Ghosts - Day 2

[Pinkie]

Haldir had barely slept. Someone who had lived as long as he had didn't really need too much sleep anyway. His cool expression was unreadable as he stood on the highest point in the citadel as the sun started to rise. The city was just beginning to stir beneath but his elf-eyes were set upon the smoke from the East. Orcs.
There were not enough of them however... Haldir couldn't understand why such a small band would be brought to Gondor unless there were more yet to come. The city would be besieged.

Denethor had withdrawn into his study, refusing to acknowledge anything when Haldir visited him. So he would have to go see Boromir instead. And Joe West. They were to meet in the great hall.

There was so much to do and he had such little time to do it which was frustrating because he had been waiting for so long for this moment.

Haldir started down the steps into the citadel's intricately laid out suites, his dark eyes broody and his hands clasped behind his back. The missing device for the portal was a concern but only insofar as getting it back. He knew who had it, and knowing who had it made him know where to find it. As for destroying Sauron... it would involve alot of work by all of them. They would have to retrieve the rings of power from all those who possessed them.

In the back of his mind he did spare a thought for the humans in all this, the ones who would appreciate this great effort for the shortest length of time. Joe West and his team, the Rohirrim girl that had so much hate for him, Faramir and Boromir... they protected their lands and existances valiantly. Haldir had to protect the resting place of his ancestor's - that place where he would eventually go to if he ever succeeded in this task. If he failed then the lands beyond the sea would no longer exist to visit.

The Elf came to the Hall's door just as Faramir also arrived.

"Faramir." he said in greeting.
Faramir smiled brightly at Haldir and inclined his head.
"Haldir." the relief was palpable in the boy's voice.
The Elf gestured for him to walk in first and followed in behind, preparing in his mind already, what was to be done.
Defend the city. Destroy Sauron. Then assist West's team in returning home.

((ooc: that's a bit shit not sure what we're doing though! Were they going to do a bit of fighting at Gondor, then some of them would go try to find the rings of power and then .. faramir was to do something I've forgotten already ))

[Bogwoppit]

((Ooc: Ah sure it's fine I think we should have a bit of a battle here, with the Orcs and stuff that Mouth brung. They can defeat them with C4 or something... Then they can go forth to find Sauron and get the DHD back. Haldir could advise that someone goes to find Aragorn for the sword or something... Ooh I know! Didn't they need all the rings of power to defeat Sauron? They could send someone to the Dwarfs, Faramir could go find Aragorn, Haldir could have the Elves ones safe somewhere...))

[Bogwoppit]

((Ooh no! That was it... they had to go GET the rings from the Elves so they have to get the DHD back somehow to go to the Undying Lands, THEN come back and defeat Sauron with a nuke from Earth ))




West awoke feeling refreshed and ready for the day ahead, the battle ahead. He didn't exactly know what an 'Orc' was, but surely defeating them would be a piece of cake seeing as they only had bows and arrows and his guys had guns and C4.

He was pleasantly surprised to see his clothes neatly laid out for him at the end of his bed, vest and pants washed and dried, and a tray of breakfast waiting for him on a table by the window. He grinned to himself as he dressed. The maids round here must be pretty well trained to have gotten in here and out again without waking him. Either that or he had had more to drink last night than he had realised.

Fed, watered and dressed, he made his way along the endless corridors out into the vast courtyard of which he hadn't seen much the night before. Resisting the urge to walk down to the end of the parapet to look over, he contented himself with taking a deep breath in of morning air as he looked all around himself at the landscape beyond the city. There was smoke out there at the edge of the huge field which stretched to the horizon, smoke and movement. He squinted, and thought he could make out small black shapes moving in formation. There didn't exactly seem like a vast army, more of a vanguard maybe? Too big for a scouting party though.

He shivered in the coolness of the air, and scratched his chest as he turned to walk towards the great hall. Reaching the doors he saw Boromir coming down some steps to his left, and waited for the bearded man.

"Morning," he greeted cheerfully, and opened the door, allowing the steward's son to enter before him.




Boromir was not in quite such a happy mood this morning, such as he was any morning when he had expected company of the feminine kind but had for some reason or other been denied it. He was in a quiet rage, which bubbled just beneath the surface, awaiting the battle to come. He nodded at West, glowering broodingly as he swept through the doors into the hall.

