"I love you."
Even as Faolin murmured those three powerful, never before spoken words, Arya felt a wonderful stirring in her chest. The feeling was violent and primal, a longed for release of emotions pent up in a space much too small for them. She was ecstatic, blood singing in her veins as if in a dream, but she could clearly see Faolin.
They were pressed together under an oak tree, Faolin's muscular arms warm against her back. Glenwing had discretely left half an hour earlier, claiming he wanted to ride an extended scouting trip, which would take an hour and a half at least. The two lovers had discussed unimportant topics, but eventually they had ceased their trivial conversation. Faolin had tenderly embraced Arya, and they had said naught until those words were spoken.
Lips parted slightly, Arya tilted her head back to look at Faolin, seeking an answer in his striking eyes. He too looked for answers, and noticed the hideous doubt her eyes betrayed.
"It is true Arya! I loved you since I first joined this envoy, and accepted the yawe on your shoulder. I have told you, you are my world now. I..." he faltered as Arya made no response. With an effort he began again. "If you do not share my feelings, I will of course-"
Arya cut him off stridently, "Of course I love you! It has taken you nearly thirty years to say so, but all the time I hoped... Oh, Faolin, how happy I am to finally hear you speak those words! They fill me with a joy I have never known before. I only wished to enjoy your words; that is why I did not answer at first," she explained enthusiastically.
After that, there was little that could be said. Faolin pulled her closely to him and as she looked up he brought his lips passionately against her. His unrestrained desire, checked for thirty years, now channeled itself through that kiss. Arya was the first to break away, breathless and with dark green eyes glowing. Faolin smiled, and with the oak tree at his back and his dark hair stirring in the gentle breeze he looked like some human forest god.
Gently, almost tentatively, Arya trailed her fingers down his cheek, savoring the shameless flash in his eyes as she did so. They kissed again, less ardently than before, tender love slowly replacing their brief spark of passion. Faolin ran his hands through her silky black hair, marveling that the beautiful immortal before him was his at last.
All too soon Glenwing glided back to their camp, mischief dancing in his eyes as he saw them together. His amusement deepened as they hastily separated, each blushing furiously, staining their cheeks and ears scarlet. Casually he inquired as to what they had done, grinning slightly at their mumbled replies.
Glenwing had not seen anything, although admittedly he had not gone on an hour scouting trip. Staying just far enough away so he could not see or hear the lovers had been good enough. His meager findings he reported to Arya, and she ordered them to mount up. It was time they continued on their journey to the Varden.
As the day wore on, the forest began to change. The trees, shrubs and grass took on a burnt yellow color, while the deer path petered out and ended. There were no bird calls or the sounds of leaves crunching as animals trotted over them. The woods began to empty of all life. It was a bleak and desolate landscape, one few elves or humans traversed.
Arya had been here several times, but still she had to fight a shudder of revulsion at the sight of so much death. Here, hundreds of years ago, the elves and dragons had fought one of the largest battles of their time. Dragons had rained fire down on the elves and scorched the earth; no trees could prosper where the fire had fallen. The elves had also contributed; their magic created great disturbances in the forest.

The deathly quiet section lasted for a good day's ride, Arya knew. She cursed the fact that they would need to spend the night here, but it had happened before. The elves began to quiet as the obvious desolation took its toll on their spirit. In the distance, a large stand of trees stood as the only healthy remnant of the war. They would camp somewhere in that dense, still silent forest.
Seated in Arya's lap, as always, was the egg, and the uneasy atmosphere caused her to frequently look at it, assuring herself it was there. In the warped sunlight, the top of the egg, just seen despite the pouch, took on a sickly fragile blue, unlike its normal splendid sapphire color.
Day wore into the late afternoon, and the forest was only an hour's ride away. Glenwing began to fidget nervously, his horse seeming to agree with his feelings. Once or twice it nickered and stopped, before Glenwing's gentle, "Ganga" set it in motion again.
"We'll travel for some time once we enter the forest. I want to get an early start tomorrow and be gone from this accursed place as soon as possible," Arya commented, and the other two readily agreed.
