Llewellyn, exhausted from the emotional and physical journey she had been on for the last week, was happy to see signs that she was nearing Ondolond at last. She had a hope that someone from her village would have come here, and she could find out what had happened to her parents.

Her mind was a tornado of anxious thoughts and terrible memories. She was attempting to block them out of her mind, to just concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, when she noticed that she was walking by a familiar place.

She stopped and looked out at the grass, her brow furrowed, for a long moment. Tears had pricked her eyes, threatening to pour down her face, but she knew if she let them she would end up in a heap on the ground, sobbing for a long while, and she was anxious to get inside somewhere and have a bite to eat.

Still, she felt she owed it to her friend to think about him, just for this little while, as she was passing the spot where they met. She had just taken a few steps out into the grass, when she heard a familiar voice calling her.

Turning quickly, she put her hand up to shade the sun and squinted into the distance, attempting to calm her wildly beating heart. It's not Ciarán, girl. Don't get your hopes up, or you'll fall to pieces when they're dashed! The voice in her mind sounded strangely like Nathan's. Was he to be her constant inner guide?

As the figure came closer, Llewellyn began to see form and face more clearly, and her heart soared within her. It was Ciarán! He had come back for her! Before she could convince herself not to get too excited, she broke out into a run.

The reunion was like a fairy tale. He had stopped when he saw her coming, and she flew into his arms, laughing girlishly. She hugged him fiercely for several moments, trying to convince herself that he was real, before she pulled away and looked into his face, her happiness clouded slightly by her recent pain.

"Ciarán!" She breathed his name, still halfway convinced that she was dreaming. "What're you doing here? I thought you had gone! I didn't think I'd ever see you again!"

Ciarán had returned to Ondoland within three days of leaving. Despite all that he told himself was rational and true, he had felt an irresistable calling to return to the town. The days inbetween had now vanished into the mist of his memories, joining most of the rest of his travels in his mind. On returning, he had found it just as he had left it - a town beginning to rise in the morning, the hustle and bustle just starting for a new day of trading. There were lives to be lived in this city, and the day waited for no man. It took him a day of waiting in the city to build up the courage to go on, and simply return to the inn, as doubts plagued his every waking moment, and another to force himself to enter once he had arrived. On the dawn of the sixth day since leaving, Ciarán arose early one morning, and headed off into the town.

Tracing footsteps that seemed burned into his mind, he paced through the streets, dodging the street urchins that harrowed his path, and eventually broke into a run as he neared the inn. He didn't know what guided his steps so, but something that approached a bursting in his chest forced him onwards. Pausing outside the wooden and thatch tavern, he paused, and smoothed his rumpled clothes, before pushing the door open.

A bell jingled somewhere, but none of the patrons looked up. It seemed that business was thriving. Llewellyn would obviously be busy this afternoon, but it would be good to be back with her once more. She was the closest Ciarán had found to a true friend since... since forever, it seemed. Indeed, his restless mind had returned to her every day since his leaving, to the small meeting of souls that they had shared for one evening. He shook his head, dismissing his thoughts as hasty. It had been one evening. Who knew if she even still wished his prescence?

He approached the bar, and then leant upon it, looking around for some sign of Llewellyn, or Nathan. Soon enough, the jolly inkeep appeared, bawling orders at the serving girl who had disappeared somewhere. He spotted Ciarán and instantly swept over, smiling jovially for once, but with some hidden reservation in his eyes. "Good day, sir, it seems that your inn is receiving good custom now." Ciarán said, smiling into his eyes.

They exchanged pleasentries for a moment, before the conversation, inevitably, turned to Llewellyn. Nathan told of how she had departed Ondoland to search for her family, and Ciarán's heart sank. It seemed that she was now lost to him. He had no knowledge of where she had gone, and the chances of her returning after having finally found her family again seemed slim. However, Nathan’s tone changed, and in a slightly reserved voice, he told Ciarán of how Llewellyn had requested he join her at her home. He even produced a dusty and battered map, and pointed out to Ciarán the spot that Llewellyn had marked a week previously as the location of her village. His heart flew as he noted the distance and the route. A day’s travel, maybe even less, he thought to himself. The path was easier than some he had travelled, and this time, there would be a purpose to his steps. He thanked Nathan profusely, and turned to leave. He was halted, however, by the sound of the inkeeps voice. “She’s like family to me,” he said, and there struck a pang of sadness and loneliness in his voice, “you make sure you take care of her, you hear me?” Ciarán turned back, and looked into Nathan’s eyes. “You have my word, Nathan, that no harm will befall her under my watch.” Turning again, he swept out of the inn, and onto the road, his footsteps as light as air, as he took to his trail again. This time, however, it seemed there would be an end. Of course, it may just lead to another path, but there was still an end.

He exited the village, and began down the path that led away into the distance, running over hill and through the dales to the village where he would find her again. Lost in his own thoughts, his feet sped along the trail, the sun dancing overhead, and birds singing in the trees. An odd elation filled his breast, and he smiled to himself as he walked. Then, he noticed someone approaching in the distance. The sun glinted off auburn hair, and the strong, swaying gait seemed familiar. But... He paused, and looked. There was no doubt, it had to be her again. A broad smile cracked across his face, and she had obviously seen him as well, as she sprinted through the golden field. Throwing herself into his arms, the pair hugged tightly for an instant, Llewellyn laughing freely and innocently, and Ciarán once again breathed in the beautiful scent of her body, and pressed her to himself, thanking whichever God or Goddess resided above and had given him this moment.

“Ciarán” he heard her sigh, and he smiled; it was so good to hear her voice again. He almost laughed himself. It had been so long since he had laughed properly.

"What're you doing here? I thought you had gone! I didn't think I'd ever see you again!" the questions came tumbling out, her voice an excited rush as they looked into each other’s eyes again. Yet, there seemed to be something... Something had not gone quite right on her trip, he sensed. “I...” he felt almost embarrassed and shy, now that he was here, almost as a child asking a girl to a dance for the first time, “I couldn’t not come back.” He said quietly, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Nathan told me where to find you.”

“But what about you? Why are you here? I thought you would be with your family?” concern tinged his voice. Something was definitely not quite right...

(OOC: It just tumbled out XD It's good to be back!)

