Still using B & I for speech.
He
hated the sickening scent of the ocean. Not to mention that the salt
practically burned his ears and dried out his smooth skin. He was
just glad that he kept his hair woven tight enough that it didn't
frizz out.
But
beyond all that, he hated water. Well, salt water really.
Amroth
adjusted his coat cuffs for the umpteenth time. The silky material
wasn't out of place, nor did it provide any relief from the burning
sun, but he was beyond paranoid about the salt air touching his skin.
Already he had to struggle with dry lips.
The
ship barely rocked as it soared through the water. The tawny lumber
was waxed down with a substance created by his own family. He didn't
actually know what it was made of, but what ever it was, it sure kept
the loaded down ship afloat.
The
shoreline had been in sight for awhile now. Amroth stilled his hand,
keeping his fingers from twitching, an unseemly tick not fit for one
of his stature. Those blasted beach birds were already flying
overhead and all the ship hands knew to stay away from the agitated
elf prince until at least after a day on land again.
The
air around him was crackling with his hatred of this particular mode
of transportation. Four days at sea and finally, that night, he'll be
walking on dry land. Then that night, he will be off, riding the
moonlit valleys of the thriving, thick forest, the beating of hooves
beneath him and the rushing melody of the midnight winds dancing
through his hair.
He
vividly recall the thrill of a twilight ride. The taught muscles of
his steed rippling between his legs as the magnificent beast galloped
and raced through the trees with elven grace. The wet scent of earth
and the silent whoosh of the breeze. No sounds of annoying daylight
birds, but the distant howls of royal beasts. Various patches of
moonlight on most nights, but those nights of complete darkness were
the best by far.
On
those nights, he could test the sight of his steeds. The reins loose,
he would let the beast choose the path. With the elven steed in
charge, Amroth could move more freely in tune with him. He would
lower his body and merge his mind's sight with his mount. The keen
sense of an elven horse is nothing compared to any other breed. They
are smart creatures with sharp eye sight and an enhanced sense of
smell.
Milord,
a sailor called to him, bringing him from his thoughts. Amroth
loosened his grip on the railing, only just then realizing that he
held on so tightly.
The
Elven Ruler of Tirith, Head of the Clan or Akakios, turned to the
sailor, one brow raised in inquiry. He looked over the other elf and
vaguely noticed the harden skin and dry, crackly hair. He was more
interested in the man's deep blue eyes, Eye of the Sea, as his
people called them.
We
are preparing to dock at Ekain, Milord. Estimate is within the hour,
the sailor's baritone rumbled.
Amroth
walked past the elf and made his way toward his own accommodations.
He was already packed, but checking through his belongings again
wouldn't hurt.
#
Lord
Sheogorath tossed the missive into the low burning fire within a
delicately etched hearth. The intricate design would enchant any eye,
but for Lord Sheogorath's. His mood, before slightly darkened, was
now lightened knowing his brother would be arriving within a
fortnight.
He
knew Amroth's hatred of the sea and the chance his elven half brother
would race his royal steed without waiting, most likely arriving
quite soon, without his caravans or knights.
Sheogorath's
eyes strayed to the glowing radiance of Lady Nahia as she dozed
slightly in the moonlight. The waning moon seemed to kiss her velvet
skin. The sheer material of her night gown couldn't hide the darkened
bruise on her left shoulder blade.
He
smirked.
Letting
her sleep, Sheogorath settled himself at the elegantly carved desk
and prepared his own missives, pausing only once to replace his
fading candle.
A
shadow crept into his holdings and stood silent, waiting and
watching.
Make
sure the first gets there in two days. The third needs a reply and
the forth needs compensation. The others are just drops.
Sheogorath stood, leaving his pile of letters on the desk and walked
to the elven princess who had decided to commit to him. The shadow
slipped the messages off the desk and merged into the dark shadows of
night, racing off to do his Lord's bidding.
Running
a finger down the side of Nahia's cheek, Sheogorath's customary smirk
twisted with something darker and more wild.
Had
Nahia awoken and had seen the raging fire in his eyes and the crooked
sneer upon his ever pleasant lips, she would have left him then and
there. As it was, Sheogorath left her side to fetch himself a glass
of the reputable wine of the Clan of Wolfe. Perhaps a few glasses
would help him relax enough to rest a bit before the sun would rise.
