Aearion nodded, still confused, he put his hands around the bowl,

"Odd... Its warm..." After thinking, he finally decieded that he had never seen or heard of anything of the type. "I am going to have to write to Ada." With that, he found some paper, and then felt around on the desk, that sat in a room around the fireplace that was agaist the wall in the main room. He put down the paper and started writing...

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You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

Atalante hesitated, and called to Aearion, "I'm going to see if everything's under control in the palace - if you need me just call."

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"Alright, please keep this whole thing quiet enough, so that the would-be killer dosn't get the impression that we are on to him..or her." He paused a moment, "And be safe, we don't know who made that poison..." The last part of his sentece sounded more personally concerned than the seriousness in most of his request.

Aearion wrote along the paper in cursive, so that he wouldn't lose track of his place, and moved his hand carefully over to the right to make a space between words, while his left index finger was positioned at the left side of the paper, keeping track of where on the paper his line of text was, and after a few lines, it was nicely blotched in ink. Then, taking a small cloth that was on the desk, for this very reason, he wiped off the ink and blew lightly on the letter, drying the parts of it that were still damp, and then signed it, not in the neatest form, but well enough. He then folded it up, and put it in an onvelope(sp), intending to fetch one of the messangers that frequently between Mirkwood and the other elven realms, such as Lothlorien, later that day and bid him to deliver it to his foster father.

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You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

((I love your banner so much SG! It's so pretty!))

With a smile, Atalante replied, "I will."

She paused before leaving, to say "Are you coming, Vanwawen?"

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Reply, guys

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"Sure, I guess. Though I know the maids are going to yell at me because, as I have told you before, that wasn't the first time I've pulled the table cloth from the table." Vanwawen said, getting up and following Atlante....

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

((Thanks, Meldawen! I made it myself. ))

Aearion smiled fondly at the mention of Vanwawen's happenings with the maids, and tablecloths.

"In that case, both of you be careful!" He commented lightlheartedly, loudly, so that they could hear him.

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You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

Atalante grinned, and shut the door.

As they made their way back, she contemplated what had happened with a puzzled air - it didn't make sense. The dining hall was a disaster, and Atalante was rather intimidated gazing at the mess. It took a good portion of the day, and by the time they had finished it was the middle of the afternoon. However, stepping outside the forest was oddly dark for such an hour, almsot dusk.

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((well, as we're not going anywhere...))

Aearion put the letter in a special drawer, one to the bottom right of the desk, this one had a fake bottom, and with a click of a switch at the back of another drawer, the bottom flipped up to reveal a small space to hide precious things. It was already filled with with many things. Aearion placed the letter down on the bottom(there were some things written in it that he did not want to fall into the wrong hands, should someone go to extreme meausres to get it.) But when doing so, his keen, skilled fingers brushed over something that was only remembered in the back of his mind, but yet unmistakably farmiliar as his own voice. It was a small piece of parchment. But that in itself wasn't the reconized item. It was the seal that brought the burning tears to the blind elf's eyes. It was brittle from years and years of storage, covered in dust, but it was still just as intricate as the day it was melted to the paper. Aearion blindly picked it up, tears already poored down his cheeks as his hands carefully pulled it open, revealing the text he could not see, but he could feel the soft imprint with his hands. Remembering the one who wrote it, all those years ago, Aearion closed his eyes, sending more tears falling. Desparetly wishing that his foster father or brother was there to read it to him, this of course being in vain, Aearion fell back in his seat while the draw and it's fake bottom sat open. His chin started to tremble, but he would not let a sound escape his mouth. Remembering his original task, he placed the ancient letter back in the drawer and clicked the bottom shut, and then returned it to it's place. Still not wanting to forget such precious, yet unreachable times in his life, Aearion wiped his cheeks and slouched back in his chair, rather like an upset pre-teen, and crossed his arms firmly around his chest and let his feet rest on the edge of the desk.

((WOW. Ok, all that thing about the letter he found was REALLY not what I intended, but it just kinda' popped up and clicked in my mind. but seriously, guys, POST))

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You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

((Argh! People in the scouting party, I PROMISE it gets interesting - post!))

Atalante turned to look back at the people in the dining hall, and then remembered that Aearion had been intending to write a letter. Thinking that he perhaps was done and needed to get it to a messenger, she snagged her cloak off a hook, and with a glance at the darkening sky set off.

It was a few minutes' wall, and in that time the air seemed to almost grow thick and dim, and Atalante found herself squinting, trying to see. As she turned a corner, she heard footsteps behind her and turned quickly - but there was no one. Though perhaps a shadow had flitted into that alleyway...

Turning, she quickened her pace with a glance over her shoulder. More footsteps now - almost as if they stopped when she did? The girl broke into a run, cloak swirling behind her in the dim air.

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((posts! lol))

Thire urged his horse up until he was even with Meleth. "What's wrong here?" he said in a low voice. "There's something..dark, evil, but I can't put my finger on it."

"Aye, nor can I," replied Meleth, and dismounted. "Now's as good a time as any to send the horses back. We need to get off the road."

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((Do you think you should PM those who are a part of the scouting party? Just a thought...))

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You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

((Yeah, I probably should...))

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((AAAH! Ok, thats it, I am PMing everyone...))

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You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

(Is it too much to ask for a short summery about what has happened? I'm so sorry I havn't posted here. I'll be better, I promise!)