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Dude X Imogen

DudeMeister

DudeMeister

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Apr 29, 2013
Thoril wandered along the traveler's road through the Forests of Sylvari making his way towards the lands of the Horse Lords, hoping to hire himself out as a mercenary in human King Thoril's army. He had been traveling for two weeks, and both his coin and food supply ran low.

Thoril was of a big stature, broad shouldered, and muscular. He had dark brown hair, cut short, and a short scruffy beard from not shaving in two weeks. He was attired all in black, wearing a black studded leather cuirass, shoulder pads, and black spiked vembraces. He wore black trousers with a worn leather travel boots that almost came up to his knees. He was armed with a longsword which he wore on his left hip. He rested his palm on the pommel of the hilt.

He all of a sudden heard the sounds and felt the tremble in the earth of many runners, and loud screams from a thicker part of the woods. He went off the dirt road and ran towards the sounds of danger

He finally found the cause of the commotion: orcs. There were about 40 of them, and they were raiding a traveling caravan. He saw the dead bodies of many men, and even one or two women. He saw a large orc ready to bring down an axe on a mother clutching an infant. In a flash Thoril dashed in a drew his sword blocking the axe. He than preceded to cut of the orc's arm, and disembowel him.

"Run now!" he beckoned the woman, who obliged quickly as Thoril went on towards the fray

He began to cut down as many orcs as possible, until they saw him as enough of a threat to forget the caravan target in order to eliminate him. He was soon surrounded by ten orcs, and as mighty a warrior as he was, he knew he couldn't take 10 at once like this. He charged in towards the warrior in front of him, sticking his blade through his body, but soon felt the orcs swarm around him. He felt a sharp pain as an orc slashed down on his shoulder, tearing through the leather armor and imbedding itself in his flesh. He yelled in pain as he tore away, and beheaded the orc

He tried his best to scramble out of the fray, succeeding only after taking a vicious mace wound to his forearm.

"Common! Take me if you can you cowards!" he yelled, as he retreated, doubling back occasionally to cut down an orc

He soon came towards a bridge and decided to make a stand. He knew he still had a chance if he could funnel the remaining orcs on the bridge. The odds were still against him, as he was seriously injured and bleeding profusely. He cut down one or two orcs, but soon took a crossbow bolt to the right side of his abdomen. He doubled back over the bridge, part of him realizing he was now in Elf territory, and backed up against a large tree.

"Let's bash 'is skull in and eat his guts!" yelled one orc, snarling at him

Thoril readied his blade, ready for the inevitable
 
Elowen perched on a slim branch and gazed at the distant horizon. A soft wind grazed her cheek and swept through her ebon hair. It carried the scent of rain – perhaps a week until it reached the forest of Sylvari. Elowen turned from the view and placed a slender hand on the silvery bole of the tree she scaled. She loosed a gentle whistle that flew with the wind to the ears of her brethren. The rest of her sentry consisted of two Elven males – Gindolin and Elidyr. They had worked together for only a short time by Elvish standards and still had much to learn of one another. Yet they understood their duty when welcoming humans into their forest. Their assent unspoken, the two elves divided – Gindolin sliding down the tree to Elowen’s left and the Elidyr leaping away to her right. They would continue to patrol the borders of Sylvari while Elowen greeted the small caravan that would enter their borders to trade.

Elowen – as well as the other elves – were still apprehensive about opening their wards to traders. Sylvari had been well shielded by their ancestors with magic that Elowen’s generation had lost. Elowen felt a pit in her stomach – an instinctual dread – as she verged onto the traveler’s path and strolled toward the small river that divided the Elven forest from the plains.

Then she sensed something else: a wrench in her stomach, a warning in the back of her mind. Their borders had been breached without the blessing of their kind. And Elowen sensed a malicious presence thundering along the forest floor before it faded, leaving her scaling a tree and leaping madly for the borderline. She knew Gindolin and Elidyr would do the same but she was much closer and would reach the unknown threat first. She came to a stop on wide tree limb and caught her breath at the gore below.

Blood. Her far-seeing eyes discerned an astonishing amount of death and grief just beyond the river that isolated Sylvari. The canvas concealing the goods the traders hoped to sell sagged heavily with the weight of blood seeping from the fallen guards and slaughtered innocent. Elowen could easily follow the butchers’ trail – a large band of orcs whose numbers dwindled in the pursuit of a man.

Elowen’s lithe body tensed, prepared to spring in defense of the man who now backed against the very tree she stood in. She knew it would be wise to hesitate. Her brethren would not readily interfere on the man’s behalf. Though obviously wounded, his dark clothing and unkempt appearance were unflattering and spoke of weeks in the wilderness. However, her conscious would not rest easy after witnessing the orcs’ slaughter and the human’s foolish contest. Although Elves live much longer than other mortals, they also value the sanctity of life. With the odor of blood assaulting her sensitive smell, Elowen leaped.

