Avindel was not among those huddled around the fire. I could dimly see his tall form atop the outcropping of pale rock. He faced north, with his right hand clutching the brooch of his beloved. It was the seventh day of our journey. I had not spoken to Avindel once. He saved his words for conversations with Perindor -- a soft, lyrical interchange in Avindel's own tongue. I had also noticed that Ardin studiously avoided the tall elf after their first greeting. My curiousity burning me to distraction, I finally asked Arkin the sixth night. "Let the elf be, lad," answered Arkin. "He needs no distraction for either of us. We come and go about these lands with a ready ease. But for him, this is a strange land, and it gives him great discomfort to be here." "Why?" I asked. "He is across the Chasm from his mate. That is a true fear of elvenkind, to be so far from their Chosen. It is a bond unlike man or dwarf. Strong enough that the end of his life likely means the end of his beloved as well. He strives to focus on the completion of his duty, so that he may return quickly. He needs no chatty man-child antagonizing him..." |
