The sun had slipped halfway down the horizon, staining the water dark red. Upriver the water was clean of the gore that polluted the banks near the battlefield draining with the blood of man and orc. A scant breeze swept down along the river's edge. Haleth breathed deeply, the late winter chill edging the draft and causing her bare arms to erupt in gooseflesh.

The sound of weeping came on the wind.

Haleth squinted in the bright light of the setting sun, shading her eyes with a hand. There was a cloaked figure standing at the water's edge. Haleth approached quietly. Though hooded, it was obvious the individual's focus was on the swift, deep current. There was a weighty hopelessness about the scene that caused Haleth's heart to drop. She had already lost too many of her people to despair in the frigid river water.

"Wait, friend!" She called, racing forward thoughtlessly.

The figure jolted and turned in her direction. Haleth was shocked to see Shela, her brother's betrothed. She pulled her hood back, sniffing hard. The dust on her cheeks had clear runs of tears and her dark eyes were wide.

"Haleth," She choked before falling to her knees.

Haleth followed her friend into the mud, taking the girl's trembling hands in her own. They were ice cold.

"Shela, what are you doing out here?" Haleth asked, pushing the girl's blond curls from her distraught face.

Shela choked a sob, "I didn't know what else to do."

"Shela," Haleth tugged her forward into her arms, "I'm frightened too. But we need to be strong together now, for the sake of those we have lost."

"That's not just it." Shela pulled away, wiping her nose on her sleeve, "There is something else."

Silence fell between the girls as an early evening owl called out mournfully from the nearby sparse copse of oak. Haleth waited patiently for Shela to gather her thoughts.

"I am carrying Haldor's child." Shela looked up Haleth, her eyes swimming with tears.

Haleth felt as though she had been struck in the gut. Her dear brother, her twin in the womb, had been a conservative and honorable young man. Though he and Shela were both young, Shela being the same age, they had known since they were children that they were meant to be life mates. They had announced their betrothal in the mid-winter, before the orc threat had grown too great to be ignored. Haleth never would have thought her brother to risk such a thing as a baby on the eve of war. Still, she could not deny the spark of bittersweet pain bursting through her heart as she reached forward and laid a hand on Shela's abdomen.

"We still have a part of him, of them." She whispered, her throat thickening with tears she had yet to shed, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"The shame it would bring on my family was almost too great to imagine." Shela replied, "With my father and uncle dead, my cousin is head of our house."

Haleth stiffened, heat flooding her face, "Rochma. Does he know yet?"

"I don't know." Shela choked, "But he's sure to find out soon and with the strife between your house and his, he'll demand my life to redeem the honor of our house."

Haleth nearly spit, bile rising in the back of her throat, "He will not get an honor killing. Not while I am chieftain." She stood, gripping Shela by her upper arms and bringing her to her feet, "You will stay with me, sister. As far as I am concerned, you are of my house."

"But Rochma-"

"I will deal with Rochma." She snarled almost more harshly than she meant to the trembling girl, "Do not fear, Shela. All will be well. Go get your things and adjourn to my tent."

Shela gave her a shaky half smile and nod. Though her eyes were clouded with fear, the color was coming back to her cheeks. Haleth turned and watched her rail thin figure disappear behind the hill that crested near the stockade.

She clenched her fists, digging her nails into the flesh of her scarred palms. Her father and brother had been ripped from her before their time. Haleth would sooner take the head of Rochma and impale it on a stake before letting him harm what remained of her shattered family.

Caranthir had watched the whole scene from farther upriver. After having bathed in the freezing water, he had remained in the quiet of the small grove of trees by the river. Carelessly sitting in the mud of the bank, he had closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

Years of living with a raging temper had taught him how to rein in his emotions. It had mostly been to keep from bringing further embarrassment to his family by his whip like tongue and bombastic opinions. The thought of his oldest brother Maitimo's dark look of censure whenever he spoke too quickly could still make him cringe inwardly. He had only recently found it best to escape to a quiet place alone to gather his thoughts before his anger got the best of him.

