While you were out...

[Arwen]

"While you were gone? Whilst you were gone, my friend, Tiire was murdered by a Drow, who was then killed by Shieg. After these deaths, Silas suicided, managing a blow to my head with a rather large rock on the way when I made the attempt to stop this second friend's demise. Whilst you were away still, came myself and Shieg back to the citadel upon my mother's horses. Shieg fell for Aricin, and Kalmyr for Shieg. That is what happened whilst you were gone, Erados, as I have told you once before, what now is there for you to ask me of again?"

((ooooooh... Will finish later... You can start a post now, but I'll add something about him hearing Seremidal. Mwahahahahahaaaaaa))

[Elladan]

"I’m not content with it!" he voiced in a soft but clearly articulated tone, such as to express slight vexation, but not blatantly so, “So it is this that raises the abyss, is it? Causes out little city to speak in vague undertones? As a friend, I am not so convinced, but as a brother, I’ll take your word. However, being so divided, I must ask, is that really all?

His eyes gave one of those cold, piercing glares that seem to go right through a man, passing the mortal shell to gaze into the very heart and spirit, but again it was only a glare. He felt not half so much of that divine power, as it was more of an involuntary instinct; often acquired by those of noble blood, and used much in the name of justice.

[Arwen]

"Erados, what is it that you wish me to say? If you would tell me what it is that's on your mind, perhaps I could give you something more to rest on, but I know of nothing else! In all our years of acquaintance, I have not even thought to lie to you, why would I think to now? Do you know something that I do not, my friend? If so, pray tell, for I obviously do not have knowledge of this! Come to your senses, man, take my word, for I have none other to give! Perhaps it is Shieg--have you seen she and your father? If you had, you would have reason enough for his discomfort. Or is it not Aricin that troubles you?"

Dima had raised a hand to his head, brushing just behind his temple, where the rock had cleaved. It was healing well in this two days. But this stress was giving him a headache...

What was that? Suddenly, his dark brows furrowed, and he lowered his face to the ground, listening rather intently before leaping up to a bench just below Aricin's balcony and the light of his room.
"Quiet, but hence, Erados, come here," he muttered softly, motioning for an approach even whilst lowering his head for silence.
"What are--" Anger? . . .
"Aricin."
"...what are you doing here?"
"Aricin, I--"
"What..."
Bits and pieces of a conversation, from something near anger and panic to confusion, and distress in the voice of the other.
Seremidal?
"What is it? Come, woman, please tell me what's going on!"
"Aricin... Aricin, I... I--need--you..."

He lept to the ground again, suddenly not wishing to hear more, if there be more anyway. Ack... Infernal smacking; that same infernal smacking that had bothered Erados when Tiire and Silas had been together. Seremidal!
He sank to a sitting position on the bench again, head burried in his hands with a heavy sigh. "What next?"

[Elladan]

Erados sat slumping upon the bench, thinking little of the noise, and lent his ears to the vague murmurs that trailed from the window nonchalantly. Then his lobes caught the sound of slight distress, anger, confusion... and he heightened his posture attentively. His face took on an ill pallor, and his stomach churned with a vague disgust.

“I...I–need–you” were the last bits he caught before Dima shuffled down from his perch, sinking beside him in anxiety, heaving that heavy sigh that expressed both of their moods perfectly.

He looked up at the balcony beside him, heaving a sigh of his own, brow and eye both furrowing and squinting as he shuddered in disdain. Alas, for wretched love; love the blindfold, trust the blade. So it was with Aricin’s heart...

What next? “ Either we get dead drunk, or I keep my honour and dance...Does not the former sound sweeter in our humor? Alas, I ‘ll be a gentlemen yet, though my affection grows cold.” he murmured more to himself, looking over at his old friend, pitying him on behalf of his mother. Perhaps the heir of Avalbane was not as bad off as others after all.

He shook Dima's shoulder roughly, but all the more tenderly; some fraternal action he felt obliged to grant in the situation. “Oh, Avalbane...” he sighed.