Scoundrel

Waving back to Nillariel, Eruviel walked across the common room of the Pony. She had enjoyed the hour chatting with her fellow Eldar about loneliness, life, and love, but a seed of worry had sprung inside of her as the minutes ticked by. He had not shown. Eruviel did not feel entirely surprised since he was still a wanted man, but Arathier’s failure to arrive made her wonder if something had happened.

Bowing to the dwarf minstrel as she passed the front fireplace Eruviel’s progression up the steps was halted by the shadow of a man looming at the entrance to the passageway. So I was not imagining things yesterday, she thought grimly as she ascended the last few steps to pass by the Barding bearing a hollow expression. Lifting the hem of her long skirt to keep from tripping she swallowed her amusement. She wore the same dress he had practically remade for her back after Milloth had perished.

“Good evening, mellon,” she said with a polite nod.

Forthogar moved his eyes to Eruviel as she passed and nodded in the same apologetic fashion he had the night before.

Yesterday, when she passed him on the stoop outside of The Prancing Pony he had refused to speak to her. He had disappeared with out a word for all those months and now would not even give her a “Well met?” Keeping a mask of calm and concern over her face Eruviel stopped a few paces past and turned back. “Not even a ‘hello’, or did you lose your tongue?” she asked in an attempt to sound light-hearted.

Forthogar shifted his eyes towards her again as the corner of his mouth lifted up ever so slightly. He shook his head, softly before giving her that still-familiar wink. For a brief moment there was a slight glimmer to his foggy grey eyes, before they resumed their newly acquired emptiness. She could learn to bear the silence, but it was that void that troubled her.

Eruviel bit her lower lip and nodded curtly, offering him a sad smile. “Very well, then. We shall have to find you parchment and a quill,” she said quietly, the merriment in her own wink failing her. What darkness in Arda has taken hold of you? “Good night, astalder.”

Inclining his head, Forthogar bowed with a low dip to her. The shadow of a smile hung on his lips for a moment longer.

Giving him one final curtsey she swept down the hall and out the back door into the night. I couldn’t even look back, she thought grimly, the memory of his empty eyes burning in her mind. Shaking her head she forced Forth’s silence out, remembering that she had, in some way, been stood up.

Meranor lingered in the overhang, untied from her hitching post, waiting patiently as she looked expectantly up at Eruviel. Unable to keep back a smile, Eruviel swung up into the saddle and let the mare walk forward on her own. Yes, Nilla, they are all scoundrels.

(All dialogue taken from 5/6/14  in-game RP and edited for tense and exposition.)

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