To Stumble Blindly...

[Ayla]

(( Closed RP... ))

All she could really remember as she trekked through the grounds was that it was cold, bitingly cold, to the point that her hands were numb to any sensation of touch. Yet, she had this underlying sense that it wasn’t the weather causing this slow spreading of numbness. The air really wasn’t all that bad, and the snow was even beginning to melt away. So what was it exactly that was causing this feeling? Fear… Fear, confusion, loss. It wasn’t the weather making her experience this tormenting sensation. It was the twist of emotions pounding through her every vein as she trudged the last of the walk to the harbor. Every step felt as if she had to force herself through feet of sand, exhausting her and making her so tempted to turn and go back. But she couldn’t. Not now, if ever.

As she found herself walking up the dock, Ayla came to a stop. Her gaze landed on the large ship moored and waiting, watching its motion as it moved with the slow waves of the incoming tide. It was as if she were mesmerized, caught by the sound of its sails snapping in the light wind. Just the sight of the boat and what it represented sent another icy flood of reluctance to wash over her body. She didn’t want this anymore… Damn, why must she be so indecisive? With a wearied sigh, the elfess allowed herself to slowly turn, looking back down the road. It was hopeless. She couldn’t see the walls of Bane from here, even if she had possessed some sort of magical vision. But, perhaps that was best. She didn’t need to see it, the town, anything or anyone to do with that place. Not now. Biting her bottom lip, Ayla turned back once more, staring for a long moment at the ship that loomed so frighteningly over her, its shadow darkening her path. It was almost as if the dark ship, the way it creaked with the wind, the chill it sent down her spine was all a big, bad omen. It made her want to turn back and run to those who had comforted and kept her sane these past months. She didn’t like walking into a deathtrap blind and senseless.

And that was precisely what she was doing. But for now, there was nothing anyone at all could do. With narrowed eyes, she pressed onward, finally moving up the walk and onto the boat. The rocking motions of the large vessel made her unsteady, already not liking this trip. But, with a heavy sigh of regret, she threw away all ties to the island of Gobiath. There was nothing she could do now to take those back. Nay, she had not severed them. But for now, they swayed just beyond her grasp. She belonged to Paleonth for now and until either her life or that war ended. Perhaps… Perhaps it would end fast. Whichever it may be that frees her from this Gods-forsaken position did not matter. Let her die fast, she is free for good. Let the war end fast, maybe she could finally find a normal life. Neither of them sounded all that wonderful. She didn’t want to die now, and the prospects of a normal life were simply laughable…

Ayla slowly made her way down the side of the boat, a hand resting against the rough wooden rail. She could feel the pricks of splinters in the wood as she ran her hand along it. But, it didn’t hurt or irritate her. It was almost as if she felt a consolation in the stinging pricks. It reminded her that for now, she was alive. With hesitant steps, she found herself at the stern, facing the open ocean. A salty, bitingly cold breeze hit her squarely, sending shivers up her spine. But instead of crouching down and running off to somewhere warmer, she stayed there, lifting her face to the breeze. She wasn’t going to dwell on thoughts like that. It was better to simply let the breeze blow them away, never to think of them again…

She would have stood there all day had it not been for the sudden uproar of shouts that jolted her out of her musings. Blinking rapidly, Ayla turned to find the seemingly deserted boat come to life. The crew was out, pulling anchors, opening the sails that had been held back, shouting here and there. The scene changed dramatically and with a blink of an eye. And, as if sensing the sudden excitement of the crew, the wind began picking up, causing the calm waves of the ocean to become more erratic, sending the boat rocking forward. Ayla wasn’t prepared and found herself stumbling, knees unable to keep her still. Catching herself on the short railing of the boat, she tightened her grip mercilessly to keep herself standing. It was then, as she became still and tried in vain to catch her balance that she realized just how fast her heart was beating. She was going home, she couldn’t run back now. It was too late. She was trapped.

Another rush of both fear and excitement found her, sending her spiraling down into a state of confusion. Pulling herself up straight, the elfess only stood there as crewmembers ran about, readying the boat to push off. She didn’t care if she was in the way or not. It was as if she were frozen, afraid to move forward. Ayla didn’t understand what had come over her so suddenly. Maybe it was the realization that this time, she really was leaving, and it could very well be the last time she ever touched this island. Maybe…

Finally snapping back to her senses, the elfess couldn’t help a sudden, dry chuckle as she pushes away from the rail. They would be going into the wind for now, which meant hours of tacking, moving back and forth, making the trip longer than normal. The thought of being pounded by the wind every time they turned into it didn’t much suit the elfess. Walking unsteadily back towards the cabin, Ayla once again let her gaze flick to the island. A mistake, if ever there was one. As she made her way down the ladder into the depths of the ship, she could feel that tell-tale sign, that wrenching at her heart as again she wondered if she wasn’t making a mistake. After all, she was simply running away. She had to go, she said… No, she didn’t have to go. One more fighter of her abilities would make little difference. She was running away from the hardships of Gobiath… She had figured it obvious, her want to leave the island so strong and coming so suddenly. But, maybe it had been best that no one else had picked up on it. It would make this a lot easier, to say the least.

Finding the small room that would be hers for the trip, Ayla slowly pushed the door open, walking in and closing it behind her. For a long moment, she simply stood there, listening to the wind, the waves crashing onto the sides of the boat, the creaking of the wood. She closed her eyes, leaned against the heavy door, and let herself almost be hypnotized by the sounds. The swaying of the boat and the sensation of turning didn’t register at first. But, after a long moment, she opens her eyes to feel the boat turning, finally pulling away from Gobiath. A thin smile set upon her lips as she made her way towards the bed, collapsing heavily onto it. Bowing her head, Ayla raised her hands, one running through her hair as the other finds the amulet at her throat, fingers curling slowly around it.

She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stop the sudden urge to cry. Ayla felt as if she were abandoning everyone. She simply up and left, giving no true explanation to anyone at all. No one, even those she cared about the most, got the real story from her and it was torturing her.

As the boat finally set sail into the depths of the ocean, Ayla To’lorn found herself unable to do anything at all. The elfess that had always pretended to be so brave, so cold… She was at a loss. Instead of bravely facing what was to come, all she could do for now was curl herself into the corner and cry. Tears of sorrow, tears of regret, tears of happiness… They all found themselves making an appearance. For once, it felt good just to simply… Simply lose control…

(( To be continued ))

[Ayla]

When the boat had moored within the docks of a large island, the surroundings had been almost too quiet. The eerie silence surrounding the boat, only broken by the wash of waves against the shore, was enough to fray her nerves. One wouldn’t think that a war was breaking out over the forested hills. Ayla quietly made her way to the bow of the boat, eyes locked on the far reaches of the forest before her. A sudden heavy breeze brings the sharp, pungent scent of smoke to her, causing her eyes to narrow into a cold glare, feeling something wrench at her heart. There was no visible fire or smoke, but she could smell it, could sense it. And all that distinct odor did was set her anguish aflame, in a manner tenfold to any forest fire.

The sounds of the crew setting to work docking the ship didn’t register to the elfess. Her gaze was locked on something apparently invisible. But, whatever it was she was so focused on caused her to tense noticeably. The hands that rested lightly against the rail of the ship curled into tight fists, to the points her knuckles were white and her nails dug into the soft flesh of her palm. Ayla’s face remained starkly blank, but she couldn’t hide the fact that her shoulders were tense and her teeth gritted. It infuriated her, to know that foolish humans were taking advantage of the feeble state her clan was in. True, she had never had much to do with the village, but such a thought invoked a strange need to prove those bastards wrong.

After a few long, though unnoticed minutes, Ayla turned away from the bow and moved to get off the boat. Her every step was clear, wrought with tension and pent-up anger. This wasn’t going to last long, if she could help it…




The problem was, it had been a month now since she had stepped off that boat. Now, as she stared out over the remains of a charred forest, all Ayla could do was laugh at her rash determination. Had she really expected to end a war in a matter of weeks? Aye, she had, which was purely laughable. Damn, she was pathetic.

Heaving a quiet sigh, Ayla leaned forward slightly from her position along the wall, elbows resting against the cold, hard rock that was the last defense of the village. So many years ago, the elves never would have thought that a rock enclosure would be needed to save them. Now, it was the only thing keeping them alive. Letting her chin drop, Ayla allowed her gaze to wander over the ground below, a hand lifted and absentmindedly playing with the amulet at her throat. She was so unknowingly wrapped up in her musings that she didn’t hear the quiet footsteps approaching. Being so oblivious caused her to jump as a strong hand rests against her shoulder. Looking up quickly, she found herself staring at a tall, strong young elf who offered her a faint smile. She frowns vaguely before letting her attention return to the ground, ignoring the hand resting comfortingly against her. The elf sighs before pulling his hand away and turning to lean in a similar manner against the edge of the wall. His voice is quiet as he speaks, following her steady gaze.

“Something bothering you?”

A light grimace flicks over her face before she merely shrugs. Pursing her lips, she remains perfectly silent for a brief moment before speaking in the same, quiet way.

“I’m tired, Arandil. An entire month with hardly any results… It is wearing me down.”

Arandil chuckles quietly, letting his gaze fall to his hands. The smile on his lips fades slowly, voice somber.

“Don’t expect us to be perfectly fine in a month, Ayla. If anything, this’ll last another year or two.” He pauses before turning to look at her, steady gaze resting on her blank face. “Why are you so ready to leave and get this over with?”

Again, she finds herself remaining silent, as if unsure of what made her so anxious to get up and leave. Again, her hand finds that amulet resting against her throat, fingers running over the intricate engravings as her eyes flutter closed. Was that really the reason she wanted to go back? No. No, that wasn’t the only reason. Letting her eyes snap open again, she smiles thinly.

“I don’t know. I suppose Gobiath has simply become more of a home than this Gods-forsaken place. I have something along the lines of a life there, if I dare say so. I’ve found myself grown apart from whatever family I have left here. Gobiath… People there have become far more important to me, despite how that sounds.”

No response. Arandil was the one to hold his tongue this time. His eyes, gaze even and cool, moved slowly over her face. He could sense the sudden look of faint distress on the elfess’s face. With a quiet, almost inaudible sigh, he reaches over again, letting his hand rub her shoulder briefly before pushing away from the wall.

“What a shame to see you so ready to run off.”

His voice held a strange note as he let his hand fall away once more, turning to walk off. Ayla looks up slowly, turning to watch the back of the retreating man quietly. Something in his voice had scared her, startled her. It had sounded far too familiar.

Despite her sudden confusion, the elfess had no opportunity to dwell over what that voice meant. Before he could get so much as 100 meters away, a sudden crash echoed through the shadows of the burnt forest. Ayla’s attention snapped ahead, just in time to see black smoke rise above the remains of the trees around her. Flames reached up into the darkening sky, the sound of burning, snapping wood meeting her ears. Calls were sent up, the silent peace shattering around her. Gritting her teeth, the elfess turns, moving down the walk along the wall. A strange chill broke across her body, despite the smell of burning wood and the heat beginning to wash forward as the fire crept closer. The fires were wrought with magic, she could already tell this. But she couldn’t freeze up now…

Reaching the designated post, Ayla turned to see a sight that threatened to make her do precisely what she didn’t want. Her eyes widen as they reflect on the sight before her. The attackers had been trying to burn them out since the beginning, and this time they may just succeed. What played itself before her was the last of the untouched forest surrounding the village swallowed whole by a massive flame. But the flames weren’t orange or red like that of a normal fire. They were blue. They were bluer than the water of the clearest oceans. And the heat was anything but usual. Even at a distance, it felt scorching against her skin, intensified by the winds pushing the fire on.

As shouts and commands swarmed around her, Ayla could only stand there, eyes locked on the sight before her. Hands curled into fists, she could simply mumble one inaudible sentence.

