From the thoughts of Beriadanwen
Oct. 1st, 2009 12:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
janestarzHides piled around her, Beriadanwen lay staring up at the canvas above her head. Sleep once again eluded her, but she was happy for it. Too often did she see the Waywatcher in her dreams. She dared not think his name now, it would too often bring tears to her eyes. But the dreams reminded her that he went where she could not follow him. Not yet.
He would stand in the undergrowth, the hood of his cloak over his head, his face hidden, and his bow in his hand. He just watched, watched her as he had watched over the woods, taking in her features as he had taken in his surroundings. Sometimes he would nod at her, and if she bowed her head in answer, and look back up he would be gone.
At first she would go to him, stand in front of him, afraid to touch him and feel the coldness of death. But now she never dared to again. She knew he was watching them from a distance, and that was enough. She still had to live up to that promise she made him...
She tried to push the thoughts of her dreams away. There was still a war going on, and the Anarquendor needed a strong leader now more than ever. She counted the war leaders on her fingers, still staring up at the canvas. Krughal, Reinard, Marquis Guraksson, and Yuri. Yuri might make troubles for her now, after she had struck him in front of his subordinates and the other war leaders from the village. He had failed in his command and she had called him out for it in public. For her, the matter was concluded, but as stubborn as humans could be, he might want to exact revenge. Her hasteful action would probably work against her in the war council meetings from now on.
As for Reinard, she would have to see what would happen. She sighed.
And diplomacy, that was called for too. Beriadanwen sat up, hides sliding off her body. Contact with the satyrs, contact with the Adarans, contact with the nature all around them, and yes, even the moon plant. And the internal affairs of the refugee camp demanded her attention too. She would need to call a war council, but first she would have to consult the Eventyr family. Perhaps Grigory, or Nikolai, or one of the others. Or maybe she should meet with Aras directly. He had seemed so startled when she had helped him the other day. Perhaps he would be too shocked to talk with her directly.
Her thoughts turned to the Anarquendor and Beriadanwen lay back down, resting under the covers. The war had exacted its toll on them also, and friends who had been with them for hundreds of years had been lost. So far, they were coping, brave as they were. And there were new friends, who had locked them in their hearts, and grieved with them also. Brave Luthine, whatever she must be going through, struggled with her grief all the while trying to keep the spirits of the rest up. Dur'Ithil's flames might well burn her, but there was nothing Beriadanwen could do about it. She could only try and hope that Dur'Ithil could keep the internal fire under control until that day when he could burn as brightly as the sun when she flung him as a unique weapon at their enemy.
Rána, who was so surprised that they had allowed him to stay with them, so surprised that they would grieve for his losses like he did with theirs. He was a gem, intent on proving himself to the Anarquendor and their captain, not knowing that he was exceeding all their expectations. He was copying every move Amras made, and she already felt a fondness for the elf.
Beriadanwen realised that the war had changed them all, but none more so than Nessa and Sairahiniel. Nessa had always been the odd one out, by cajoling her family and even those in command of the army she had been allowed to join the Anarquendor before being fully mature, but the war had deepened her instincts, forced her to accept the responsibilities she could never have suspected.
And her dear sister...where Nessa was forced to toughen up, Sairahiniel had grown soft, warm, the love for Rystill deepening and shining through her. It was exactly what the Anarquendor needed, but Beriadanwen doubted her sister realised this fully. She didn't know what she would do without her sister, what she would do without any of them. Sairahiniel, Sumolan, Balamaethor, Arevalo, Dur'Ithil, Nessa, Luthine, Rána, Radag'hén and Amras.
Finally, with their names in her thoughts, Beriadanwen fell asleep.
He would stand in the undergrowth, the hood of his cloak over his head, his face hidden, and his bow in his hand. He just watched, watched her as he had watched over the woods, taking in her features as he had taken in his surroundings. Sometimes he would nod at her, and if she bowed her head in answer, and look back up he would be gone.
At first she would go to him, stand in front of him, afraid to touch him and feel the coldness of death. But now she never dared to again. She knew he was watching them from a distance, and that was enough. She still had to live up to that promise she made him...
She tried to push the thoughts of her dreams away. There was still a war going on, and the Anarquendor needed a strong leader now more than ever. She counted the war leaders on her fingers, still staring up at the canvas. Krughal, Reinard, Marquis Guraksson, and Yuri. Yuri might make troubles for her now, after she had struck him in front of his subordinates and the other war leaders from the village. He had failed in his command and she had called him out for it in public. For her, the matter was concluded, but as stubborn as humans could be, he might want to exact revenge. Her hasteful action would probably work against her in the war council meetings from now on.
As for Reinard, she would have to see what would happen. She sighed.
And diplomacy, that was called for too. Beriadanwen sat up, hides sliding off her body. Contact with the satyrs, contact with the Adarans, contact with the nature all around them, and yes, even the moon plant. And the internal affairs of the refugee camp demanded her attention too. She would need to call a war council, but first she would have to consult the Eventyr family. Perhaps Grigory, or Nikolai, or one of the others. Or maybe she should meet with Aras directly. He had seemed so startled when she had helped him the other day. Perhaps he would be too shocked to talk with her directly.
Her thoughts turned to the Anarquendor and Beriadanwen lay back down, resting under the covers. The war had exacted its toll on them also, and friends who had been with them for hundreds of years had been lost. So far, they were coping, brave as they were. And there were new friends, who had locked them in their hearts, and grieved with them also. Brave Luthine, whatever she must be going through, struggled with her grief all the while trying to keep the spirits of the rest up. Dur'Ithil's flames might well burn her, but there was nothing Beriadanwen could do about it. She could only try and hope that Dur'Ithil could keep the internal fire under control until that day when he could burn as brightly as the sun when she flung him as a unique weapon at their enemy.
Rána, who was so surprised that they had allowed him to stay with them, so surprised that they would grieve for his losses like he did with theirs. He was a gem, intent on proving himself to the Anarquendor and their captain, not knowing that he was exceeding all their expectations. He was copying every move Amras made, and she already felt a fondness for the elf.
Beriadanwen realised that the war had changed them all, but none more so than Nessa and Sairahiniel. Nessa had always been the odd one out, by cajoling her family and even those in command of the army she had been allowed to join the Anarquendor before being fully mature, but the war had deepened her instincts, forced her to accept the responsibilities she could never have suspected.
And her dear sister...where Nessa was forced to toughen up, Sairahiniel had grown soft, warm, the love for Rystill deepening and shining through her. It was exactly what the Anarquendor needed, but Beriadanwen doubted her sister realised this fully. She didn't know what she would do without her sister, what she would do without any of them. Sairahiniel, Sumolan, Balamaethor, Arevalo, Dur'Ithil, Nessa, Luthine, Rána, Radag'hén and Amras.
Finally, with their names in her thoughts, Beriadanwen fell asleep.