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Nathan told me where to find you. But what about you? Why are you here? I thought you would be with your family?” Conflicting emotions flitted across Ciarán's face--bashfulness, elation, and anxiety--and Llewellyn felt she must be looking in a mirror.

She realized the events of the past week had changed her irrevocably, and she was a little afraid he wouldn't care for the difference. She gazed up at him, wondering if he felt the change... the slight hardness she carried around with her now. This thought made her sigh, and she immediately regretted it when she saw his startled look.

She gave him a reassuring smile and touched his cheek tenderly. But, after a moment, her smile crumpled, and she decided that she couldn't worry whether he would still like her. She was who she was.

"My parents are... missing. So I came back, to see if they had been here, or if anyone had heard of them. Also, I need to get a sword, and perhaps some sort of armor, if I can find any I can afford." Ciarán gave her an incredulous look, and she wondered if it was due to her delivery of the news about her parents, or if perhaps he couldn't imagine her wielding a sword and wearing armor.

With some effort, she brushed the past week out of her mind and tried very hard to be the girl he had left behind. She took his hand, and cried out when he bumped up against her right arm. He gave her a searching look, and she shook her head.

"It's just a scratch. I..." She self-consciously covered her cheek where a slight discoloration still marred her usually flawless skin. She remembered, as in slow motion, the mace as it swung towards her, then abruptly pushed the thought from her mind, dropping her hand back by her side. Stopping, she turned and looked into his face, fear darkening her eyes. "Oh, Ciarán, so much has happened in the past week, and I don't even know how to begin to tell you about it." She bit her lip as a single tear escaped. That single tear released a torrent of emotion, and before she knew it, she was in his arms, weeping bitterly against his shoulder.

She smiled slightly up at him and it seemed that the same Llewellyn he had known from before was back before him, but then the smile collapsed, leaving a blank, hard hollow. It seemed there was now steel beneath those soft features of hers. Something had indeed gone very far from planned on her trip.

"My parents are... missing. So I came back, to see if they had been here, or if anyone had heard of them. Also, I need to get a sword, and perhaps some sort of armour, if I can find any I can afford." Ciarán just stopped and stared for a moment, completely taken aback. Shock must have registered on his face. The thought of Llewellyn having to have made the trek to her parents' home, simply to find it empty was a hard one to bear. And then the image of her, well, womanly frame clad in armour, and her soft hands wielding a sword... It was an odd idea. Maybe if Ciarán accompanied her... He halted that train of thought in its tracks. She probably didn't want that, and he had no intention of forcing himself on her.

She reached out to take his hand, and it was almost like they were back in the inn again. For an instant, sparks jumped up his fingers, and his breath stopped. Then as his hand caught hers, she winced, and almost pulled away from him. Concern filled his body, as he noticed her raise a hand to her face, hiding a small mark that marred the perfect skin of her face, "it's just a scratch..." he heard her saying, but still, there seemed something more than that.

"Oh, Ciarán, so much has happened in the past week, and I don't even know how to begin to tell you about it." he looked into her eyes, seeing a flicker of fear, and the tremor of a tear forming at the corner of her silver eyes. Then she was back in his arms, pressed up against his body and sobbing uncontrollably. He was bewildered for an instant. He had never had anything like this before, and tentatively put his arms around her, holding her close, and trying to put his strength into her. He gently stroked her hair, trying to sooth her frayed nerves, and whispered cooing appeasements to her ears.

"I'm here now..." he heard himself saying to her, "We'll sort it out, I promise." Where were these words coming from? Some hidden reserve of unused compassion in the centre of his soul, possibly. He held her for a few moments, letting her cry her pain out to him, before gently disentangling himself from her arms, and taking hold of her hand. He rolled up her sleeve, and winced slightly as he saw the length of bandage that covered her arm. It was not a light wound, it seemed. However, there was no smell of putrefaction, and hopefully it was now healing, albeit slowly. "Just a scratch..." he repeated, looking up into her eyes. He saw nought but defence for her words there, and smiled slightly, it seemed as though this delicate flower had been tempered in the fires of something harder. It would not have been pleasant, but she seemed... awake. And there was still the same old Llewellyn underneath, he could feel her there. She just needed a little nudge to reveal herself, it seemed.

Now, however, other duties called. The healing of her soul, for one thing. "Please," Ciarán said quietly, compassion filling his voice, "tell me what's happened. Maybe then we can see about getting you a sword..." he couldn't help but let the tone of disbelief enter his voice at that, and berated himself inwardly for it. Still, seeing Llewellyn in his mind’s eye with a sword and armour... It didn't seem right. The sun rested high in the sky, the beautiful day seemingly at odds with this meeting, tarnished by the story and sight of the remnants of her journey.

She heard him whispering words of comfort into her ear as he stroked her hair. Even through her pain, his tenderness was a balm to her wounded soul. As he gently lifted her sleeve, wincing at the sight of her bandaged arm, embarrassment heated her cheeks. Her actions that aided her in receiving the injury were far from heroic, and she perferred not to examine them too closely, at the moment.

She saw him evaluating her, feeling the difference in her, his eyes seeming to search her soul. Her instinct was to retreat from this scrutiny, as she wasn't completely sure she liked the "new" Llewellyn, but instead, she patiently endured it, refusing to apologize, a little surprised at her belligerence. Instead of pulling away from her, however, tenderness lit his eyes.

"Please, tell me what's happened. Maybe then we can see about getting you a sword..." She gave him a small smile, her face settling into their old lines of happiness, as she realized that he wasn't offended by her. But then, she hadn't told him her story, yet. He didn't know about Cael. Her smile faded, and she quickly considered not telling him.

Llewellyn quickly realized, however, that she couldn't hide it from him. She wasn't used to hiding things, and besides it was a deep wound in her soul, and it was bound to come out sooner or later. She didn't want to begin a relationship with a lie of omission. She'd prefer to know what he thought about her now, rather than later on down the road...

The unbidden thought startled her as she realized she had just made the assumption that he would want to come with her. She pushed the thought aside and looked around for a place to sit. She didn't think she could tell her story standing up. After sighting a log, the two walked over and sat down, Ciarán's face showing his concern as he helped her sit.