Save me…

Save me. I can’t handle this. It’s all too damn much. Those various thoughts ran through her mind as she was thrown into the hustle to protect the walls, the village. The only thing that wrenched her from those paralyzing thoughts was a strong, rough hand grabbing her arm and pulling her along. Arandil. He gave her an annoyed look before continuing on, dragging the elfess who followed in a daze. No, this was the worst time to lock up. It could cost her life or the lives of those around her. She couldn’t now. Shaking herself out of that mindless daze, she pushes onward, following orders, taking commands. She found herself back on the ground before the gate, in the midst of the group of so-called warriors. The sounds of blades being drawn seemed deafening. It was finally getting serious.

As the troops poured through the gate, ready to meet the equally strong onslaught of the enemy, Ayla felt as if her heart had stopped. This could truly be the end of it all. Running blindly, stumbling forward with the rest, she let herself block out the heat of the fire, the war cries of fighters. She was swept into the craze, literally having no idea of what to do. She wasn’t concentrating, wasn’t following. She moved purely by instinct, letting the people around her push her in whatever direction they desired.

All that ended up was that she was once again trapped. Ayla was trapped in the middle of raging men. She was trapped in the midst of warriors with only two things on mind… To kill, to win. She was trapped in a snare that allowed only one possible escape. And it didn’t matter what happened, all she knew was that she had to live through this. She couldn’t die now. Not here, not like this.

As the two masses of fighers merged, as swords were flailed and shouts rose up, Ayla let herself become completely cold. Pushing forward in a manner that only heartless souls could do, she let herself abandon all thought. War-maddened rage was all that controlled her. She was senseless. Blind, deaf, unable to tell the difference between right and wrong, she let herself lose it. Again… Again she was losing control. But this time, it was the sweet need for revenge and a release for the anger within. This time, no tears were shed, apart from the wretched tears of those cut down. It was completely different, and one thing scared Ayla. She liked it…

She liked it.


(( Again, to be continued... *Walks off mumbling* ))

[abcfantasy]

Once again, Jorokar found himself strolling through the snowy paths with an unwanting heavy gait, as his boots sunk into the snow with each of his steps. He paced along the river Troll's Vein, intending to reach the spot he recently favoured as his place to spend a lonesome moment of reflection. Yet he seemed unwilling to go there. He knew that the thoughts that will be presented to him will be hard to face, even painful. The idea of having to confront his thoughts was like a strong wind clashing against him, making his destination hard to reach. But now he has experienced enough to know that he can do nothing but delay what he must handle, and procrastination can only worsen the matters.

And so he did reach his aimed site, towards the trailing end of the river. As he would do each time, he approached the single prominent naldor tree, a few meters away from the water, and rested his back against the bark, letting his head fall back aswell. His scarcely opened eyes gazed weakly at the depressing cloudy skies, pretty much reflecting his internal feelings.

Depressed? Why was he depressed? He should have been happy, he had reasons to be. Now the thoughts and questions streamed into his mind, and this gave the start of a kind of inner battle, a struggle against his emotions. A sudden urge to escape what still has to come aroused in him, but he shouldn't fall to that temptation, no, not anymore. His eyes closed tightly and his hands curled into clenched fists, as if his external properties could give him an inside strength to fight his way through the 'battle'. And with this, he engaged back in the challenge, much like a man charging in the battleground.

He had finally confessed to someone he liked, he felt lucky to be given the opportunity, he even sprouted in happiness at that moment. But what about the negative sensation felt afterwards? What was it? Sadness? Regret? He couldn't identify what it was exactly, but he thought it was just a transitory feeling. That may even have been the truth, but he was convinced otherwise, experiencing the same thing over and over again, always in his solitary moments. There could have been an explanation to it, but he was too frightened to admit it, too scared to even think it might be the truth. Usually, at least. But not this time. He wasn't going to avoid anything now, he surrendered himself to accept all the possible truths, even if that meant further pain or confusion in him.

"Ayla..."

He unconciously whispered the name in a dim thoughtful voice that echoed in his mind. The unexplained sadness might have meant a sense of betrayal, a sense of disloyalty to that person. To worsen the chaos provoked by these intuitions, that same explanation would also mean a betrayal to the present person. What should he do? The man in the battlefield was now surrounded and suffocated by enemies all around him. That represented Jorokar's state of mind. He felt like exploding, forgetting everything. Again, the temptation returned, the climax of his intellect was reached and there was no way to go further. This was mentally exhaustive, and this was reflected superficially, as even in the chilly weather, his forehead showed traces of sweat.

But no! He must not give in. He wouldn't ever make it through if he did not surpass his limits. His fists constricted harder, causing his veins to swell. However, what followed was a deep calming breath, in attempt to free the disturbances in his mind. After loosening the grip of his fists, he reaches one hand into the sidepocket of his bag, where he fetches a rolled parchment. He opened his eyes, and read through the unfolded paper, slowly, absorbing each and every word.

At the end, his gaze glued on the last small-written words positioned at the corner of the paper. Those words triggered the thoughts again. She hadn't said she was coming back, but now she did. Hope seemed like an unlit light, which now started to glow faintly in the distant, far distant. Things started to get cleared in his head now. That's what he really wanted. Actually that was what he always wanted, but was fool enough not to have realized that. Did he need all these happenings to comprehend his own real desires? Did he really need to be shocked to hear how she threatened her own life, the misery of how she spent her last days? What kind of person he is? He hated himself for this. But there was no time for such things. Usually this would hinder him from correcting himself, improving from his mistakes.

Yes, he was gaining determination now. He knows and placed his goals now. Time for more actions and less thought, less regretting. The road is set.

He lowered his hand with the letter and looked to his right towards Trollsbane. Willpower was slowly becoming tangible in his face. It only needed a little push beyond his thoughts. He needed to endure the pain of his feelings, the pain of realizing his mistakes and his fears.

Paleonth. That was his new destination now. However, there was one single thing he needed to settle before. And with that, he pressed himself off the tree, and marched towards the town with a persuaded stride.

[abcfantasy]

That day, the hospital behind him was growing smaller as Jorokar was walking away against his will. His thoughts rushed back to earlier that day. Another one had attempted to take her own life. The sight of it was traumatizing for him, unbearable.

"What am I?"

He thought.

"The cause of people's deaths?"

The determination he had finally built up now seemed to shatter slowly, torturingly. That day turned out to be unbelievably much more agonizing than he thought it would be. The words were harder to say, the reaction was nothing expected, and the aftermath was painful to tolerate.

He would have done everything to realize her dreams, but he simply couldn't. By trying what he could not achieve, as usual, he simply made things worse and harder to sustain. That night, he wished to stay close to her, be there for her. Every step he took, away from the hospital, seemed harder and heavier than it really was. It felt like he was wearing thick heavy metal boots, so heavy that it was a big burden to even lift his foot.

Even if he was getting doubts now, the decision was made. He was leaving Gobaith, and the thought of leaving the island without further words to her simply gave him a devastating feeling.

"I returned here, for you."

Those words, those were her words and now they resonated sorely in his mind. These thoughts shaped imaginary shadowed hands that grabbed him tight, clinging onto him and holding him there on the island, in the hospital, with her. What should he do? What should be best thing to do? Then suddenly, another friend's words were heard distantly in his mind.

"To have this one thing, ye must give up everything else in your life, everything."

He didn't want to accept that fact, he didn't want to believe it. But now it seems, he can't escape the truth any longer. What was the one thing he wanted? He tried to brainstorm on that question.

"Ayla..."

For the second time, he found himself unconsciously whisper the name in a hushing tone. It became clear to himself what was it that he wanted, what was it that his heart asked for. With that, he was decisive once again, and those unreal snatching hands faded away, lost in the darkness. He glanced behind him at the fading building and spoke softly, words he would have liked to have been heard.

"I'm sorry...Carinia."

No more burdensome metal boots, no more clutching hands, he finally walked away, the hospital totally faded behind him in that night.





Hours later, he made it out of Trollsbane, and towards the harbor he marched, clad in his finest armor and weaponry, carrying a few days rations, and some silvers.

At the harbor, he avoided what looked like a docked albarian ship and went straight to a mercantile lugger. The merchant was packing up various packages and tossing them into the small ship. Jorokar approached the man, and asked him if Paleonth was the desitation he was going to. A shake of the man's head was the reply. But after offering a considerable amount of silver coins, the merchant gleefully accepted and afforded to go off course to stop by the requested island.

And so, in less than an hour, they departed. His attention was not on the distancing Gobaith, but the opposite direction. He stared ahead into the blackness, the distant sea and the sky were undistinguishable. His eyes were narrowed and his hair fluttered back as the wind breezed into his face.

"Ayla...wait for me."

[Ayla]

Her eyes fluttered closed as the prick of a heated needle sent waves of diminutive pain running across her back. It hurt. Gods be damned, it hurt. But for some reason, the pain comforted her. It let her know that she was still alive. Leaning forward, Ayla clutched the stained tunic to her chest, wincing as the needle was threaded back and forth, moving with the skilled hand of a medico as the woman stitched up a long, thin cut across the elfess’s back. The wound, of which was taking a rather long time to get stitched up, was the latest of nasty cuts from fighting. She had gotten lucky, to say the least. Far more lucky than she would have imagined.

To block out the continual feel of hot pricking against her skin, Ayla finally allowed herself to be absorbed and wrapped up in thought. She was faintly worried, which had kept her distracted from the last fight. Almost a week ago, she had sent her first and only letter to Gobiath. To tell the truth, she had expected a reply within the next day. But even now, nothing had been sent. The fact that no reply had come set a brooding sense of fear and unsettled nerves upon her, making the elfess wonder what might be going on back at that island to keep her from getting any comfortable reply. By the Gods, she would have even settled with a simple reply telling her that all was fine, but she shouldn’t return. Sure, it would have devastated her, but at least she would have known all was well.

Wincing suddenly as the needle goes through a particularly sensitive area along the cut, Ayla is shoved from her musings. Her eyes snap open, narrowed into a pained glare as they stare forward in an almost unseeing manner. The wince slowly turns into a grimace as she tilts her head back slightly, fingers curling even tighter around the cloth of her tunic. The elfess remains silent, letting her head fall again as the pain begins to lessen, the medico coming to the end of her work. As the woman completes her job, she mumbles a short word to Ayla before running a soothing mix of herbs over the stitches, finishing up with a light bandage. Once finished, Ayla only nods, shrugging painfully back into the black tunic with a sigh. Heaving herself slowly from her seat, the elfess pushes through the door of the rickety hospital, walking back outside to the smoke-filled air, the pungent scent and heavy air almost choking her.

As she idly made her way through what was left of the besieged village, the elfess once again found herself wrapped up in thought. Why hadn’t he written back by now? She had figured he would at least write back with a simple greeting, if nothing more. But perhaps her worst fears had become real. He had gotten smart and moved on. Besides, Ayla hadn’t exactly made it all too convincing that she was returning, had she?

Frowning lightly, the elfess moved up to one of the many watchtowers, moving slowly to lessen the twinge felt across her back. Coming onto the wooden platform, she was surprised to find that the watchtower hadn’t been empty after all. Smiling thinly, she moved forward, coming to a stop beside a familiar figure. Her gaze, steady though unable to hide a sense of underlying worry, land upon the horizon. The air was smoggy, the sun was going down, and the waves upon the ocean in the distance seemed almost too calm. Again, it seemed to her as if it were all a bad omen. With a heavy sigh, she allows herself to lean against the strong shoulder next to her. Perhaps she should listen to that faint voice trying so desperately to tell her to merely give up. With another, inaudible sigh, she moves away from that comforting shoulder, pursing her lips in thought. Then, in a quiet voice, she speaks.

“Maybe... I should forget it, Arandil.”

The figure that had been there, silent the entire time, let his attention move from the horizon to rest upon the elfess next to him.

“Forget what?”

Ayla doesn’t answer directly, eyes once again narrowing into a glare. The worry, hesitation, and fear suddenly become far more noticeable in her expression. Her voice, still quiet, almost implies the fact that she wasn’t going to accept the very things she said herself.

“Forget going back to Gobiath. I just… I have this feeling that I should loosen all ties to that place. With everything that went wrong there, I really do not know why I still cling to that hell of a place.”

Arandil smiles thinly, the look all too wry as he brings his attention back to the horizon, watching it closely though with only half a mind.

“What all went wrong, exactly?”