She landed lightly, her knees bending to absorb the impact and propel her forward. Her long knife appeared from the sheath at her lower back and beheaded the Orc as he spoke. A flicker of recognition – and subsequent fear of the elf – caused the Orc horde to pause. Then, emboldened by sheer number, they renewed their assault.

Elowen turned to the man in that brief moment and called out to him, “Fight!”
 
Imogen said:
Elowen perched on a slim branch and gazed at the distant horizon. A soft wind grazed her cheek and swept through her ebon hair. It carried the scent of rain – perhaps a week until it reached the forest of Sylvari. Elowen turned from the view and placed a slender hand on the silvery bole of the tree she scaled. She loosed a gentle whistle that flew with the wind to the ears of her brethren. The rest of her sentry consisted of two Elven males – Gindolin and Elidyr. They had worked together for only a short time by Elvish standards and still had much to learn of one another. Yet they understood their duty when welcoming humans into their forest. Their assent unspoken, the two elves divided – Gindolin sliding down the tree to Elowen’s left and the Elidyr leaping away to her right. They would continue to patrol the borders of Sylvari while Elowen greeted the small caravan that would enter their borders to trade.

Elowen – as well as the other elves – were still apprehensive about opening their wards to traders. Sylvari had been well shielded by their ancestors with magic that Elowen’s generation had lost. Elowen felt a pit in her stomach – an instinctual dread – as she verged onto the traveler’s path and strolled toward the small river that divided the Elven forest from the plains.

Then she sensed something else: a wrench in her stomach, a warning in the back of her mind. Their borders had been breached without the blessing of their kind. And Elowen sensed a malicious presence thundering along the forest floor before it faded, leaving her scaling a tree and leaping madly for the borderline. She knew Gindolin and Elidyr would do the same but she was much closer and would reach the unknown threat first. She came to a stop on wide tree limb and caught her breath at the gore below.

Blood. Her far-seeing eyes discerned an astonishing amount of death and grief just beyond the river that isolated Sylvari. The canvas concealing the goods the traders hoped to sell sagged heavily with the weight of blood seeping from the fallen guards and slaughtered innocent. Elowen could easily follow the butchers’ trail – a large band of orcs whose numbers dwindled in the pursuit of a man.

Elowen’s lithe body tensed, prepared to spring in defense of the man who now backed against the very tree she stood in. She knew it would be wise to hesitate. Her brethren would not readily interfere on the man’s behalf. Though obviously wounded, his dark clothing and unkempt appearance were unflattering and spoke of weeks in the wilderness. However, her conscious would not rest easy after witnessing the orcs’ slaughter and the human’s foolish contest. Although Elves live much longer than other mortals, they also value the sanctity of life. With the odor of blood assaulting her sensitive smell, Elowen leaped.

She landed lightly, her knees bending to absorb the impact and propel her forward. Her long knife appeared from the sheath at her lower back and beheaded the Orc as he spoke. A flicker of recognition – and subsequent fear of the elf – caused the Orc horde to pause. Then, emboldened by sheer number, they renewed their assault.

Elowen turned to the man in that brief moment and called out to him, “Fight!”
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Ready to accept death, Thoril raised his sword with his left hand, his right arm broken by the mace blow he took earlier. He than saw a blur as the elf jumped down to his aid, gutting the threatening orc. He momentarily was astonished at the sight of her, and the fact that an elf would so readily aid a human, until she yelled out at him to fight

He charged in, disemboweling another orc, pivoting around grasping his sword as best he could with his both hands to cleave another orc's skull in half. He charged to the elf ranger's aid, lunging in and running through the savage as he was about to bring his axe down on her. He unfortunately was stuck in the orc, as the orc pulled his blade in and slashed at his lower jaw. Thoril growled and pulled his blade out, knowing that if he survived this he would have a savage scar for the rest of his life (unless the elves blessed him with their legendary healing, which was an unlikely gift for someone not of their kind).

His usually precise and methodical swordsmanship became sloppy as he began to bleed out and tire. He soon was flailing his sword desperately with his left arm, struggling to parry blows and cut his foes down.

After about a 15 minute battle all the assailants were either dead or fleeing. Thoril panted heavily feeling weak

"T-thank you" he said, panting heavily, trying to hold himself up with his sword, but to no avail. He lost a lot of blood. He soon dropped to his knees and fell to the ground as everything turned black.
 
Elowen twisted and lunged between the Orcs’ ranks, destroying anything that came within reach of her blade. The Elves have no love for the Orcs and the overwhelming stench of filth and gore roused her spirit. She entrusted the human at her back yet as he tired his movements slowed. She kept his weak form in her peripheral until the Orcs lay slain on the precious forest floor. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and turned away from the deformed corpses that stained the soil.