She gave a small sigh, happy to feel cared for, before she began her story. She quickly gathered her thoughts and started in, avoided Ciarán's penetrating gaze. Her words tumbled out quickly, and when she told him about Cael's death, tears ran down her face, unchecked. Finally, as she recounted going through Duihana, and all its empty buildings, she shivered and met Ciarán's eyes, remembering the awful silence. Her face went pale with fear.

"What kind of power could make a whole village of people, including animals, disappear without warning? I... But I have to find out. I have to make sure my parents are alive and safe." Her eyes pleaded with him for assurance that the task was feasible, and not the product of an insane mind. She leaned close to him and laid her head on his shoulder, breathing in the masculine scent of wind and sweat, taking comfort in his nearness. It felt nice not to bear this burden alone.

Suddenly she froze, remembering the dream that had started her journey. The shadow had taken Ciarán! But he was here, beside her. She pulled back and looked into his eyes searchingly, touching his face with a sudden fear that he was an illusion. Relief flooded her when she felt the hard lines of his face. This feeling was immediately followed by concern.

"I'm afraid you might be in danger." She took his hands in hers and stared intently into his green eyes. "I would ask you to come with me on my search, but I think it might be safer if we parted ways. Whatever this thing is... it might come for you."

She couldn't be the cause of another's death. Still, the loneliness of a lifetime filled with endless travels filled her with something close to terror. He was a man, however, and could--would--make his own decision.

The flicker of a smile once again lit up her face before dying again just as quickly as it had appeared. Her eyes flitted around the field for an instant, obviously searching for somewhere to sit, then she tugged softly at his arm, and the pair headed over to where a small wooden deadfall sat on the ground. Ciarán eased her down to sitting, careful to avoid her injured arm, before settling himself down beside her to hear her tale.

She sighed slightly, and then, steeling herself it seemed, started on the story of her trial. Her grey eyes darted around, looking everywhere except at Ciarán, and then it hit him. It seemed she was ashamed about something that she had done... As soon as she started talking, however, her words rushed out, racing to get free, as though she needed to tell someone of her story, needed to lift this weight off her chest.

Tears began to gather in her eyes as she spoke; the fruits of a week of hard tension and tragedy, and listening to Llewellyn's tale, Ciarán could understand entirely her feelings. As a week of doubt and insecurity poured out of her, Ciarán could almost feel her soul opening up, and knew that she needed some reassurance to hold herself up. Finally, she looked up at him, a naked fear in her eyes.

"What kind of power could make a whole village of people, including animals, disappear without warning? I... But I have to find out. I have to make sure my parents are alive and safe." She looked keenly at him, a hope in her eyes.

"Of course," Ciarán replied, his voice not stumbling at all, "We will." We? He had always travelled alone, and suddenly he had committed himself to Llewellyn, a woman he still barely knew. Still, it felt somehow right, and after all, had they not opened themselves to each other before? She knew more about him than most...

She leant herself into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and Ciarán relaxed again. The sun that had seemed so mocking earlier in the face of their plight now laughed down at them, soothing his soul with its warmth. He could help her, he was sure... Or... was it just that he wanted to be able to help her? He pushed the thought down, and said, "you could do nothing for your friend. There is nothing for you to regret, and that is the sad truth of this matter." Hopefully, in time, she would come to understand, and would be able to forgive herself, but now, it seemed, she would still carry the guilt of her inaction.

Suddenly, however, she pulled back from him, and looked into his eyes, a dark shadow of worry clouding her eyes. She reached up and touched his face, gently, almost lovingly, and his eyes locked with her grey-silvered ones. There was definitely a hardness there that hadn't existed before, but he was right, there still existed the smile that longed to break free in her heart. However, there were many barriers to go through before he reached that again, it seemed.

"I'm afraid you might be in danger." Llewellyn dropped her hands to his and continued to look into his green eyes, searching intently. "I would ask you to come with me on my search, but I think it might be safer if we parted ways. Whatever this thing is... it might come for you."

Ciarán looked up to the mountains that still framed his vision this close to their base, and thought back to the time a few weeks before; frozen on top of the mountains with an arctic wind blowing through him. Death held no sting for him now. Indeed, with the revelations of the last few days playing through his mind, it may have been a relief. No, he shook his head, he was not keen to go to the sunless lands, not now, and not for a good time yet. "It is a risk," he admitted, "but I have not lived a secure life for a long time. I would be glad to come with you, if you would have me. If nothing else, it would put my mind at rest that there was someone there to look after you, and to give you comfort. The road is a lonely mistress at times, and it is good to have some company." His gaze took in the soft curve of her cheeks, the ever changing tone of her hair, and the smooth touch of her skin.

"Who knows, maybe this will lead me closer to the end of my own search..." he added quietly, and just to himself; and take me out of this endless circle that I tread at the moment...

The flutter of a breeze stirred the grasses in the field, and lifted Ciarán's hair, toying with it for an instant before letting it drop to his shoulders again. The winds of change he couldn't help but think, and where will they lead us now? The birds were singing, the sun was shining, the day was warm and fresh. It seemed a different start to the rest of his journeys. It was a shame that it was begun under such difficult times.

"Come now, do we need to get you some equipment?" he eventually asked. Llewellyn would need something to keep her safe, he finally admitted. He would not be able to watch out for her all the time...

(OOC: guh, my writing is going down the pan at the moment. I just can't get it to sound right....)

Llewellyn's heart sunk with sudden dismay as she suddenly heard his previous words of reassurance: "You could do nothing for your friend. There is nothing for you to regret, and that is the sad truth of this matter." He did not understand the full extent of her cowardice! But he was already considering whether or not he would go with her, and before she could correct him, he spoke.

"It is a risk, but I have not lived a secure life for a long time. I would be glad to come with you, if you would have me. If nothing else, it would put my mind at rest that there was someone there to look after you, and to give you comfort. The road is a lonely mistress at times, and it is good to have some company." As he gazed at her, as a lover would who had not seen his love in a long time, her heart hitched, and she had to laugh at herself. She had thought to protect him! After all, she mused, the goddess must have sent her the dreams for a reason. Why else but to protect those she cared for? Then a thought chilled her. Perhaps it wasn't the goddess of life that had sent the dreams, but some other, evil force...! Perhaps... She cut her thoughts off as she realized her friend was still talking.