#
Amroth
sent the stable hand off and lead his steed from his stall. Sendoa
was every once of the noble elven breed. His soft, slick coat, as
dark as a moonless night, was able to meld into the dark trees. He
was light on his hoofed feet and silent as a sleeping wolf. He was
one of the Lady Haizea's own steeds, sent to greet him.
After
having saddled Sendoa and secured his packs, a young boy approached
him, chin held high and a knowing look in his pale amber eyes. He
handed Amroth a sack saying, the
Mistress is rather particular which apples Sendoa gets.
Amroth
accepted the sack and peered into its depths. Bright red and golden
apples practically sparkled at him. Goddess Apples from the Sorne
Orchard.
Looking
up, the elf prince realized that the boy had left. Grinning, Amroth
was rather intrigued to meet this Lady Haizea. He had heard rumors
and received royal notices, but in the past few decades she had ruled
thus far, Amroth had never met her himself.
It
wasn't that odd, whenever he thought of it. Not many of the Noble
Family Clans ever go to the City of White. It is known that many
devoted to the faith of the Earth Goddess would travel there,
trekking without steed or protection, taking the journey of their
faith.
Amroth
thought those devoted believers to be annoying. Wasn't it
enough that their people already mixed their magic with the earth?
Wasn't it enough that they tended to it and nourished it? Wasn't it
enough to be bound to it?
Sendoa
shifted and bumped the sack with his nose. Amroth smiled and reached
in, pulling out a ripe gold one for the stallion. Sendoa sniffed once
and then gracefully took the apple and started slowly walking toward
the forest.
Amroth
shook his head and reached the beast in a few quick strides, mounting
and securing the sack of apples. Sendoa walked into the thick forest,
ignoring any direction from her rider. Amroth sat on the steed's
back, finally conceding to let the beast make his own way.
Sendoa
kept to a canter, warming up his muscles and getting a feel for this
new rider. It wasn't long before Amroth's desire for a twilight ride
was fulfilled.
Leaning his body
closer to his mount, Amroth enjoyed the sensations of the distinct
graceful maneuvers of Sendoa as he weaved through the trees. The
strong body beneath him shifted smoothly and knowingly to the
environment's obstacles. Closing his eyes, Amroth mentally reached
out to Sendoa with his mind's eye.
No matter how he
tried, he could not enter the horse's mind. A thick, iron shield held
him out without so much as a fight. Amroth felt as if he was hitting
his head against a wall. He kept trying, not realizing the toll it
was taking on his own mind from throwing itself at an impenetrable
mental wall.
Amroth tried
feeling along the wall, looking for weak points, and was annoyed when
he was unable to find any.
Pulling back into
himself, he became aware that he was no longer upon Sendoa's back,
and that the horse was sitting across from him. Staring into the
horse's eyes, Amroth got the distinct notion that he was being laughed
at.
All at once,
pounding pain exploded within his mind. Amroth let out a strangled
moan and collapsed on his side, curling up as the hammers beat down
upon his mind. Ragged breaths were yanked from his lungs as his eyelids grew to lead weights, pulling him into an amplified darken hell. The very ground beneath him clawed and raked, leaving burning sensations in it's wake. The very air stung with frozen blades his
sensitive skin.
A soothing silk
brushed along his back and Amroth sunk into it, agonizingly turning and burying his face in its calm void, taking off the
distant edge of unbearable pain. A low rumbling, reminiscent of the earth, coaxed his mind and a
foreign presence calmly waited just out of his mind, tentatively brushing up against his outer senses.
Part of him
reached for the presence, desiring the calm and peace it radiated. It
humbly entered his mind, slyly giving him the suggestion of sleep. Finding
the suggestion quite favorable in his current state, Amroth let go of
his conscience awareness, falling into a deep dreamless sleep were
the pain of his foolishness did not try to rip him to shreds.
It didn't even
occur to him that he let in an unknown mind into his own and left
himself completely vulnerable to it.
Edited by Haizea Zurine Wolfe - 11 Aug 2011 at 16:21