The elfess lets her eyes fall slowly, trailing over the charred remains of the forest. She keeps silent, not answering the question he so directly asked. She didn’t want too. She didn’t want to have to admit to herself that everything, not just a few things, had gone wrong in that place. She just wanted to forget. With a grimace, she pushes away from the edge of the watchtower, shaking her head lightly. With a short turn, Ayla moves away from the tower and Arandil, who only gives her a lightly concerned look. As the elfess moves down the ladder, her only response is a short, cold reply.

“It doesn’t matter anymore…”

[abcfantasy]

Unlike most of the time during the trip, the sea was fairly calm when the small merchant ship was stirring slowly closer to the shores, with only occasional light waves that barely swayed the vessel. An eerie kind of tension had settled on the two travelers; a sense of worry had befallen them ever since each whiff brought about a piercing scent of smoke.

"What’s going on there?"

Jorokar thought to himself. Were people risking their lives? Was there a real battle going on? Could she be in danger right now? Such were the thoughts that flashed in his mind at that instant. He felt a rush through his body, an urge to see her, see that she was alright, but also…he wanted to feel her touch again, experience her soft traits. That side of her…he surely did miss.

But despite his feeling of haste, his first step into the terrain was slow and hesitant. It had a kind of meaning to him. He was stepping into her homeland. He was on the same isle she was on, and that she was born on. In the last month, they had been so distant, and since then, he couldn’t find any peace within himself. But now, he was finally in the same land she was in, the distance was closing in.

After breathing deeply in, he lowered his other foot steadily onto the ground, then he stared straight ahead, or better, he glared distantly towards what looked liked desolate forests. A few moments later, realizing he had no idea about the place, he glanced at the merchant hoping to gain some knowledge. Surprisingly, the trader had already pushed his craft away from the coast and started sailing away.

With a disappointed look and a quiet sigh, he watched the small ship distance slowly away, then after a few seconds he turned to face the inlands once again. Unable to do anything else for now, with a deep encouraging breath he simply advanced forward into and through the forest, moving uphill.

On his way up, the smell of smoke that permeated the air was suspiciously becoming more evident, sharper and stronger. The realization of the reason to that unpleasant odor came only at the point when he reached the peak of the hill. Bearing the sight of what lied ahead was simply shocking. He could make out a stone enclosed settlement, surrounded by what was a forest, now burned down to ashes. It was clear that the disaster occurred quite a few days before, possibly weeks. Has he come too late? Did he take too long to make up his decision? If that was so, he knew he would never forgive himself. What the consequences could have been, he did not dare to think about.

With a preoccupied feeling, he pushed himself forward and headed towards the site with a hasted pace. He didn’t know if the war that had been taken place had ended or not, and so he was susceptible to anything around him, his hand gripping his sword’s handle alertly. He wasn’t even sure if whom he seeks resided in that raided town.

Upon closing by to the town’s gate, his movement decelerated as he was uncertain of what could lie ahead. His steps were now slow and cautious, as if entering into an unknown and mysterious dungeon. He kept a wary eye around him, while bit by bit, he crept just before the town’s entry point.

[Ayla]

The slowly rising mid-day sun again found the quiet elfess in one of many watchtowers, this time to the south. As she rested against the edge of the wall, she closed her eyes to allow a cold, ash-choked breeze to hit her fully in the face. Even with all the disaster about her, for once there seemed to be a calm, a lull in the tension of warfare. For once, she felt a shallow wash of peace run over her. Nothing was astir, nothing was going on. It was perfectly quiet...

And the silence sheilded the vague commotion happening across the village. The elven guards patrolling near the main gate had spotted a strange figure, clearly armed by the glint of light across steel, coming over the hill a short distance away. It was painfully obvious that the figure advancing was human. This sent tensions soaring, the guards painfully alert to every move the oncoming figure made.

It was a single man, completely unrecognizable. Neither of the two guards moving to the gate had seen this man on the battle field. But even this did not quell their suspicions. Pushing through the gate, the two armed elves moved in a quick pace towards the man, hands going to the swords at their sides and unsheathing them, the eerie sound of metal against metal unable to ignore. Their actions were stiff, direct, and apparently attempting to be intimidating, though they knew not if this human would succumb to their attempts.

Moving to either side of the man, the taller elf spoke in a harsh, brusque manner.

"You, human. Walking on these lands is strictly against rules. You're a fool to be here in the first place! Who are you and why in all the Gods names above are you here?"

The other elf, who had quietly been moving around the man, takes the attempt to sneak up behind him, aiming to grab him from behind, the sword flicking forward. Suspicions were clear on both elven faces, eyes narrowed into a glare and a wary, almost nervous feeling coming from both of them as they attempt to force the man through the gate, keeping him within their grasps.

After all, a captive of the warlord rampaging their land could be very useful in the end. And, though he was not recognizable in any way, nor had he yet to give signs of being a member of the so-called enemy, the elves decided it best to take no chances for now...

[abcfantasy]

On spotting the approaching elves, he was somewhat relieved. At least, he knew it was elves that dwelled in that town, and most likely, it was there was she, whom he seeks, was. That possibly good feeling eased him a little and dropped his guard, causing his hand to loosen from the sword's handle.

However, his easiness quickly dissolved at the scraping noise of metal, the sounds of unsheathing blades. Acting upon instinct, his grip to his sword constricted, prepared to draw it out but needless to say that it was too late for him. A lack of response time immediately brought him in a helpless situation, unable to do anything against the two, and he knew that.

Upon a quick thinking, it didn't matter much. He was not going to prove hostile to them, he had not that intention. At that, he let his steady hand fall from his sheathed sword, and though there was an inevitable tension aroused by those around him, he relaxed from posing any threat to them.

A grimace over his face appeared as soon as he becomes grabbed by one of the elves. It was bothering, but he controlled himself, making sure not to oppose or react badly.

He took some time before he responded to the elf's inquiry, unable to help his wavering voice.

"I...I have no bad intentions. I am...I came searching for Ayla."

For now he didn't dare to say more, waiting for elf's reaction but only soon after to find himself being forced towards the gate. And here again, he did not hold any resitance to their actions. Despite the annoyance of such treatment, he did according to their will.

[Ayla]

As the elves forced the man roughly towards the just slightly opened gate, it would seem that his stuttering reply meant nothing to them. The taller, larger elf gave no note of recognizing the name 'Ayla' as he directed the man and his captor towards the wall. In fact, the only note of either of them recognizing the name was the sudden hesitation, the faint loosening of the grip the younger elf had on the human.

Ayla.. What in Hellbriar's name does this bastard have to do with Ayla?

Arandil frowned lightly, lips pursing into a thin line as he again returns his grip on the man's arm and shoulder, letting it tighten mercilessly as he attempts to shove the man in front of him. Worry took the opportunity to worm itself into the elf's mind, making him wonder if this was the man that had forced Ayla back so suddenly. It irritated him, knowing that this man somehow knew the elfess.

The elder of the two elves continues to walk briskly forward, shoulders tense. His harsh, brutal tone of voice is heard again after a long moment of silence.

"Ayla, hm? And what would trash such as yourself have to do with anyone that goes by the name Ayla? Again, I demand to know who you are. And please, explain to me why this is so important that you would so brazenly walk to the gates of a city in peril?"

As the elf spoke, he gave a short look to yet another guard hovering in the shadows. The guard took the silent message and slipped away, his quick walk turning into a run towards the southern edge of the city.

Once the quiet guard had taken off, the aged elf turns his cold blue gaze to the man, nose wrinkled in a look of bitter disgust. Finally, letting his gaze rest on Arandil, a wry smile appears on his face.

"Arandil, I do believe that trash was meant to be disposed of? Instead of wasting lovely time with this filth, what say we put it in a.. conventional spot?"

Arandil, still keeping hold of the man, gave no reply, knowing that the elder elf had made up his mind. As the elf moved past the gate towards an old building, Arandil simply followed, still trying to press the man onwards toward the old prison.

In the meantime, the guard who had sprinted towards the southern part of town finally made his way to the tower. Scrambling up the ladder, he walked in a brisk manner to the elfess, who's back was turned. Clearing his throat in a manner to cause the elfess to look over her shoulder suddenly, he spoke.

"Ayla... The captain.. He wants you near the prison."

Ayla blinks, turning fully to face the slightly out of breath guard. An eyebrow raised, she speaks in a faintly confused manner.

"The prison..? Why the prison?"

The young elf only shrugs, walking forward to resume a familiar position she had been in before. His reply seemed absentminded and indifferent.

"I have no clear idea. Apparently, there was a man prowling around the front gate and the captain wants you to do something about it."

Ayla frowned, deepening as she listened to the young elf's words. But, as he fell silent, she hesitated no longer and moved to the ladder. Moving down the old ladder quickly, the elfess set off in a fast walk towards the prison, shaking her head lightly. Any time there was problems with mysterious people, she was the one called in. It was annoying, any way you looked at it... Especially when she should be watching the horizons for an oncoming attack, not wasting her time dealing with strange bastards that so freely walked through a battlefield. She honestly didn't understand how stupid some people could be.

[abcfantasy]

As the elves continued to shove him heartlessly, he furrowed his brows in annoyance. He was frustrated at their attitudes. He disliked that kind of treatment to him, the treatment that criminals deserved. He wasn't a criminal, he had nothing against them, no bad intentions. There was a small flame in him, a flame that gave him the urge to push them apart and set himself free. But yet again, he found it wise not to bring forth any resistance. His teeth clenched together to endure his anger, and keep a balanced self-control. Maybe a little bit more and things will be back fine, and he would be able to see her, just maybe.

Then Jorokar felt pretty much helpless at the sudden bombardment of questions. While he tried to reply to one, he was soon questioned with another. All he managed to blurt out sounded nothing but gibberish. With a fairly exasperated sigh, for now, he yielded from saying anything further or answering any of the questions put forward. And so he simply dropped silent, letting himself guided by the two.

No matter how much effort Jorokar put in, his patience nonetheless had its very own limit. It was known to many, including himself, that his lack of fortitude was one of his biggest weakness. The constant mentioning of ‘trash’ and ‘filth’ that were directed to him, combined with the bothersome thuds that followed were simply destroying the little patience that he held within him.

When he was impelled forward once again, he did not counter that action, but he did look at the pushing elf bearing an expression of displeasure. He spoke straight and clearly this time, his voice sounding a little harsher then usual.

"Look! I have no wrong intentions to your place. I want…I need to see Ayla, Ayla To’lorn. Tell me if she is around here, I need to know."

Towards the end of his sentence, that severity expressed by his face seemed to fade away, only to be replaced by a pleading look. Why all this trouble? Why all this maltreatment? When he finally thought he might be close, trouble had to find him. All he wanted was to see her, talk to her. He still wasn’t even sure if she was there after all.

His head sunk down as he was continuously forced to move on. As he was brought nearer to the prison which he caught a glimpse of, he raised his head again and sighed hopelessly. Was he conceding to his hopes now? Now that he might be so close, will he be losing everything? He had yet to see what the elves would do with him.

"What will they do with me? What did I do wrong?"

He thought silently to himself, thoughts that saddened him, thoughts that threatened his hopes, his determination.

"Ayla…Where are you?"

[Ayla]

Again, the elves did nothing but ignore the man's demands, continuing their forceful jaunt to the prison. The 'captain', of who led the small little three-man procession, walked forward in a stiff manner, irritation flicking over his face as again the human avoided his question. All the hopeless fool seemed able to do is ramble on about Ayla. It was pathetic, really. With a short, inaudible sigh, the man reached forward and unlocked the door, stepping aside as he pulls the heavy oak door open.

Arandil shook his head, sending a look to the stern elf as he shoved the man forward ruthlessly, moving him to one empty cell. The captain followed shortly, moving ahead to again unlock the door, a wry smirk on his lips as Arandil maneuvers the man inside, pushing roughly before stepping back, allowing the older elf to slam the door shut. With a dark look, Arandil stared toward the door, hands now clenching at his sides. He didn't understand... Why would some strange, fool of a human man come traipsing up to the gates of the village, pleading to see Ayla? It didn't make sense. With a quiet, tormented sigh, the elf turned to lean against the door, crossing his arms as he waited for the elfess to arrive.