"Who knows, maybe this will lead me closer to the end of my own search..." She looked at him with a new kind of empathy, for her recent travels had put her in a much better position to understand his struggles. She hadn't thought that he could finish his quest, while he was helping her with hers! This thought made her feel better about dragging him along with her.

Ciarán seemed lost in thought for a moment, and Llewellyn gazed at him intently. She hadn't yet let herself gaze at him, and a fierce, protective tenderness--something like love--crowded her chest.

She sat up a little straighter, her thoughts turning inward. Love? But she barely knew this man. And besides... Llewellyn wasn't sure she would know what love felt like. What was love, after all? Surely it was more than physical attraction, though they shared enough of that. Her gaze rested on his lips for a second, then continued their perusal of his face. After a moment of pondering, she dismissed the thought. Time and experience would teach her what love was, she was sure, and she would surely find out if Ciarán was somebody she could share that tender emotion with. The man in question provided a reprieve from her thoughts.

"Come now, do we need to get you some equipment?" Llewellyn smiled at him, amazed at how much calmer she already felt, knowing he had thrown his lot in with hers. Nodding, she stood up, gratitude swelling in her chest.

"Ciarán? I..." She let her voice trail off, her cheeks burning. She couldn't voice her recent thoughts to him. For all she knew, kisses from the week before aside, he looked at her like a kid sister. Instead, she stammered for an instant, then caught an emotion she could voice. "Thank you."

With that said, the two turned and started into Ondolond.

(OOC: No need for apologies, I thought it was beautiful! :yes:)

(OOC: thankyou...)

"Ciarán? I..." Llewellyn began, then paused. Ciarán looked at her for a moment, waiting in silence. She really was very beautiful... "Thank you." she said. Ciarán smiled softly, "it was my pleasure." he added, speaking quietly. It was good to have someone there to walk beside for once.

Without voice, the pair turned and headed back to Ondoland together.
Upon entering the gates of the town, they were buffeted by the bright sounds and smells of the trading town. Shouts emenated from every shop-front and stall that spilled out onto the streets; a rage of colours assaulting the eyes. Chickens squawked harshly, and there was the braying of donkeys from somewhere off to their right, and their came the clang of steel from elsewhere in the city. All around, people pushed and wandered and chatted, buying, selling and even just out for the day.

Carts full of metals and ores rolled into the gates from the mountain tracks, followed by slave drivers, or men and women carrying or leading livestock for sale at the market. Silks and spices garlanded the scene, their scent filling the air, giving a view of such a riot that it was hard to focus on one thing at once.

Passing up the street, Ciarán looked around, taking in the sickly stench of refuse as they passed a small pen, full of piglets, next to a set of crates, each containing one plump chicken. They soon passed on to a spice merchant, and Ciarán marvelled at the colours that were produced by these simple plants. There was the violent red of saffron, worth more than gold per weight, the golden-orange of turmeric, and thousands of other shades of yellows, reds and greens that enshrouded the filled bags.

“Now,” said Ciarán to himself, “we need to find ourselves a smithy...” Listening carefully, he could hear the clanging of a blacksmith, and so headed off towards the sound. It was an unreliable method, he knew, but still, it would hopefully work. Heading down a maze of streets, they eventually came out into the blacksmith’s quarter. The street was lined with a huge number of shops, and the clamour of work rang out across the roads. “How do you live here?” Ciarán asked Llewellyn almost incredulously, as they approached one of the workshop’s fronts, “it’s so... stifling.”

As they walked the crowded, noisy streets of Ondolond, Llewellyn felt her spirits lift. After being by herself for the last several days, she was relieved to be around humankind again. She was beginning to feel more like herself than she had for the past week. Maybe it was possible to reconcile the girl she had been with the woman she had become. With a shriek of laughter, she grabbed onto Ciarán's hand and pressed closer to him as a throng of people tried to separate them, trying ineffectively to shield her injured arm.

“How do you live here?" Ciarán looked at her dubiously as a few children ran by them, pushing them up against a stall "It’s so... stifling.” Llewellyn smiled at him, eyes sparkling, and spoke with a hint of laughter in her voice.

"You forget I hardly had a choice! And anyway, I think it's kind of exciting! I--" She broke off, stopping in her tracks when she saw the multitude of weapons in front of her. A man behind her ran into her and, cursing, shoved rudely by her. Llewellyn didn't pay him any mind, however.

Suddenly the enormity of the moment pressed down on her shoulders. In all the noise and color, the event--Cael's death--that had led her to this point seemed distant. She wondered if she really wanted a weapon. After all, she still had her dagger...

She took her dagger out and examined it, cringing at the blood stains on the grip. The blood stains of that monster. She inhaled, a deep, shuddering breath, and, after carefully putting her dagger back in her waistband, stepped into the tent, looking uncertainly at Ciarán for support. Knowing how to wield a sword and knowing how to shop for one were two very different things.

"Can I help you, sir?" The proprietor--not the blacksmith who was busy working, but a young, genial looking man--was looking at Ciarán, taking it for granted that he was the one in the market for a weapon. Llewellyn hid a smile, not taking any offense. She had to admit that she didn't look like the adventuring type. She cleared her throat and gave the man a small wave.

"You can help me, please." He raised an eyebrow and looked her over, a snide twist to his mouth. Though she understood his initial mistake, the look he was giving her now was making her bristle. "I'd like a sword." The man scoffed, running a hand through his long, flaxen hair. Llewellyn was beginning to dislike him, a very unusual thing for her.

"What kind of sword do you want, miss? We have short swords, long swords, rapiers, scimitars... I can't help you if you're not more specific.." She flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and indignation crossing her face. She took a look at the swords he gestured to, and gave him a cold smile.

"You may address me as Miss Hadassi, sir, and I'll take a look at your short swords, please." The man's insulting smile froze, but he gestured her to where the short swords were and gave her a small, stiff bow.

"These are the ones we have already made, and the blacksmith can make a special order in a week or less, for more coin, of course." Though much more polite now, he was continuing to look at her as if she was a waste of his time. He didn't believe she had the money or willpower to buy a sword. She stepped toward the most simple looking sword and reached for it, but was caught off by the weasley man (how could she have thought he looked genial?).

