Night had come quickly for Dorion. He sat in his room for the remainder of the twilight hours, then decided it was time to leave. He picked up his things and made his way outside. The night air was chilling to him and he wrapped himself tighter in his cloak.
Though it would take him longer, Dorion decided he would have a better chance of not being seen if he traveled around the city toward the gates of Hunvel. Creeping down the streets as silently as he could, staying in the shadows, Dorion headed out of the city.
On his way, he came upon a dark but extravagant house that he had never seen it before. What caught his eye was the engraving upon the large door of the home. "I believe that's the mark of the Steward," Dorion said to himself quietly, remembering the design he had seen on Laurëa's cheek while walking her home. As he was observing the door, Dorion tripped over the root of a tree. Cursing himself for his clumsiness, Dorion crept on as silently as he could.

Laurëa awoke suddenly and looked around her room to see what had stirred her from sleep. It was still dark; the candle beside her bed had long since burnt out.
Laurëa then heard a rustling noise outside. Wind woke me up, she decided. But wind was not supposed to sound like boots crunching gravel...Warily, Laurëa climbed out of her large bed and crept toward her window, peeking through the curtains. Vaguely, she saw a dark figure creeping in the darkness, looking as though they were---
A short gasp escaped Laurëa's lips as she looked closer. What on earth...? It must have been her imagination, or the way the moonlight was playing off the trees, because that dark figure almost looked like...
The Prince? Laurëa stared curiously for another moment, then strode to her door and opened it.
"Hold it right there!" she called out to him. "I demand an explanation this instant, Prince!"

Dorion froze. His body was now stiff and his hands went immediately to his knife. But the voice of a girl filled his ears. He turned slightly, and looked at her. It was Laurëa.
"Why do you call me Prince?" he wondered, ignoring her demand. He realized suddenly that perhaps she did not know his name. Feeling foolish, he turned to her, letting the moonlight fully highlight his face.
"I am Dorion, Prince of Hunvel. But no longer."

"I don't care who you are," spat Laurëa as she strode over to the Prince. "What are you doing out here in the middle of the night, sneaking around like some sort of criminal?" She glared at him for a moment, then frowned as his words sunk in. "And what do you mean, you're not the Prince any longer?"

Dorion glared at her, "Well, if you must know..." He cleared his throat and spoke firmly. "I deserve not the throne of Hunvel, nor do I want it. I'm leaving, and I don't plan on coming back." He stood up straight, holding his ground against the young girl's penetrating stare. "Perhaps it is best you do not speak of this to anyone."

"Of course I'm going to tell someone. You cannot just up and leave; you are the heir to the throne!" Laurëa exclaimed. As she stood there glaring at him, she shivered in the cold of the night, suddenly realizing her rather underly-dressed state. She shivered again. "I don't care if you deserve it or not. That is who you are, and you are not leaving," Laurëa said firmly.

"I am leaving," he said softly, trying to keep his cool. "What are you going to do about it? Telling someone will only give me a chance to run farther and faster. Then what would you get? You would be left here all alone, no one to talk to my brother's little friends, and they don't seem to fond of you. You'll have no one."
Dorion thought that in some way he was the only one that seemed to understand her.

"How dare you talk about me in such a manner!" Laurëa exclaimed. "Do you have any idea how---" She tried to continue shouting, but the Prince Dorion's hand suddenly clamped firmly across her mouth.

"Stop it!" he yelled at her from behind his teeth. "Do you want to wake all of Hunvel?"
His hand became lose as he realized he was being rather forceful. He suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes.
"Please," he pleaded with her, "If you keep quiet, you can come with me if you want. I'll protect you."

Laurëa jerked away from Prince Dorion's grasp. "Come with you? Oh, that's rich," she sneered. "Have fun protecting me. Now if you don't mind, I think my parents should like to be informed about the run-away Prince."