However, he could not deny the raw sense of strength his anger gave him. Being one of the youngest and least talented of his family, he paled in comparison to the shining examples of his handsome and gifted brothers. His mother had doted on the twins below him who mirrored her in looks and temperament while his father had encouraged and challenged the older ones. He became lost in the middle. His temper made him special.

Caranthir grit his teeth, bringing his thoughts under control. Mulling over the perverted logistics of his family would only make him surly. The last thing he needed to indulge in was self-pity. The elf stood, refuse from the bank trailing off the back of his black tunic. Brushing the dead leaves and twigs from the fine fabric, he folded his hands behind his back and paced for a moment.

Ignorance of character … arrogance of spirit …

Caranthir scoffed at the echo of the woman-child's words. What did she know of arrogance? She had not seen the heat of rebellion against divinity; the fool's errand that had become that damnable oath he had taken so quickly with his father and brothers. Perhaps he was arrogant, but he had the right to it. A little Edain girl, who only happened to be the surviving heir of her leader father, had no reason to bear the pride she wore like a banner. Why was he letting her words dig into him?

Snarling, he started down the river bank toward his encampment. He need a good distraction and another canter of wine. As he came around the corner out of the sparse tree cover, he paused. There on the bank were two figures. He studied them, realizing they were both girls. His stomach tightened as he saw that one of them was Haleth daughter of Haldad. However, she did not wear that mask of fierce pride and self-importance. There was a vulnerability and tenderness to her as she seemed to be comforting the other girl. Caranthir suddenly recognized a duality in the girl's nature that intrigued him. Perhaps there was more potential for a leader in her than he had originally thought.

Haleth sensed another presence. She glanced over her shoulder to see who had disrupted her solitude where she sat, watching the sun's rays bloom purple gold across the white horizon. It took her a moment to realize who it was approaching her.

She stood abruptly, shaken by the sight of the elf lord she had berated that afternoon. He walked slowly towards her, his eyes to the ground. He stopped a few feet off. As he glanced up, she was stunned by how different he looked.

He had let his long hair out of the constricting braid and washed it. Though half dried, the strands were coarse and thick. With the unruly dark waves laying on his broad shoulders, she could have almost mistook him for a human. In his natural state, Caranthir was rougher around the edges than he seemed. It would have looked perfectly natural for him to have dark scruff shading his harsh jawline, though she knew most elves could not grow beards like men of the Edain.

"Well met, Lady Haleth." He spoke, his dark voice jolting her from her musings.

"My Lord." She replied stiffly with an obligatory nod.

"I was just thinking of the words you spoke to me this afternoon." He replied, carelessly turning his eyes on the golden river water.

Haleth tried not to cringe, "My Lord, I was out of turn to speak as such to a superior. Please forgive my youth and ignorance for voicing my mind too roughly."

"And yet, you still believe what you spoke, am I right?" He approached closer. Haleth was surprised to see a glint of humor in his dark eyes.

Haleth's lips parted for a moment before shutting tightly. Caranthir's mouth twitched. She almost thought he was going to grin. However, the familiar air of stoic conceit came over his face.

"I would not want you to take back your words." He said, standing at arm's length before her, "You meant them, you have the right to them, no matter what any other may say."

"However, my father told us that a wise man listened to those around him first before speaking and then carefully measured out his words." Haleth found herself answering candidly.

Caranthir jutted out his chin and nodded, "Sage advice. Your father must have been a good leader."

Haleth pushed away the wave of grief that tried to shadow her thoughts, "He was the best."

"Fathers can tell their children things meaning the best for them. However, only you can decide the kind of person and leader you will be for your people."

Haleth blinked, realizing that Caranthir had just indicated to her position as Chieftain and not in a mocking tone. She straightened her weary posture and folded her hands behind her back as she saw him do. He gave a real smile that this, though his lips remained closed.

"Night is coming on and it will be dangerous on these shores." He stated as he walked past her towards the stockade and elf encampment, "Retire to your tent and have a good meal. I will meet you there to speak afterwards."

Haleth watched him walk away without another word or glance. Shaking off the shock of such a civil conversation with the elf, she followed after him at a jog.