"This one is priced at 65 tokens Miss..uh.. Hadassi." Llewellyn brushed the man aside, feeling quite bold, and picked up the short sword. She took a graceful, though somewhat unpolished, fighting stance, giving the sword a few experimental thrusts towards a vacant corner that were designed to show her knowledge of swords, therefore putting the proprietor in his place. To an unpracticed eye, which she judged the man to be, she could look quite impressive. However, she was dismayed at how sluggish she was.

She gave an exaggerated sigh and handed the sword to Ciarán.

"I don't know," She said, "It seems a little out of balance to me. What do you think, Friend?" She turned toward him slightly and winked so that the annoying little man wouldn't see her, trying not to smile at Ciarán's bemused expression. This is definitely not a side of me he's seen before, she thought.

Ciarán gave Llewellyn's hand a quick squeeze before they approached the smithy's, knowing how hard this may be for her. He could tell that she still blamed herself for Cael's death, despite what Ciarán had told her.

"Can I help you, sir?" a small man approached, grubby hands wringing together and an oily smile on his face. Oh, this was going to be fun...

Ciarán grinned as he heard Llewellyn say "you can help me please," and the greasy man turned to face her, a quick look of shock replaced by a patronising smile. His long hair dragged down to his shoulders like rats tails; thick, tangled and just as greasy as the rest of him. He watched with a soft smile as the pair wandered over to the tables, and began discussing the weapons. Ciarán had always steered clear of swords, so he stayed out of their discussions, but he couldn't help admire the way Llewellyn immediately took control of the situation, the way her hips danced as she walked, the way that her eyes sparkled in the morning sunlight as she looked at him... He shook himself down. Now was not the time for thoughts like that!

He watched her take up one of the swords that lay exposed on the counter and give a few experimental swings with it. It looked reasonably impressive – Ciarán could tell that she knew to handle a sword, but still, it could have been a bit faster, or a bit smoother. It was the display of someone who had been well trained but was now out of practice. Still, Ciarán had the horrible feeling that there would not be a lack of practice on the journey ahead...

Llewellyn sighed and looked up at him, giving a soft smile and a wink as she handed the sword to him. Ciarán took the hilt and hefted it in his hand, “I don’t know,” she said, an edge of amusement in her voice, “It seems a little out of balance to me. What do you think, Friend?” Ciarán shook his head minutely, but decided to play along.

“I have definitely seen better craftsmanship elsewhere...” he said, his tone that of a casual buyer, not quite sure whether to pay or not. He took a slightly unwieldy swing with it, “and definitely badly balanced.” He looked up to the shopkeeper, and frowned, “and you say you want 65 tokens for this?” He looked back at the sword, and gently lifted it to eye-level, looking along the length of the blade. “It seems to be tarnished, as well.” He said, dropping it to his side again, “if that’s been left for too long, rust could have set in. I do not see any advantage in paying 65 tokens for a sword that will break when it is needed.” Where was this coming from? It seemed Llewellyn brought out a side of his character that he didn’t knew he had. He may have to keep this in check, it would not do for him to lose his self-dependence if he had to continue after travelling with this young woman. The thought of leaving gave him a sour taste in his mouth, and he pushed the unwanted thought out of his mind.

“I would pay no more than 45 tokens for a sword of this calibre.” He finished up.

Glancing over to Llewellyn, he smiled slightly when he saw the amusement in her eyes. “We-well, sir, I assure you, you will find no better quality than here, no better value for money...” the greasy haired man muttered, “we can remove anything that is tarnishing the blade, of course, and there will be no remaining structural damage to the blade. I will make a better offer, then. 60 tokens for the sword.”

Ciarán snorted, “60 tokens? I think we may take our custom elsewhere, sir. Just down the road, I have seen a sword that is worth twice as much as this for only 60 tokens.” He turned to Llewellyn, “you remember, don’t you? I think 50 tokens, then, may be a better price. Wouldn’t you agree, my friend?"

Ciarán snorted, “60 tokens? I think we may take our custom elsewhere, sir. Just down the road, I have seen a sword that is worth twice as much as this for only 60 tokens.” He turned to Llewellyn, “you remember, don’t you? I think 50 tokens, then, may be a better price. Wouldn’t you agree, my friend?"

She was delighted he had chosen to play along. She really had no idea how much the sword was worth, but the man had convinced her that she would give him as little of her money as possible. Beside, she didn't have much, and she had to make it stretch. They still had provisions to buy.

The man was looking at her anxiously, so she took the sword from Ciarán and gave it to him, disdainfully.

"I do remember that sword, it was beautiful. Why are we even looking at these? Let's go." She turned to leave, but the proprietor spoke up.

"50 tokens it is, Madam." He bowed, quite low this time, and Llewellyn raised an eyebrow at Ciarán, over the dirty man's bent form. Madam? She neutralized her expression when he came up from his bow, however, and gave him a saccharine smile.

"Why thank you, kind sir." Her face was haughty. She took 50 tokens out of her coin purse and practically threw them at the man. Then, after giving him a mock curtsey, she took the short sword up and left the tent, not even sparing Ciarán a glance.

When the two were finally what she considered to be a safe distance from the shop, Llewellyn burst out laughing.

"Did you see that bow? I thought his head would sweep the floor!" She was buckling the leather scabbard around her waist, looking incredulously at her full skirt. She didn't think she had enough money for armor, but she had to get some trousers. She was more likely to stab herself than an opponent, if she was fighting with her skirts all the time. She sighed mentally. Though the skirts were admittedly hot, she enjoyed wearing them. They made her fee like the lady her mother always wanted her to be. This thought made her laugh softly. First a barmaid, now a Champion for Good. Sorry, momma, but your baby girl is apparently not destined to be a lady. Llewellyn looked up at Ciarán, whose face was carefully blank as he watched her buckling her sword on, and her face grew serious.

"Really, though, I should be thankful to that horrible man. He distracted me from the... distasteful business of buying a weapon. I'm not sure how well I would have fared if he had been kind." She saw her friend look at her quizzically, and she smiled at him. "Remember I said I needed a sword, not that I wanted one. I.. dislike violence, but apparently it has been thrust upon me."

