A/N; -tired-
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"Mmmphhh…"
It was not quite a word; more of a sound uttered in a moaning tone. It was the type of utterance you would expect coming from someone who was experiencing a migraine of some sort—and, in fact, it was true.
Orik sat up and looked around. "Where am I?" he muttered. Suddenly, his vision cleared, and the images of Brom and someone else came to his eyes. "Ah, Brom," he greeted and then turned to look at Brom's companion.
What had she said her name was? Arha… Erya… "Hello," was the greeting he settled for.
The female looked at him with a note of interest. "Hello, Orik," she responded, and the sound of her voice to him was a type of pure, sweet birdsong. He closed his eyes and repeated the words she had said over and over in his mind before turning to look at Brom.
"Indeed, hello, Orik," Brom said gruffly, and Orik could already tell that he was in trouble.
"Ah, well… Now that that's done with, shall we get on with business?" Orik asked, his eyes turning to the elf, pleading with her silently to save him from Brom's wrath.
"Oh no you don't," Brom growled, looking rather menacing—almost to the point where it appeared relatively comical. Arya stifled a laugh, and watched as Brom prepared to give Orik a sermon-like speech.
"I tell you to not drink for one day, and then you just go along and drink everything in sight?" Brom asked, crossing his arms. "Just this one day, Orik. One day. The day when I feel that I should introduce you to the princess of the elves."
"Princess?" Orik repeated dumbly.
Brom sighed. "This is not the end of this, Orik," he muttered, and then halted in his reprimand of the dwarf. He angled slightly toward Arya, and gestured toward her. "This, Orik, is the princess of the elves, Arya."
"Arya what?" Orik asked, tilting his head to the side.
Brom gave him a warning glance, but Arya responded quietly. "Svit-kona."
Brom nodded and went out, unperturbed at the interruption. "Yes—she is Arya. Arya Svit-kona. On another note, however, she is not just the princess of the elves… but she is also aspiring to be an ambassador for them in order to renew the ties between the Varden and the elves."
"Aye, lass, that is a big goal," Orik remarked, eyeing Arya as if sizing her up—but not in the manner that contained lust; just in a manner that Arya saw as wondering if she truly knew what she was pledging herself to. "And I must say that I have some admiration for you if you go for it. The elves have been rather withdrawn, and the humans and dwarves… they are not very happy about it. You may face some hardship as you go through day to day life."
Arya nodded solemnly. As if I have not already figured that out, she thought to herself with a mental sigh.
"Now, as I happen to be somewhat of a representative of the dwarves, I suppose that you and I will be spending a lot of time dealing with each other, now shall we?" Orik asked brightly, winking—though not in a flirtatious manner, for which Arya was grateful for.
"Indeed," she answered shortly, much in contrast to Orik's very talkative habits.
"And now, if you will excuse me… I have some business to attend to," Orik suddenly said, standing up abruptly and with a deep bow that Arya found ironic for one so short, turned and paced down the hall.
"Don't forget to remind me about the lecture I'm going to have to give that dwarf later," Brom muttered to Arya and began walking away. Arya followed, and her eyes danced slightly with silent mirth at this remark.
"And now what do we do?" she asked.
"Well, I, like Orik, have some business to deal with. You should start in learning the politics and such revolving around the Varden… but not so soon after arriving. Count this day the last day you have for full freedom. Tomorrow we begin."
Arya's eyes betrayed no surprise at this statement, but inside, she was rather taken aback. This is my second day in the Varden… and today is my last 'free day' as Brom puts it, she thought to herself, raising an eyebrow. So soon, so soon…
Almost immediately after she had let these thoughts pass through her minds, she gave herself a sharp mental scolding. She had chosen to become a part of the Varden life—and now she would pay the consequences no matter what. If she had wanted to remain pampered and ignorant from the world, she would have stayed back in Du Weldenvarden.
"Tomorrow, then," she said, murmuring her consent.
The two proceeded to walk on in silence until Brom stopped short and turned to face her.
"Arya, when was the last time you had female company?" he asked. This question was so farfetched, that it took a while for Arya to manage to process it through her mind.
When was the last time you had female company?
What type of inquiry was that? Mystified, Arya shrugged as she thought over the answer she could give. "A day or two before leaving Du Weldenvarden for the Varden… why?"
Brom looked bemused, then amusement crossed his face. "You have never been one for sitting and tending to the home, have you, Arya," he stated. Despite the fact that his words were meant to be a question, he said them in more of a knowing tone.
Embarrassment did not come easily to Arya, especially these days when she had to harden her heart against snide comments and glances—but now, as she thought about it, she saw that she was not quite the normal female who preferred the company of other females often. "I am an elf, Brom. I am raised differently, and I have lived to make do with things I cannot have. Faolin was the only elf nearly the same age as me, as I did not know Glenwing even existed back then," she told the human, easing her shoulders in to a slip of a shrug.
Brom nodded. "Of course," he answered as if he completely understood what Arya had said—and maybe he did; she didn't know. He studied her for a minute before continuing to speak. "But, as this is your last free day… you might as well find some company to keep you busy today. I'll see to it."
"I am not in need of friends, Brom," Arya retorted. Though her voice was still as placid and calm as ever, there was a faint hint of hurt hidden between the delicately pronounced syllables. "I do not need affiliations in the Varden. If they are so keen on hating me, let them. I will do my own business, and they can conduct theirs, and nothing will go astray."
Arya watched Brom intently as she said this. The man studied her once more and gave a rueful shrug. "I cannot vouch that can, or ever will, be, Arya. Due to that, you might as well try to make as many acquaintances you can get—and hopefully you can appeal to them in a good manner."
