Erelas' back leaned against the outside of the city walls, rain mixed in with the tears flowing down his dark colored face. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, watching the cloud quickly dissipate in the cold night air. He shivered from the bitterness of the darkness, his loose white shirt soaked to his blue-grey skin. His black hair draped over most of his face as he found his eyes looking towards the dampened, mud trodden ground. He watched the tears drop to the ground, hoping silently he wouldn't be found. Erelas looked at his small hands for a moment, turning them over in inspection. He didn't understand what it was about the color of his skin that mad people so furious with him. He cursed at the gods under his breath, letting the tears flow even harder. Erelas mentally tried to shove the pain he was feeling, away from himself. The rain beat against Erelas, stinging against the quickly fading warmth of his skin. Heaving, he choked on heavy tears, thoughts running back to his mother. He watched as the blood-filled scene played across his memory for the thousandth time. Erelas' eyes burned with fury in them, trying to make some sense of what he should do next. Above the sound of the rain and wind furiously whipping against everything, the small elf heard in the distance the sound of enraged noises coming his way. He stood up suddenly, looking around wildly for a moment before pinpointing just how far away they were by the sound of near stampeding, and pitchforks waving wildly in the dampened air.
The crackling of a twig snapping behind Erelas made him jump; catching the young elf nearly off guard. Leaping around, he saw a figure making its way towards him in the dark with a large sword gripped in both hands. Thinking of his mother he knew he wasn't going to let himself go down like she had. Erelas' dark lips turned up in an almost evil looking smile as he pulled out a large knife from his boot. Ducking he missed the large man, and his long silver blade. The oversized man growled at the young elf as Erelas rolled towards him and took a swipe at his fat legs. The young elf missed by inches and leapt out of the way of the man's large swing of his blade. Erelas' heart raced, adrenaline rushing through his veins. His long dark hair caught its way in front of his eyesight, as he struggled to get out of the way of the Gondorian mortal. Though Erelas had little experience in combat, he still had advantage over his enemy. Erelas forced the black hair from his face, rolling to the side as he picked up the sound of his enemy's blade falling to the ground next to him. Wincing in pain Erelas realized his errors to late, the blade had cut him deeply in the leg, slicing through his leggings and letting his dark blood trickle down the open leg and stain his clothes. The man chuckled to himself as he watched the seemingly young elf back up against the wall in pain. The man kicked him, sending Erelas flying to the ground. The taste of blood filled Erelas' mouth, and he spat it out to the ground struggling momentarily to push himself up off the ground. He only found himself listening to the sounds of the mob growing ever closer, and backing away until he was cornered up against the stone walls of the city. Familiar tears burned their way out of Erelas' dark eyes, stinging his cheeks as they rolled downwards. Slipping his blade behind his back, Erelas let the man think he was harmless without a weapon. The man drew closer, squinting almost to see what his foe looked like through the night and pouring rain. Erelas had the better luck of being an elf, being able to see as clear as day through the rain and darkened night. Erelas's eyes followed the man's blade as it came hurdling towards him, dodging quickly out of the way as the clumsy man wedged his weapon in between two slabs of stone. Erelas took the few moments he had for a chance of escape and pulled the knife from behind his back. No longer was Erelas fighting just out of his own defense, he found himself fighting for his own survival. He gripped the man, stabbing him in the gut suddenly, and continuously. Erelas watched in the dark of the night as the man's mouth gaped open in pain, blood trickling down from his lips. Pulling his knife from the mortal he watched him fall to his knees on the ground, gasping for air. No longer did tears trickle down Erelas' dark blue-grey skin, but it left behind an almost expressionless look over his slender face. His eyes looked colder than the night air, as if they were made of stone. He watched the man keel over, lying on the ground and heaving in his last few breaths. Erelas kicked him over gently, wondering if the man had any family. He locked eyes with the stranger, watching the light in the man die away slowly.
Out of the silence and through the beating of the rain Erelas spoke firmly, "Thanks." He said simply as he sheathed his own knife, pulling the man's larger weapon from the stone. The man tried to speak to Erelas; though he was only ignored by the fact his enemy was now making a run for it into the woods.