"50 tokens it is, Madam..." the oily man almost spat out. So, it seemed that their brief gambit had paid off. Obviously this shop needed the custom that they had offered, or the swords were very overpriced. Probably both, Ciarán thought to himself with a wry smile. The man bowed very low, his greasy locks washing down over his face, before straightening again, a fake smile on his face. He knew he had been bettered here.

Llewellyn handed the man the tokens. Well, it was more like she threw the tokens at him, before snatching up the blade and swirling out of the shop with a swish of skirts. Ciarán remained a moment, nodded his head to the proprietor and gave him a cheeky smile, before turning on his heel and marching out of the shop.

A short way down the road, the pair paused, and Llewellyn suddenly began laughing uncontrolably, the simple sound lighting up her face with a happiness, just like from before. The sound was infectious, and Ciarán soon began laughing along with her, their joy pealing down the street in the bright sunlight, free from the dark wings of their situation for a moment. "Did you see that bow?" she asked, and Ciarán simply grinned. After the shopkeeper's almost rude beginning, his slick bow seemed as much a parody as the real thing, and probably was.

She finished buckling on the sword, and looked up to him, her laughing face now deadly serious. "She needs some trousers" thought Ciarán, "it'll be impossible to fight in that skirt." He was secretly amazed that it hadn't been more of a hindrance on her last foray out into the wilds, but he supposed that he should be more thankful.

"Really, though, I should be thankful to that horrible man. He distracted me from the... distasteful business of buying a weapon. I'm not sure how well I would have fared if he had been kind." Llewellyn said, and Ciarán cocked his head on its side, rearranging his face into a questioning look. "Remember I said I needed a sword, not that I wanted one. I.. dislike violence, but apparently it has been thrust upon me." Ciarán nodded in approval.

"Just as it should be," he replied, "you should never have to do harm to another. If it isn't easy to hold that sword, then it means you won't want to use it." He sighed, "now, are we going to visit Nathan?" Llewellyn gave a brief nod, and they started off again, this time Ciarán stayed in silence. He was thinking back to his journey. The staff that he walked with once again seemed heavy in his hand and his footsteps felt haggard. It had been a very long time since he had owned a sword or dagger, save the small knife he carried for skinning animals, and he was very glad of that fact. He had no wish to carry a blade again.

Before he knew it, they were back at the inn, and he looked up, seeing the jolly sign swinging gently over the doorway. It was just the same as before. He paused before entering, wondering if he should really intrude here. He turned to face Llewellyn, his mind telling him that this was somewhere that he did not belong. She should be able to speak to her surrogate family without his presence marring their meeting. “I have some things to do,” he said quietly, “I will be back shortly.”

He turned away, glad for her that she had someone to return to even without her true family, and then walked back to the market, pondering the idea of family.

"Just as it should be. You should never have to do harm to another. If it isn't easy to hold that sword, then it means you won't want to use it." This statement was followed by a sigh. Though he couldn't know it, and Llewellyn was sure he meant no harm, his words stung. After all, wasn't that exactly why Cael died, because she had been unwilling to use her dagger in his defense? She looked over at Ciarán, giving him an absent nod when he suggested that they pay a visit to Nathan.

As she studied her friend's profile, her heart felt like a stone. Though she would never learn to enjoy violence, Llewellyn felt that she had better get used to the possibility of its use. After all, how else could she destroy evil when she came across it? She had learned the hard lesson of what evil did to whatever it found in its path. Cael had paid the price for her tenderness, and she didn't intend that Ciarán would pay that same price. She would die first.

As they approached the door to the inn, its sign creaking in the wind, the man beside her suddenly looked a little uncomfortable. “I have some things to do,” he said after a pause, “I will be back shortly.”

She watched him leave, imprinting in her mind the vision of his lithe form walking down the streets, before turning and walking through the doors of the Inn of the Rising Sun.

Though she had lived here for two years, she didn't feel like she was coming home. Llewellyn supposed that it was because she had already moved on. Too much had happened to her in the past week, and her looming future was blocking out any sense of familiarity, making her feel as if she was walking in a dream.

Her arrival caused a stir, as Joanna saw her first, immedialy rushing off and yelling Nathan's name at the top of her voice. Soon enough, she stood in front of her dear friend, his merry eyes shining as he, without thought to his normal reticence, stepped forward and wrapped her in a bear hug.

"Ellyn, girl, we didn't think we'd see you again? What are you... is everything alright?" Though the pain had dulled after telling her story to Ciarán, the man she had considered to be her Uncle could easily read it in her eyes. She gave him a faint, apologetic smile.

"My parents are gone... missing, and I am now on a quest to find out what happened to them." This statement brought a quizzical look to his face, but he asked no further questions, and Llewellyn was glad. She had no wish to rehash her visit to the village. Instead he brushed a lock of hair from her eyes and looked at her with concern.

"And your traveler friend, uh, Ciarán?" She nodded in response.

"He's going with me." Nathan nodded in apparent satisfaction, leaning back on his heals, his huge arms folded across his chest.

"He's a better man that I originally took him for, then." This was as close to a blessing as she could hope for from Nathan, though she wasn't completely sure what it was given for: traveling, or her friendship with Ciarán? She suddenly heard a girlish squeal in her ear, as Joanna plucked at her sleeve.

"Is that a sword?! Oh, you can't wear it with that skirt, honey, come with me I have just the thing!" With that, she grabbed Llewellyn's hand and pulled her back to the room she had slept in for over two years. Joanna ran to the big chest she kept at the end of the bed and opened it, rifling through it for a few seconds, speaking so quickly that Llewellyn couldn't quite understand what she was saying.

"Here!" She exclaimed proudly, holding up a pair of leather pants. Llewellyn took them from her, examining them with some surprise and fingering the buttery softness of the leather. She looked up at Joanna quizzically.

"I used to travel, you know, before I came here. You can't travel in skirts, you know, it's just not practical. It was one thing when you were going back to Duihana, but now you have a sword..." Llewellyn hugged the girl, feeling like she could cry. After unbuckling her sword, she took off her skirts and put on the pants. She tucked her blouse neatly into them, and buckled her sword back on, leaving her corseted bodice in place.

