A/n: Ok, the last chapter was crap. I know, I know. I was having a 6-hour-long writer's block. Hopefully this will be slightly better, but I have to warn you, this story is about to take a really, really bizarre turn. Don't blame me if you don't like it. Unfortunately I'm still suffering from a lack of plot ideas, despite my yearning to write an Eomer-Lothiriel fic, and I have nothing better to do then write chapters of this at a frankly inhuman rate. Oh, and would anyone have an objection to a bit of Cythera/Raoul? I don't like loose characters.
Alanna lay prone on the comfortable bed in the healers' wing, her coppery hair completely covering her pillow. Her eyes were wide open, but had a faraway look in them, as though watching something unfold in a different world. Gary, Raoul and Cythera were leaning over her anxiously; Duke Baird was sitting in a wicker chair facing the bed, his expression serious. Probing with his Gift, he lifted his weary head.
"Alanna will be fine, but only-and I will say this only once-ionly/i if you al go away right now. She needs her rest!"
The three jerked back quickly, falling over each other in their hurry to get away from the bed. Making a great show of tiptoeing gracefully across the room, Raoul moved towards the door. Gary followed, shaking his head with resignation at his friend's antics. Cythera was the last to leave, casting a backward glance over her shoulder. There were tears in her emerald eyes.
Shutting the door carefully behind her, Cythera brushed the tears away quickly with the back of her hand. Looking up at Gary, Cythera enquired softly, "Where are the people Numair found? I think we should visit them."
Gary nodded. "If you like… He took them through here."
Raoul and Cythera followed silently, their heads too full of thoughts to form them into words. The place Gary led them to was not far, not more then a few corridors away, but the journey seemed to last a thousand miles, and their feet seemed weary with the heaviness of their hearts when at last they reached it. Gary opened the door reverently, and the three slipped in. To their surprise, Numair ws there, looking shocked. He was sitting beside the bedside of one of the people, another tall man with a crooked nose and dark hair.
"Numair?" Gary enquired cautiously. "Is something wrong? Who is this man?" He, Raoul and Cythera ranged themselves around the bed. When Numair spoke, his throat was hoarse.
"Many, many years ago, I knew this man. He was-is- a mage, a great mage. We studied together, we were like brothers. When we finished our training, he left, travelled to the far East, and we lost all contact. I thought I had forgotten about him. I don't know what happened to him, or who the others are."
Cythera knelt gracefully by the bed and placed a hand on the man's head. His eyes were clear amber, shining with a delicate hint of gold.
"What's his name?" Enquired Raoul, coming over and putting a hand on Cythera's shoulder.
"When I last saw him, he had just claimed his mage's name…" Numair began, trailing off in nostalgia. Raoul rolled his eyes.
"Which was?" He prompted helpfully.
"He called himself Niklaren Goldeye."
A/n: Dun dun dun! Now, was that random or not? Mwah hah! Ok, I give you all permission to slowly torture me to death. Oh wait, no I don't. Ooops. Too late.
