Kizár Elená Durin · @SilmarilNaro
20th Aug 2015 from TwitLonger
Firestar of Thedas Alt-verse.
Elenaria stepped out of the hunt being used as a prison, breathing heavily. Glancing around, she saw the snow, the people rushing about madly, the sky torn open with green light.
She should go to check on her companions again, she thought, tilting her head to listen to the strange singing in the back of her mind. The song did not sound quite... *right*, ever so slightly off-tune, just a little bit off-rhythm. Her attention turned to a different sense and she touched the lifelines she held onto. No, they were stable - Kélan, Levyn and Daylen's minds were awake and clear.
That was more than she could say for the man she had just left the side of.
She had not witnessed it directly but she had heard what had been reported, he had stumbled out of the Fade, a shining feminine figure glimpsed behind him for a moment. At first she had dismissed the claim of the figure but then Leliana had come to find her, speaking of the man speaking Quenya in his sleep, muttering about fallen stars... stars of fire. That had brought Elenaria to the rough cell to check on him.
She had all but ignored the elf apostate who was already trying to tend the piece of Fade magic in the man's hand, instead turning her attention to her own observations. He had dark, olive-toned skin, black hair, and when she took a moment to pry open an eye, the recognisable purple tone of a native of Helcar, the lands coast of the great inland sea far to the East in Middle Earth.
This man was from Arda, somehow sent here, for some reason.
The mark on his hand flared and spat sparks of green and white. The white drew her attention and she reached over to where the apostate was holding it, placing her own hand over it while ignoring the elf's comments. Turning her spirit senses on it she looked into it... There! Fire, *white* fire, *silmaril* fire, tangled into the Fade energy, holding it rooted there and... a trail... her fingers followed the line she sensed, up the arm, over the shoulder to feel...
Who was he? Where, or *when* did he come from? There was another piece of White Fire there, buried in his spirit, his very soul. The fire was familiar to her in a way that even the line from hand. That line was her sister's fire, but this, this was her own fire.
She had sat back at that point, puzzled, as she was quite sure that she had never met him before. Back in Arda she and her sisters had avoided the Men who had come to serve Melkor in Angband, wary of their presence, not sure what to make of these people who could willingly come to Morgoth without being changed by the Dark the way they knew other races had.
There had to be a way to find out, and as the mark and the dim background noise from outside flared again she sunk back into her spirit senses, once again looking into him, reaching the piece of fire that echoed with her own soul, reaching to touch it, maybe even find out if it carried any memories...
Elenaria slumped against the wall as she recalled. She had been right, the fire within the man had traces of memories, though they were patchy and fleeting. A sense of Lossanárë not being there, a momentary flash of beautiful, dark-haired elven woman holding her, the Eastern man sitting on rocks, not far away, listening to them singing. A caved-in passageway, the man buried, worry, pain, desperation... love, caring, memories...
And then there had been flashes of things she knew, memories of memories. Neria, alienages, Ethiliel, Kinloch, Alistair when he was younger, pulling Losá out of the Urn of Sacred Ashes, Kélan, Jowan, the Archdemon, Vigil's Keep, Soldier's Peak, Deep Roads... and here. Now. sitting over *Shangraile*, looking into him, standing beside him, fighting enemies... caring for him, loving him.
She had seen a glimpse of her own future, both her future when she returned home evetually and her future here, now, in the days right in front of her. Her soul belonged elsewhere, but could she truly love, here and now? She had not given her heart to anyone since things with Alistair had ended, holding things with Kélan to friendship and Nathaniel to only physical comfort.
But then, it was not like she would walk away. The world was in danger, the very sky torn open, and if that elf, Solas, was making any sense, the mark on Shangraile's hand was linked to the Breach. Likely the displaced Easterling would need aid, and the support of someone from Arda would be of great help.
And if something happened between them... she would wait and see.