"Haldir," he greeted, barely giving the Elf a glance. "Brother."

He strode across the room in giant strides to stand before Faramir, knowing that the young man would look to him for guidance as he did in any battle situation. He took off his gloves and held them loosely in one hand, slapping them quietly against the palm of the other as he looked around the assembled men.

"Today we must once more face the enemy," he stated, quietly but with great authority, "and today we will once again defeat them."

He looked towards West, raising his chin slightly.

"You have offered your assistance," he reiterated. "You are confident we can overcome them with your superior weapons?"

West nodded, clearing his throat before taking a step forward.

"Yes," he replied firmly. "We have guns, which are far more effective than bows and arrows and are accurate from a great distance. And we have C4, which is an explosive. It can take out many men at once."

Boromir nodded thoughtfully, and turned to the Elf.

"What do you see, Haldir?" he asked. "Will it be as great a battle as we faced before? Will we suffer losses?"

[Pinkie]

Thrace felt no better this morning than she had last night. She had a lovely bruise across her shoulders though, faint but there. And another lovely shiner on her cheekbone where Lake had struck her initially. She stood in front of the mirror in her room looking at her face critically. She was so pissed off at Lake, she was so fucking annoyed with him for calling her a whore. She wasn't entirely sure she could stop herself from thumping him today when she saw him. The blonde shut her hazel eyes and groaned at the thoughts of seeing Lake. She knew that she shouldn't let him affect her so much but she couldn't help it - he had gotten in under her skin. He had been an itch that she had scratched too hard and now she was left with a scar for it.
Irritating.

Thrace dressed, zipping her jacket up to hide the rip in her vest underneath. It was only a slight tear along the side seam but she was paranoid about it. She didn't want to give Lake anything to remind him of last night. Let the fucker get the full force of her chilly shoulder. Snatching a roll of some kind of peculiar bread, Thrace made her way out of the room and bumped into Kawalsky. He looked a bit ...

"You look like shit." Thrace said, matter-of-factly, around a mouthful of bread.
The tall airman glowered down at Thrace, shrugging uncomfortably under her intense, hazel eyes.
"What happened your eye?" he asked, gesturing to the bruise just beneath it. He gave a smug grin at the way her expression dropped suddenly and her eyes shot forward.
"Nothing." the blonde said, feeling the bread stick in teh middle of her neck uncomfortably.

The two walked into the room together - they were one of the first people there. Thrace slinked into a shadowy corner and leaned her shoulders up against the wall, leaning back and watching the show. Kawalsky remained stoic in teh centre of the room, arms folded.

[Pinkie]

Haldir listened as Boromir informed those gathered that they would be fighting today. It should have come as more of a surprise, the Elf thought sadly, looking around at the grim faces of men who had fought in previous battles. Captains and officers who would be leading the forces against Sauron the Deceiver. It was an advantage that so many had fought in the last battle, but Haldir found it sorrowful that thye were being called on again so soon. There was a sense of unease in the room when West spoke of these unusual weapons. It wuold be impossible to tell, but Haldir was delighted to hear the Major speak of such weapons!
It must be for this reason that these strangers were needed in order to defeat the Dark Lord.

The Elf lifted his chin when addressed by Boromir. His dark eyes narrowed a little and he looked off to the side.

"It will not be as before, Lord Boromir." Haldir said knowingly. He took a deep breath, his unfathomably deep eyes looking around the room at every individual, seeming to be able to read their minds as he went. People shuffled their feet uncomforatbly, looking away in some instances, others were rivetted to his dark gaze. Finally, Haldir came to look at Boromir.

"It will be a longer battle but the loss of life will be tiny in comparison if we do this right." and now he launched into his explanation of what had to be done - what these strangers had to do. "We need to destroy Sauron. I don't just mean his power, I mean we need to destroy the actual dark source of Sauron. Joe West and his team are the keys but we all have a part to play. To destroy Sauron we will need all the rings of power.." and with that, Haldir pulled a chain from around his neck, hanging on the end was one of the rings of power. Galadriel's. She had given it to him should he ever need it in the years between her leaving Middle Earth and Haldir leaving to join her. "This is just one of the rings of power. Seven to the dwarf lords. Nine to men. Three to Elven kind. Once the rings are gathered they must be struck by Isildur's blade. Aragorn's blade..." almond eyes looked towards Faramir at the mention of Isildur's heir. "Aragorn's blade and the broken rings must then be cast into the fires of mount doom. Only then will Sauron be defeated."

