwen could not tell. Letting out a breath, she let her hands fall to her sides. She could not find it in herself to blame them for their skepticisms. She and her family had gone to great lengths to hide her existence from those who might harm her. The best defence, it had been decided, had been anonymity.

“If you are who you claim to be,” he continued, his tone indicating that he doubted that very strongly, “answer me this. Has there been any strangers in the village? Anyone seeking Castien’s assistance?”

She frowned at the question. A stranger? The village was small and rural. Any visitors they had were known by all. If a resident had not seen the person in question, they had spoke to at least three people who had. It was difficult for anything to go unnoticed in a village like theirs, particularly the arrival of someone unknown. Shaking her head, she wondered who it was they were looking for.

As she pondered, bits and pieces of the conversation from the night before began to drift back to her and her thoughts made the only connection they could find. Lifting her hands, she made a few motions , phrasing her question so they might understand. Starting with the motion of letting loose an arrow, she finished with a double tap to her left shoulder, asking if it was the younger prince that they were looking for. It would have been easier, admittedly, if she had just allowed her thoughts to touch his, but she still didn’t trust them. Just because they knew her Father didn’t make them friends.

“For a Mute, you are rather well informed.”

“And well trained,” the woman chirped brightly, earning an exasperated sigh from her counterpart. The sound instantly triggered something in Caladwen’s memory. She was suddenly very much aware that she had, in fact, heard that exact sound the night before when a snapped twig had given away their presence. Images began to filter through her mind, mapping out her first attempt at escape. She could now take a guess as to who had stepped on the twig and having a facial expression to apply to the sound seemed to cause her amusement and nervousness to rise to a boiling point that left her struggling to keep her laughter silent.

“Insane, as well,” the man snapped, rolling his eyes, “Perfect.”

Motioning the other woman aside, Caladwan was left alone to pull herself back together, carefully working through her amusement until she could think clearly once again. She was a little embarrassed about her reaction, but given everything that had happened since she’d climbed into those rafters, she wasn’t all that surprised by it. She may have dressed as a man from time to time and assumed she could do anything her Brother could, but it was clear to her now that she wasn’t ready to face the world alone. The thought simply terrified her and made her realize all the more that she needed to find her family.

“I don’t trust her intell,” Dûrian muttered, his eyes straying to the strange, pale woman he and his sister had discovered the night before. She was odd, to say the least. She seemed very much out of the circle of intelligence and yet strangely apart of it. He had never seen features like hers and he didn’t trust her not to get them into a difficult situation with the Old Ones. It would be an unnecessary and dangerous complication: one that would not benefit their objective. “We need to get down to that village before everything that could guide us has been destroyed. We have already wasted enough time on her, Daerwen.”

“I do not get the sense that she’s lying to us,” Daerwen responded, offering her brother an easy shrug. As much as he found the girl irritating, Daerwen considered her an intriguing puzzle that she hadn’t yet solved. There was something about the girl that she just couldn’t seem to put her finger on. “Perhaps she knows more than she’s told. We should at least take return her to the village. Having lived here, she knows the area better than either of us.”

He sighed, further irritated by the suggestion. “I highly doubt her significance is worth the amount of extra time it’s going to take bringing her back down river.”

“Not everyone is you, Dûrian, you should be used to it by now.”

The withering look she received only made Daerwen chuckle. “You barely know her potential. You heard the same thing I did, brother. I don’t know how but her voice was in my head. That alone should be enough to keep an eye on her. She might yet prove to be worth the time. If not, we’ll leave her at the village. She can find her own way from there.”

As much as he disliked the idea of wasting time, he had to admit some of her points were valid. The fact that this girl seemed to be caught up on the events of the castle, her detail down to how many arrows Dramorian had taken to the shoulder, had him raising an eyebrow. Even for a retired General, Castien was rural enough for it to take some time to receive guarded details from the Palace. If she knew that much, what else had been circulating ahead of them. Or, more importantly, had she heard the details from the source itself? When they’d spotted her slipping into the woods the night before, they’d originally thought that perhaps it had been their target, escaping the notice of the approaching raiders, but they had been mistaken. As it stood, their main objective was still to locate the younger of the King’s sons, even if that meant having their new irritant tagging along with them.

“Fine,” he sighed, his attention shifting to locate their temporary ward only to find her disappearing into the tree line, “For the love of the Gods!” he snapped, shooting his amused sister another withering glare before taking off after the woman who seemed incapable of staying still. It wasn’t that he expected her to get very far, not with the injury to her knee and the pounding, he was sure, that remained in her skull. The problem, however, was her wondering off as she pleased. He had the insistent feeling that she was going to be a significant kink in their plans.

