~Wandering Moon~
.:Running Fire:.

~The day had been a sunny one. But now the sun was setting and had nearly disappeared behind the horizon. Shadows were growing in the small city of Bravaka. Tucked between a high mountain and the sea, Bravaka was a prosperous fishing port and trade flowed freely.
Ithilmir was only passing through she never stayed anywhere long. The woman was clever and quick witted and seemed to make enemies easily. She was also a thief. Ithil (as she was more commonly called) did not steal very often, only when she needed a boost in her budget, but enough that she was branded with that title.
This was another time when she needed money. She selected a fat merchant, he didn't look like he would starve if he lost a few marks. Ithil waited silently between two peddler's stalls, her light frosty blue eyes fixed on her target. She took a deep breath calming her tense nerves. Tying her shoulder length black hair back, she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the market around her. She could smell the fruit that was being sold in the booth to her left. The scent of fresh peaches made her mouth water. She felt a breeze whip through the crowd and down the street sending any loose papers flying. Then the merchant's harsh bellow broke through her calming trance. He was yelling at a group of workers carrying heavy boxes. Ithilmir saw her chance.
With quick fluid movements she snuck her way through the crowd towards the merchant. With a quick snip she had cut the cord the purse was hanging from and was beginning to walk away. Before she knew what was happening, a vice-like hand griped her arm and twisted it behind her back.
"Lord Harnor!" the man called pulling the purse from Ithil's hand. He handed it back to his master. The merchants eyes burned with anger.
"How dare you try to rob me!" He bellowed into her face. Ithil held her breath barley able to stand the rancid smell of his breath. Lord Harnor lifted his hand and brought it down across her face. The blow knocked her to the ground. Dazed, the world spun in a blur around her. Through the haze she felt hot blood seeping from the cut in her lip.
"Take her and put her away!" He continued to yell, kicking Ithil where she lay at his feet. Her head still swirled and she couldn't collect her thoughts. The worker took her and led her, not too gently, to a tall old building. He handed her over to a couple of guards who intern, took her to a dark, damp, foul smelling cell in the basement of the building.

Ithilmir watched as the torch light moved back up the stairs with the guards leaving her in almost complete darkness. Ithil cringed as she felt the slimy floor beneath her feet. The cold was beginning to seep through the wool lining of her soft soled moccasins, slowly inching up her leg. Her face was swelling and probably turning colors. As her eyes became accustom to the darkness she saw a faint silhouette of the bars of her cell. She staggered over to them, the metal was as slimy as the floor and smelled of death and things Ithil forced herself not to think about. If only that man hadn't seen her. Tenebrae take him! She cursed mentally.

Ithil waited till night had sunk deeply into the town. She had found a small window and uncovered it. Peering out she watched the moon rise over the buildings. Turning, the woman walked to the gate. She had found a thin piece of metal lodged with other rubble in the small window that would work for her purpose. Ithilmir slipped the slender piece into the lock and twisted it slowly around. It took her a few moments, but she finally felt the lock click. The door swung open with a deep groan and she slipped silently into the hall. Her side still ached from where that accursed merchant had kicked her and the side of her face was swollen and bruised. But she continued, on ignoring the pain from her protesting muscles.
Staying as close to the wall as she could, Ithilmir moved like a shadow down the hall. She heard voices slowly growing louder the closer to the stairs she came. Creeping up the stairs as silently as a cat she peeked around the corner at the top.
Three men sat engaged in a game of cards at a small round table. the stars must have been shining favorably on the woman, all of the men had their back to her. And to the door. This was the time to act and Ithil, as quickly and as quietly as she could, ran for the door. Before any of the men could do anything, she was out the door and running like the wind down the street.

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.:Narion dropped his bag as quietly as he could from his window to the street below. He felt the chill of night nip coldly at his nose. The street was empty except for a few rats scurrying in the darkness. Narion glanced down the street once more just to be sure, then leapt awkwardly to the ground. He snatched up his pack and began jogging down the alley towards the edge of town. The paved stones were hard and smoothed by the passing of many feet. Here and there a mirror-like puddle of water reflected on its black surface the glistening moon and twinkling stars above.
Narion froze suddenly he thought he had heard something. He quickened his pace to a run. The maid might have come in and seen he was gone. But he would not go back now. Not yet. He had to find help. Someone, something that could stop his uncle. He could only hope his sister and mother would be all right until he returned. It had been his mothers idea for him to run for help. But where he would find this help, he did not yet know.
Soon he lost site of Bravaka between the tall slender trees. Though he was not as wood savvy as he would have liked, he avoided the main road. His uncle would surely search for him. A search he prayed would have no fruit.

