The Moon Druid of Arcedia; And the One Ring to Rule Them All

~07 The Heros Awake~

~The Heros Awake~

When she appeared awake, Ahshala had been rambling and incoherent. She had no memory of such an occurrence in fact she had no memory of her first two days in Rivendell. To her relief, there wasn't much that had happened. She was fortunate enough to recover quickly from her encounter with ghostly ghouls and even the wounds sealed up with only a small scar across her shoulder and calf. Her hair had been washed much like her clothes and she had slept for 14 hours straight each night. Strider had kindly braided her dwarven beads above her right ear. It was a sweet gesture but she ended up properly braiding it once she was fully awake along with the rest of her now elegant apricot curls.

She had been surveying the room for quite some time. It was a small simple room with peach walls painted with flowers and furniture of Dogwood. Across from the door that presumably led to the hall was the bed on which she sat, piled with down pillows in silk cases and a comforter of bronze fabric embroidered with sage and balm that shimmered in the afternoon sun. There was a large Balcony to her left and two windows to the right beside the door to the bathing chambers. Ahshala admired the wooden trim carved to look like ivy and washed with an olive stain. To her right Strider sat in the wooden chair he had pulled from the writing desk in the coroner, smiling happily at the woman leaning against the pillows.

When Arwen hadn't pulled him away to rest he was at Ahshala's bedside. He had feared her death when Arwen's grim face met him at the Rivendell gates. He feared her death when she was nearly decapitated by an orc scout. When she jumped off of a 50-foot ledge to save a suicidal squirrel, Strider almost ran her through himself. As he thought more about it he concluded that he had witnessed her carelessly endanger herself for other living beings (animals included) for nearly 60 years. Even so, he trusted her with his life, and he would give his life for hers.

"You look like a proper elf," Strider had told her with a smile after she gave him a proper Esenatain greeting.

She laughed happily as she combed through her locks with her fingers.

"My mother hoped I would look like that someday. She says it's good I take after my father in all but height" she joked, pulling a rather large stray leaf from her hair.

She ran a slender finger along the veins of the leaf. Dark green oval splotches dotted the light midrib which gave it a sort of striped appearance.

"Calathea?" Strider questioned as he too ran his hand along the smooth leaf.

She hummed in agreement. It was a rather small leaf for the Calathea plant, which hadn't surprised her considering it chose to appear in her hair.

The wild clung to Ahshala just as she clung to it. She was so intuned with nature that native plants, primarily of the flowering variety, often found their way growing near her or in her tousled hair. When her stoic brother Kramnir called her silt head Ahshala's oldest brother Belmiir had begun to sport flowers of solidarity in his own braided locks.

Blue forget-me-not for loyalty, white daisies to unify, vivid colored Zinnias for their friendship, and the white flowers of the wild carrot for the refuge they found in each other. The two flaunted their floral crowns around their home with pride and honor. Ahshala smiled at the memory and then at the Calathea in her palm.

"They say the Calathea symbolizes a new beginning," she explained to the Ranger beside her eyes firmly upon the leaf, "turning over a new leaf, if you will. When the Calathea is in the darkest hour of nightfall its leaves fold over, they close, and when a new dawn approaches they turn, rising to face the morning light. It's called nyctinasty."

Strider leaned back in his chair closing his eyes contently as she continued to expound her knowledge

"This forest-dwelling type is particularly interesting. Normally Calathea requires intense humidity, but Calathea Poculum plants itself at the base of tree roots in rainy areas. It collects dew and rainwater in its cup-shaped leaves by night, and when dawn approaches the water gently drips onto the shaded soil. It adapted to preserve itself."