Rochir left quickly. He didn't know what to do.

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<center>
"I think I'm adorable."
~Dean Winchester~
</center>

"The phantom." Fearan muttered. "I should have known." He had heard horrible stories about thier doings, and had even been a witness at one. "You tried to convince me, earn my pity, by telling me lies that have most likely been commited by you!?" His voice was soft, but he couldn't keep the harshness out. He watched as she wavered from blood loss. Part of him yearned to watch her death take her. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't let you die." Fearan growled.

Deawen instinctivly closed her palm covering the mark. " I did not earn your pity I told you i didn't want it. The story was not to convince you but to distract you if you must know. " SHe retorted with calmness but her expression changed she shut her eyes and spoke very softly " Phantoms only hate Gondorians everyone else they leave alone. I am not The phantom I am A phantom, " " though not by my choice" Deawen added opening her eyes. she looked at Fearan with one eyebrow raised in question " you don't have to save me...that is your choice..." Deawen stopped as she grew dizzy. " I will not beg for my life, If that is what you are asking That would be degrading" Deawen stated

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Rochir examined a cut a dagger had given him. The blood was all dried, so he need not have worried about it for long.

_________________

<center>
"I think I'm adorable."
~Dean Winchester~
</center>

"Enough." Arandur said briskly, "there has been to much killing done this day." He called two clerics over, instructing them to help Deawen. "I trust you will not abuse the hospitality, Lady." He said to her, note of hardness in his voice. Turning to Elegost he said, "No point in trying to go further today. I'll have then pitch camp a mile or two from here."

Deawen shook her head slightly. she made a quick glance of the two that came up. with each one either side they helped Deawen up, after a mile of walking they came upon the main host Deawen grew nervous but tried not to show it. they stopped at a tent that was already constructed for the wounded. The cries of the dying and wounded fell upon Deawen's ears but did not effect her it was as if she could not hear them. Deawen was placed at the far end of the tent were other cases like hers were. Deawen asked for a knife of some sort the surgeons were heisitant unsure of her intentions they gave her a crude knfe and she began to cut her shirt around her wound, To save modesty. as they cleansed and stiched the wound Deawen sat silently she looked very pale from loss of blood or some hidden fear. She made no noise as they stitched the wound shut. when it was over Deawen sewed her shirt back up but with difficulty her fingers were slow and unresponsive. the surgeons moved her to the other end of the tent on a low lying cot. the two surgeons feared Deawen wouldn't survive the northern night she had lost too much blood. but Deawen was stronger than she looked.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

( I think i have some one that would like to join)
The night was torture for Deawen, a fever had set in from her wounds the surgeons tried to make her more comfortable but everytime one would come close she would snapp at them like a wounded or trapped animal.
chills and pain swept over her one after the other.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Fearan watched as Deawen was led away. "I must go now" He said, mounting Storm and galloping off. However, that night, a strange feeling off regret filled him, so much so that he quickly made way towards the camp where Deawen lay. It was late at night when he arrived. Finding the tent where she lay, he quietly snuck in, to find Deawen in a sickly sleep.

(Hi, I was just reading this post over Deawen's shoulder, and I was intrigued. I think that this character shouldn't mess anything up too much. If so, I can tone it down a bit.)
"Just what do you think you are doing, sir?" asked a voice from the shadows. She stood, the moonlight barely showing the outline of her face.

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

( i hope the others come back)

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Deawen's eyes slowly slid open when Fearan entered, she was glad to be awake it kept the dreams away and kept the Other( Morwen) from sneaking a cold cloth on her forhead or herbs down her throat . ", come to see if I had died yet?" She asked Fearan hoarsly, Her brow was covered in sweat from her fever her eyes wern't as bright as they once were but they still held the fire that warned anything that moved to leave her alone.Though THe Other didn't seem to heed her warnings and threats but made her own warnings and threats to make Deawen misirable if she didn't stop protesting.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

"No, not quite." He said to Deawen, then slowly turned to the woman who was behind him. She was partly shadowed, with the rest of her outlined in moonlight. "What am I doing here?" Fearan asked. "Oh..meandering, I guess. Is this not a good place to meander?" The slight bit of humour (hidden behind a somber exterior) was a common tatic Fearan employed to put others off gaurd.

"It is not. I would prefer if I was consulted before people come barging in upon my convalescents," said the woman, catching the humor and smiling just a bit. "I am Maenel, the healer in charge of this particular captive." She stepped into the moonlight and made a small bow.

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

Deawen Rolled her eyes at Fearan " a Man like you doesn't Meander, " she said slowly sitting up " Rangers don't Meander they have purpose with every little detail " she contunied plucking a stray string from her shirt. she gave Maenel a sharp look and made a snorting nose. Deawen slowly laid back as a cold chill rushed over her she burrowed deeper under the pelts her teeth chattered slightly but all she did was scowl at the two of them.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Maenel went to the guttering fire and put on another log and swung a small cauldron back over the flames that sprang up. An herbal aroma began to fill the tent. To Deawen she said, "Let me put a rag on your forehead. You will feel better."

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

Deawen tensed as the Other moved across the tent as if she was ready to spring the moment the Other appraoched her. " I'll live without it " she said with another snort.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home