Finally the fairly healthy trees rose up on either side, silent sentinels of a history long forgotten by most of Alagaesia. Darkness fell, and through the trees Arya glimpsed stars sparkling coldly above them. Despite the elves excellent eye sight, it was still difficult to travel through a forest with almost no path, and they relied heavily upon their horses.
"Arya, I believe Glenwing should go first. His spear would be more efficient should anything charge us," suggested Faolin quietly.
"Very well. Glenwing, switch places with Faolin, and be ready," Arya ordered.
They had done as she commanded and had been going for a moment more before it happened. Glenwing's mount snorted, and the other horses followed suit, tossing their heads frantically, nostrils flared. The elves stiffened in alarm, and with one mind they wheeled their mounts around, eyes still desperately seeking the disturbance.
Vodvir, always the best runner, soon left the others behind. Arya heard the sharp twang of bows being drawn and shot, and the deadly hiss of arrows. A second later a contorted voice shouted something in the ancient language. Just as she looked back, her horse was struck by a red bolt. It crashed to the ground, screaming in pain as its chest hit the earth.
Arya was thrown off, but she landed with all the grace of a leaping panther, the pouch clutched securely in her hands. She turned, looking for Faolin and Glenwing, just in time to see the next flight of black arrows pierce their wards and strike them down. Glenwing fell from his horse first and Faolin wavered for a moment, his eyes seeking something. Even as Arya locked eyes on him he fell heavily and did not move again.
Behind the bodies of her slain guards several Urgals rushed forward, but they did not overly concern her. It was the black excuse for a human that stood behind them that did. He had red hair, white skin, and scarlet eyes. It could only be one thing. A being spoken of only in whispers and seen rarely by humans, elves or dwarves, but feared and avoided by all. A Shade.
One last time Arya glanced at the body of her lover, and a cry tore from her lips. She took a step towards him, but the weight in her hands reminded her of her duty. Arya cursed once, swearing revenge on the one who had done this, and then she swiftly fled into the forest.
Behind her she heard the Shade yell, "After her! She is the one I want!"
Weaving her way between trunks, Arya ran for her life. As she neared a break in the trees, suddenly a whole section of the forest in front of her burst into flames. Desperately she changed direction, but every turn on her part was blocked by fire. And the ring was slowly growing smaller, leaving her less room to run.
The Urgals pursuing her were clumsy but strong and determined. Shortly six or seven of them burst through the underbrush behind her. Arya shifted the pouch to one hand and drew her sword. Bellowing madly, the Urgals charged in a group, but Arya's rage gave her speed where the Urgals had none.
An ax cleaved towards her shoulder, but swiftly she danced aside and thrust her sword into the owner's throat. As he fell with a bloody scream, Arya spun, impaling the Urgal attempting to sneak up on her, who let out an agonized shriek. The sword stuck, and as the next Urgal rushed in she screamed, "Jierda!" With an audible crack it's neck snapped.
Frantic yanks soon freed the blood-spattered sword and Arya fled towards a large piece of granite, easily defendable. As she pulled away from the Urgals the Shade dropped down in front of her. Frantically the elf slid to a stop, turning to run back the way she had come. Horned fiends blocked any escape route. There was no way out.
Drawing herself up, the elven princess fixed her gaze on the approaching Shade. His hand was raised, a slight, malicious smile on his face. Her thoughts were a blur, planning a way to rescue the egg. There is one person I can send it to. Brom will keep the egg safe when no one else can.
"Get her," the Shade ordered.
Even as they ran towards her Arya opened the pouch and withdrew the egg. Holding it high over her head, she hurriedly intoned the ancient words that would send it to a safer place. The pale skinned abomination knew what she was doing. As the last words escaped her lips a ruby red ball of energy flew towards her. The egg disappeared even as the ball smashed into her chest.
Arya collapsed, her thoughts dimming swiftly. Still, there was one image she clung to with all the tenacity she could bring to bear. A handsome, laughing face, bordered by black hair, with soft green eyes. Even as the darkness closed in, and she sank into oblivion, there was one anguished thought. Faolin.