Is that a smile?...

Upon hearing the screech of the hawk, Kiril moves his head just enough to surreptitiously watch Spring with his peripheral vision.

"Is that a smile I see? She is watching me, I think," he muses to himself. Remembering how she felt when he held her, he can only think of how... pleasant it was.

Kiril thinks to himself as he watches the rays of the sun caress her fine featured face, "I wasn't trying to be anything but kind, but she is so beautiful. And she seems so, lost. Not at all what I expected from someone who signs up for this kind of work. But all of us are rather inexperienced, then, aren't we?"

Taking out a large needle and some leather lacing to repair a hole in his leather armor, his mind turns again to Spring.. "This can't be just missing Jessaril. She departed for her home over a year ago. Closer to  one-and-a-half actually. But there are similarities, but there just superficial. No, this... attraction is all about her. Just her. But this is hardly the setting to try and start a romance, now is it? Nope, not at all. But still..."

He jerks to awareness of his surroundings as he jabs the very large, very sharp needle into the pad of his thumb. And he can't help but to chuckle at himself as he grins wryly. "Teach me to let my mind wander!"

Kiril then nutters lowly, "Dolle naa lost"  (Elvish for, "Your head is empty") and then laughs louder.

Finishing his mending, and with no more misplaced stitching, Kiril sees that all three of his companions have gathered and seem ready for another foray to the ruined city. Quickly donning his armor, he approaches them.

"Good morning! Are we ready for another day of exploration?" Looking at Valerous and Penladan, "I trust your blades are sharp, and your bowstrings strong."

Then looking to Spring, his face unconsciously breaking into a warm smile, "And I trust you have sharpened your mind, ready to bring the power of magic to our aid as needed?"

Seeing that his companions appear ready and nonplussed at his comments, he gives a wry chuckle, then says,

This poem is from a master storyteller, and is called "Vi Dýr Ennui: And then in Elvish, he softly sings,

Vi dýr ennui nu Anor
Ned echuir lyth eriar
I yrn ethuiwar, nin nurar
Ar aew verin linnar.

Ennas dû alfanui
A ferin 'irith gerir
I elenath, viriath fain,
Vi finnel gelfib dîn.

Sí na veth bâden im derel
Vi dúath dofn tummen.
Atham meraid velig a tynd
Athan eryd bain beraidh

Or 'waith bain nura Anor
A panlû elin cuinar
Ú-pedithon 'i-aur gwann'
Egor nai îl 'namarië'.

"In common, it translates thusly," and again, he softly sings,

In western lands beneath the Sun
In spring, flowers rise,
The trees bud, waters run,
And the merry little birds sing.

There it is cloudless night
And shuddering beeches hold
The starry host, the white jewels,
On their branching hair.

Here at my path's end I am lingering
In deep darkness buried.
Beyond towers strong and high
Beyond all mountains steep

Above all shadows rides the Sun
And stars always dwell.
I will not say 'The day is done'
Or to the stars 'farewell'.

"Now, while the story is stirring in its imagery, I don't want any of us to find our 'path's end' and seeing those vistas, Let us instead, end the paths of our enemies this day." Kiril grins, though this grin is more a snarl of anticipation, as he finishes.

o0o