The sound of ashen gravel beneath slow footsteps was all Ayla heard as she continued through the winding, dirty streets of the village. She felt oddly tense for some reason, not so sure anymore if she wanted to deal with whoever the fool was that got himself captured. Most probably some sneak running about trying to worm his way into the village. Well, he had succeeded, but surely not the way he planned. Raising a hand, the elfess rubbed her forehead in irritation as she quickens her step, advancing gradually on the prison.

This would be nothing but a waste of time. What did the captain expect her to do, anyway? She wasn't exactly the best at forcing answers out of people, now was she? No... With an irritated sound, Ayla draws to a stop right outside the prison door, peering into the shadowy depths for a long moment before crossing the threshold. Looking about, she moved down a short hall before finding the captain and Arandil. With a small smile, she looks to the two, an eyebrow raised slightly before speaking, gaze settling on the door Arandil leans on.

"You asked me to come...? What do you expect me to do with some spy running amuck, 'captain'?"

As she finishes the question, Ayla turns her cool, green gaze to the older elf, head tilting to the side. A wry smile sets upon her lips as the elf only shrugs. However, that smile quickly disappeared at his answer.

"The 'spy' seems to somehow know your name. Came sneaking up and when we caught him, he asked for you. Interested?"

Ayla's brows knitted in mild confusion, looking shortly to Arandil, who's face was blank for the time being. Then, her attention turned to the heavy door he leaned on, frown deepening. Asked for her, hm? She was way past merely interested. With a vague nod, she silently told Arandil to open the door. The elf obliged reluctantly, pushing away and grabbing the handle of the door. Ayla felt a strange sensation run through her as the door was dragged open. Who, what human on this island would possibly be asking for her, even know her name?

She really didn't know what she had expected, but as the elfess stepped through the doorway, she knew that it certainly wasn't what she got. Having bowed her head as she walked forward, she slowly lifted her gaze to the person that had been asking to her. As her steady gaze fell on the man's face, Ayla came to a sudden, abrupt stop. Eyes widening, Ayla couldn't help the quiet, oddly surprised sound that came from her as she froze. Jorokar. It was Jorokar standing before her. A look of pure disbelief settles on her expression as she looks over her shoulder to Arandil, who was staring towards Jorokar with a cold look. Turning back shortly, Ayla's restless gaze moves over the man, hands curling into fists as she stands there. With a weak smile, she swallows before attempting to speak. Yet, all that came from her suddenly feeble voice was one word.

" Jorokar..."

She found herself unable to say any more than that, looking quickly about the prison room before again tossing a brief glance over her shoulder. Biting her bottom lip, Ayla realized that the two wouldn't have known any better. She had been wondering why they had thrown that man in the prison, but she remembered. They didn't know that he was no threat. They treated him as they would have anyone else, purely out of caution. Sighing quietly, she turns her surprised gaze back to Jorokar, shaking her head faintly as she tries again to say something. But the attempt is in vain. With a look of defeat, she shuts up. Her shoulders fall, tension fading as she just stands there, staring to the man as if she still didn't believe what was before her eyes. Why? Why was he... here?

[abcfantasy]

Jorokar was close to a complete surrender now. Getting no reply at all, he felt evermore fruitless and his hopes were simply distancing away. He was more of a powerless captive now, totally leaving up to the elves to guide him into the prison in their strict and bleak ways. At a point, he even stumbled forward, almost losing his balance completely.

Strangely enough, the burning anger that was freshly amplifying inside him had somehow ceased all of a sudden, now becoming inexistent, and still remaining so after the heavy push into the dark cell. Why was that? Was he giving up on all that he achieved so far? Was he not going to fight back? Fight for what or whom he loves? Is this the end? Did he even achieve anything up till now? Such thoughts kept recurring in his mind, and they were literally breaking him down.

Without bestowing any kind of defiance, he found himself into the darkness of that small cubicle, weak and helpless, despite having his sharp weapons tied to his sides. With his head inclined downwards and hands hanging freely at each of his flank, he remained quietly still, his eyebrows still furrowed and his lips stretched in a hateful frown.

The silence that swelled in the place seemed awful to him. The degrading thoughts once again found his mind, not helping him at all in his situation.

"Is it all lost?"

"Have I come too late?"

"It may as well be the punishment I deserve to my mistake."

He felt like everything was abandoning him, his strengths, his desires…himself. He was so inexperienced at handling situations, he couldn’t help it. He failed to see the faint light that stood afar. That light that was slowly approaching him unknowingly and that would have found him sooner than any of the two could have thought.

Funny that he remained completely oblivious to her when she was in that same location that he was. He gave little or no attention to those sounds of lurking steps in that same unwelcoming place.

The stroke of incredulous surprise only flashed when her voice was heard. That same voice of that person, it was her, she was in there. Cold as he perceived it, and that distinguished her from any other. He was caught too much in his scepticism that he was simply frozen, his whole body had tensed at once.

The moment his eyes found the Ayla’s feet, he immediately looks up at her with his forehead wrinkled. The desperate look at his eyes conveyed was simply unavoidable at that moment. She was right there, in front of him. It was really her, and that set his heart beating increasingly faster. That dim light had finally brightened; it glimmered just before his eyes.

He was totally dumbfounded at the sight he least expected, and it left him completely mute. There was an overwrought silence in that frigid place, a silence that was only broken momentarily by her mentioning of his name. His lips parted to say something, but nothing escaped his mouth. No word, no sound, he found himself incapable of finding the words, and even if he knew what to say, he would have been unable to sound anything.

Now he couldn’t care less for the other two elves, completely disregarding what they might think or do in respect to what a beating urge inside him brought him to do. No matter how awkward it may have seemed, he simply swayed forward lifting his arms in the process. He was slow at first, but as his desperation became more demanding, his movements quickened. He simply leaned onto her, his arms flipping around her, holding her tightly in, what for him was a deep and meaningful embrace.

The blissful feeling that had sparked inside him had trigged the ecstatic tears in his eyes. He was finally holding her, in his arms. That feeling that he yearned for so much had now transformed into reality once again. The emotions felt, they were just unexplainable.

Stifling a cry, he managed to speak in a desperate but frail voice:

"Ayla…I missed you."

That was all he managed to utter. There were endless words that he wished to say, but even attempting to do so was knowingly useless. They were not really needed after all, for now. His arms around her, that hug, that was simply far more than enough.

[Ayla]

Out of instinct, Arandil tensed as the man moved toward Ayla, teeth gritting. He didn't trust this man at all, and the fact that he had asked for Ayla of all people irritated Arandil beyond what he would have believed. Moving quickly, one of his hands flew to the thin sword at his side, ready to unsheath it as the man advanced suddenly, pulling the elfess into his hold. What was the man trying to do? Take her and use her against him? Many conclusions flew through the rash young elf's mind as he moves forward, intending to pull Ayla from his grasp.

But the way the elfess responded brought Arandil to an abrupt halt, faint shock on his face. Instead of panicking and trying to get away from the stranger's grasp, the elfess just stood there, eyes closed before slowly raising her arms, wrapping them tightly about the man's shoulders, face nestling against him. The anguished glare on Arandil's face vanishes slowly with vague confusion as he stops the advancement at a whole step away from where he had been. What... was going on? Ayla knew this stranger that so brazenly barged in...? It confused him far too much.


Ayla, however, didn't even notice the elf's sudden movement. Her full, disbelieving attention was on Jorokar, remaining perfectly still as he moves forward to wrap her in that warm embrace. For a short moment, she doesn't respond, only standing there in his grasp. Then, finally, she almost desperately moves to return the embrace, arms wrapping about his shoulders and hands curling into tight fists as her head rests against him, eyes closed and tears suddenly tracing themselves down her cheeks. At his words, her hold only tightened, unable to reply.

It was the quiet sound coming from the oldest elf that pulled her away from that suddenly ecstatic, perfect feeling. A heavy frown on the elf's brows, he looks to the two embracing figures before sighing and speaking in his usual, harsh tone.

"I suppose... you know this man? If he is no threat, then what shall we do with him, lady?"

Ayla lifted her head after a moment, staring over Jorokar's shoulder before pulling away slowly, reluctantly. Her gaze found his for a brief moment before she turns slightly in his embrace, tear-stained face turning to the captain and Arandil. The look on Arandil's face startled her, but she did not dwell on it for long. Instead, she slowly answered the captain.

" A..Aye, yes I know him. He's... a dear friend of mine.. from the other island. I.. Please don't treat him like... like a criminal. He's... A guest, not a spy. I promise."

The captain only nods, the suspicion not leaving his face. But, with the words of the elfess, he seems to relax gradually. With a thin, empty smile, he shakes his head and turns, resting a heavy hand on Arandil, directing him away with a final word.

"If you say so, Ayla.. But I catch him sneaking around, he dies."

Ayla couldn't help the slight paleness she felt at his words, but she simply nodded before turning back to Jorokar, her eyes finding his as her hands again tighten about his shoulders. Her weakened smile becomes more sincere as again she shakes her head, looking to him in utter disbelief. Quietly, in a faintly hoarse, surprised voice, she speaks.

" What in all the Gods names are you doing here, Jorokar?"

Her smile falters slightly into a very light, worried look.

" You could have been killed... I wasn't lying when I said there was a war going on here..."

After that, she simply sighs and returns to leaning against him, hands still tight about him as her eyes close, feeling content for the first time in many months.

[abcfantasy]

Jorokar couldn’t help anymore now to fight off those silent tears that slowly trickled down his cheeks. They were tears of joy, tears of happiness, tears he wanted to shed. The tension that his body held gradually dissolved and diminished, especially the moment he had felt her hands on him.

Her touch, it relieved him. Knowing that she willed to return the hug made him relax further. It conferred him a sense of security, an assurance that she ‘is’ there. And he was grateful for that as it made him feel accepted by her, and that is what comforted him from any stress that was in his mind. How he loved that feeling. He could have stayed there with her in his arms for as long as they desired, the non-inviting place didn’t matter at all.

But he soon found himself most unwilling when she pulled away. He had to loosen the grip, though he was far from letting her go. He felt an inexplicable sensation when his eyes met hers. Even if it was ever so short, he had felt something profound, something he couldn’t explain himself.

He was so much disappointed when she shifted a little and answered the elf’s questions. Staring towards the elfess’ face, he did not dare to glance at the other two. Her words, though, caused a frown to appear on his lips. And at those words, his head sunk and once again, thoughts rushed into his mind.

"A dear friend of mine". Right, he had completely forgotten that they were friends now, nothing more, even if it seemed otherwise. Even if he actually felt otherwise. And that’s what most probably made him fail to remember that fact. He needed to settle that with her, but he was too caught up in that euphoric sensation to even find the right words.

What the elf captain said, he absolutely didn’t give any attention to. And when he felt another shift in her weight, he looked up at her, lips parted as if to say something. But once again, he found himself completely speechless as his eyes met hers in that enthralling gaze. There was something captivating in her eyes, something he could not understand, but something that caused a tickling rush in his stomach.

The words she then uttered to him had helped him to tell her something more, even if it all came slowly. In fact, he had managed to speak only after she leaned against him. The compelling look that her eyes gave was in a way disturbing to him, not in a bad sense. They were losing him from saying anything to her. And so he finally spoke when that even gaze was broken, his voice still weak, but he was as well halting this time.

"I..It didn’t matter. I was…dead…without you…anyway."

Not much, again he felt unable to speak any further. At the finishing, he tightened the hold once again, letting his eyes close shut before reflecting on his own words. He was dead without her. They were entirely honest words and he had really felt dead without her, not physically, but emotionally. It was as if a part of him was in her, and he would only be complete when she is there.

Perhaps, he thought, perhaps that is what it really meant…when a person conquers the heart of another’s.

[Ayla]

I was dead without you.

For some inexplicable reason, those words wrenched at her heart. She recalled doubting the man. Her trust had been frayed so much with the tension between them on Gobiath. She had honestly thought of simply dropping all ties to the island, drop all things to do with him, the knighthood, her friends... Everything. She had actually wanted to forget it all. But his sudden appearance, and the way he was acting right now sent second-thoughts through all of her plans. Why just abandon them? It wasn't right..

