Once more Arwen found herself walking across the open field, the western breeze tugging on her hair as she looked ahead where Él gamboled, running delightedly through the tall grass. Looking at the tow-headed girl with the chiming laughter and sparkling eyes one wouldn't think that she was anything but a regular child. "Why are you here?" the peredhel asked softly, though the wind snatched her voice away before the girl would have heard. But, mysteriously, just like everything else about her, Él heard the question and came loping back toward Arwen, the small leather bag hanging about her neck a dark spot against the white of her shift.
"I'm here because I was sent here. And you were sent here too. We are only here to do what we must," Él replied cryptically and Arwen made an exasperated sound; the girl had been spouting such platitudes the whole day. While 'profound' in their own way, they provided no answer to her questions. But the most disquieting, and oft repeated answer yet was "You'll see," at which Arwen wanted to yell and hit something to vent her frustration.
As the day wore on, Arwen realized that somewhere along the way, Él had taken the lead, walking in what seemed to be no direction in particular. "Where are we going?" Arwen asked, silently berating herself for not realizing earlier. She braced herself for another answer of, "you'll see," but was surprised when Él pointed over the next sloping hill.
"What's over there?" she asked, trying to remember the geography of the region without success... it had been a while.
"Someone who lost something that we must return," Él said, her small hand clutching at the pearl around her neck. For a second, Arwen patted her pockets, trying to think of anything that had to be returned... the only thing she could think of was the girl herself, who had assured her that such was impossible.
"Alright," Arwen said on a sigh. After all she'd been the one searching for Él, even if she hadn't known what she would find, and they were stuck with each other for the time being.
They crested over the inclining land and spread out before them was a small farming village that Arwen vaguely remembered passing by years before... It had been smaller then. The people, obviously mortal, were mostly going about their own business though a few children had stopped in their play to watch the two strange women approach. Not many strangers passed through there, but there was none of the wariness that Arwen had seen many times in the faces of men and women hardened by war.
As if she knew exactly where she was going, Él walked down the path running through the middle of the village smiling at those who caught her eye, causing a softening of their features that had nothing to do with friendliness and more with the gentle aura that surrounded the star-girl.
Near the other end of line of humble thatched houses Él finally slowed at the very last cottage, which seemed to have an air of neglect around it that the others didn't. Without warning, Él pushed the door and it swung open easily. Motioning for Arwen to stay outside, the girl walked in. And the peredhel waited tensely, careful not to act threatening as a few of the men in the fields began walking toward the house. Her keen hearing picked out their words, and they seemed harmless enough but one never knew when curiosity could turn into hostility.
A small crowd soon gathered in front of the house, whispering amongst themselves, they all seemed to know the person who lived there. Arwen couldn't believe somebody did for the place was practically falling in on itself, and asked a middle-aged woman at the edge of the group, "Good day, lady. Could you please tell me who dwells here?"
The flax-haired woman looked at her cautiously before answering softly in the Common Speech, "Naught but old Ælfleda lives there now. Years ago a fever struck the village, and her house the hardest." The woman shook her head sadly, "After the loss of her husband and sons to a fever she went a little mad, and things never got better." Arwen felt the stinging of tears in her eyes; it was a heartbreaking thing to lose a loved one, as she knew all too well.
"And now she's taken ill herself... some of us think it a blessing," her eyes flashing defiantly. Arwen nodded, tempted to offer her own inadequate healing skills but from the other woman's tone the peredhel knew that no amount of magic could save Ælfleda from what afflicted her. The woman was dying of a broken heart, she ate, breathed, went on because her body demanded it... living on dreams that had died long ago.
"I'm here because I was sent here. And you were sent here too. We are only here to do what we must," Él replied cryptically and Arwen made an exasperated sound; the girl had been spouting such platitudes the whole day. While 'profound' in their own way, they provided no answer to her questions. But the most disquieting, and oft repeated answer yet was "You'll see," at which Arwen wanted to yell and hit something to vent her frustration.
As the day wore on, Arwen realized that somewhere along the way, Él had taken the lead, walking in what seemed to be no direction in particular. "Where are we going?" Arwen asked, silently berating herself for not realizing earlier. She braced herself for another answer of, "you'll see," but was surprised when Él pointed over the next sloping hill.
"What's over there?" she asked, trying to remember the geography of the region without success... it had been a while.
"Someone who lost something that we must return," Él said, her small hand clutching at the pearl around her neck. For a second, Arwen patted her pockets, trying to think of anything that had to be returned... the only thing she could think of was the girl herself, who had assured her that such was impossible.
"Alright," Arwen said on a sigh. After all she'd been the one searching for Él, even if she hadn't known what she would find, and they were stuck with each other for the time being.
They crested over the inclining land and spread out before them was a small farming village that Arwen vaguely remembered passing by years before... It had been smaller then. The people, obviously mortal, were mostly going about their own business though a few children had stopped in their play to watch the two strange women approach. Not many strangers passed through there, but there was none of the wariness that Arwen had seen many times in the faces of men and women hardened by war.
As if she knew exactly where she was going, Él walked down the path running through the middle of the village smiling at those who caught her eye, causing a softening of their features that had nothing to do with friendliness and more with the gentle aura that surrounded the star-girl.
Near the other end of line of humble thatched houses Él finally slowed at the very last cottage, which seemed to have an air of neglect around it that the others didn't. Without warning, Él pushed the door and it swung open easily. Motioning for Arwen to stay outside, the girl walked in. And the peredhel waited tensely, careful not to act threatening as a few of the men in the fields began walking toward the house. Her keen hearing picked out their words, and they seemed harmless enough but one never knew when curiosity could turn into hostility.
A small crowd soon gathered in front of the house, whispering amongst themselves, they all seemed to know the person who lived there. Arwen couldn't believe somebody did for the place was practically falling in on itself, and asked a middle-aged woman at the edge of the group, "Good day, lady. Could you please tell me who dwells here?"
The flax-haired woman looked at her cautiously before answering softly in the Common Speech, "Naught but old Ælfleda lives there now. Years ago a fever struck the village, and her house the hardest." The woman shook her head sadly, "After the loss of her husband and sons to a fever she went a little mad, and things never got better." Arwen felt the stinging of tears in her eyes; it was a heartbreaking thing to lose a loved one, as she knew all too well.
"And now she's taken ill herself... some of us think it a blessing," her eyes flashing defiantly. Arwen nodded, tempted to offer her own inadequate healing skills but from the other woman's tone the peredhel knew that no amount of magic could save Ælfleda from what afflicted her. The woman was dying of a broken heart, she ate, breathed, went on because her body demanded it... living on dreams that had died long ago.