This chapter's based on "The Rose" by...actually, I think it's Bette Midler. It's a gorgeous song, and I absolutely love its lyrics. Hopefully it's enjoyable, and thank you to my five reviewers! ((HUG))

Some say love, it is a river

that drowns the tender reed.

Arya sighed and jumped to the next branch. Something had been missing since she'd returned to Ellesmera. She had a whole new set of worries whereas the new Rider was concerned, but otherwise she felt quite empty. Her mother and fellow elves all thought it to be an aching loss for her former friend, Faolin, but they had never really understood that the bond they she had shared with him was merely friendly, nothing more.

Jumping outright from the tree, Arya started at a run towards the training grounds, her sword swinging from her leather belt. She'd felt like sitting up in the Menoa tree every morning, to watch the horizon glow with the sun's rays, but it had proceeded to make her late for training everyday.

Some say love, it is a razor

that leaves your soul to bleed.

"Arya! You never fail to make me wonder what you do in your mornings, I'll give you that." Vanir smirked, making the traditional elvish greeting with his hand.

"But of course, Vanir-Vodhr." She smiled dully, returning the gesture.

"Care to shoot with me?" He said, sweeping his hand back to the archers' targets.

"I'm sorry, but I planned to use my sword today, if it's all the same to you."

Vanir's smile faltered slightly, before: "Of course." He turned on his heel and walked to a small congregation on the side of the field. Arya sighed, suddenly not feeling up to fighting, but knew it necessary if she was to grow stronger.

Some say love, it is a hunger,

an endless aching need.

"Very well done, Arya!" Hazähn praised.

"Thank you. If you don't mind, I'll be leaving now." She sheathed her sword sullenly.

"So soon?"

"I'm tired."

"You've only been fighting an hour."

"I'm tired." She strode off, scars pulling painfully on her skin. She climbed up, into her home, and lay on the floor, breathing hard. There had been a moment in that battle when she should have been thinking solely on what she needed to do to win, but the thoughts she had instead were of the Shade Durza freeing her from Gil'ead. It had heaved some kind of energy within her, making her sword hand fly in a frenzy of unique attacks she had never known possible for any being, human or elf.

I say love, it is a flower,

and you its only seed.

Shaking her head, she picked herself up and stepped into her room. She smiled at it; in everything that had happened, nothing had changed. There was still the simple desk, Faolin's flower-

It's different!

She picked the orb up in wonder. The flower Faolin had made her was no longer black with an electric-blue center. It was a scarlet red rose, yet in the shape of a heart. It still maintained its individual petal shapes, but took on the form of the heart itself.

Amazing! But what or who could have caused it?

It's the heart afraid of breaking

that never learns to dance.

Arya suddenly had a thought; what if the rest of her flowers were changed as this one? She hoped not, for she longed to keep them as they were. She leapt from the tree and hit the ground running, wanting to find out as soon as possible. Almost fearful to look, Arya peered through the trees. She cried out as she saw each of them changed into the red, heart-shaped rose. Who would do this! She thought furiously. Knealing down in the dirt beside them, she plucked one from the earth.

It's the dream afraid of waking

that never takes the chance.

Pulling the petals out one by one, Arya felt tears welling in her eyes. As much as she liked the new flowers, the old ones meant to much to her it was hard to believe they were gone. As the last petal fell to the ground, the sepal started to swell and contract. It pulsed, as if a real heart it held. Arya stared, transfixed. She gently poked it with her fingernail, and it suddenly burst, a silver substance ejected onto her hand. She cried out, but it did not hurt her. It felt cool and smooth, unlike a liquid at all. She stared at it, and it slowly drained into her skin, leaving a small scar in the shape of a cresent moon.

It's the one who won't be taken,

who cannot seem to give,

"What is this?" She whispered, looking at each petal as though they were personally responsible. "What's going on?" All she got in answer was the shriveling of the rose stem and sepal, and a sharp tug from her hand. She stared down at it, wondering what had just happened. Since when do roses scar with anything but their thorns? She sighed and returned to her room, saddened slightly. "Must everything change?" She asked her hand.

And the soul afraid of dying

that never learns to live.

Every night, visions of Durza filled her head. That is, every night since receiving her moon-shaped scar. She lost interest in training, and everything she had once loved. She obsessed about her promise. "I'll pay you back for your kindness". There wasn't a moment she wasn't daydreaming or planning his rescue or writing him letters that always ended up in a ball on her desk, blotched with ink and frustrated tears. Her scar burned and itched, as if urging her to do more. It's like it's taking over me! All I can think of is Durza. She sat on the edge of her bed, before deciding. If this is going to happen until I pay him back, then I must go.

When the night has been too lonely

and the road has been too long,

Saddle bags attached and goodbyes fared, Arya rode speedily through Du Weldenvarden. She was consistently distracted by thoughts of Durza, some of which made her smile and others of which made her weep. She wanted it to stop, so she could regain her old life, but was reminded of Faolin's flowers and immediately stopped all thoughts. Thank the gods I was in enough mind not to tell them what I was really doing, or they would have sent hoards of guards, or worse; not have let me leave.

She traveled for days without stopping, sometimes running beside her horse, others riding him. Finally, when the ancient forest ended, she stopped and made camp.

And you think that love is only

for the lucky and the strong,

Arya growled as yet another gust of wind whipped her hair over her eyes. Her leather band kept some of it away, but it was too long to be held back entirely. Pushing it away yet again, she squinted her eyes against the cloud of dirt and grit forming before her. Never before had this area of Alagaesia been so bad. Times are definitely changing; and not for the good, I fear. But she continued to travel, loathing the thought of having to rest in such conditions. Her horse was equally fed up, and, having a mind of its own, was about ready to turn back to Ellesmera. Arya kept encouraging it though, for it was her only companion and served her well.

Just remember in the winter

far beneath the bitter snows

Arya passed the Hadarac without harm, enjoying her journey slightly more since there was no longer bitter winds, but sunshine. She planned her route carefully, for a mistake could mean her recapture. She needed to cross the Ramr and stop in Bullridge for supplies, before heading north-north-west to Gil'ead, and Durza. If he's not already dead. Time seemed to drag slower and slower, for she longed to see the shade again. One league, two leagues. She covered vast amounts daily, yet it didn't feel like enough. The ramr was still at least another three days ahead, then she had to stop, and then go almost half that length up again. She inwardly cursed the fact that she couldn't go any faster.

Lies the seed that with the sun's love

in the spring becomes the rose.

Arya restrained herself from cheering when she saw the Ramr on the horizon. Adrenaline pushed her forward, and she ran as fast as she could. Her horse pounded the earth behind her, eager for a race, but Arya beat him easily. She waited beside the bank until he caught up, and they walked a ways along the bank until they found the most shallow part. Then, they crossed.

Hopefully it's alright? I stayed up all night writing it...Faolin's flowers are the black roses the first song mentioned, and Durza had turned them red. That is, Durza has made Arya fall in love. I'll try to update soon, but it probably wont happen, since I forgot about this story in the first place...

xxx