Arya wanted to argue, but when she saw that there was a certain level of truth to Brom's words, she cut off of her words. When he realized that Arya was not going to answer at the current moment, Brom turned and began walking, Arya in tow a couple of paces behind him.
"And now, Arya, I must take my leave of you. I will assure you, however, that company will be sent your way as soon as I can summon them," Brom told Arya once they reached the door to her quarters.
With that, Brom turned and walked on down the hall. Without bothering to watch him, Arya entered her room. Carefully turning and locking the door—as she did not want her 'company' barging in on her without knocking—she set to sitting at her desk. Her eyes flitted for a moment to the piece of parchment from Faolin. The parchment containing his poem, and his letter.
A sad smile drifted across Arya's face as she averted her gaze from it. Taking out a thick piece of parchment from the pile left for her on the firmly built desk, Arya stared down at its blankness for a few moments.
This blankness of the parchment was what she had been like when she had been born—no purpose and devoid of any marks. Hesitantly, took a writing utensil provided for her on the desk as well, and touched its tip against the grainy surface.
The ink transferred freely, and even Arya could not quite contain herself. She began writing with a type of intensity, her face a mask of one who was extremely absorbed in the task at hand. She had no thoughts in her mind as she wrote; she simply wrote through instinct and impulse. It was much different from her structured way of thinking, but somehow she felt freer than she had ever felt before—within the limitations of how she felt when she could be carefree around Faolin.
A knock rapped at her door, disturbing Arya from her tranquil thoughts. She gave a resigned sigh, for she knew that the knock could mean either one of two things. Brom had either sent Loraes to fetch her for something, or Brom's supposed 'company' for her had arrived.
Making her way to the door in no hurry, Arya's motions slid in to being performed in more of a lethargic manner. She reached for the door and pulled it open, her face betraying no emotion whatsoever, though she attempted to put a smile on for the sake of not fully intimidating her guests.
The first thing that reached Arya's eyes was a flurry of pinks and yellows rushing toward her and then veering toward the right of her sharply. When she whirled around, she saw that there were three of them—and they were all placed in a straight line.
The first one was a slender slip of a girl whose age Arya placed at around thirteen or fourteen. Her rose-colored dress was not the finest work of art, but it still had a feeling of refined elegance to it. Dipping in to a curtsy, the girl's deep brown eyes peered out from behind locks of light brown. "Sophia, my lady," she murmured, turning her gaze down to the ground. She stepped back and looked expectantly toward the next girl.
This one was dressed in a pale golden dress that contrasted greatly against her dark colored skin. Arya had to admit that she had never seen anything like the girl's skin, and that she rudely stared as she tried to take in the girl's skin tone. Peering in to the girl's face, Arya saw a pair of light hazelnut colored eyes that were framed generously with thick, black lashes. Dark hair, almost the same shade as Arya's, hung short and messy around the girl's face, giving a sense of someone who was not particularly fond of vanity. The girl looked Arya directly in the eyes and did not tear her gaze as she introduced herself. "Chloe, miss," she murmured, and Arya managed to detect a slight flicker of defiance in the girl's eyes. With that small amount of defiance, Arya began to feel a certain level of respect for this Chloe girl.
The final individual was a petite and frail looking creature. "Mia, my lady," she told Arya, her voice barely above a whisper. Arya immediately could tell that Mia was afraid of her, and while this should not have affected her much, Arya did have to feel rather hurt. Then again, it was a possibility that Mia had a reason, staring up at her with deep blue eyes set deep delicately in to a face framed with golden curls.
Arya drew back from observing all of them in order to view them all together. "I am pleased to meet you," she told them, though this did happen to be reasonably far from the truth. Still, it could have been worse—they could have been girls who had nothing but frivolous matters on their minds. From what she could see, all three of the ones chosen for her by Brom were dead serious in their ways. Living in the Varden had obviously changed them, as Arya could not imagine that any of them had always been quiet and aloof.
"And I suppose that you are all here to… entertain me. Or to keep me company," Arya remarked, giving a shrug of her shoulders to show the three girls that she was as puzzled about this situation as they were. Her statement was answered only with three sets of eyes staring at her, and Arya gave a slight nervous trill of laughter when they made no response.
There was quite the simple word to describe this situation.
Awkward.
"And I know that you might be a little afraid of me," Arya continued on, softening her voice as she threw a glance toward Mia. "And that you might feel some type of hatred against me or my race." Her eyes flickered toward Chloe, but then shook these thoughts away. "And, I can assure you that this is normal. I did not ask Brom to do this, but he went out of his way to bring all three of you in to my company in order to help me pass the rest of today."
"You're very pretty, miss."
This statement caught Arya off guard, and she immediately looked to whoever had said it. Chloe. Somehow, that did not surprise her very much.
"Thank you," Arya answered, accepting the praise smoothly and even adding a tiny flicker of a smile to back it up.
"This is rather odd," Chloe said to Arya, her voice frank and even.
"Just a small, small, small bit," Mia suddenly piped up. Her voice wavered slightly and squeaked at the end.
Sophia was the first to give a small laugh at this, and Mia soon joined her. Chloe waited for a bit, and Arya could feel the dark-skinned girl scrutinizing her response to laughter. Arya answered Chloe's visual challenge, giving a couple bell-like laughs. She saw that after this, Chloe joined in as well, and the mood in the room lightened considerably.
Still, Arya thought to herself. This is going to be a long day.
It was true—and it would possibly be longer than when she had sat with Faolin alone at the campfire just a couple of days ago.
Just a couple of days ago.