Haldir let the silence linger in the room all around them.
He turned to pace towards the dais and lifted his eyes to the King's chair.
"Someone has to bring Aragorn here. Someone has to travel to the mountain kingdoms to retrieve the rings from the dwarf lords. An army needs to destroy the Nazgul, the nine... and take their rings. And someone has to go to the undying lands and bring the Elven rings of power back to Middle Earth."

[Bogwoppit]

((Ooc: I'm assuming Thrace and Kawalsky are in the great hall with everyone else yes?))

Lake was late. He felt like shit and he was late. How could he have a hangover from that shit he was drinking last night? It wasn't even real alcohol!

He felt so crap and was so late that he was halfway through throwing his clothes on before he remembered why he had a niggling feeling of 'wrongness' in the pit of his stomach.

"Shit," he breathed quietly when the memory hit him, and he swung round to look at the door as though she might still be there.

His mind was racing as he finished dressing, but by the time he had reached the great hall he had almost convinced himself that it hadn't meant anything. Well, it hadn't, not to him, and it wouldn't have done to her either. She would probably only remember his name because they were on the same team, otherwise he would be forgotten along with all the other dickheads she had shagged. Which was fine by him. He just wanted to forget it had ever happened. It didn't mean a thing to him... It didn't.

He paused at the door, and took a deep breath, letting it out shakily before straightening and walking into the room. He knew she was there, he could feel her eyes boring into his skull even as he fixed his eyes on the floor. She hated him... but that was no different than usual, she had always hated him, and he didn't give a fuck. He wasn't about to let her see that he felt bad about it, guilty. Although why he should feel guilty he had no idea. It wasn't as though he had forced her into it, not really. She had been enjoying it as much as he had.

And therein lay the problem -- he had enjoyed it, a lot. He couldn't stop thinking about the way she had felt, about the excitement of the roughness of it all. It had been fucking good... she must have felt that too, it couldn't have been one sided, not to feel that good...

He glanced up briefly to see Kawalsky standing just in front of him, and looked round towards the wall as he stopped walking. Ah... there she was, and yep, if looks could kill...

Well he wasn't about to give her the chance of holding anything over him, so he smirked, looking her over briefly with a knowing smile before turning away to listen to what was being said.

[Bogwoppit]

Eledhwen stood silently at the back of the hall, tense and tired. She hadn't slept well after Kawalsky had left her, and she felt bad about the way he had left, thinking she didn't... like him? Trust him? What?

She saw him come in, with the blonde woman, Thrace, and hesitated to go over to them. Eledhwen liked Thrace, well, respected her at least. She was a warrior of sorts just as Eledhwen was, and she looked as though she could fight and win against any man. Eledhwen liked that; she had no time for weak women, women who needed a man to protect them. The women of Rohan were strong and able, unlike the women she had seen here so far. Like that silly Elendur girl, the steward's daughter. Eledhwen had sussed her out the moment she set eyes on her. She reminded her a little of Eowyn, plying men with her feminine charms to get what she wanted, then denying what a man desired most. But of course Eowyn could at least handle a sword. She was of Rohan, and if Eledhwen disliked her then she could never admit it.

Eledhwen would never use her charms, such as they were, on a man to get what she wanted. Her virtue was her own and so it would stay, not compromised in any way until she met a man she could love and be loved by in return.

She watched Kawalsky for a moment, until he was joined by the older man, Lake, who did not look at all well. Eledhwen couldn't help but smile. Often men were caught out by the strength and potency of the local brew. Men from Bree, travelling through Rohan, had more often than not had to stay an extra day to recover when they had sampled the famous Rohan mead, and she knew her people supplied Gondor, so this Lake must be feeling very bad indeed. Served him right.