Shifting in his embrace, the elfess tightens her hold briefly before slowly pushing back, her restless gaze moving over his face. Her hands pull back to rest lightly against his chest, face completely somber as she speaks in a low voice.

"I'm sorry. I... I didn't... "

Ayla lets her voice fade, shaking her head hopelessly as she comes to a loss for words. She clenches her jaws, brows furrowing lightly as her gaze falls to her hands, which slowly curled into fists against his chest. She didn't what? Didn't mean to do something to hurt him? She didn't know she had. Ayla honestly did not know if it had really even bothered him when she had left. Had he just confirmed it?

Letting the frown fade, Ayla purses her lips as she looks back up, eyes searching his. Then, she seems to remember where she is, quickly looking around before letting a short laugh come from her before she returns to letting herself lean against him, shaking her head briefly as her hands remain flat on his chest.

"The prison... I never thought... to see you in the prison... I'm sorry.. about this."

Another wry chuckle comes from her before she sighs heavily and once more raises her attention to his face, a strange, unreadable expression on hers. Her eyes close for a brief moment before opening again. Slowly, she raises a hand to his face, moving to rest lightly on his cheek as her eyes find his in a steady, even gaze.

"Forgive me?"

She left it at that, her hand remaining there before slowly falling, herself becoming quiet as the fairly dark, small chamber fills with silence, waiting with a vague hope for his reply.

[abcfantasy]

The moment he felt her movements, he looked down at her, letting his slightly reddened eyes meet hers. That same stunning feeling returned once again as each one’s gaze converged. But perhaps, he started to understand now. It was the realization of how much he had really missed her in the past lonesome times, more than he had even thought. It may even have been that he could have completely lost the chance of seeing her again, or lost the chance of her returning the look.

It was her first words that brought him out of his little quick reflections. An apology? For what did she needed to apologize? For leaving Gobaith? For him feeling empty without her? It was his fault after all, purely his and no one else’s. All these thoughts managed to cram into his mind within that same instant, and he had not the time to clarify them, as her words that followed caused a curiosity to befall on the young Jorokar.

She didn’t what? He couldn’t help it that incomplete sentences made him dead curious, unavoidably worried as well. What did she want to say? Something that would have hurt him? Or was it the opposite? Being anything of the two also made him scared to grasp the rest of it.

When she lowered her gaze, his eyes remained to stare blankly in the same direction, still being absorbed into his musings. However, a soft quiet sigh ensued after the decision of not asking anything for now. It was better that way at the moment, it wasn’t the best place for a talk anyway.

In fact, as she had soon said, they were in prison. At this point, he was more into his senses, that shock of simply seeing her gradually fading away bit by bit. He even managed a small honest smile at her chuckle. He felt more comforted now in that lightly loosened embrace, and that mystifying tension that he felt at her stare was now almost wholly absent.

With a blink, he looked at her approaching hand, and the persisting smile unconsciously widened at her touch. Slowly glancing back at her, he finally replied in an unhurried quiet tone.

"There’s nothing to forgive, Ayla."

He was even surprised at how steady and calm he sounded, yet there is more that he wanted. He wished to hurl out further hints and make it clearer that he wanted her back, like they were one time. He wanted to revive those heavenly days, and wanted to make her realize that he wanted nothing but her. And so he added a further sentence, even though it sounded just a little awkward now, and a minor hesitation was also unavoidable this time.

"But as long as I’m with you…it, can be anywhere."

That meaningful sentence which he managed to pronounce in a serious tone caused the little smile he had to dissolve completely, and his eyes to retain a sober look in them. Once again, a minute tension was inevitable as he anxiously awaited for her reaction.

[Ayla]

For some eerie reason, the sound of his voice as he spoke threatened to send shivers down her spine. This... He was the Jorokar she remembered, not the one she had left. His quiet voice sounded like the Jorokar she had purely loved. But, instead of comforting her, it frightened her. Why? What had caused him to seemingly change back? She didn't understand at all.

With a quiet sound, the elfess lets her gaze fall to his steadily, the glint in them content yet searching. What was it he was trying to tell her? "As long as I'm with you..." That sentence wasn't meant to be exchanged between simple friends. Her expression fading into a somber, honest look, Ayla raises both hands to rest lightly against his neck, absently trying to figure him out as her own quiet longings delve deeper, trying to force the elfess to escape her naivity and realize. Finally, she glances away for but a brief matter of seconds before turning back, moving closer in a sudden movement, bringing herself a matter of centimeters away, lips parted. Her voice, in a soft, vaguely startled tone, is heard.

"I missed you."

I love you. That was what she had meant to say, but her words escaped her. Slowly, she tilts her chin up, lips brushing against his in hopes for some reaction.

But, thrown into that unbelieving oblivion, capturered in sweet ignorance, Ayla didn't hear the steadily growing sound of shouts outside. She didn't hear the commands, didn't smell the smoke as again the enemies threw forward to the village. For once, she didn't care. Jorokar was here and his warm embrace, the feeling of him against her... It clouded her mind. Even the hurried footsteps of a familiar young elf echoing down the corridor, growing louder in their advancement didn't register. For, at that moment... She was lost to the real world. Fully... Completely.. She was lost.

[abcfantasy]

Those little, quiet words that escaped her mouth triggered a brief appreciating smile to reform on his lips. He could barely identify the slight bemusement in her tone, but the softness that her voice retained gave him a pleasing feeling. He experienced a sudden flash of nostalgia; those idyllic moments that they used to spend together had come to his mind out of the blue. This longing of the past and these craving sensations built up his determination to sacrifice everything for her, just for the sole purpose of earning her sympathy, her trust…her love.

The images in his mind unexpectedly shattered like breaking glass at her abrupt move. He was so caught up in his instantaneous thoughts that even while staring at her, he failed to perceive her movement. Caught by surprise, at first he simply remained static, nonetheless still enjoying that soft brushing touch of her lips. That faint contact was felt magical to him, and even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t have managed to retreat back, not at that moment. He was immediately lured by the cherished feeling she bestowed upon him, and he soon willingly responded to her demands. Tilting his head just slightly and closing his eyes, he slowly planted a soft, delicate kiss on her lips, a kiss that, despite being simple and short, carried a significant and profound meaning.

But soon he yielded from his growing demands and pulled briefly away, opening his eyes to stare deeply into hers. Perhaps, it was time for some words, for him to explain and claim his only love to her. With his arms kept loosely around her, a mild tension could have become perceptible, denoting his inner struggle to find the right words. Face bearing a grave expression, he took a deep quiet breath through his nose and pushed himself to say something…anything that could helped clarify and settle things.

"Ayla, I…"

Failed. He quickly found himself at a lack of words just at the start. Or was it lack of strength? A disquieted look settled on his face as he desperately searched for words or courage to blurt out all he wanted to say, all he wanted to shed light on. Why was it so hard this time? He had claimed his love to her several times in the past, he was perfectly comfortable with her, but that was not the case this time. His gaze that was marked by a slight distress hopped restlessly from eye to eye on her face, the moment of silence lingering.

Lost in the entrancing charm that her eyes imparted, he was wholly muted, stripped of any words that could have possibly roamed in his mind.

Lost in the magical enchantment that her presence conferred upon that poignant moment, he too was left entirely unaware of the amplifying tension present outside and the nasty scents that slowly dispersed in the air around.

[Ayla]

Slow, amiable and sweeter than the sweetest wine was his kiss as he responded to that light, teasing brush. The sensation of his lips against hers sent an unexplained yet rapturous tremble down her back. That gentle, tantalizing warmth that was gradually enveloping the woman too reminded her of those innumerable moments of sweet passion he had rendered upon her so seemingly long ago. That addicting sensation had returned in that all too brief kiss and the realization startled Ayla. It sent a longing, insatiable need for more of his warm, amorous embraces and sweetly lingering kisses pressing into her unwanting thoughts. Those thoughts forced Ayla to acknowledge the fact that her wants for these moments had never really faded away. They had never completely vanished, no matter what she told herself. But, Gods damn the man, the way he pulled her into his arms and returned her silent longing with a short but all too intoxicating kiss made it all the more difficult to forget those nagging feelings that were slowly forcing themselves back into her pounding heart.

Ayla actually found herself completely unwilling to allow him to break that kiss. She wanted it to linger, the emotions that threatened to rise again refusing to let the elfess simply push away her desires. But no matter her selfish wants, Ayla pulled back as well as his lips move away from hers. When her eyes fluttered open to meet his own, even stare, Ayla found herself unable to return the warm look. For only a passing moment did she allow her gaze to move restlessly over his face before her chin dropped, forcing her stare away from him. She cursed herself silently, angered for allowing herself to fall so willingly, so obliviously into his captivating touch. They were no more than friends, and right now that's all she wanted it to be. Or at least, so she told herself.

As his quiet voice met her ears, Ayla felt an indecipherable feeling cause her heart to almost skip a beat. It was something in the undertone of his voice that made her suddenly anticipate his words. "I..." What? What was he going to say? His abrupt stop midway through his sentence brought Ayla's gaze back to his face. The look of malcontent in his expression caused a frown to appear on her own. Why could he not finish that thought? Pursing her lips, the elfess shifted in a nervous manner within his gentle hold. Without a second thought, she pressed forward, intents on asking him precisely what he did, wanted, wished, or anything else that finished his interrupted thoughts.

But before those inquiring words even left her mouth, Ayla found herself sharply pulled from that oblivion Jorokar had so easily snared her in. What caused this unexpected jolt back to reality was her name, shouted from the lips of an all too familiar elf. Eyes widening in surprise, Ayla spun in Jorokar's embrace roughly. Her shaken gaze found the tormented expression on the elf's face. As she came to her rightful senses, Ayla felt a cold sweat break across her body. The deafening sounds of shouted orders and rising chaos hit her like a powerful wave as the sickening tang of smoke met her nostrils. Arandil had to say no more. Again turning, her suddenly distressed gaze finding Jorokar, Ayla gave him an apologetic look. Her soft hands found his, trying to take them and free herself from his hold. A desperate look takes over her silent apology as her hands shakily grasp his. Why, of all the damn times, did they have to attack now? Even worse, she had been taken completely by surprise, which only unsettled the elfess from her usual calm. In an eerily weak voice, Ayla bites her lip before saying a short sentence.

"Forgive me, Jorokar."

The failed attempt of a smile gave way to her distress and weariness to these attacks. The vague crick in her lips wavered, more pained than anything. Letting go of his hands, Ayla turned her back on the man. She closed her eyes tightly for but a mere second before quickly moving away, following the elf who now hurried from the cell. She had wanted to stay there, the need to hear the thoughts that had caught in midsentence tormenting her. Cursing beneath her breath, Ayla tried as best she could to push the thoughts away. She couldn't linger on him right now. It would get her killed, she was certain.

The sound of the chaos outside grew slowly, the pounding of her heart and the cold, dreading sweat sending unwanted shivers down her back became worse. Two months now and this was all that was happening. There was no hope left for this besieged village. It was to fall, it was all a matter of time. As Ayla hurried away from the cell, only one senseful thought came to her. I want to go home... She wanted to go back. She wanted to be back in Gobiath. With Jorokar, with her friends, with a more peaceful life. That was what she wanted. As the chaotic bustle rose about her, Ayla took the brief moment to consider her escape. Jorokar was with her. The village had no honest hope left. It was simple. Why not?

[abcfantasy]

He felt like he was in a world of void, an infinite space of vacuum, a vast place with nothing but him and her, held together in that light but sweet embrace. It was blackness all around, except for the two of them. There was a perfect silence settled in that mystifying dimension, only spoiled by his arousing heartbeat, the augmenting pulses that stimulated his emotions the moment she had so quickly looked up at him again. The words he wished to say seemed endless, yet he managed to sound not even a single one of them. If only there was an easier way to make her realize of all of his thoughts.

It came to a surprise for him as she suddenly pressed forward, causing him to inhale deeply and hold his breath thereafter. It almost frightened him to see that reaction, even getting startled. Perhaps, she had predicted his words, foreseen his wishes. But even if that was so, words were still necessary, he thought. He wanted to assure her of his hopes and wants.