Elowen looked at the man cautiously. His dark raiment clung tightly to his strong form, soaked in blood that streamed steadily from his sword arm. Elowen parted her lips to speak but the man lost consciousness. She darted forward to catch the man as he fell, softening his collapse by curling one slender arm beneath him. Even with her Elven strength, the man felt heavy. She lowered him to the ground to spare his injured arm and stood over him, contemplating his unexpected appearance, when her companions arrived.

“Elowen!” Gindolin called. She greeted him in her native tongue and answered their questioning glances by explaining what she had witnessed.

“Orcs…so close to our border. This is what comes of welcoming humans into our forest,” Elidyr said, shaking his fair head in disdain. “If the people of the caravan are dead, then we will give them proper burial. Leave the man.”

“We cannot leave him,” Elowen insisted. “It would be unjust.”

Elidyr looked at her sharply, a challenge ready on his lips, when Gindolin interfered. Gindolin, wise beyond their years, claimed superiority in their small sentry. With his graceful arms outspread, he said, “Let us heal the man. He has done a good deed and should be repaid for it. When he has recovered, we will escort him from the forest.”

Elidyr nodded and reluctantly helped Gindolin hoist the injured man onto his back. Together, they made their way to the Healer’s infirmary where the Elven healers laid the man on a soft bed and tended his wounds. Gindolin and Elidyr split yet again – Elidyr gathering Elves to collect the fallen innocents for burial and Gindolin making an official report to the Lord of Sylvari. Gindolin insisted that it would be wise for Elowen to accompany him due to her participation in the conflict yet Elowen politely declined.

“I am needed here, Gindolin. I will meet with our Lord when he calls upon me,” Elowen said. Gindolin bowed his head and with a curious glance at the wounded man, left the infirmary. The healers completed their work and departed. The rough warrior Elowen had encountered now seemed tamer wrapped in bandages on a white cotton sheet. The open walls of the infirmary revealed a beautiful birds’ view of the Elven city – houses grown out of tree roots and nestling high in the canopy. A soft wind rustled the leaves of the tree and caressed Elowen’s cheek as she settled into a wooden chair – grown out of the floor – near the man’s bed and patiently waited for him to awaken.
 
Imogen said:
Elowen twisted and lunged between the Orcs’ ranks, destroying anything that came within reach of her blade. The Elves have no love for the Orcs and the overwhelming stench of filth and gore roused her spirit. She entrusted the human at her back yet as he tired his movements slowed. She kept his weak form in her peripheral until the Orcs lay slain on the precious forest floor. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and turned away from the deformed corpses that stained the soil.

Elowen looked at the man cautiously. His dark raiment clung tightly to his strong form, soaked in blood that streamed steadily from his sword arm. Elowen parted her lips to speak but the man lost consciousness. She darted forward to catch the man as he fell, softening his collapse by curling one slender arm beneath him. Even with her Elven strength, the man felt heavy. She lowered him to the ground to spare his injured arm and stood over him, contemplating his unexpected appearance, when her companions arrived.

“Elowen!” Gindolin called. She greeted him in her native tongue and answered their questioning glances by explaining what she had witnessed.

“Orcs…so close to our border. This is what comes of welcoming humans into our forest,” Elidyr said, shaking his fair head in disdain. “If the people of the caravan are dead, then we will give them proper burial. Leave the man.”

“We cannot leave him,” Elowen insisted. “It would be unjust.”

Elidyr looked at her sharply, a challenge ready on his lips, when Gindolin interfered. Gindolin, wise beyond their years, claimed superiority in their small sentry. With his graceful arms outspread, he said, “Let us heal the man. He has done a good deed and should be repaid for it. When he has recovered, we will escort him from the forest.”

Elidyr nodded and reluctantly helped Gindolin hoist the injured man onto his back. Together, they made their way to the Healer’s infirmary where the Elven healers laid the man on a soft bed and tended his wounds. Gindolin and Elidyr split yet again – Elidyr gathering Elves to collect the fallen innocents for burial and Gindolin making an official report to the Lord of Sylvari. Gindolin insisted that it would be wise for Elowen to accompany him due to her participation in the conflict yet Elowen politely declined.

