The deer paws at the moist grass, dew flying like diamonds in the moonlight. He tries to feign himself grazing, his dark crowned head lowering with the thought. But he can only snort at the winter grasses. Dropping the interest as soon as it came. For hours he does this. Wandering about in the center of this maze. Waiting. White snipped nose quivers in the mists, snorting his unease, and ears quivering with his fears. His only relief came only once in a while as he would stop, take a deep breath, and look up. Nothing but the moon above moved. And he would tremble and look down again. He should have been here hours ago. He should be here….He should…

The horizon grew lighter, the night was ending, and with it, the deer’s hopes. He now stood by a hedge, beneath its great boughs a wolf hide lay spread, with a crown awaiting its bearer. The deer lay beside the cloak, his pale eyes wet, and then he curled away from the waking world.

”Haldir-“ The dark deer leapt up. His cheeks stained dark but hope lining his rimmed eyes. ”Here!” His desperate call rang out for he could feel the weak quiver of the call, and his heart sank deep. The deer rushed to the open meadow, his eyes searching the morning, but no sound or move came. Haldir’s bark rings out, panicked.

Then the sun breaks the horizon, and the golden light blooms, and he is there. The golden sun.


”Hal-“But it is not as it should be. Black feathers are flying from out of nowhere, fluttering to the earth and blowing away into dust. The tension lining the dark deer grows. No sound comes from the creature letting the feathers fly and the deer trembles. Then, there! A rustle of the mists and an indention in the grasses. With his heart in his throat the deer rushes to the shape in the grass.

When the cloak is pulled back the dark stag can only moan in shared agony. A form of a bay bird shivers as the cloak reveals him. But it a shadow. The illusion can barely hold itself together, the vision shifting, flickering, begging to be let go, begging to end it. Cuts, scrapes, and blood stained the body, and the breath rises gasping, yet shallow. ”Hal-“ And the deer sunk to his knees, his heart still quivering. ”He-….Hen varna?” [She safe?] Came the jagged question to the deer. Rough and broken. ”La gwend, la… forod…”[Yes bonded, yes north] Came the trembling answer, for he had seen the rosen girl turn north and that was all he was asked to do. And then the bay sides heave heavy, and sigh long, not rising for some time.

The sun rose overhead slowly, but the mists shifted, distorting, leaving a pale world in the maze. The deer didn’t notice. His pale eyes saw only the still flickering bay creature. On various cuts a suave was rubbed by the deer’s gentle touch, relieved to see the golden within hiss and groan, knowing it meant he lived. Yet the dark stag could not ask it of his bonded to move or speak. How many nights before this had the golden slept? How many long days of strain did the mountains hold them for? How could he wake his bonded, even just to move him. For months the golden had barely lived, and the cost of freedom was more than he had ever intended.

At midday the Bay creature finally moves. His eyes slowly open like a drunkard, the sea blue within grey and lifeless. His breath grows quick, building, and then holding, before sighing deep. The flickering vision of the bay begins to fade, the dust falling away. But it does not fall away in relief. A cry catches in his throat as feather tremble and sink back into his flesh, and his whole body cringes with pain, until at last the golden. That proud and free golden lay broken and defenseless under the midday sun. And yet so great was his weariness that even about his neck the small token was lost to touch. The metal hawk, given so long ago, awaken, gleaming colder than ice.

Haldir can only watch, helpless. His eyes roll over the cut body, worn from its life. It will recover, but it needed rest, and relief. It needed….An idea came to the dark stag and he turns to the hollow in the hedge. He returns with a small trinket, and with great care only love can allow slips it over the golden’s horns. The circlet slides into place, home again, and a smile rises on the golden’s face. 

"Talk?"

OOC:: Anyone welcome =] He's wounded, but more so just exhausted.Set immediately after his Tingal encounter.

we live like thieves
     kings among men