Yet again, there occurred another unexpected happening. The echoing cry of Ayla’s name, amassed with her prompt twisting in his weakening grasp caused that imaginary world to dissolve away, letting reality fade back in. He was back in that small dismal cell, in that bleak air of the prison. With a hurried move, Jorokar twisted his head, only to spot that alarmed elf with his slightly widened eyes. It was only now that he could make out that noxious odor of smoke that dispersed in the air and those piercing hollered commands that resounded outside from the growing heat of the battle.

Jorokar perceived the elf’s silent sign, and with an upset, disbelieving look, he turned to face Ayla again at the exact moment she turned back to him. That stare that she gave him, those soft hands that pulled his gently away…She wasn’t thinking of leaving on her own was she? This fear he had made him uneasy, worried about her intentions.

And that same fear worsened with her frailly pronounced apology. Wrinkling his forehead, he shook his head very slowly, very vaguely, not wanting to believe that she really intended to walk away, without him. His hands fell helplessly to his sides when she released them, and as she turned, he simply watched her with that dazed and dubious semblance that persisted in his eyes.

There before him, she finally moved away without any further word. His worst concern had become true; she was leaving him there, but what were her intents? Her expectations where kept a shadow to him. Did she believe he would follow, or did she prefer him to stay there, perhaps, not to mingle with her town’s affairs? Whichever it could have been, he definitely wouldn’t abandon her, not now that he had found her at last. No, he wouldn't want to risk losing her again.

With that determined thought, he hastily stepped out of that small chamber, having a hand gripping a metal bar of prison cell. Now glaring at the distancing figure, he spoke out with a raised, steady voice.

"Ayla…"

He came to a short pause, hoping he had grabbed her attention, and then he continued. However, there was a small extent of unsteadiness in his following words, and, with brows furrowed, it was clear that he placed an effort to hide that wavering and sound as firm as possible.

"You have my blade. Now, that I’ve found you…I won’t let you get away."

Towards the end of his sentence, he let his eyes fall to his free hand which slowly found its place on his sword’s handle. Sliding it a bit upwards, he stared at the partially unsheathed blade for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and lifting his stern gaze back up to Ayla...waiting…hoping.

[Ayla]

The sound of her name resonating down the corridor, carried by that so familiar voice drew Ayla to an abrupt halt. She stops, frozen in place as she gradually lifts her gaze from their tormented stare to the ground below. For some inexplicable reason, the way he said her name sent a cold chill running through her. Ayla knew Jorokar well, and for some reason, what she feared would follow her name made her almost sick with worry. He could never settle with just sitting back and letting others do the fighting, could he? Even when he had no involvement, when the risk in the long run would be absolutely pointless, he couldn’t just stand idly by. Ayla knew this. She knew it very well. So why had she expected him not to complain when they both knew something amiss was going on outside where they currently stood? The shouts and smoke bellowing about was proof enough. She was running off and for once had not expected him to follow. She actually found herself startled with what he said next.

Hastily, the elfess turns to look at him, her face aberrantly pale as she watches him mess with the hilt of his sword. She didn’t want him involved in this. The battles, though short and far between, were always violent. The humans, the enemies were ruthless. And what with even a few months of onslaught, the village was threatening to collapse. Ayla was anything but confident that they would be safe this time about. Hands slowly curling into tight fists, her nails digging mercilessly into the soft flesh of her palms, Ayla hesitated from saying anything. But the ever-growing crescendo of the happenings outside jarred the elfess out of her flustered contemplations. She couldn’t just run off, she couldn’t just stay here. She had to do something. Those last words he said, they wrenched mercilessly at her pounding, racing heart. But, damn him, it was only worsening with every moment they stood idly by.

For a long, hesitant moment only silence lingered between them, broken slowly by the uproar. Finally, with a heavy, weary sigh, the elfess turns back. Her eyes find the anxious, irritated face of Arandil and gives him a faintly apologetic look. With just a brief motion over her shoulder to Jorokar, she resumed her quick advancement to the prison door which was swung open, allowing smoke to bellow in and burn her nose. Not bothering to see if Jorokar followed or not, Ayla walked on, the sounds of the chaos causing her ears to ring mercilessly. Arandil moved beside her, leading the elfess out. Ayla found herself slipping, falling into that cold demeanor of hers as the fear and anticipation mounts, a hand going to the sword at her side instinctively. She didn’t hear the footsteps of the man behind her, if there were any at all. She didn’t know if he was brazen enough to barrel head first into a fight he has no part in. All she knew right now, at that very moment, was that she had just one more task to do. The elfess was forced into it and she found herself quickly growing weary of the pressure put upon her. The sight of him renewed her longing to escape this war. Maybe… After this last desperate struggle… She could go home.

[abcfantasy]

After looking up and letting his eyes meet those of Ayla’s, a degree of anxiety perched upon Jorokar in that quiet, stagnant moment. However, his face hid that feeling with an unwavering, gritty look that showed determination for what could have lied ahead. That peculiar silence lying between the two was but a question to him. Had she not want him to offer his assistance, she would, or could have told him so in the first place. No, he was going to stand back now.

He blinked when she turned round, with that audible sigh of hers. But it somehow still comforted him, even if by the slightest. She knew he was not going to just sit there and wait, not meddling with the ongoing troubles, especially troubles that concerned her in a way. And this fact came up to Jorokar’s mind only now, after hearing that sigh. He actually knew nothing about what was going on, the reasons for the raids or anything. He wasn’t even sure if there was a war raging on the isle before he had set foot on it. But not much did he care about the elves’ rival, he would just fight for Ayla, fight by her side.

With slow steps, he moved forward soon after she did. But that same pace quickly turned into a light jog to reach up with Ayla and the other elf. He kept a small distance behind the two until he bypassed the prison’s entrance. He came to a sudden stop at the same instant when the convulsive turmoil of the battle met his eyes. The rampant aggressions in the surrounding caused the young warrior to glare around with smoldering eyes. The grey smothers that thickened the air were visible now, and the strident shrieks were clearer and closer, the wrath of the battle was approaching. Such bearings planted an inevitable apprehensive feeling on Jorokar, as he knew very well that what lied ahead was a violent onslaught, a ruthless fight.

Taking a deep breath, he brought his attention to Ayla who was still ahead of him. He drew out one sword in a swift but smooth move, the razor-sharp blade causing a metal scraping sound as it slid out of its casing. Its pommel and cross-guard were adorned with gold plated brass, and the handle was wrapped in thick dark-brown leather. Treading firmly towards the elfess, he placed his free hand openly on Ayla’s shoulder. While he once again observed the wild conflict with intent narrowed eyes, he uttered in an indomitable, sturdy voice.

"Do not let the fear get you. We shall survive this…both of us."

Noticing the severity of his sentence, he attempted to lighten the situation with further words, murmuring in a more casual tone.

"We have a lot to catch up on, Ayla."

A thin, short, but honest smile would have immediately traced itself on his lips had she given him a look.

Some moments after, he withdrew his hand to reach for his other sheathed sword of a similar make, ready to pull out at anytime.

[Ayla]

When the man’s strong hand found her shoulder, the elfess’s apprehension was unmistakable. Her muscles were tense, trembling vaguely as she was pulled to an abrupt stop by his touch. Without a second thought, Ayla turned to face Jorokar, her bitter gaze finding his. Jaws clenched, Ayla listened to his resolute murmur as anxiety traced itself over her features. His words were almost laughable to the elfess. The man had no logic of what he was stumbling into and yet he so blatantly spoke these words of no fear. It amused her in a faintly derisive manner. Ayla spoke not a word as he softened his voice, the tone becoming deliberate and casual. A lot to catch up on indeed, she thought. But she had this nagging feeling that their chance to ‘catch up’ would be no time soon. With nothing more than another jaded sigh, the elfess tried to return that diminutive smile, though it wavered in her unease as she turned away and moved forward once again. Right now, she would pray to all the gods above for Jorokar to falter in his impetuous determination and decide to back out. She didn’t want him shoved into this turmoil and her worry for him was making it harder and harder to concentrate on keeping her own life safe. It was putting her in danger whilst he followed, naïve to what his decisions were doing.




“We shall survive this… Both of us.”



What seemed like hours later, his unwavering voice resonated in her mind, escalating over the maddening ringing in her ears as she clenched her teeth together in pain. Her tormented thoughts nulled out the sting of a hot needle as it threaded through the laceration upon her arm. She felt like crying, like losing her sanity right then and there. Jorokar had gone into the onslaught at her side. He had been right there. But as the advancements faltered, as the enemy wore down and retreated, Ayla had found herself all alone on the battlefield. Not literally, in a sense, for the bodies of other fighters surged about her. But one significant figure had not been there. With a frantic shout, Ayla had tried her best to fight the force of others pushing her back from the dissipating battle. He had to be there! He couldn’t be one of the bloody, unrecognizable bodies sprawled in a sickening manner all over the charred ground. Ayla wouldn’t believe it. He’d never be taken in a fight he had nothing to lose for. She had tried. She had desperately tried to find him through the hasty retreat.

Her attempt had been in vain. Regardless of her frantic search, Ayla could not find him. Despite her firm determination not to believe the worst, it was beginning to become a dawning realization. He hadn’t appeared. As the wounded came and went, his face had never been one to pass by. Ayla apprehended that the pain coursing through her body wasn’t from the wounds she suffered physically. Her beating heart, full of toxic fear was what made her cringe at every voice around her. It all seemed a little dramatic but Ayla could not help it. She couldn’t elude that sickening sensation creeping into her at the mere thought that Jorokar, her friend, her companion could even possibly have been one of those deathly still figures strewn about the scalded forest. She wouldn’t accept that conclusion.

With an embittered, irate curse, the elfess raised a curled fist in a threatening style. The quiet elfess at her side, whose fingers had so nimbly sutured the cut across her bicep flinched away instinctively at Ayla’s raised voice. She saw the tortured glint in Ayla’s eyes and quickly spoke in a hushed voice, the tome wavering uncertainly as she tried to calm the pained woman. Ayla wanted none of it. With an anguished sound, she falls back onto the bed she had been sitting on, eyes closed tight as a single tear finds itself at the corner of her eye, frozen there for but a mere moment before falling and tracing itself a path down her cheek. Ayla did nothing. She just lay there, throwing herself deeper into her own thoughts. The voices of others faded, the surroundings vanished. Her emotional and mental weariness finally caught her. All she wanted right now was sleep. Her agonized mind wanted, no, demanded rest. Though her thoughts lingered on that one fear, she could not last much longer. With a frantic sigh, the elfess gave and let herself be enveloped in that welcoming darkness. Sleep found her at last. However, it was anything but peaceful.

[abcfantasy]

"Ayla!"

Desperate cries echoed repeatedly against the walls of the town in the outskirts. They emanated from the young warrior Jorokar, who, after the vicious conflict, had completely lost sight of Ayla. His left arm was hanging loosely down, with his hand weakly holding his visored helmet. The right hand was pressing tightly against the left shoulder, where a strong unblocked blow led to a long narrow cleft in his armor through which blood effused. Even if it pained him further, he applied pressure with his hand to possibly stop or reduce the bleeding. A lesser cut was outlined on his right cheek, caused by the indenting of his helmet after failing to block another strike. His face held a contorted expression as he tried to endure his pain; though most of his attention and concern was on searching for the elfess he so longed to find.

How could he have lost her? Right from the start of that unanticipated skirmish, he had attempted to keep a watchful eye on her. But even if he had experience with the blade after developing his skills back on Gobaith, it was evidently too hard for him to divide his attention between Ayla and the enemies that he was faced and dealt with. It was plainly too much for him, and in fact, his perseverance to keep watching after Ayla had all of a sudden fallen upon experiencing the enemy’s blade. The adversary had sensed Jorokar’s disturbance, and took the opportune moment to catch him off guard. This infuriated Jorokar, and had subsequently devoted all his concentration into the struggle, the chaotic struggle which he was so soon dragged into. It was from that point onwards that he had lost account of the elfess.