“I am needed here, Gindolin. I will meet with our Lord when he calls upon me,” Elowen said. Gindolin bowed his head and with a curious glance at the wounded man, left the infirmary. The healers completed their work and departed. The rough warrior Elowen had encountered now seemed tamer wrapped in bandages on a white cotton sheet. The open walls of the infirmary revealed a beautiful birds’ view of the Elven city – houses grown out of tree roots and nestling high in the canopy. A soft wind rustled the leaves of the tree and caressed Elowen’s cheek as she settled into a wooden chair – grown out of the floor – near the man’s bed and patiently waited for him to awaken.
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Many hours later Thoril awakened with a labored gasp of air. His eyes slowly blinked open. His was suffering from blurred tunnel vision from his previous ordeal. The next thing that would assault his senses was the tremendous amount of pain that he felt all over his body. He grunted as he sat up slowly, which was difficult considering that he just took a crossbow bolt to the abdomen. As the soft blanket slid down, he shown his muscled yet wounded body. His chest was well formed and his deltoids well defined. His biceps were supple, and his forearms big and sinewy. His abdominal muscles were visible as well. He felt that he couldn't move his sword arm due to the earlier mace blow and later saw the huge bandage on his shoulder from were the axe hit him. Having no shirt, he saw that the crossbow bolt was taken out and the wound covered in bandages. With the one hand that he could move he felt his lower jaw were he took the knife slash, feeling yet another bandage.

He soon was able to breath more properly and looked around, noticing the elven ranger who aided him earlier. He at first made eye contact with her, and as he looked her over had a slight dumbfounded look. Growing up in a city with many races he saw many half-elves, but this full blooded elf was stunning! He broke his gaze with her and looked around, wondering if the elves spoke common tongue

"Where am I?" he asked her after a long, awkward silence
 
Elowen sat serenely in her chair as evening fell over Sylvari. The beauty of twilight beneath the trees still fascinated her centuries later. Her Elven blood would always be drawn to the silvery boles of the forest. She couldn't imagine dwelling in one of the large cities humans inhabited. Those she had visited were cramped and squalid. Elowen wondered where this man hailed from. She turned her peaceful gaze to his silent form, still unconscious on the bedspread, when he finally stirred.

She extended a hand, prepared to steady the man as he pulled himself upright. Elowen watched as he examined his bandages, touching each tender wound, and she also let her eyes roam freely. His chiseled torso appeared much stronger than the Elven men she knew who, despite their inhuman strength, were of slender build. Elowen straightened when the man caught her gaze and waited patiently for him to speak. The Elves did not often take humans into their inner city. He would certainly have many questions for her.

"You are in Sylvari," Elowen replied. She gestured toward the view she had admired during his unconsciousness. She also had questions for this man - several of which Lord Gawyn would later inquire - but she had learned patience over the centuries and instead simply asked, "What is your name, human?"
 
Imogen said:
Elowen sat serenely in her chair as evening fell over Sylvari. The beauty of twilight beneath the trees still fascinated her centuries later. Her Elven blood would always be drawn to the silvery boles of the forest. She couldn't imagine dwelling in one of the large cities humans inhabited. Those she had visited were cramped and squalid. Elowen wondered where this man hailed from. She turned her peaceful gaze to his silent form, still unconscious on the bedspread, when he finally stirred.

She extended a hand, prepared to steady the man as he pulled himself upright. Elowen watched as he examined his bandages, touching each tender wound, and she also let her eyes roam freely. His chiseled torso appeared much stronger than the Elven men she knew who, despite their inhuman strength, were of slender build. Elowen straightened when the man caught her gaze and waited patiently for him to speak. The Elves did not often take humans into their inner city. He would certainly have many questions for her.

"You are in Sylvari," Elowen replied. She gestured toward the view she had admired during his unconsciousness. She also had questions for this man - several of which Lord Gawyn would later inquire - but she had learned patience over the centuries and instead simply asked, "What is your name, human?"
Click to expand...

"My name is Thoril" he replied as he extended his one good arm to shake her hand. He than looked at her, admiring her elegant facial features, the color of her hair, etc.

He slowly shifted and stood up from the bed and limped towards the open view of Sylvari. He looked over the trees, and the elegant architecture inspired by them

"I have heard of the fair forests of Sylvari from many travelers coming into the city of Relogar. But none of their descriptions do this view justice" he said

His eyes turned back to the elven woman.

(I wasn't entirely sure how your character looks like, so I wasn't able to describe how he admired her)

"What is your name
 
Relogar. Elowen recognized it - a human city far south of the forest. She stood to join Thoril at the open wall, sweeping her ebony hair over her shoulder. Her eyes reflected the silver of dying sunlight filtered through the branches as she surveyed the familiar view.

"I am Elowen," she replied in her musical voice. She studied Thoril from the corner of her eye, unable to fathom what carried him to the trees of Sylvari. "You have traveled far, Thoril. It is unfortunate you received such a poor welcome into our city."

Elowen paused, many questions hanging on the tip of her tongue, until she couldn't resist saying, "Lord Gawyn will wonder what quest brings you so close to our borders. I am also curious - what takes you so far from home?"
 
Imogen said:
Relogar. Elowen recognized it - a human city far south of the forest. She stood to join Thoril at the open wall, sweeping her ebony hair over her shoulder. Her eyes reflected the silver of dying sunlight filtered through the branches as she surveyed the familiar view.