The morning light found Narion not even a quarter of the way through the Great Forest north of Bravaka. He had hoped to get farther, but the game trails he tried to follow were winding and would often lead him in the wrong direction. Worry for his mother and sister wracked his mind. But he tried to concentrate on the path before him. He had decided to make for the Caer though it was at the far end of the island.
In the next few days, Narion wandered through the forest. All the trees seemed alike to him and his path was soon lost in thick thorny bushes, his clothes were now ripped and tattered. The once bright blue and dark green tunic and paints he wore were now stained brown on the knees and elbows from crawling and wriggling through the underbrush. Even with all his work he was now trapped in a shallow valley. To either side tightly spaced thorn bushes stood. Beneath their sharp fangs shadows clung and the dark green leaves were so thick they blocked the sun. Even in clear noonday sun he could not find a way through them except to travel deeper along the valley.

That evening he continued to stumble forward through the trees. But he was now so tired he only chose the easiest paths. As he stumbled on he realized too late that his path dead ended with a thick clump of low bushes. But the youth was determined to forage his path through. The shadows were growing at his feet and he didn't see a large rock until he was flying forward towards the ground, his feet too tangled to right himself. He came flying into the clearing and landed on the ground with a thud. He was free of the tanglesome brush! But his cloak was still entwined and he pulled with all his might to free himself with no avail. Finally he put his whole weight on it and the cloak finally gave way. But when he stepped back some large lump tripped him again. The hard ground jarred every bone in his body. He was just about to stand when he herd the bushes move behind him.
"May I ask, sir, what is your business this far into the forest?" a menacing voice asked from behind Narion.

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~Ithilmir finally stopped justout side Bravaca. The moon was now setting behind the tall mountain peeks. The night was cold and frosty. The wind wandered the empty streets but slowed when reaching the sleepy forest. Ithil had left most of her things just within the boundaries of the woods. Collecting them she struck off into the wood. Just in case the fat merchant carried a grudge, she would avoid the main trails.

On the third day she set up her camp in a small clearing. She was in no hurry, being confident that her trail would not be found and was only half way through the Great North Forest. The sun was sinking fast in the evening sky when she heard movement in forest behind her. Silently Ithilmir slipped into the shadows of a large willow. A boy suddenly fell out of the bushes with a thud. His cloak was tangled up in the shrub and he couldn't seem to disentangle himself. Ithil chuckled softly to herself. This boy couldn't be more then thirteen or fourteen. Probably a run away. He was obviously not accustomed to life in the wild: his clothes were torn and mangled, dirt graying the once bright colors. His red hair was equally dirty. Leaves and twigs tangled into the firy locks. It looked like he had tried to pass through the wall of thorns along the valley peaks. He gave his cloak a great pull putting all his weight into it. The cloak came free, but the boy went flying backwards. He would have righted himself, but Ithil had left her pack in the clearing. Tripping over the gray/brown bag the boy landed on the hard ground with a thud. Ithilmir stood and stepped silently into the clearing. This boy seemed harmless, except perhaps for his clumsiness. But she still loosened her dagger in its sheath feeling the cold metal handle in her slender fingers.
"May I ask, sir, what is your business this far into the forest?" she said making her voice strong and almost menacing. The boy turned at the sound of her voice and staggered to his feet.
"My business is my own," he said eyeing her, trying vainly to match her tone. She gave him a hard glare. His words were almost rude, she played on this.
"It is not wise of you to use such tone to strangers so far from home." She pulled her dagger halfway out of its sheath, its edge gleaming like fire in the still bright twilight. Ithil saw the boy gulp, but she had to give him this: he held his ground.
"You tell me yours first and I'll tell you mine!" he finally said with more courage than Ithil thought the boy had in him. She pushed her half uncovered blade back into its sheath with a sharp click and laughed.
"Sit, boy! For that I'll give you some of my meal. Looks like you need it!" The boy sighed with relief and began to sit. "What's your name?"
The youth paused and looked up suspiciously. "Yours first," he said after a brief hesitation.
"Not very trusting, is he?" she spoke her thoughts out loud. Though he was amusing she did not yet know if she could trust him. But...If he was running from someone perhaps he was safe to tell. "Ithilmir," the woman said finally.
"Narion," the boy replied.
"Hmm. Fire Child, is it?" Ithilmir asked without expecting a response, frowning in thought. "Well, boy, speaking of 'fire', let us start one before the night shadow has swallowed the light!" The woman said with a smile.
"Won't the smoke and light attract, well....um"
"Search parties?" Ithil finished for him. "Not here. There is only a mere sliver of the moon left and I doubt any could see through that thorn fence. Let alone get through it if they did," she added eyeing his clothes with amusement. "I do not wish to draw any more attention to my whereabouts as I suspect you do," The woman said leaning towards Narion.
The boy surged. "It was just a thought. I never said I didn't want to be found." Narion tried to be casual, but Ithil's keen mind was more perceptive than that.
"As you wish," she said in a soft tone and turned to collect material for their fire.