Only when the merciless confrontations came to an end did Jorokar become conscious of him having lost sight of Ayla. He hadn’t even the chance to think about it before since there had been absolutely no time to think in the course of the battle. One second of thought could have easily rendered the person careless and unobservant, thus being prone to the enemy’s strikes, some of which could have easily been fatal.

Walking slowly and painfully around the walls and gradually towards the centre of the settlement, he clung to his hope of finding her as he repetitively yelled out her name with a voice that was growing hoarse. His eyes promptly traveled from one elf to the other, be it an animate elf in the vicinity or a lifeless body of an elf who had so miserably collapsed under the ruthless forces of their foes. But little did the living elves care about Jorokar’s hopeful shouts. They too were in their own moments of grief, either concerned about the remnants of the village, or mourning over the losses of their kinfolk.

In spite of the lack of help from anyone, the loud calls persisted. He had to find her or he wouldn’t find any peace within himself. He escaped from the possibility of her being one of the victims fallen in battle. But little by little, that dreadful thought found its place inside his mind. Getting no reaction whatsoever from his calls destroyed him from the inside, ripping off his now-dubious hopes. What would it be of him, if he saw the motionless body of the elfess? How would he react? No, he shouldn’t even imagine such things. The thought of it was already maddening, let alone suffering the real picture.

However, fruitless were his attempts, and fruitless they remained. Jorokar’s futile shouts dispersed into the melancholy of the surrounding air, faded within distance and were seemingly unheard by anyone around. It slowly led him to yield to his hopes, at least, for now. His last shout withered away, and in that rising desperation, a tear of sorrow streamed down his cheek and plummeted onto the likewise grieved grounds of the place. With a dismal look, Jorokar paced halfheartedly towards the building characterized by the large red cross over the entrance.



And so into the hospice he moved, only to be taken aback by the appearance of the sleeping elfess whom he soon spotted. The recent despair had in just an instant subsided, letting his previous hopes reassert once again. With widened eyes, he came to a sudden stop and watched her there, lying on that bed. It really was her, still in one piece. Although he should have expected her to be in the hospital, it really was a big surprise to him, a shock, even. Instinctively, he approached her with quickened steps and called for her.

"Ayla…"

"Quiet."

His attention quickly turned to a nearby medico who had attempted to hush the man. In a calm, quiet voice, the same female doctor spoke.

"Please be quiet in here. She needs some rest."

A silent nod followed from the man, while the standing elfess scrutinized his state with concern, noticing the grave wound on his shoulder.

"May you allow me to treat you, sir?"

Another nod was the reply from Jorokar, who had by now let his attention settle back on Ayla.

"I will help you remove that cumbersome armor of yours. It will be a little painful."

And painful indeed it was, as his teeth were strongly gnashed whilst pulling his weighty armor out with the aid of the medico. His underlying shirt, which was also removed, was worn to shreds, and his torso was marked with various mild cuts. As ordered by the medic, Jorokar moved back and lowered onto an unused bed, while his eyes never drifted away from resting elfess. The suffering brought about by works of the doctor who had immediately acted on the man’s wounded shoulder was barely tangible to him, as his mind focused on rousing thoughts, and the sight of Ayla had somewhat eased him.

The fact that he hadn’t searched in the hospital before was laughable. But that didn’t matter know, he felt a great relief watching her there, sleeping. The stress and tension that was present in his muscles had most of it dissolved by now, the little remaining only due to the distant pain of his injuries. Knowing that she was there, safe and sound, had alleviated his worries, replacing them with a relaxed, content feeling. He couldn’t help fighting off another tear that trickled smoothly down his cheek, but this time, it was no tear of sorrow, but a tear of affection.



It came to a surprise knowing that the medic had completed her work, with his wound successfully stitched and tended.

"I suggest you take some rest as well, sir."

Those were the last unruffled words of the medic before she turned around, walking leisurely around the hospital, nursing any other individuals in need.

Afterwards, Jorokar dragged a low wooden stool towards the bed where Ayla was sleeping on. He sat on it and simply watched her pale face, though it soon caused a frown on his lips after noticing that vague distressed look of hers. His hand slowly slid onto the bed and found hers, where he only kept a gentle and fragile contact.

"I am here, Ayla."

He whispered in a hushed, hardly audible voice and then remained there, staring at her and appreciated the fact the she really was there.

But similarly, his wearied body also demanded for sleep, which he couldn’t delay for much longer. Therefore, he pushed himself together with the stool a little backwards just to bend forward and rest his head sideways on the bed towards its edge. Even if he found himself a little uncomfortable, he remained still in that posture, eyes closing shut and before long going into a tranquil, quiescent slumber, in contrary to her disquieted sleep. His hand remained in that frail, motionless touch of her hand, and a hazy sheer smile had soon perched upon his lips.

[Ayla]

The burning heat of fire as it swept forward, the crash of trees as they gave to the tormenting flames, the sickening aroma of ashes and smoke and the sound of metal upon metal mixed with the tortured screams of the fallen. Sensations of prickling burns and fatal lacerations surged through her as she felt herself stumbling uselessly forward into disaster. Tears ran freely down her face as what control she thought she had came crashing down. The sights of her comrades, the people she loved strewn out before her, hearts still, pulled Ayla down into a deep despair. People from Gobiath, people from Paleonth. Together, they surrounded her. Tortured looks were frozen forever on their faces. Slowly, Ayla found herself falling to her knees, the bloodied sword in her hand dropping soundly. All energy she had vanished. It had happened. Her worst fears... They had come true. She had failed them.

The visions enveloping the elfess made her grow all the more pale in her restless slumber. A silent cry, strangled by the holds of an unconscious mind appeared upon her face. Tears with no apparent reason crept down the side of her face as Ayla struggled in an attempt to free herself from that nightmare. Even in sleep she was a captive to the agonizing portrayals of what a war does to people. Finally, her harrowing thoughts jarred the elfess out of her sleep. With a startled, shuddering gasp she moves to sit up, quickly reluctant of her panicked move as the sting of her wounds runs over her body. Cold sweat beads upon her forehead as her hands, one unknowingly resting atop another, warm palm curl tightly into fists. Her sanity was fraying. She wanted out of this horror, this nightmare. That's what it was. A nightmare. So many others had fallen before her in the worst attack Ayla had ever seen against her elven kin. Never had she seen a sight like this. Her brothers, her sisters fighting as no elf had needed to fight before. It was a vain attempt, a pointless cause. Barely had they escaped this last skirmish.

Her thoughts sent the elfess reeling into a semi-unaware state. Her eyes were clouded over and she could not tell her surroundings. She didn't see the figure beside her nor did she hear the voices of the medicos as they tended to more wounded. All she was aware of was the still heavy, pungent scent of smoke-laden air. The smell was beginning to sicken her. She would have stayed in that subconscious stupor for a long while had it not been the awakening wrench of her heart. Yet another realization hit her as her senses began to clear. She had fallen asleep... What had she been doing before she had literally collapsed from exhaustion? She couldn't remember. Her mind wasn't recollecting. It had been something of dire importance, something that made a pain wrap about her heart.

Jorokar. It hit her like a landslide. He had vanished. Like the single spark that starts a forest fire, the one name that passed silently over her lips forced Ayla completely out of her jumbled thoughts. Only then did she feel that warm hand grasping hers gently. With a surprised start, Ayla looked quickly to her hand, which she instantly loosened. Almost in fright, the elfess' green gaze followed the arm up to a face that for some inexplicable reason sent cold shivers down her spine. Eyes widening, Ayla stares in disbelieving shock for a long moment before a rush of pure relief brings the color back to the elfess' pale face. Looking up quickly, Ayla took in her surroundings, a grimace crossing her face at the sight of so many others in the same state she and that man were in. Torn and weary, all of them were. She didn't want to see this anymore.

Quietly, Ayla looks back to the silent figure beside her. Slowly, she pulls her hand from his grip and without a second thought lifts her hands to run gently through his hair. He was alive. Thank all the gods above, he was alive. As tears once more side down her already stained cheeks, Ayla leans forward over him. In a weak, trembling voice she bothers saying the only thought on her mind right now.

"Jorokar... I want to go home."

Her hands flatten out to rest against him as she falls silent aside from her quiet tears. She was worn, tired, it was as if she had been dragged through Hellbriar and back ten times over. For once... She just wanted to give up.

[abcfantasy]

The strengthening grip of her hand against his was little by little driving Jorokar out of his peaceful, needed sleep. The distant dim chatters of others in the hospital, the feel of his own weight on the stool and the bed, and the lessened pain of his wounds were gradually becoming perceivable. The strokes of her hands over his hair had completely awakened him, and as he opened his eyes just barely, he immediately realized that that was her touch, Ayla’s touch. Her gentle hands and the pleasant feeling she bestowed upon him caused the little smile he had on his lips to widen slightly.

However, that smile soon faltered and faded at her weakly spoken words. At that, he lifted his head slowly to let his gaze meet that of hers. A startling feeling came about Jorokar as he became aware of her facial expression, her cheeks stained with tears. For some reason, he hadn’t expected that in that particular moment. He was concerned about her state, which really wasn’t good at all, actually, worse then he thought.

Coming to think of her pronounced words, he was further bewildered by the possible meanings of them. Home? Wasn’t she already in her homeland? Wasn’t Paleonth her native soil? Or did she consider Gobaith as her home? He was unsure about it. And if he said anything, he wouldn’t want to expose his ignorance of what she could have implied.

After a short moment of silence, he raised his hand reaching for her cheek, where, with his thumb, he wiped off a few tears. His slow movements were uncertain and hesitant, and his eyes followed his hand as he murmured, avoiding now her look.

"Ayla…Wherever you want to go…I will stay by your side."

Towards the end of his sentence, his eyes shifted to meet hers once again, but, upon failing to speak further desired words, he lowers his gaze to the edge of the bed, together with his hand. Even if his already said words may have showed it, he wanted to claim clearly that he desired to accept her love, and return that love equally, like the two once were. But then again, he was doubtful whether that was the right time or not.

Taking a deep breath, he placed some effort to speak more, even though it resulted in a few suttering.

"But, I’d be glad if you…you’d come back to…to Gobaith…with me."

Noticing his own faltering words, Jorokar furrowed his brows whilst keeping his head inclined downwards. He disliked that hesitation of his, but he couldn’t help it.

[Ayla]

All she found herself able to do at that moment was cling to him and let herself cry. Strangely enough, it felt good as her body trembled with silent tears and her hands rested against him. It was as if ‘this’ was what she had needed all along. She needed to just let it all go for a while. As his hand reaches up to her cheek, a mere attempt of a smile touches the corner of her lips as her eyes flutter closed, leaning her cheek to press against his hand gently. After a brief moment, she opens her eyes again, letting her restless gaze find his face. She had expected to find him looking back, wanting him to comfort her with a tender glint in his eyes. But his avoidance of her look bothered the elfess though she said nothing. She slowly reached up, her hand searching to grab his as she listens to what he has to say. A thin, wavering smile touches her lips at his words. “I will stay by your side.” She wasn’t sure what might have been implied by that short sentence, but it comforted her. She almost reluctantly let him drop his hand, her eyes running restlessly over him as he looks away.

She couldn’t tell just from he expression what was going on in that man’s mind, but his sudden hesitation made her almost uncomfortable. Ayla wondered what exactly he was thinking of as she noted the hesitation in his next sentence. Blinking, Ayla kept her steady gaze on him, the tiny smile on her lips fading away gradually. Gobiath… He wanted to go back to Gobiath. Had that been where she meant when she said she wanted to go home? Ayla had not even been thinking when she had mumbled that. She ‘was’ home, but it didn’t feel right anymore. Now, Jorokar was asking her to go back with him to Gobiath, the island she had been so ready to escape not long ago. Was she willing to return to that forsaken place? With an almost inaudible sigh, Ayla lifts her gaze and turns to look at the sights around her. The scorched, sickening wreak of smoke and bodies caused her stomach to turn. There was no home left here on this island. Over three months she had watched and participated in the ruthless skirmishes only to watch the hope of her village dwindle. To stay here would mean to see the end of her life. That much was inevitable.