As she looked her attention was drawn by the sound of a soft, melodious voice which drifted around the hall, not speaking loudly by any means, and yet still reaching the very corners of the vast room. Haldir... Without her consent her eyes fell upon him, and she was mesmerized. He stood in a pool of sunshine which fell through the window behind him, and it was as though he glowed with an inner light. For long moments she watched as though in a trance as he spoke of the strategy they must employ to defeat the enemy. But she heard nothing of what he said, his words simply washing over her like a warm mountain spring.

Then Boromir spoke once more, and Eledhwen snapped out of her reverie, frowning around at those men closest to her to be sure they had not witnessed her stupidity. Of course, that had to have been one of the Elf's dark spells, cast over the gathered army so as to convince them of his plan. That was it, he knew that the men of Gondor would not follow him blindly, who would? He was an Elf, and so he had to cast a spell over them all to make them listen. Well Eledhwen would not be so easily be drawn in. If he asked her to play a part in all of this she would refuse. Why should she be drawn into a battle that was not hers to fight? She had another agenda, and already she had been turned from her path for too long.

But then she remembered that Haldir was probably the only person in the whole of Middle Earth who knew how to reach her father, and hadn't she heard him mention something about going to the Undying Lands? She would volunteer for that mission. She would go with them there and then she could look for her father.

[Bogwoppit]

"Battle? The women and children stayed in the citadel during the War of the Ring. There is nowhere safe if the citadel is not safe. Are you sure? They are coming here... ? today?"

Oh now look... him and his big mouth, he had frightened her. When was he going to learn to be a bit tactful?

He stared up at the girl as she wobbled before him and sank to her knees, the light touch of her small hand on his knee sending shivers straight to his groin. He swallowed, and thought about cold showers for a minute to calm himself. This was no time to be thinking improper thoughts about someone so young and obviously in need of comfort. Awkwardly he reached out one hand to pat hers, finally resting it on top of her fingers as he took his glasses from her with his other hand. All he needed was for her to break them. He smiled briefly, and laid the glasses beside him on the bed, looking at her with a worried expression all the while.

"It's ok, don't worry," he began, knowing that was about the stupidest thing he had ever said. Of course she was going to worry, he had just told her they were all going to die a horrible death. "Erm, look, it will be ok, alright? We erm..."

He paused to clear his throat, and had a sudden image of some cartoon superhero flash across his mind, jumping up with hands on hips shouting, "Don't worry, I'll save you!"

He frowned, and straightened slightly, firmly quelling the slightly hysterical bubble of laughter which threatened to erupt.

"We're here this time," he reassured her, still thinking he sounded pretty pretentious. "We... I... won't let anything happen to you. We have big guns... and stuff..."

His eyes went to the gun on his bedside table, and he huffed out a short breath of laughter. Did he say big guns? Well, hopefully by now all the P90s would be back with West too, and he knew they had plenty of C4 between them... well, not plenty but... enough... hopefully...

He glanced at his watch, blue eyes widening as he realised the time.

"Oh. Look, I have to go erm... meet my boss," he stammered, almost pushing her over as he stood up. "But don't worry, I'll erm..."

He wanted to tell her would come and find her, take her somewhere safe, protect her with his life. Was this how real heroes felt? But he didn't dare. It would surely sound even more stupid.

After looking at her for a long minute, torn between having to go and wanting to ask her to wait for him or some other such equally sloppy rubbish, he made up his mind and turned towards the door. His mouth was set in a determined line, and he threw her a smile over his shoulder as he went. Then he realised that he was still half naked, and turned back to grab his shirt and jacket off the bed, glancing at Mari sheepishly as he pulled the shirt over his head.

[Bogwoppit]

Boromir listened to all that Haldir had to say, only occassionally nodding in agreement with the Elf. He knew that this time they had to be sure of victory, that it would be a long, hard battle, with no guarantee of peace at the end of it. So many things depended on so many people, not least these newcomers who were supposed to have been prophesied.