"I am Elowen," she replied in her musical voice. She studied Thoril from the corner of her eye, unable to fathom what carried him to the trees of Sylvari. "You have traveled far, Thoril. It is unfortunate you received such a poor welcome into our city."

Elowen paused, many questions hanging on the tip of her tongue, until she couldn't resist saying, "Lord Gawyn will wonder what quest brings you so close to our borders. I am also curious - what takes you so far from home?"
Click to expand...

He paused.

"Well, as you can guess I am a swordsman. I was actually taught by a sword master named Thranduil who served your Lord Gawyn about 100 years ago. I was traveling towards Roeun to looking for mercenary work in King Grandl's army" he said

"I heard the sounds of fighting and saw the orcs assaulting the caravan, and so I jumped in to help. Soon I was surrounded and unintentionally began to retreat into Sylvari" he added
 
Elowen nodded and studied Thoril closely. His unshaven face and state of his garments made it evident that he had spent a considerable amount of time in the wilderness. He spoke with her easily enough but seemed a man of few words. Elowen replied, "Your master must have been a great swordsman if he trained with Lord Gawyn."

Soft footsteps approached the open doorway and Elowen turned. Elidyr nodded politely but kept his sharp eyes trained on Thoril's large form. He did not offer a formal greeting - considered highly offensive among Elven society - and Elowen frowned. A sense of foreboding settled in her stomach. Whatever decision reached about Thoril would be a poor one if Elidry were involved. She couldn't speak to her concern about the human - she didn't understand herself - but it felt wrong to turn an injured man away after such a valiant act.

"Elidyr. Did you need something?" Elowen asked politely.

"Lord Gawyn wishes to speak with you," Elidyr said. "Both of you."

He turned away, leaving Elowen to escort Thoril. She gestured toward the open door, indicating that Thoril should follow her, and led the way to Lord Gawyn's chambers.
 
Although not able to completely read Elidyr's displays of contempt, he felt a bit concerned. His instinct told him to keep an eye on him in the future. When Elidyr mentioned that Lord Gawyn wished an audience with them, he felt a combination of nervousness, and curiosity: he wished to meet the man whom his master served as a vassal. Thoril was in fact schooled in an older form of Elvish swordsmanship by his master Thranduil. It was fighting style that unbeknownst to him was almost lost

He hastily put on a tunic to cover his wounded torso, and followed behind Elowen's graceful gait. Before he knew it his eyes looked over her graceful form. She was very curvy and full figured compared to the half-elfs he dealt with in the past (rather intimately). His eyes momentarily affixed to her well shaped rear and long shapely legs before as he walked behind her

"Might I ask were is my sword and armor?" he queried as he leveled his eyes towards the back of her head, his Dwarven forged blade a prized possession of his.
 
"Your weapons and armor will be returned to you shortly," Elowen replied. She doubted that the Elves would tolerate a human in their midst for long. Elidyr would personally escort Thoril all the way back to Relogar if necessary. Elowen nodded politely to the Healers who had tended to the man's wounds as they left the infirmary, exiting to a sturdy landing high in the forest canopy. A stairwell spiraled gracefully around the tree's massive trunk but Elowen led Thoril around the landing to a long bridge spanning to another tree.

The route to Lord Gawyn's throne continued in much the same way. Slender bridges hand-crafted from the silvery rope unique to the Elves connected a network of trees - the Elves could traverse much of their city without ever setting foot on the forest floor. The Elves they passed bowed their heads politely - a gesture Elowen graciously returned - but their guarded eyes swept over Thoril's muscular figure in curiosity and, at times, dislike.

Elowen motioned to certain buildings they passed, explaining the most interesting points of their city to the man she escorted. She also inadvertently advised him in how to greet Lord Gawyn to spare him further animosity. After nodding respectfully to an elder Elf slipping past them on a bridge, Elowen said, "We commend honor and respect in our society - Lord Gawyn especially so. A courteous bow will suffice for most of our Elders but it would be wise to greet Lord Gawyn in accordance with our tradition - like so."

Elowen demonstrated a strange motion with her hands, first touching her forehead with two delicate fingers then twisting her hand, palm outward, in front of her chest with her head bowed. It conveyed respect and loyalty - an expression she knew Lord Gawyn would take into consideration. Before long, they had reached one of the largest trees in Sylvari where an impressive platform nestled between two colossal branches. A large archway permitted entrance to a chamber - one of the few walled rooms in all of the city - enclosed by the leafy branches of the tree. Elowen paused before the two sentries at the archway and motioned for Thoril to enter first.
 
Thoril payed attention to the people's animosity towards him. Such was to be expected, in fact during his first few months with Tharanduil, but nevertheless he felt very uncomfortable. He payed attention to Elowen when she showed him the sights of Sylvari, and when she showed him the formal elven greeting.