Chin dropping, Ayla turned back to the now silent Jorokar. The silence stretched taut between them as she mulled over what to do. It was time to leave now, if she wanted to keep from risking both their lives. Everything was crumbling as they sat there. The village was on its last leg, people were escaping. They might as well do the same. With a faint grimace, Ayla moves down the bed before swinging her legs over and pushing away. Her balance was off slightly, causing her to reach for the edge of the bed to steady herself. As she does so, she looks to the figure sitting so quietly in the stool next to it. Eyes closing for just a brief moment, Ayla hesitates before turning to him and speaking in a hushed tone.

“Fine, I’ll follow. I just want to get away from this place. If Gobiath is where you go, Gobiath is where I go as well. It makes.. No difference. But Jorokar…”

She stops in her fast, quiet whisper as she moves closer, a hand reaching out toward his shoulder as her face becomes serious, almost cold. Watching him steadily, she finishes the thought with a determined voice.

“We leave tonight. If we… If we hesitate or wait any longer, it might be the end of us both. Alright…?”

She kept her hands light as she reached for him, staring evenly toward him for a moment longer before looking up again. Once more, her troubled eyes flicked over the surroundings as she thought to herself. Desertion… Once again, she was deserting people. But this time around, she knew that there was nothing more she could do. She couldn’t take the risk of lingering and possibly losing everything. They had to leave. All that waited for them on this island was death itself…

[abcfantasy]

Somehow, it was a relief to him as he heard her acceptance to go back to Gobaith. Admittedly, he didn’t at all like the idea of staying on Paleonth and be involved in that raging war. But then again, he really would have stayed there, had she wanted to as well. Just the slightest smile revealed itself on his lips at the instant she agreed.

However, that same smile quickly faded away as she came to a sudden pause. He blinked and hastily looked up at her, his face likewise holding a solemn look. He anxiously waited for what had to follow, even with a small degree of fright, as it could have been anything. But, upon saying those further words, he was, on one side eased, on the other shocked to some extent. So soon she wanted to leave, much sooner than he expected. He thought they'd have to stay for a few more days, possibly even weeks. In contrary to his thoughts, she wanted to leave that same day.

After a moment of simply staring blankly, considering on her request, he let his lips widen slightly into that similar, small smile he previously had. He placed his hand atop of hers that was on his shoulder, keeping just a gentle contact. With an assuring nod, he replied to her in a calm, hushed voice.

"Alright, Ayla, we’ll do as you like. Tonight, we shall leave this town, and head back...head back to Gobaith, together."

Upon finishing his sentence, he glanced around the inside of that edifice with lips just weakly puckered. He stared at nothing in particular as he continued to speak in an undertone.

"We shall use the time to rest as best we can, and we will wake up by night time."




And that was exactly what the two did. Both rested in the village’s hospital, recovering that little yet essential energy. It didn’t take too many hours before pitch black darkness engulfed the island of Paleonth, the dimness in the place only fought by the faint moonlight and a few lit lamps scattered around the village.

Jorokar stood from his bed, and grabbed his bulky armour, which he wore slowly and carefully, but inevitably causing him to wince lightly with pain. Both only took a few minutes before they left that hospice, skulking along the darkened streets and towards the harbour. They took advantage of a crevice in the town’s wall caused by the attacks, to avoid the guards at the gate.

The area was for the most deserted. But that was pretty much the contrary for a particular ship that was docked there at the wharf. Jorokar and Ayla soon got to know that those elves that populated the ship too wanted and were escaping from the deteriorating village. And so, the two immediately agreed to board that ship, which had various destinations, one of which was the island of Gobaith.

And thus, in an hour’s time, the anchors were raised, ropes untied and winded and in no time, the ship set sail into the black sea. Before long, the island of Paleonth faded behind in the darkness of that night except for the tiny orange dots coming from the lanterns on the watchtowers. The voyage back to Gobaith, had at last, started.

[Ayla]

Even those few precious hours of sound, deep sleep could not rid the accumulated exhaustion wrought upon the elfess’ body. She was weary beyond belief and this became apparent as she was slowly stirred awake. As Ayla pushed herself up from the bed, her ever movement seemed almost limp. Barely could she grab the leaden weight of her armor and heave it over herself. Every small movement seemed to thoroughly sap the strength from her. But she couldn’t linger any longer. With a heavy sigh, the elfess pushed away the feeling of exhaustion, forcing herself on.

The drudging trek through the night sent an eerie feeling through Ayla. Being surrounded by darkness, weaving through the worn, ashen streets, the sound of running footsteps and hesitant breathing was all that found her. It was so different from the village she knew in the day. Following quickly behind Jorokar as he wandered through the village, Ayla looked about her. Weak light from the crescent moon above gave the ruined village an almost surreal appearance. Charred walls stood unusually pale due to the white ash caked on its sides, the wall that protected the village crumbled like ancient ruins of civilizations far older than it was. In a startling way, it was almost… beautiful.

Shaking her head, Ayla slipped through the wall’s gap and rushed stumblingly to the harbor. Pure luck had set itself upon the shoulders of the two figures pushing on through the night. One boat, one single boat rested peacefully against the dock. Without a second thought, Ayla followed Jorokar’s lead onto the boat. It had been pure chance. Either that or the gods truly were smiling down upon the duo right now.




A couple of hours later, Ayla found herself pushed into an obliviously weary stupor. She had wandered to the bow of the boat, leaning against the rail as the ship moved with the waves. Head bowed and eyes closed, Ayla was wrapped up in the refreshing breeze that washed the pungent odor of smoke from her, relieving her for the first time in months. Eyes opening slowly, Ayla let one gloved hand extend out past the rail slightly. As she stared to her upturned palm, she let her fingers slowly curl into a tight fist. Her face was blank, aside from a vague thoughtfulness in her eyes. It had seemed, even to her, as if it had been ages since she had even thought of returning to Gobiath. She was anxious to see everyone again. She was ready to return to someplace that had at least some sanity to it. That thought. It almost made her laugh. Since when had Gobiath appeared sensible to her? Sanity… It was relative, apparently. After seeing the chaos of those wars for over three months straight, day in and day out, the island of Gobiath seemed a paradise.

With a barely audible sigh, Ayla lets her fingers uncurl, the arm returning to its crossed position over the other. Her gaze lifts slowly to stare out over the black waves of the midnight ocean. All that discerns the rolling waters from pure blackness was the vague moonlight reflecting over the occasional crest. The sound of water rushing against the wood of the boat was so monotonous that it could have lulled her into a sleep right there had it not been for the steady rocking and creaking of the ship that kept her alert. She found herself absorbed in thought, eyes focused unwaveringly to the sky, staring to that sliver of a moon left in the sky. She really didn’t bother differentiating her thoughts. They were all sort of haphazardly jumbled together. Images of the disaster she had left, of the place she was returning, of the people she was most eager to see flashed before her. A slow, gradually spreading sensation of relief and peace emanated its way through her. About damn time. She’d have to remember to thank Jorokar. He might have just possibly saved her life, pulling her back to her senses… Of all the people to owe her life too… That was almost as laughable as Gobiath being peaceful, wasn’t it?

[abcfantasy]

It was in the midst of the journey when Jorokar opened his eyes slowly. He had, against his will, snoozed in that measly mattress in the ship's cabin. Only now did he feel the swaying motions of the ship and hear the sounds of the clashing waves of that frantic sea. He had almost forgotten that he was still in that vessel, on its way to Gobaith. He brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes thoroughly with his thumb and index finger. Thoughts soon found themselves roaming in his mind.

He hadn't yet made anything clear to Ayla. The situation was a little ambiguous as he felt it was. He imagined her to be startled about the current circumstances, about the reasons for him to visit her in Paleonth and ask her to come back to Gobaith. Perhaps it was the right time now the clarify things and hopefully reacquire that chance he had for so long yearned for. After all, he preferred to know as soon as possible, since he was unsure if he could really earn her trust once more.

As he deeply inhaled, he twisted his head slowly to glance at that bed where Ayla was resting on, or at least, where she should have been. In fact he was surprised to find nothing but just the tattered blankets. With a blink, he lifted himself up to a sitting position and took a fleeting look around the inside of that cabin, only to fail in finding her anywhere in the vicinity.

At that failed attempt, he stood up from his bed and slowly crept out of the cabin. Dressed in a simple khaki-colored vest and black trousers, he walked quietly outside in that chill of the night, but little did he care about that coldness. He looked for her around the various parts of the ship, his search coming to an end in the front part of the hull of the ship. He came to an immediate stop at the instant he spotted the elfess, there towards the edge with her back facing him. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath and approached her with quiet steps, barefooted since he had left his unworn greaves back in his little space in the cabin. He couldn’t care less about wetting his feet with the soppy surface of the floor. However, his heartbeat quickened bit by bit with every step he took closer to her. He knew very well that the words he wished to say and the feelings he wished to convey will surely not be an easy task to do during the poignant moment that had still yet to come.

Upon reaching just behind her, he raised his hands and, gentle as he tried to be, he laid both in each of her shoulders. However there was an inescapable hesitation in his motions, and his muscles were marked by some stress which he couldn’t avoid. He tried to calm down with another deep, quiet breath, but failed to soothe that nervousness that occupied his body. That close distance, those hands on her shoulders, that deep night, and his feelings, they all constituted to those nerves.

He took a few more seconds than he predicted to take before he managed to speak to her. His voice was for the most steady and calm, but at times the edginess present in himself revealed itself in a few stuttering.

"Ayla, there is…there is something that we must talk about. I…I’d like to clear a few things."

After that, he came to an inevitable pause which for another time, was prolonged for more than he expected. During that interval, he fought for words and tried to win courage to express his feelings clearly and unambiguously. He disliked that lengthened suspension which he himself has caused, and with that in mind, he rushed in the next pronounced words though they made little sense.

"Ayla, it’s that I…I think…I mean now…You…"

It was to his great disappointment realizing his own horrible failure at saying anything useful. With a feeling of self hatred, he dropped his arms to his sides and clutched his hands into tightened fists. At this point, he lowered his head to totally avoid any possibility of eye contact. A burning feeling of odium now mingled with the stress inside him, since he detested his behaviour so much, causing his finger nails to pierce into his skin.

"Damn me…"

He thought to himself.

"What’s wrong with me? Can’t you do one right thing, for once?"

His shoulders then swayed up as he inhaled deeply, lowering back down in that heavy sigh. He was hopeless at this, and he was started to accept that. Funnily enough, accepting it made him relax just a little from his pressure, his tightly closed fists loosening and finally opening.

"I'm a disaster. A total disaster."

He shook his head while his last thoughts dashed through his mind, before finally speaking again to Ayla although he now kept his head inclined downwards. His voice sounded surprisingly solid and steadfast, but he didn’t even realize that himself now. A degree of despondency could have also been pinpointed in his way of articulation.

"You know, I’m a foolish human…"

The result of those first words caused a small, disgraced smile on his lips, that lasted not longer than a second.

"…I only realized what it meant to have you by my side, when it was too late. If I had to mention what I regret most, it would have certainly been that, without any doubt."

A heavy but quick shrug followed, which was carried out almost absentmindedly for him.

"No word could really amount to how much I missed you and…and I really would do anything to have that chance back, that chance to have you back, and…let me love you like before, and even more, much more.

Somehow he had lost that steadiness in his last words, a once-again increasing hesitation becoming clearer as he stumbled whilst speaking.

"I...I really do love you, Ayla. Actually I...never stopped from loving you. But..I mean, you..."

Amidst of those persisting stammers, there was also a suggestion of honesty. He really meant what he said, but the constant worry wasn't at all letting itself be overcome. Furthermore, he even ended in a confused state, losing any traces of further words he would have wished to say. For another time, his hands coiled into fists but then, very slowly, as if frightened of what to meet, he lifted his head to look up at her. By that sensation of his, there was a glint of worry in his eyes, keeping his eyebrows just a little raised. Even if there may have been more that he wished to say, at this point, he preferred to anxiously wait for a possible reaction. To be precise, he hoped for it, hoped that what he said was more or less enough, at least for the moment.