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
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