(Don't worry about it. I haven't been on much lately either, although it was mostly because of preparation for the state Knowledge Bowl meet.)
Maenion gently reached over, picked up Almaeren, and stood. "Lead the way to the river, then," he responded, his voice soft and solemn. "If it is possible for us to give him the burial he deserves, we will do so."
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~OOC~ Oh cool. Never heard of a Knowlege Bowl before. Sounds cool though. Tell me when you win!
And sorry for the small post. No muse :(
~IC~ Renden led the way over to the river, where he and Kilen quickly made a makeshift raft out of fallen branches. Darren added Almaeren's weapons, as per tradition.
"He was a good friend and a good warrior. There is a hole in the world from his passing." Ollo said solemnly.
(It's also called Quiz Bowl in some places, if that helps at all. Also...well, we ended up in dead last at the state meet. It was fun, though.)
Maenion set Almaeren on the raft, trying to make sure that the makeshift boat wouldn't tip over. He backed away immediately after, softly humming a traditional lament. He moved a bit further back, making room for the others to step forward if they wanted to. As an elf, he was one of the tallest in the group, and did not want to make it hard for any of the shorter companions to see.
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~OOC~ Still never heard of it XD
And never killing another one of my characters again. This sucks, and now I have no muse. *palmface*
What do we do now? Still goig to the inn, probably, right? But what next, become mercanaries, final battle, assasiantion attempt on Armelekfedon?
~IC~ Besides a few parting words from Darren, no one said anything. Mellea stared out at the craft growing smaller every moment, the rising sun staining the water beautiful colors. Her late friend probably would've liked it, and it was hard to realize that he wasn't here.
It was Ollo that got them moving again, saying that Almaeren wouldn't have wanted them to skip breakfast on mourning.
(That...has got to be the strangest spelling of what's-his-face's name that I've seen so far. How'd the 'f' get in that?
I, too, hate killing off characters. I'm planning out an original fiction at the moment, and I killed one of my favorite characters near the end. Now, whenever I write about him, I can only remember that it's leading up to his death.
Going to the inn would probably be a good start. From there...well, we'll see. Perhaps they can go to some of the other races (Elves, Dwarves, Rohirrim, etc.) to see if they can find anyone who will help them defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-But-Is-Not-Voldemort.)
As the boat disappeared, Maenion turned away, not really listening to what Ollo said. He had no intentions of eating breakfast; it hardly seemed right for him to do so soon after a friend's death. Although many of his friends had died over his lifetime, each new death still hurt, especially when it was a human that died. Human lives were already so fleeting that it was an injustice for them to be cut even shorter.
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~OOC~ I smacked my hand on the keyboard after the Al 
~IC~ No one else really followed the dwarf's suggestion either, and instead solemnly tacked up the horses, unperturbed by the scene that happened earlier. The extra horse was used to carry most of the supplies. Darren, eyes still red, barely even noticed when Mellea and the others waited for Maenion to lead instead of him.
(Ha! That's absolutely hilarious!)
Maenion said nothing as he mounted his horse, then began to start slowly out of the forest. Under his breath, he continued to hum, although he doubted that anyone else would be able to hear it. Once he finished one lament, he would switch to another, until he finally began on those that he and his brothers had sung, first at their father's death, then as each one died. I am the last, he thought. None but I sing the laments for my father and brothers, and there will be no one to lament my death, when it comes. At least Almaeren had people in his life that will mourn him.
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~OOC~ Awwww poor Maenion.
~IC~ After a short hour of riding, the inn came into view. Darren had managed to calm himself on the ride here, and hopped off of his mount to check that the place was clear. Any of the others going would be too conspicuous. Almaeren would've been the one to do this had he still been alive. He came back a few minutes later and gave the signal that the place was clear.
Maenion cautiously rode forward, no longer humming. An elf humming sad-sounding songs would probably lead to curiosity, at the very least. Although most remaining elves were rather melancholy, he decided that he would rather not draw attention to himself. As they approached the inn, he asked, "Are we running low on money?" He tried to keep his tone normal, and mostly succeeded.
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~OOC~
~IC~ "We had little money to begin with, but we have just enough left to rent a room." Ollo replied, gauging by rattle in the purse.
Mellea smiled slightly. "Well, it's a good thing we brought our own food then."
"Ha, no need to worry, the innkeepers are my parents." Darren smiled sadly, thinking of how to tell them of Almaeren's passing.
He raised his eyebrows. "Are they really your parents? I didn't know that. Do they, by any chance, have either a small harp or an instrument similar to a lute? I have only passable skill at either, but I can sing well, and if we aren't the only guests, I can earn a bit of money by being a minstrel for a night." It was the sort of thing that Makalaure would have loved, he realized. The only difference was that his older brother was one of the best musicians to walk the earth, whereas Maenion had not been nearly as talented.
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~OOC~
~IC~ "I'm sure we can find something." Darren smiled slightly. He waved over a plump, short woman who was serving another round of drinks. "This is my mother, Gerramela." She smiled and nodded a hello. "You all look tired, do you need some food and drinks before you head to your room?" She asked.
He smiled, then bowed politely. "It's an honor to meet you," he said quietly. "I don't know about the others, but all I really want at the moment is a bit of water. Also...do you happen to have any instruments? My friends and I are a little short on money, and it would be most appreciated if you would allow me to provide music for any other guests you may have. I've found that minstrels, or those who can pass as one, are usually rather welcome, and guests have a tendency to pay them a bit." He hoped he wasn't being too forward, but decided that there was really no other way.
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~OOC~
~IC~ Gerramela smiled. "Of course, friend, we have many musical instruments behind the counter. Never know when you need an impromptu party, eh? The water will be right over." She headed back to the counter, which she disapeared behind as she bent down.
"Do you play often?" Mellea asked Maenion, curious about her still mysterious friend.
Maenion shrugged. "I usually play whenever I can find an instrument. I don't have my own anymore; that was lost long ago. The curious thing is that I've never really used an instrument solely for its music. I've always just used the music as a bit of a background for a voice - mine, usually, or Ambarussa's when he was still alive." He smiled over at her, glad to have a friend here with him. It hadn't been very long since he had met Mellea, but already he felt as though he had known her for much longer.
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~OOC~
~IC~ Mellea nodded. She didn't know how well either Ambarussa or Maenion sang, but judging by the humming that Maenion did on the way here, they were in for a good show.
Darren's mother came back, lyre in one hand, flute in the other. "Have your pick, we also have a small drum if you'd prefer that." As she was speaking her husband came by with waters for the elves and sour drinks for the others. He simply nodded a hello, his wife had the big mouth, not he.
Maenion took the lyre, smiling. "Thank you both," he said quietly, and then took a small sip of water. "If you'll just give me a few moments, I'll make sure that this is in tune." Holding the instrument carefully, he walked away from the common room, trying to find a quieter place. Once the sounds of other customers faded a bit, he sat on the floor, listening carefully as he plucked first one string, then the next, then both together, trying to see if they were in tune. He continued with this process until he was entirely satisfied, then returned to his companions.
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~OOC~ Short post. :(
~IC~ Gerramella shushed the inn, who turned towards Maenion expectantly. Renden quickly made a little collection bin out of his handkerchief.
Maenion found a small stool, pulled it a short distance away from the other guests, and sat down. Knowing what they would probably like to hear, he started off with a slightly ridiculous song about a Rohirrim who was in love with a lady of Gondor, and how he attempted to win her hand. He had picked it up during his travels, and remembered it as light entertainment. The tune was simple and lively, if slightly repetitive, and he found that he was enjoying himself.
(bump)