"How do I look?" She asked, turning around, her arms akimbo. The pants felt strange: they were awfully snug. The leather caught on her curves, showing a clear outline of her legs. They laced up the sides, trying their best to show her skin, but not quite accomplishing it. Llewellyn felt rather bare, but Joanna was nodding her approval.

"It even looks nice with your bodice!" Llewellyn looked down a little self consciously. She wondered what Ciarán would think of her new look, then mentally shrugged. They were quite comfortable, and she knew they were much more practical than her skirt. She smiled at Joanna.

"I might not see you again to give them back to you..." but Joanna was shaking her head, dismissing her objections with a wave of her hand.

"I will probably be here for a very long time. And besides, they look like they were made for you. Now, tell me about your friend. There are wild rumors flying around about him." Llewellyn looked at the girl's sparkling eyes, a feeling of unease coiling in her stomach.

"Rumors? Like what?" Joanna leaned closer and lowered her voice, as if there might be someone eavesdropping, while Llewellyn braced herself for the coming news.

"Well, they're saying that Nathan sold you to him." Hearing Llewellyn's shocked gasp, Joanna had the sense to look slightly ashamed. "Well, Millie saw him give Nathan some money!"

"That was for me, Jo. He owed me." Though for what, I couldn't tell you. She added silently. Then she saw Joanna's eyes light with intrigue and curiousity, as she cycled through possible scandals. Llewellyn shook her head, her heart sinking. She supposed they would think what they wanted, regardless of what she said. She hugged her friend, and giving her a distracted goodbye, left the room.

As she entered the tavern, her heart lifted when she saw Ciarán had returned. He was in deep discussion with Nathan, and was looking as if Nathan was giving him advice. Or orders, Llewellyn thought. She was embarrassed, both by what she had learned from Joanna as well as by what she thought Nathan was probably saying to Ciarán.

"I'm ready Ciarán," She said loudly, interrupting Nathan in midsentence. Both men turned and gaped at the sight of her in her leather pants. Llewellyn shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks heating under the weight of their perusal.

(OOC: sorry it's been a while, it was a very stressful, busy week >.<)

Ciarán sighed slightly as he walked away, soon getting lost into the market crowds once again. Yes, sometimes it was stifling in the cities; locked away from the freedom of the open road and the wild expanse of the open plains and the wide world, but sometimes being lost in the crowds had its own freedom. Buffeted this way and that by a turbulent, faceless multitude, he let himself go, and let his mind wander, safe as part of this humming throng.

With his mind flitting around through memories of times recent and long-since past, his body continued on its path through the market, now not seeing or hearing the fantastic sights and sounds and colours that had assailed him on his first entrance to the city. Shaking himself, he looked around, and fought his way through the tide of people, suddenly very claustrophobic. He finally broke into freedom, and sat down at the edge of the street, crouched between two brightly coloured stalls. An odd headache struck him, probably from the sun, and he bowed his head down between his hands, gently massaging his temples.

Soon, he was aware of another small presence near him, and looked up to see a small dog peering out from under one of the stalls and sniffing softly at his trouser legs. He smiled softly and clicked his tongue, holding out his hand, which the dog began to sniff at. "Hey!" there came a small cry, and Ciarán looked up, seeing a young girl, no more than 8 or 9, standing right before him, a fierce glint in her eyes. "That's my dog, mister!" Her face was a ruddy red, and her hair a tangled, dark mess that could at one point have been a golden-brown, but was now closer to a matted black. "I'm very sorry," he said with a half-smile, standing up and ushering the dog back to its owner. It looked up at him, cocking its head on one side, but then hurried back to the girl with a yelp.

“So you should be,” she said, the impudent, harmless ferocity of a young child, before she disappeared back off into the crowd. “Hey!” Ciarán cried out, but the young girl was already gone, lost once again in the tumult of people. With a sigh, he once again stood up, stretching his legs, and decided now that it was time to start off again. He should get back to the inn and Llewellyn. Stopping once at one of the stalls to purchase a few travel necessities, he carried on through the crowd. As he finally approached the inn, he paused, looking up at the mountains, wondering whether this was a good idea. It would be so easy to run and never look back... He had always travelled alone; people tended to shy away from him normally. He had always accepted that and just left it be. Now, however, it seemed as though someone actually wanted his company. Would she be able to take the travelling? Would she just slow him down and stop him achieving his solution? Ciarán sighed and rubbed his eyes. No, he couldn’t leave her, not now. She needed him.

A small tugging at his belt distracted him from his troubled thoughts, and he reached a hand down, grasping the thin wrist of a child. Looking to his side, he saw the tousle-haired girl, wide-eyed with her fist closed around his meagre pouch of coins. “That,” he said, “is not kind.” With gentle force, he peeled her fingers away from the coin-pouch, and crouched down before her, still gripping her wrist tightly. A fearful glimmer flickered behind her eyes, despite her best attempts to force it away, and to appear strong and brave. Ciarán shook his head slightly. “Poor child...” he thought to himself, noticing how thin and pale she looked. Still holding her arm, he reached into the money pouch, and withdrew a single golden coin, placing it gently in her small hand, before finally releasing her. She looked amazed at the heavy coin in her hand, before grinning up at him, a light of relief spreading across her face for an instant. “Thankyou, mister...” she said quietly, before spinning away and dashing back off to the market, dog in tow, before Ciarán could say another word.

Shaking his head, he stood up and walked back into the inn which was currently groaning with patrons. He had been standing there for barely a minute, when the jolly, but now strained innkeeper, Nathan, bustled over to him. Without any sort of preamble, Nathan began to tell Ciarán just how to look after Llewellyn, and about the dangers of the passes nearby and how if he so much as looked at Llewellyn in an un-gentlemanly manner, then Nathan would hunt him down and drag Llewellyn home again. Or words to the same effect, anyway. Ciarán couldn’t help but let his mind wander; only taking in the useful bits of information.

“She’s like a daughter to me,” Nathan said, finally, waking Ciarán from his reverie, “You will take good care of her, or you will have me to answer to.” Ciarán nodded, completely sincere. “Of course,” he replied, “no harm will befall her while I’m looking after her,” he responded.

Suddenly, “I'm ready Ciarán," Llewellyn’s clear voice rang out across the room, causing both men to look up at her. “Wow...” was Ciarán’s first thought. She looked... different. The tight leather trousers flattered her figure perfectly and wouldn’t hinder her movement at all. It would be much better than her skirts.