He walked between the two sentries when they came to what he assumed was the throne room of lord Gawyn. He saw the elven king and bowed to him, doing the hand gesture Elowen showed him as best he could

"Lord Gawyn, my name is Thoril Hadhafgang, and I suppose I am the human everyone is talking about" Thoril said, addressing Lord Gawyn with a mixture of respect and self-depracating humor
 
Lord Gawyn fixed his enigmatic stare on the human before his throne. Nearly a century had passed since a man stood in the wooden chamber of the Elven Lord. The Elves, even more reclusive then, had required the sword-master to prove his prowess in battle several times over before they accepted him into their sacred city. Now, a human strolled freely through their forest - escorted by one of his prized warriors - without the consent of the Elders. Lord Gawyn granted that Thoril knew how to make an entrance - but he doubted the impression left upon their people would be positive.

Lord Gawyn glanced Elowen and in their brief eye contact, she understood that a full account of her actions would be expected in a private audience. For the time being, Gawyn's serene features turned toward Thoril. He said in a lilting - yet strangely masculine - voice, "I have heard of the Orc horde that slaughtered the traders destined for Sylvari and my sentries have informed me of your courageous deeds."

Lord Gawyn paused, his erect posture leaning against the back of his throne in contemplation. Unsure of how to continue, he asked, "You traveled dangerously close to our borders. Even a human must sense the powerful wards of our ancestors when so near. What do you expect to find here, Thoril?"
 
He bowed to Lord Gawyn, hoping that politeness and diplomacy will prevent mere animosity to become hostility

"Lord Gawyn, I would not have ventured into your lands had it not been for the orc's assault on the caravan. Once the fray escalated I had to retreat because they all began to swarm on me." he said

"I was traveling all the way from Relogar to Reun to serve in king Grandl's army since I recently finished my training under the sword master Thranduil." he added

"My master Thranduil served under you during the Black Skull wars against the Trolls and the Orcs. In fact he gave me the blade of the Dwaven King Beron, who died in the final battle" he said

"If I can have my belongings I can show you the blade, and the letter certifying mastership from Thranduil, so that you know I speak the truth" he offered
 
"You seem an honest man, Thoril," Lord Gawyn admitted. He gestured at an Elf by his side, dressed regally in the Elves' finest armor and wielding a long spear. "Please retrieve the items found upon this man. He will need them."

In the long silence that followed, Lord Gawyn scrutinized the human. Elowen confessed that she admired his composure beneath the penetrating gaze of the Elf Lord. Only years of training and self-discipline had enabled her to do so. As if reading her thoughts, Lord Gawyn turned to her and asked, "And how did you, Lady Elowen, find this man?"

Lady Elowen recounted her view of events - approaching the footpath to greet the caravan and realizing their borders were breached, then encountering the Orcs' slaughter and the lone man that stood against them. She also described the wounds Thoril had received, subtly implying that he would take some time to fully heal. Lord Gawyn dipped his head in agreement, a careful eye assessing the many bandages apparent under Thoril's tunic.

"If you wished to join a war on King Grandl's behalf, you will need to rest first. It will take some time before you are fit for it," Lord Gawyn said. The Elf returned with a bundle wrapped in a silken Elven cloth. The hilt and point of a long sword emerged from either side. The Elf offered the unwieldy parcel to the human and retreated to his station at Gawyn's side. Lord Gawyn looked expectantly at Thoril and asked, "What will you do now, Thoril?"
 
"Well, to be completely honest.." Thoril began

"I wouldn't mind working for you" he said

"Seeing as to how Lady Elowen saved me, and that your healers tended to my wounds, I would like to offer my services in gratitude" he said to Lord Gawyn, kneeling on one knee.

Thoril understood that his proposition was very shocking: a human warrior offering his services to an elven lord would obviously cause some animosity amongst the other elven warriors (Elidyr in particular). But in his gut that the orc raid was more than a couple of barbarians slaying innocent humans: he felt there was a larger game afoot

"Perhaps it was destiny that brought me here, and I feel that my sword can be put to good use guarding the forests surrounding Sylvari" he added
 
Lord Gawyn regarded Thoril with interest, his silvery gaze resting heavily on the injured man kneeling before him. Elowen understood what a grand gesture this was - an indication of Thoril's loyalty and respect such as he would give to a human king. The silence grew tense as the Elves waited for Lord Gawyn's response to this offer. His decision would travel quickly from ear-to-ear until the entire city speculated about his choice: wise or deadly. When Lord Gawyn finally spoke, he declared, "Thoril, I accept your service - such as you can give in your injured state - in the protection of Sylvari. You will be assigned a guide to demonstrate our customs and assist you in your duties as sentry. You will also be provided with food and shelter during your stay in our city - and, if you wish it, clothing. Unless you prefer your current attire. Our tailors can certainly mend them."