He arched a surprised eyebrow at the mention of Aragorn, and automatically glanced at his little brother who stood beside him. What would be Faramir's thoughts on this course of action? Boromir could not think that he would be happy at such a meeting, but if it had to be done then Faramir would bite his tongue for the greater good Boromir knew. Of course, he would not be able to go after the supposed king. Not Faramir, Boromir would not ask that of him... and yet... Who else knew in which direction Aragorn might head? They had once been close, the Dunedain and the youngest son of the steward. Perhaps he had told Faramir things that he had told no one else before he betrayed them all so deeply with the white witch Eowyn.

Obviously Haldir would have to be the one to go to the Undying Lands. No one else would be allowed to enter, but, what about the other quests? Who would go to the Dwarfs? Who would be able to defeat the Nazgul? He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. He would be the one for that last task, obviously. He and his men would travel to Minis Morgul to defeat the undead kings of old and bring back the nine rings. He glanced around the room, slowly becoming aware that everyone was waiting for him to speak, and he stepped forward.

"Men," he began, his deep voice confident and proud. "We have defeated this enemy before, we can defeat him again. Today we fight, and today we drive back those who dare to approach the great city of Gondor!"

A cheer went up from the waiting army, and Boromir felt his heart soar as it always did when he thought of the undying bravery of his men. He turned to Haldir, including West as he spoke quietly.

"Let us first drive away this onslaught," he said, comfortably taking charge of the situation. "And after that we will divide ourselves into groups to seek what must be found."

He looked at Faramir, then back at Haldir.

"We will win this time, for good," he said firmly. "I can sense it."

With that he straightened up to face the hall once more.

"To arms, men," he cried, and the men cheered once more as they exited to prepare for battle.

((Ooc: I hate hanging about waiting for things to happen, but if you want Haldir or Faramir to add something before they all disappear just pretend Bozza said that afterwards!! And I SO wanted him to shout, "To me, chosen men!" ))

[Pinkie]

((ooc: whoa you were busy! -- I'll do a bit of posting later on! I might be going back to work tomorrow, definitely having a training day at least ! yay ))

[Pinkie]

It wasn't fear that created a reluctance in Faramir. It was a dread of battle. Of life lost, of families broken, of hurt, loss and suffering. It seemed that the people in the room didn't quite pick up on that - they were all focussed on what had to be done today, with little to no reservations about it. There would be wholesale slaughter and some of them might die. Didn't that bother any of them?
What if the people they care for were injured? killed?!

The younger son of the steward had to really focus on what was being said and stop looking ahead to what might be. He focussd his blue eyes on Haldir as the Elf spoke, then bowed his head, listening intently. It was a good thing his head was bowed because the mention of Aragorn caused an involuntary flash of hurt and jealousy to course across his features. Faramir was aware that people were looking at him so he made a point not to react, keeping his expression pensive and alert.

But the thoughts of it! The thoughts of seeing that honourable man ... and Eowyn, gods, of seeing his wife so intent and adoring of him. Faramir couldnt ever hate Aragorn for what had transpired in the years since the War of the Ring. He couldn't blame the rightful King of Gondor because he had not encouraged Eowyn. It was simply that the woman wanted someone other than the man she had sworn to love.

When Faramir did lift his head his face was composed, he was ready to be scrutinsed by all who looked to see if he was falling apart.

"I will bring Aragorn to Gondor." Faramir announced. All were quiet, all were wary about his motives. Faramir gave nothing away though. He just knew that this was what he had to do. He knew where to find Aragorn.

Boromir saved him from all intense gazes however when he stepped forward to call the men of Gondor to arms. Faramir released a relieved breath and swallowed hard. He was not going to enjoy the next few weeks -- perhaps it would be easier to be killed in this battle!

[Pinkie]

Gypsy had been the first person in the great hall. She had had a restless night and it showed on her face. Heavy, dark shadows lined the delicate skin beneath her eyes which, though still their vibrant, dark selves, seemed just a little too bright, a little too alert. Only flashes of the nightmare had been left when she woke up this morning, her throat sore from crying in her sleep. She knew Mark had been in her dreams, and Tomas, but only vaguely could she recall in what respect they had featured. She would have given anything to be able to stand under a hot shower for half an hour on waking but all that was available was a tub of warm water, a cloth and some breakfast.

