A/N; Hello, hello.

So, right now, I'm watching an episode of Paris Hilton's My New BFF online. I may not like Paris Hilton very much, but the show sure is entertaining. xP

In it's own way, pshh…

So! Uhh… I'm taking one of my reviewer's idea and putting it in to this chapter. Thank you very much to my reviewers. ^^

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The days droned on and on, the minutes and hours passing slowly. The scenery did not waver in its appearance—it was simply sand dunes after more sand dunes. If Brom had not been guiding them, Arya knew that they would all be terribly lost.

"Are we there yet?" Glenwing muttered underneath his breath, impatiently drumming his fingers against the thick base of his mount's neck. His question went unanswered, as both Faolin and Arya had absolutely no idea, and Brom seemed a little preoccupied.

"The good thing about crossing the desert is that the hoof prints from the horses will be blown away by the sand…" Brom mumbled. He looked over his shoulder behind him, where, indeed, the tracks of the horses had been erased.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Arya asked, knowing that she wouldn't necessarily get a straight answer to her question. Still, it didn't hurt to ask.

To her credit, Arya managed to get a response. "We've been traveling at a steady pace for some days now, almost a week. At this rate, we'll get to the foothills of the Beor Mountains in two or three more days," Brom answered. Though his voice was dull, it still sufficed as a decent answer.

Arya nodded, and felt a sense of relief. In approximately two more days, they would finally be nearing their destination: the Varden—and not a moment too soon, either. Even for Arya, the scenery needed a change, and she would welcome anything—even large mountains looming overhead—that could change what she saw.

The air was heavy, and bore down like a heavy blanket, making it difficult to do much without sweating. The breath of their mounts was labored, and all were in no mood for conversation. If Brom's words didn't turn out to be true, their moral would at, at a steady swiftly, deteriorate.

The trouble with traveling through the desert with the same other three companions, Arya discovered, was that you could not hide from those you wished to hide from. You were forced to deal with them on a daily—sometimes even hourly—basis. She was tired of putting on a show of formality whenever she interacted with Faolin, though she did not know what to do otherwise.

Frankly, it was tiresome, and Arya did not know how to fix it. She stole yet another glance at the elf, whose jaw was tight and his body held in a rigid manner that suggested a large amount of tenseness. Exhaling deeply, Arya resisted the urge to steer her amount alongside him and to touch his arm in a gesture of concern.

Because, of course, she knew exactly what was wrong.

"We should make camp," Brom stated from behind, and Arya looked back at him. Brom pointed to the sky, and Arya saw that the twilight hours were setting upon them quickly. Nodding, she halted her horse, and her companions did the same. Dismounting in a single, fluid movement, she took a couple of steps in order to rid herself of a number of cramps that had worked their way through her limbs during riding.

A gentle fire was soon in creation as they settled in for that night. When Glenwing was taking out their rations of dried fruits and vegetables, however, Brom looked up. "Glenwing," he began, his eyes traveling over to Faolin and Arya who were both standing a number of paces away from each other, warily watching the flames. "What do you say in coming with me to try to see what rascals run around in the desert? I've been wishing for the taste of meat…"

At this proclamation, all three elves looked at Brom strangely. During their trip, Brom had never seemed to like meat, nor had he even had the inclination to hunt during this whole time. Then again, the desert was relatively sparse when it came to animals. Brom knew this was so, and he had no intention of hunting—he had given meat up a long while ago, for reasons he had not shared with the elves just yet.

Glenwing threw a glance toward Faolin and Arya and then shrugged as he got to his feet. "As you wish," the elf answered dutifully, picking up his bow. Brom was about to protest, but then realized that it would seem rather suspicious if he didn't allow the elf to bring his bow along.

Brom began walking away from the camp, and as he looked over his shoulder, he saw Arya glaring at him. "You cannot kill me with the daggers from your eyes, Arya!" he called over his shoulder, a grin on his face. Before he could hear any retaliation coming from her, he pulled in to a sprint, which Glenwing matched pace with quite easily.

Well, well, well. Arya thought to herself with an inward groan. It is most certainly going to be a long, long night.

Once again, Arya glanced at Faolin, and to her surprise, she met his gaze full on. A flush spread through both elves' cheeks, and they looked away quickly. Putting a hand to her face, Arya tried covering up her embarrassment with a nonchalant look at the scenery around her. Faolin kicked the sand with his boot-clad foot, and pursed his lips.

By the time the thought occurred to Faolin that he could have followed the 'hunters,' both Glenwing and Brom were already gone from sight, disappearing in to the shadows. Though he could try to track them down right now, it just didn't feel right leaving Arya by herself, even if he wasn't quite on speaking terms with her.

To Faolin's surprise, however, Arya spoke. "So," she uttered shortly, not looking at him. Maybe it wasn't much—but it was something.

"Arya," Faolin murmured. He stood up and seated himself next to her. He could sense her discomfort, but he paid no attention. His thoughts were mixed, making it difficult for him to discern from them what to do next. It was at that point when Faolin decided something.