Lord Gawyn spoke over the hum of conversation - some excited at the prospect of a human in the city and others outraged. Elidyr in particular seethed with anger, his normally gracious features clouded with frustration and disappointment. Elowen observed the conflicting reactions with trepidation. Who would Lord Gawyn assign to Thoril, confronted with prejudice because he braved conflict with Orcs that so heinously slaughtered innocents? His stay in Sylvari would be miserable indeed without the appropriate guide and even more so if that guide harbored resentment for his presence.

Perhaps this concern is what drove Elowen to address Lord Gawyn. Also speaking above the whispers, Elowen said, "Lord Gawyn, if I may. I will gladly make the proper arrangements for Thoril's residence in Sylvari. I will also see that he understands our traditions and expectations during his service, if that is acceptable."

Lord Gawyn, visibly surprised by Elowen's proposal, simply nodded.

"You must be weary, Thoril. Your guide will show you to your quarters so you may rest." Lord Gawyn gestured at Elowen, obviously dismissing the pair. Elowen performed the Elves gesture of loyalty and turned to leave the chamber, looking over her shoulder to see if Thoril would follow. She suddenly wondered if he would accept her offer as well - she had not consulted him on the matter (or planned it herself).
 
Thoril heard the commotion after hearing Lord Gawyn's decision to accept his services. After rising from his knelt position he bowed to the elven lord, noticing the mixed reactions (Elidyr's included) from the other elves of the court. He knew that for a while he would be shunned, and perhaps achieve the status of social pariah. He knew that even the elves who rescued him must of had some sort of prejudice and resentment against him, being a human and all. He received such treatment in his early training under Thranduil: waking up in the wee hours in the morning, and braving his harsh instruction for many hours a day.

He also knew that there would be a language barrier to overcome, because not every elf spoke common tongue. The fair elven maiden who saved his life did, but he knew that the other elves didn't, or would refuse to speak to him even if they did. When push came to shove, most elves felt superior to other races: this was exactly why no alliance between humans and elves existed for 100 years.

He was surprised when Elowen spoke up above the gossip, and even offered to be his guide and show him around the city, the customs, and what was to be expected of him during his service. Even though Thranduil eventually accepted Thoril due to merit, he never though he'd meet an elf so willing to help a human.

When Lord Gawyn dismissed them, he bowed as politely as he could and followed Elowen

"Thank you" he whispered to her as they walked out of the hall
 
Elowen could not explain her strange compassion for Thoril. As most Elves, she valued the sanctity of life and it unsettled her to let the human be cast back into the wilderness beyond their borders where a number of threats - familiar and unknown - waited to prey on the wounded. However, her companions resented Thoril for his unwelcome venture into their lands regardless of his purpose and would have considered such actions a just punishment for his trespass. Elowen had earned no favors from her peers and she caught Elidyr's incredulous expression as she guided Thoril from the throne room and over the labyrinth of bridges. Elves lived much longer than other races and thus took more time to change their perspectives - if at all. Thoril would have a difficult time in Sylvari, of that she felt sure.

"It is you I should thank," Elowen replied. "You did not have to brave death to protect people beyond saving. The traders were our guests - to let them die so close to our borders...it is shameful."

Elowen led Thoril down one of the staircases encircling a large tree and angled toward the borders of the Elven city. As a prestigious warrior in Lord Gawyn's ranks, Elowen could have inhabited an equally grand home closer to the heart of the city but she chose to reside on the outskirts, set a little apart from her brethren by a small stream that capered over the forest floor. It had been her grandfather's home in ages past and Elowen had been loathe to relinquish it. Unlike her, Elowen's grandfather had spent his time immersed in the mysteries of the forest and had played a considerable role in erecting some of the magical borders shielding their land from unpleasant visitors. Abandoning his home, gracefully grown from one of the largest trees in the forest, would dishonor him. And Elowen appreciated the beauty of it - the quaint forest on one side and the pleasant city on the other. A perfect balance.

Since her grandfather had poured so much attention into his natural home, there was ample space for Elowen and others. None had yet shared the residence with her - Thoril would be the first. Although Elowen felt vaguely uncomfortable about sharing her home with a foreign man she barely knew, she hesitated to find him housing elsewhere in the city far from her protection and closer to those who would mean him insult.

"You may stay here with me. There are many chambers to choose from. I encourage you to choose one you will feel comfortable in - you might be here longer than expected," Elowen instructed, inspecting his dreadful wounds with an experienced eye. She began to mount the stairs, lined with strange trinkets from the forest and some of her grandfather's most elegant illustrations of Sylvari. "Most of the beds are on the upper floors. After you have sated your curiosity, you should eat something. No doubt you are starving."