“Of course,” Ciarán replied with a quick nod. He turned to Nathan. “I suspect I will see you again,” he said, holding out a hand, which the inkeep took and shook firmly, the rough calluses on his palms rubbing against Ciarán’s. “I will wait outside for you,” he said to Llewellyn, and exited the inn, looking up at the bright sky. “A perfect time to start,” he thought, sighing.

Llewellyn watched as Ciarán shook hands with Nathan, told her he would be outside, then exited the inn. As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Nathan turned to her, a wrathful expression on his face.

"What are you wearing, Llewellyn?" She knew she was in trouble when he used her full name. "You know I can't let you leave looking like that! Did you see the look on his face? You won't last one--" Though she was initially amused, her smile faded when she heard the insinuations against Ciarán. She broke in, her eyes flashing, though her voice stayed calm.

"I mean you all respect, and I love you.. You know that, Nathan." She waited for him to nod before she continued on. "However, as much as I love you, I am not your slave, and I am not your daughter. You can't stop me from leaving." She smiled at him to soften her harsh words, noting his sudden look of astonishment mingled with hurt.

Stepping towards him, she gently took his hand in hers.

"I'm not a little girl, either. I know what I'm about. The pants are meant for convenience, not seduction. Besides, I don't believe Ciarán would ever wish to dishonor me--" She fended off his protest with a hand "--and if he tried to force me to do anything... Well, I'm well-armed. Okay?"

Nathan nodded somewhat dubiously, though he was obviously mollified somewhat by her assurances. She hugged him fiercely, then stepped back to look into his face for what may be the last time.

"Go safely, girl. And come back if you ever get the chance." She nodded, allowing a few tears to squeeze past her eyelids.

"I will. I can't thank you enough for all you've done." With these words, Nathan clasped her to him in a bear hug, reluctantly letting her go after a long moment.

"If he does try anything, I'll find him. You tell him that." Nathan's eyes shone out of his face, showing strength and determination. Llewellyn nodded soberly, though she laughed in delight inside. It felt so good to be loved and cared for. But soon the seriousness of the task she was about to undertake overwhelmed her. She looked earnestly into Nathan's eyes.

"Nathan? You haven't... heard anything that could help me, have you? Anyone saying they're from Duihana, or talking about people disappearing..." She trailed off as he began shaking his head, his eyes sorrowful.

"No, girl. But, if I do... I'll try to send you word." She shrugged, a helpless gesture that made her suddenly feel small. Finding news of her parents would be a matter of mere chance. It was an awfully big world. But surely the disappearance of the people of Duihana wasn't an isolated incident. Surely... She stopped the chain of thought, giving Nathan a weak smile before turning to go.

She walked towards the door but stopped just short of it. Color flooded her cheeks as she turned back towards Nathan. He stepped towards her quickly, leaning forward to hear her soft words.

"Oh, and Uncle? Can you set the staff straight? Apparently they think you sold me to Ciarán!" She didn't wait to hear his laughter, but stepped quickly through the door. Walking swiftly to where Ciarán stood, she pulled out the map so they could look at it together.

"Well, Friend? Where do we go from here?"

Ciarán looked out over the city and breathed once more the deep bouquet that permeated the streets. It had been a while since he had been in any city, and now chances are it would be a while longer. Unless, of course, they tried Lómëdor. A city such as that would surely have many leads on what they could try and who they could ask. He scowled slightly at the thought. It was no more than a hive of vermin in places; although other, gentler areas burst out like burgeoning flowers pushing their way out of the muck.

A sudden crunch of feet, and Llewellyn was standing next to him, radiant in the morning sunlight, a fierce determination in her eyes. There was something worrying for Ciarán in that gaze. It seemed a fire that would burn anything in its path to find what it searched for. It was a holy fire of redemption and purity, and something in Ciarán shied away from its intense passion. An odd panic rose in his chest, brought up from some deep and dark hole in his being; fleeing from the judgement of the righteous. The instinct to just run away leapt out, almost making his legs bolt, but he pushed it down. He shook himself and looked back into her silver eyes, not believing what his superstitious mind was telling him.

She held an old map in her hand, the brown parchment now battered and fading with age. Looking over it, her eyes bright and searching, Llewellyn whispered almost excitedly, “Well, Friend, where do we go from here?” Ciarán peered at the map, hoping for a name to spring out at him, but unfortunately, for this once, nothing happened. No flash of inspiration to light his way, no tugging of his feet in a certain direction. A sudden panicked thought of flight appeared, but nothing aside from that.

The map seemed suddenly absurd for some reason; it made no attempt to convey the soaring majesty of the argent peaks that surrounded this city, or the tangled treetops and creepers of the misty forest to their east. It could never begin to describe the thousands of creatures and people that lived there, or give an idea of the sprawling expanse of plains that covered the continent. He almost laughed. Ciarán had never used a map before, instead trusting on his feet to guide him where he needed to go. Maybe that was why he was still waiting to find what he needed...

“Ehmm,” he muttered to himself, trying to break this uncomfortable silence that must have descended on them. “It may be an idea to head back to Duihana. We could try to find some hint there as to what has happened to your parents...” He hoped that Llewellyn’s prior experience would not put her off returning, and he hoped that she would not be too distraught to return. It would be an interesting journey...

“It may be an idea to head back to Duihana. We could try to find some hint there as to what has happened to your parents...” She felt a sort of blind panic when she heard his words. Go back? How could she go back? She trembled as she remembered the awful silence... the feeling of eyes always watching, making her skin crawl...

Taking a deep breath, Llewellyn made an effort to shake off the memories.

"Well, I... I mean, I already searched the town. I'm not sure what we'd find..." She glanced up at Ciarán, wondering suddenly if he had deeper reasons for going to Duihana. She hesitated, biting her lip, then finally shrugged.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to have a fresh pair of eyes to look. Maybe you'll see something I missed." She gave him a small smile, hoping that she looked brave. But her bravado was only skin deep, and her mind continued to race, frantically trying to keep the terror at bay. She didn't know if she could...

But she'd have to face her demons some time.

(OOC: Hope this is okay... couldn't make it sound quite right)