Dorion felt the very serious pressure arise within him. His heart pounded with every step she took toward her house. He thought briefly about what his actions may bring, but being a boy---er, man, he thought gruffly---but he decided it was worth the risk. Before she could get inside, he quickly grabbed Laurëa's tiny frame of a body and took her close. He whispered in her ear, "You will come with me! But first I'll let you get your things."
He stepped into the house of Leeum, Laurëa still in his grasp. She wiggled fiercely in his arms, but his strength proved to be to much for her. Once insider her room, he opened her clothing drawers and took a few dresses out.
"Now," he said with his hand over her mouth still, "pack it. Dawn is near."

Laurëa squirmed, kicked, and pounded Prince Dorion on the back, trying to escape from her captor. When he finally set her down roughly and shoved clothes at her, Laurëa was about to yell for someone when she saw the mad, desperate look in the Prince's eyes.
Scowling, Laurëa began to fold the few dresses he had flung at her into a small bag. When she came to an old, hideous, purple robe, she sneered in disgust. "If you are going to drag me into the forest, at least give me something proper to wear," she spat at the Prince.

Dorion looked at Laurëa with anger in his tired eyes. He took off his cloak, not letting his eyes off the girl, and handed it to her. "Here," he said with little emotion. "I don't need it too much." He was definitely getting annoyed by her attitude.

Laurëa looked at the cloak with curious disgust for a moment, then finally took it from the Prince slowly. "Hardly what I'd call proper," she muttered under her breath. "Now," she said louder to him, "would you mind telling me what this crazy crusade is about?"

Dorion crossed his arms, his eyes still full of anger and exhaustion. "I suppose I just feel out of touch with my role in life. Is that enough information for you?"

"Enough information to pick me up and haul me into the wilderness? Hardly. Next time you have an identity crisis, remind me to stay out of it," Laurëa hissed.

"All right, your majesty, I'm tired of your crap! You need to grow up!" Dorion seethed. His voice rose as he spoke but he suddenly realized Laurëa's parents were still in the house and could hear the commotion and wake up at any moment.

Laurëa scowled at the Prince. "I suppose you know all about growing up, you---"

Dorion had had about enough. He scooped her up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder. He had managed to wrap his cloak around her face while he made his way out the door, muffling her screams of protest. Despite this, he went on, with no second thoughts. He had decided to continue, even if it meant taking her with him. As the sun began to peek its head over the valley of the mountainous parts of Hunvel, Dorion and Laurëa headed off away from the city, "romantically" into the sunrise, though the daughter of Leeum was kicking and screaming the whole way.

Ronin walked until he felt he could go no further. He knew he was nearing the edge of another town; the lights were twinkling in the distance, but he thought it would be best to stay in the forest for the night.
He gathered some moss and leaves to make a bed and covered himself with his cloak. He slept lightly, his mind full of thoughts. Does anyone know that I'm gone? Are they worried? How far do I need to go to leave my past behind?
It was still dark when he awoke. He packed up his things and ate a bit of food from his pack. Shouldering his bag once again, he continued walking towards the town ahead.

Anita and Gerard walked in a dismal silence. It was dark now and they both were feeling guilty about leaving their father with little to no explanation. "We had to come after Ronin," Gerard reassured both of them, answering the unanswered question. "He doesn't know anything about the real world." Gerard answered the unspoken question. Anita nodded mutely.
Gerard looked at the sky and smiled. "I haven't seen the stars so bright in a long time."

Anita chuckled softly. "You always manage to find some humor in everything, brother mine."

Gerard looked at her, hurt. "It wasn't a joke, sister mine," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Anita just smiled and looked up. The stars were very bright, shining and sewed to the velvet lining that was the sky. It went on so far. "What's going to happen Gerard?" Anita asked softly.

He pulled at an earlobe thoughtfully. "Usually, just to annoy you, I'd say, 'I don't know, I'm not a prophet.' But I think everything's going to work out. We'll save the Prince and talk him out of this silly little adventure, and then you can marry him and we'll all live happily ever after," he added brightly.
Anita smacked him playfully.