She’d had barely reached the riverbank before Dûrian was once again standing in her way. Blowing a few strands of her hair out of her eyes in exasperation, she leveled yet another glare at him. Above all else, she really wished he would stop doing that. It wasn’t accomplishing anything other than driving her insane. If he continued she’d be very tempted to hit him with another branch and she was sure the look on her face conveyed the thought quite well. Perhaps she should have remained frightened, but it was extremely difficult with his counterpart humming along to herself, cheerfully, as she strolled past them. If they were going to harm her, she assumed that they would have done it already. If nothing else, they had left her alone, unbound.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” He snapped, his irritation colouring the tone of his voice.

She thought it rather obvious, if she was being honest. Where else would she be going? It wasn’t as though she was going to go for a simple stroll through the forest, her hair unbound and acting like signal to all those who wished to pay attention. Rather than the scornful response she wished to convey to him, she lifted a hand and pointed in the direction of the village with a rather pointed look on her face. She was going home, or, rather, what was left of it.

Letting her hand fall back to her side, she moved to step around him only to find him blocking her way again. “Listen,” he snapped, letting his irritation with her have free reign, “I don’t trust you. The little silent act you are displaying isn’t worth it’s weight in salt. You will remain with us until we’ve determined that you are no longer useful to us and that there is nothing of interest in that village. You will do exactly what we say or I will tie you to the base of a tree and leave you for the beasts. Do I make myself clear?”

Caladwen wasn’t entirely sure what it was about this Elf that made her want to tear her own hair out. She’d met frustrating individuals in the past, but none of them had angered her the way Dûrian seemed to. She wanted to rage at him and point out that his contradicting of himself was very irritating. She was suppose to stay with them because she might be of some use, yet he threatened to leave her tied to a tree. Which was it? Was she useful or not? Why she was even concerned with her usefulness was beyond her comprehension, but coming from someone who had attacked her in the dark, she was willing to forgo the understanding. She really should have just smacked him, giving him a glimpse into his own actions, but instead she merely nodded, assenting to his conditions.

Holding his suspicious look for a moment, he turned and called out, “You can watch her!”

His rather obvious dismissal of her did nothing to soothe the anger she felt toward him. Was it so hard to refrain from rudeness? She managed most of the time, which did not allow for any sympathy toward his own inability to do so. It did terrible things for his personality.

“I’m Daerwen and that’s Dûrian.”

Pulling her eyes away from his retreating form, Caladwen found herself in much different company, greeted with an amused smile and an extended hand. Still quite surprised by the difference between them, she reached out hesitantly and shook her hand. She stored away their names, but didn’t offer her own. It was difficult enough to speak through hand signals without trying her hand at trying to use them to explain her name. Instead, she glanced between the two of them and hooked her fingers together to demonstrate a connection.

Daerwen frowned slightly at the motion, but responded none the less. “I think that motion applies more meaning to the connection than I’m comfortable with,” she responded, offering Caladwen another smile, “but he is my brother, so it’s partially accurate.”

The ease with which she offered information about herself roused Caladwen’s curiosity. Who were these Elves? They spoke like soldiers, but didn’t dress the part. They knew a good deal about what was happening in the Kingdom and were quite aware of her Father’s location. Worse yet, she still had no idea whether trusting them was a good idea. If nothing else, she supposed going along with what they wanted would at least get her down into the village without having to worry too much about who she might run into.

“I suppose asking your name is out of the question,” Daerwen commented, studying her as they moved along. Their pace was much slower than her brother’s but, unlike the other Elf, she did not seem to be in such a hurry. In fact, her curiosity seemed to get the better of her as Caladwen found herself on the receiving end of a complete - albeit one-sided - interrogation. “Or even how you came to possess such strange features. Do not misunderstand, your pale colouring is quite fetching, but it isn’t the colouring of an Elf. You look like one, of course, but that’s about it. I wonder if you do have the blood of Faerie in your veins, whether or not you’re aware of it. It would explain the two of us having hear you in our minds, unless, of course, that wasn’t you we were hearing. As far as I know there had not been any one else in the vicinity, but I suppose the possibility is plausible. There’s speculation on the varying abilities of those who are the offspring of an Elf and an Old One. I haven’t heard anything about hearing a person’s thoughts, but most Elves would not go around announcing a mixed blood line to the general masses, do they?”

Caladwen’s head spun with the speed those questions were tossed at her. Even knowing that she wouldn’t answer had not slowed Daerwen. It was like she was simply talking to fill the silence Caladwen created. She didn’t mind, so long as she didn’t have to respond, but couldn’t help wishing Daerwen to slow her speech down just a little bit. Her head was still aching, which made it very difficult to follow her thought process as they skirted around tree roots and brush.

Focusing on the distant figure of Dûrian ahead of them, Caladwen gritted her teeth against the ache and allowed Daerwen's voice to drift into a soothing blur of words. If she was going to make back to the village in the company of these Elves, she was going to have to find a state of mind that wasn’t so bothered by the situation. Four miles had never before seemed so long.