She was standing near a window of the great hall, looking out discreetly at the small army that had been gathered. It was impressive - like something out of the middle ages she thought to herself. She had an apple in her hands, chewing it non-chalantly, not really tasting it though it was probably the best apple she had ever eaten. Whenever anyone came into the room she was looking up, alert and wary to see who it was. She wouldn't admit it quite in this fashion but, Gypsy was waiting for Mark.
Once he showed up she smiled at him, her seraphic face alight if a little tense about the edges as she skipped over towards him.

"Mornin'!" the young woman chimed cheerily, her shoulders set at a lower, more relaxed level now, her dark hair, as always, jutting out at strange angles and her brown eyes gentle, encouraging. "Sleep well?" she asked, turning around to stand next to Mark, hands stuffed in her pockets. She glanced sideways at him, wondering at his expression and wishing she had paid a bit more attention so she could read him a little better. Her attention was drawn away from Mark before he could even answer as the Elf started to speak. A part of Gypsy was dreading this whole thing - she wasn't really used to going off-world, but another part of her was excited about it. She knew she was a valuable asset to any team. And it would give her more time away from Tomas too. That couldn't be a bad thing.

When Boromir cried out for his men to come to arms, Gypsy jumped inadvertently and then snorted in shaky amusement at her edginess. She glanced up at Mark and shrugged her shoulders at him, her expression impish and sweet.

"It's like something out of a tv show isnt it? Or a fantasy novel..." the woman noted with a wry smile, her heart thudding heavy in her chest, the excitement starting to overshadow her edginess.

[Pinkie]

Kawalsky looked stressed. His brow was furrowed darkly and his yellow eyes were a little wild as he looked around the place at all the people he would be fighting with. Only a handful of them did he trust. And even fewer did he like and think worthy of fighting with. His arms were folded over his broad chest and his hands gripped his firm upper arms hard, fingers almost creaking with the effort to stay still and calm, to not let the scent wafting from the open windows affect him the way it was trying to.

The fetid stench of whatever those beasts were, orcs he had heard them called, was like waving a kitten in front of the werewolf. He could feel the hairs on the nape of his neck standing on end and there was a familiar, anxious feeling in all his muscles that usually preceded his transformation. But he was getting better and better at staving it off, he liked to think.

Yellow eyes shifted to the door when Thrace stiffened next to him. She was almost as edgy as he was, and there was something in the way she held herself that made Kawalsky... worry. A little. It wasn't like Thrace to be so ... dour. Normally she would be joking and swearing by now. But instead she stood awkwardly. And it got worse when Lake walked in. Kawalsky's sensitive nose picked up a peculiar scent from her when she saw him - it was like acid, a burning smell. He shook his head to dispel the scent from his nostrils and focussed on the Elf. He didn't like the Elf. His yellow gaze looked beyond the Elf to Eledhwen and he gave her a tense smile which never reached his eyes.

He moved his eyes from her fairly quickly, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and idiocy for going near her at all last night. And worse! For telling her what he wanted as few people as possible to know. Of course that caution would be scrapped once the fighting started.
Kawalsky stored the information the Elf gave them and nodded his head when Boromir shouted for them to march out, he stepped in beside West. He had his rifle slung across his back so pulled it around to the front and stooped his shoulders a little to talk to his CO.

"Sir .. these things... they don't smell right." Kawalsky said quietly, between gritted teeth. The sun was shining down on them when they exitted out into the city streets, moving with the army around to the walls where tehy would make their stand. "They're like... animals but not. " he stopped, realising what he had said could be applied to himself. He sighed, swallowing his other concerns about the oncoming army. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the Elf standign in the hall with Eledhwen... just the two of them. A surge of protectiveness washed through Kawalsky and he turned, thinking to go back. But there were too many behind him and he was carried away by the mob, his anxious gaze ripped from the two aliens as they turned a corner.

Exasperated, Kawalsky looked back at West.
"C4?" he asked huskily, offering to be the one that would go out and lay the C4. On his own Kawalsky was probably one of the most able fighters amongst them - his impure blood allowing him certain advantages that normal humans, and even these alien humanoids, could not possibly hope to achieve.