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.:Narion sighed as he lay his head down on his pack (the only pillow he had). The ground was hard and rocky beneath him. His back and hips were stiff and sore, the light cloak (the only blanket he had) gave Narion little warmth. He had his back to the fire and the mysterious woman who had kindled it. He could hear her adding more fuel to keep the flames alive. The youth was not all together sure about her or her intentions. She seemed to know far more about him than he did about her. But something told him that he could trust her. For now.
"I will wake you at midnight, to take second watch," He heard her say from across the fire.
"I thought you said no one would see us?" Narion asked, he couldn't hide the slight sarcasm as he glanced over his shoulder. Ithilmir gave him a hard look.
"Only a fool does not put up a watch when chance allows. There are more to watch for in these woods than searchers."

Narion shifted uneasily and turned back to his sleep. But it was long in coming. The youth kept hearing sounds of movement in the darkness just outside the ring of light. He had never thought of things other than men lying in the shadows, now gleaming eyes seemed to be everywhere. After a long while of watching and listening, Narion thought he could take it no more. Every thing seemed to be closing in around him. The trees leaning in, reaching down to smother him. The woods were teeming with hideous eyes.
Then a soft singing began, driving away the thoughts of creatures lurking in the darkness. The sound fell on his ears like silver rain. But its beauty was that of sorrow. And he felt tears sting his eyes as he listened quietly:

Náth cala Tenebris
íet suí néom ramis
Éya! Vigin íet orí
Valé! Cala dolor mar dí
íet Páditis rèon thadé Occasis
páditis io stelya eckro Tenebris

Tethy ea néom ábis tor ama

The words were of an ancient tongue, but the tune... Narion remembered that song from somewhere. Where had he heard that song?

May it be out of darkness
my spirit will take flight
Alas! Guard my heart
Farewell! Out of sorrow into death
My path now leads West
Path to the Stars beyond the darkness

In that place I will wait for you

As the singing continued, Narion found he could not keep his eyes open, he was very weary from his wanderings. And soon he had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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~Ithilmir woke the next morning to find that the boy had nodded off during his watch. She was about to throw a small rock at him to wake him but decided not to. Let him sleep, he was young and not use to the riggers of travel as she was. Especially travel on the run.
When she finally did wake him the sun was just clearing the eastern horizon. The light was a warm golden color even though the two travelers could see small clouds of vapor when they breathed. In the shadows of the trees fine crystal-like frost still clung to leaves and small plants causing the shadows to glitter and sparkle. In the branches overhead the green leaves of the trees were touched with gold and red.
The path Ithil folowed was narrow, but well worn. Signs of game animals were obvious even to the boy. Narion had told her that he was heading for the Caer, but he would not say why. She had agreed to take him to the town of Newlon. Being one of the larger fishing villages, Ithil suspected that a dragon or two might be found there. Or at the very least another guide.

"How much further is it to Newlon?" Narion asked as they set camp in the evening twilight.
The woman thought for a moment. "If we keep this pace...about two days and three nights." The boy sighed fidgeting slightly. Ithil looked up from her newly lit fire and studied him closely.
"Why are you in such a hurry? What's at the Caer that you want so badly?" Narion was silent not looking up at her. "Boy, you might as well tell me. I can see you're a runaway. That is plain enough. But why to the Caer? Do you think to bond a dragon, or find sanctuary? Why are you running from your family?"
"I am not running from my family!" He burst out, his voice rising to almost a shrill note.
"Then what?!"
"My uncle! He isn't even blood related! He married my mother's sister and when my father died we went to live with him, but he's cruel and beats my mother and humiliates us all the time and mother told me to run for help so I decided to head for the Caer because the dragons are so big and powerful and I know they will help us, I know they will!" Narion's words came out in a jumble, crammed together as if he wouldn't be able to get them all out. Ithil moved around the fire and sat next to the boy putting her arms around him, trying to soothe him. "I'm so scared that he will hurt them before I get back!" Narion moaned between gasps.
After a few moments Ithilmir felt the boy take a deep breath trying to bring himself under control. He took another deep shaky breath and moved away, wiping tears from his face. "I need your help to get to the Caer as fast as I can. Will you help me?" he asked now fully in control. Ithil looked at the boy, his features set in ridged determination, with new respect and nodded.

"I will help you."

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