He would abandon caution to the winds; this night, this very night, he would lead his words with his heart.

"Arya Drottingu," he whispered, bringing his lips to her ear.

Arya's breath caught in her throat, and she remained completely still. She opened her mouth to say something, but Faolin put a restraining hand on her arm.

"Please, hear me out, Arya," the male elf murmured. "I have kept this secret for far too long, and I do not know how else to say it except to say it outright."

His words whispered in to her ear, causing a chill to run down her spine. Closing her eyes, Arya mentally begged her sanity to stay with her through this moment, though things were looking bleak for that hope.

Faolin's voice was tender as he continued. "Arya, I…" He faltered here for a moment before continuing on slowly. "I—"

A harsh battle cry sounding through the plains interrupted Faolin's confession.

As if awakening from a trance, Arya immediately leapt up, her hand grabbing her bow and quiver, which was never far from her side. In a matter of seconds, Arya was darting toward the source of the noise, not bothering to see if Faolin was behind her.

Arya didn't know how long she ran through the night—she just knew that she was going somewhere, running somewhere. The protective side of her had been activated when she had heard the cry, and now it was steering her to go did what she did best: protect others.

Though the desert sand masked the sound of footfalls, Arya sensed the presence of Faolin running behind, gaining on her. Not wishing to put herself in another uncomfortable position, she increased her speed, pushing herself even further.

Eventually, Arya stumbled upon a battle scene, with Faolin just a few steps behind her.

Brom and Glenwing were currently in the process of fending off a large creature, a creature that Arya had never before seen in her life. She stared at the animal—or was it an animal? The… the… thing was human, yet not human. It was hard to determine what the creature looked at beyond the fact that it was hooded and dressed in all black. When it threw its head back, Arya saw a glimpse of a beak where the moonlight hit.

A shriek was uttered from the creature, and Arya winced at the grating sound.

The female elf saw Faolin draw up beside her, and for a split second, she couldn't think. Her mind was occupied with thoughts of Faolin, and nothing else. Biting her lip, she shook her head, earning her a strange look from the elf himself.

Finally, she managed to get a grip on herself. Narrowing her eyes, she examined the situation that Brom and Glenwing were in. In truth, they seemed to be fending well on their own—but due to the beads of sweat already collecting on Brom's forehead, Arya was forced to deduce that he was tiring at a much quicker rate than the creature was. A sense of admiration filled Arya as she watched Brom with his sword, evading and jabbing where he saw fit.

Glenwing, however, was circling around the fighting duo, a look of the utmost concentration on his face. Arya did not envy his position—he was being forced to try to aim an arrow that would accurately hit only the creature, not Brom—a difficult task, due to the fact that Brom and the animal were still going at it as avidly as ever.

Calculating, Arya soon realized the fact that neither she nor Faolin would be able to near the fighting pair from the side without being cut to ribbons. Stepping back, she drew close to Faolin, and forgetting about what had commenced between them, she murmured in his ear, "Join Glenwing's ranks—keep your arrows aimed toward the creature in case he escapes from both me and Brom." Faolin nodded and slipped in to the shadows, reappearing next to Glenwing.

Taking a couple of steps back, Arya inhaled deeply to clear her mind. Knowing full well that her idea would not necessarily work, she ran forward, accelerating. At approximately five paces away from Brom and the creature, she sprang up in to the air, executing a rather graceful twist, although she knew she could do the same thing without the added flourish.

With the utmost precision, Arya landed atop the creature. She wobbled slightly and nearly fell off, but she forced herself to remain calm and to balance. In a matter of seconds, she jumped up slightly and swiftly kicked the creature in the head. Despite the fact that it was not a deathblow, it did allow for enough of a diversion for Brom to quickly thrust his sword forward. The creature shrieked in pain and stumbled back.

Arya dropped to the ground, breaking her fall with a roll. Whipping her head around to Glenwing and Faolin, the only notion that was in her head was the loud, harsh beating of her heart.

Even as the human-like animal tried to turn around and run, two arrows elegantly swept through the air, hitting with exact precision. One more shriek, then all was silent.

Brom stumbled for a second and then righted himself. He was panting heavily, and Arya could see that he was exhausted. Faolin and Glenwing saw this too, and all three elves rushed to the human. Blood fell freely from Brom's right side, and Arya set herself to staunching the flow and healing the wound with a few muttered words of magic.

It was at that moment when she was healing Brom through magic that a thought occurred to her. "For goodness sake, why didn't you use magic?" Arya cried out, glaring at both Glenwing and Brom at once.

"I… could…" Brom's response was rather ragged, as he was still suffering from fatigue. "…ask the same of you, Arya…"

"Aye, Arya, I believe that both Brom and Glenwing are in need of a good deal of rest," Faolin put in before Arya could summon an answer. Though frustrated, Arya gave a nod and compiled, lending Brom her support as the four of them labored back to the camp.

Once they were all around the campfire and all wounds were tended to, both Brom and Glenwing fell asleep as soon as their heads touched the surface of their packs.

Arya once again raised her head, and met Faolin's gaze.

"So," he said.