Elowen gestured at the curving corridor - the home was an interesting study in architecture, adhering to every natural movement of the tree's growth and resulting in some strangely shaped chambers and arching halls. She then left Thoril alone, retreating to the kitchen where she prepared a simple meal of fruits and greens for her guest.
 
Thoril did not know why Elowen was helping him. Being a warrior, he doubted that she was doing it simply for the sake of being nice. He followed behind her as she led him down the staircase of the great tree, and to the forest floor. He was surprised that she led him to a quaint tree in the outskirts of the city. She was obviously a high-ranking warrior although her swordplay to him seemed rather sloppy. She probably was payed highly for her service, and yet she decided to live in this residence, charming as it was.

He looked around as she led him through the twisting hallways, passageways, and staircases of her home. He was indeed very surprised when she said that she would stay with him, and that he should pick a suitable room.

"Do you live here by yourself?" he asked her, but when he turned around, she was gone

He sighed and followed her advice to find a chamber that he liked. He wandered through the vaulted halls. He soon settled on a smaller chamber and pulled up a chair, sitting in it. He rubbed his injured forearm, grimacing as he felt the dull pain. He than ran his hand against the bandage on his face. He sighed and pulled it off, yet to his surprise felt no trace of a scar. He got up and looked around, finally discovering a mirror. To his amazement there was no trace of the slash wound to his face that he took earlier.
 
"You seem surprised," Elowen said, appearing in the doorway with a simple meal on a wooden platter. She also studied the Elves' handiwork and trusted that his other wounds would mend as well. The fatal blows Thoril received in his fray with the Orcs would leave no visible mark on the body - but none could predict if he would suffer lingering pain or stiffness after the flesh wound closed. Elowen entered the room slowly and placed the food on a small table near the bed.

Elowen observed through the round window on the right side of the chamber that twilight had settled over the forest. A silver glow pervaded the trees and slowly darkened by the minute, casting an enchanted hue over the meandering stream. Thoril would be expected to begin his duties immediately although he would be carefully monitored to ensure his wounds weren't further stressed by his exertions. That was the last thing the Elves wanted to happen - the sooner he healed, the sooner he could proceed on his quest to join King Grandl's forces.

Elowen returned her quiet gaze to the man and said, "You will begin work as a sentry in the morning. Normally, we operate in groups of three but given the circumstances...I think it safer we work as a pair - at least until the hostility has calmed. Is there anything you need?"
 
Thoril was surprised when Elowen appeared behind him with the plate in her hand. He thanked her and graciously accepted the plate.

"I underestimated the healing powers of the elves, and I never would've suspected they would bother to heal a human so well" he said to her

He sat on a chair by the table and began to eat. He looked up at her when she said that they will begin their sentry duties as a pair. He was surprised that she would willingly trust him.

"I just need my sword and armor" he said to her, placing the plate down on the table when he finished the meal.

"Thank you for graciously accepting me into your home and deciding to patrol with me" he said, standing up and bowing to her
 
"We are...thorough," Elowen replied. It was simply the case. The Elves weren't fond of other races but even Elowen - young by their standards - felt saddened by the fleeting lives of humans. Her race did not consider petty disagreements ground enough for refusing medical treatment. She nodded at the silken bundle that Lord Gawyn's errand-runner had earlier retrieved for Thoril and said, "The belongings we found with you should be with your sword. If there is else we can provide you with, please let us know."

Eva returned his noble gesture with a deep bow of her head. She didn't quite trust the human - but she felt confident in her skill as an Elven warrior who had lived three times his short life. Besides, Thoril roused her curiosity and a strange sense of adventure that Elves rarely felt - likely inherited from her grandfather.

"You are welcome here, Thoril. Try to get some rest. I will wake you in the morning, if you do not rise on your own." Elowen bade him goodnight and began to retreat to her own chamber - just down the hall from his own.
 
He nodded, waving goodbye to her when she left. He than took off his boots and layer down on the soft bed, trying to rest up for tomorrow. He flexed and unflexed his injured hand, and realized that he could easily move it. He slowly took off the bandages, and to his surprise not a single puncture wound was visible. Not only did the skin heal, but so did the bones of his forearm. He was always a quick healer, but even in Relogar it would take him 2 weeks for such wounds to heal, whilst in Sylvari it took him a single day.

He later curled up on his side and fell asleep. After a full night's rest he got up early in the morning (which was his custom). At this point he felt no pain from his previous injuries. Eyeing the table, he saw his sword and armor. He dropped to the floor to do pushups. He had a very muscular physique, and he need to maintain it. After about 2 hours of calisthenics, he eventually found the bathroom and washed his face before donning his repaired armor, and attaching his longsword to his belt. He walked outside of Elowen's tree house, and waited for her there.
 
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