There was sweat glistening on Ronin's forehead as he stumbled into the inn. The walk had been farther than he had estimated, and the ground had sloped gently upward to the town. From behind a tall counter, the innkeeper looked him over.
"I need a room to stay in for a few days," Ronin said, a bit unsettled by his gaze.
The innkeeper nodded and they worked out a suitable price. Ronin continued to feel the man's eyes upon him, and it wasn't until the room had been paid for and he was about to head to it when he found out why.
"Have you been in these parts before?" the man asked. "You looked familiar."
Oh no, don't tell me he knows that I'm a Prince! "No," Ronin said, thinking quickly and wishing he had been better prepared for questions. "I…I'm from Rohan. I've never been here before."
The man nodded again, and though he looked as if he didn't believe a word, he asked no further questions. Ronin escaped to his room, shutting the door behind him and flopping down on the small bed.

Despite his exhaustion, Ronin felt restless. He sat on the bed for while before he began to pace the floor nearby, running a hand through his hair. What kind of mess have I gotten myself into?
He sat on the bed again, not sure what to do. His body was tired and yet his mind was racing, making him fidget where he sat. Finally, he left his room for the inn's bar and eating area, where he figured a snack might calm his nerves.
He sat down at a table near the wall, scarcely taking in the loud and joyous people around him until a barmaid appeared before him.
"Ale to drink?" she asked, a sweet smile on her face.
"Oh, no thanks," Ronin answered, looking away.
'Nonsense," she persisted. "You look like you need a good ale to drown your sorrows in."
She disappeared for a moment before returning with a large mug in hand. She plopped in on the table in front of him.
"Go on," she said. "What's there to harm?"
Ronin gave in. He raised the mug and gave her a weak smile before taking a drink.

Anita and Gerard were nearing a village, for lights sparkled in the distance. They had walked quickly for three straight hours out of pure determination. They had rested little in their hurry, and Gerard noticed that Anita was growing more agitated by the second.
"What if someone recognizes him?" she asked again on their way towards the small town in the distance..

"Calm down, Anita. He might be naive, but he has a good head on his shoulders." His tone ended any further comments from Anita and they marched on in silence.
They reached the town in dim light and decided to check in at the first inn they found. They got a room without delay and Anita neatly put her things on the crude bedside table. She inspected the room thoroughly and sat down with an approving sigh.
"I'm hungry." Gerard complained.

"Then let's go get some supper." Anita advised coolly. Gerard shrugged and followed her out into the hall Just then, they saw three dark figures saunter around the corner. One was a small, thin man that greatly resembled a weasel. Another looked savage and weathered; he was tall and rugged, with a nasty scar above his left temple. The third was a stately looking Elf, with oddly greasy hair.

"And I always thought Elves were squeaky clean." Gerard muttered.

Anita watched the two men and lone Elf curiously as they found their room and stepped quietly inside, locking the door behind them. "What do you think they're up to?" she asked Gerard softly.

"Nothing good by the looks of it," he answered suspiciously.

There was an odd taste in Ronin's mouth and a strange emptiness in his head. The mug was nearly drained and sat on the table in front of him. The pretty barmaid sat in a chair next to him. They had been talking for a while now, meaningless conversation, and Ronin had been careful never to reveal who he was. The ale was getting to his head, however, and he wasn't sure how long his facade would last.
"How did you get that bruise on your cheek?" the barmaid asked when Ronin turned and she saw it in a better light.
"Oh," he said, fingering the spot where Dorion had punched him. "I was fighting...for love and honor!"
She giggled at this, though Ronin did not realize it sounded like nothing but drunken nonsense even though it was close to the truth.
"My shift is about up," she said. "But maybe I'll catch you later. What did you say your name was again?"
"Ronin. Prince Ronin, actually," he answered, a proud and stupid smile on his face.
"Yes," she said. "The Prince."

The barmaid left the table and hurried to one of the rooms. She knocked three times and was called inside. Stepping in, she shut the door quickly behind her.
"What information do you have for me, Tirithiel?"
She bowed before replying. "I have been serving drinks here for a little more than a month, my master. So far, there has been nothing," she stared down at the floor rather than face her master.
"You are keeping something back. And you have no need to. Our associates are out in the bar right now. They saw you flirting with that young boy. Who is he?"
"H-he claimed to be a prince. But that was after an ale, sir! I don't think he had his wits about him."
"Keep an eye on him, Tiri."
"Yes sir," she said, bowing deeply again.
"Good," said Authon, nodding to the door. "You may go now."