Haldir did not show it, but there was a lift in his spirits when Boromir declared they would be victorious. The man could rally an army out of an orphanage with his battle speeches. The Elf watched West and his team, their hope to save Middle Earth. Already Haldir knew who would go where looking for what. He was relieved when Faramir volunteered to find Aragorn. It would leave himself and Boromir to go retrieve the rings from all corners of Middle Earth. And Beyond.

Knowing what he knew of Eledhwen, Haldir looked over at her discreetly to watch her reaction. She seemed to be no more agitated now than other times before. Attuned to those around him, Haldir could perceive her dedication to this mission waning and then waxing forth again. It made him curious. What had made her sway and then come back to them? Figuratively of course.
When the rest left, Haldir remained poised and then stepped forward, in front of her. His shrewd, dark eyes peered down at her, the barest hint of a smile around his lips.

"What is your purpose with us, Eledhwen?" Haldir asked simply, his musical voice barely above a whisper but concentrated down at her.

[Pinkie]

Thrace wanted to go over and smack him right in the face. She wanted to give him the finger. She wanted to pull out her sidearm and at the very least, point it to his head and make him apologise. But it would get her nowhere. He was a cold hearted bastard that didn't know his arse from his elbow. He thought he was so fucking good in teh sack? Well, she'd had better. At least she tried to convince herself she had. Lake had made her feel so damn alive last night, she had almost completely forgotten that Mark had shown up at all. Except now, when he walked into teh room, her hazel eyes were drawn to him. Inevitably.

Her brow furrowed when Calvin traipsed up to him grinning like a little elf. In fact, that is what the girl reminded Thrace of. A bloody imp, or an elf. She could be Haldir's distant cousin somewhere along the family line. The thought made Thrace smirk to herself, she met Mark's eyes and smirked a little more, looking away from him. Inadvertently her eyes slipped back to Lake and she glowered.
As Boromir started to talk Thrace didn't even spare him a glance. Hard to believe she had been so irate over not fucking him last night. Now she wasn't sure if she wanted to at all.

When everyone started streamign out of the place, Thrace was thinking of going to Mark to talk to him about Molly, but the she-elf was still with him. The blonde rolled her eyes and looked at Lake.
She had two options.
One was to ignore the fucker altogether, to not engage with him at all.
Or two.. she could pretend nothing happened at all. That sounded more like her attitude. So, plucking up her courage, Thrace walked over to Lake and gave him a petulant smile, a flinty, dangerous light to her eyes.

"Sleep well, Sir? I hope that bruise didn't keep you up..." Thrace said insolently, walking beside him as they all marched out into the open. It was a lovely day, ironically enough. She didn't feel the heat of the sun hit her bones though. She felt detached from herself inside, keeping a part of her locked up to stop her thumping Lake. God only knew how long that restraint wuold last.

[Bogwoppit]

Mark had slept... adequately. Not well - he had woken once or twice in the night, but well enough to feel ok this morning. He was a little concerned about seeing Katee again, and moreso about having to spend the next few days in her company without her thinking up some way of making his life hell, but on the whole he was happy enough.

Or he would have been if it wasn't for the fact that they looked as though they were about to go to war. He wasn't a soldier. He was fit, sure, he could use a gun if he had to, but he wasn't cut out for battle like these great hulking guys all around him and standing outside obviously were.

He wasn't going to look for or at Thrace, although he already knew exactly where she was standing; it was as though his instincts were tuned in to her whereabouts.

"Mornin'! Sleep well?"

The voice beside him made him jump, and he turned to see Gypsy standing beside him. He smiled, and was about to speak to her when the guy who seemed to be in charge began to talk again, rallying the troups.

Really, if you stopped to think about it, this was pretty awesome stuff - a vast white castle, hoards of baddies coming across the plains at this very moment to kill them all, men preparing to fight and die for their women and their homes...

"It's like something out of a tv show isnt it? Or a fantasy novel..."

He smiled and blew out a small laugh at her almost identical thoughts, and looked down at her once more. He had deliberately refused to think about what had happened, or almost happened, last night. If he didn't make anything of it then it wouldn't become a problem, and Gypsy certainly wasn't behaving as though anything was wrong, although when he studied her closely he saw the tension around her eyes. He frowned a little, reaching out to touch her shoulder in a friendly gesture.

"It is," he smiled softly. "Are you ok? You look a little tired."