Arodiel

Cuwath crept forward, prowling through the low foliage like mountain lion stalking its prey, using the shadows and the night to their fullest. Melding in with the surroundings, he edged to the nearest tree, from which he had a clear view of the northerner who was examining the old campsite Cuwath´s men used just a couple of days ago.

Several hours passed. Arodiel bought bread and honey at a stall when she got hungry and ate them, sitting on a small wall near where the mule was tied up. Once or twice she tried to start a conversation with a townsperson, but they seemed quite uninterested in talking to a stranger.
When the sun started to ride low in the sky she started to worry. The man had not returned yet, nor had he sent word.
She walked around uncertainly, trying to spot him on the road or in the vale.

"You seem quite happy to leave these lands, Grimm."

Fire.
She was surrounded by flickering firelight, blinding her eyes. Behind it, she could see only darkness. There were shadows moving in front of the light, in front of her, shadows with glowing eyes and dirtied skin.
She screamed, but the sounds wouldn't form. Her mouth was dry as bone. One of the shadows reached out to her, restraining her arms.

Grimm led the horse and mule a while off, removed the burdens and rubbed them off with dead leaves and grass. Then he returned, confident in letting them roam free on the small meadow. A small brook sang a while off, rushing into the vale over the stones.
She crouched down on the blanket, accepting the warmth of the furs gracefully, concentrating on breathing.
"Drink, it will help." He handed her a waterskin.
She sipped carefully. "I'm sorry..."

Just past the noon hour, the maid Arodiel strolled up to the docks, leading an Elven horse by the bridle. For a moment she did not spot the man she was looking for, and a cold shock ran through her - had he spoken in jest, after all? - but then she spotted him loading furs and wares onto a vicious-looking mule. She walked up to him.
"Lord Grimm. Hail."
He cringed a little at the address. "When we are travelling, it is just Grimm, lady."

He returned, as he had promised, on the next day.
Arodiel had exchanged her usual daily lookout on the terrace for a place in the grass, enjoying the early flowers already blossoming here and there amongst the trees.
"You found a lovely place, my lady."
Arodiel turned around with a start. The man had crossed the grass with surprisingly little sound - she had not heard him.
"I suppose it is." She looked up. "You startled me. I was in thoughts."

The elf-town was quiet in the light of the late winter eve; there was no snow to be seen in the mild vale that opened to the sea. The dark-haired woman dressed in elf-clothes sat on a stone bench near the circle of meeting, a bare branch of cherry wood idly twirling in her hands. She looked at it aimlessly, as if she did not know why she had picked it up.
Hearing steps approaching she looked up. But it was just the sentinel doing his rounds, nodding to her politely but uninterestedly as he passed by. She nodded back, but he had already turned his back to her.