The autumn was turning chilly beyond the walls of Rhy'Din City, but here in the Forest of Anarven, the trees staved off the worst of that chill. Anarven ....sanctuary. It was a fitting name for the task the community had voted together to uphold. Arandir had been asked to lay out his request to the community leaders, representatives of each race who called Anarven their home, and it had taken barely an hour for them to reach a consensus - that they could not look themselves or their neighbors in the eye if they did not offer sanctuary to those who needed it most.

By noon of the following day, the central moot-house had already been converted into living accommodation fit for sixty or so, and the houses that stood around it were making room to take in families temporarily until permanent homes could be built for them. A call had gone out to the wise men and women, the healers and surgeons who called the forest home, and they were arriving in groups, prepared to handle injuries and illnesses. The food stores had been inventoried, the surplus from the harvest calculated, and money had been pooled into a fund to buy more if it was necessary. With no way of knowing just how many elves would be joining their community, Anarven was preparing for the highest number Arandir had given them, expecting a hard winter ahead but not flinching from it.

While Anarven had been making preparations for the refugees, Arandir had been making preparations of his own. Though he was no seasoned warrior, he knew it was likely he might have to call upon his skills with bow or sword in order to bring his people here safely. So, too, with magic, though his abilities there were more innate than learned. He had chosen to wear the colors of the forest in order to blend with his surroundings as much as possible, a sword strapped to his side and a bow and arrows across his back. The amulet was no longer hidden beneath his shirt, but laid against his chest, ready to guide him where he needed to go.

The place they had chosen, with the help of an elven mage, was just outside the village, beneath the cover of the trees but in an open space. Carina had watched all the preparations with worried eyes, staying close to Arandir whenever he allowed it, cajoled into helping bake bread and prepare basic meals when she couldn't be at his side. Even now, as she waited to say a goodbye she hoped was not a final one, she couldn't help the way her eyes lingered on him. Her parents had arrived that morning, summoned somehow in a way no one had put words to, but likely drawn to Anarven by the bond that existed between elven kind. Carina was half-elf, after all. Raniel had helped to pick the place where the portal would most easily be opened; Amara had thrown herself into preparations for helping the wounded and sick, along with Jenith, her own mother. Vethen, for his part, stayed near his granddaughter, a silent presence to keep her from breaking down and hurting her husband's resolve.

It would have been easy, so easy, for Aran to turn his back on his people, to forget them, and leave them to their own fates. He was unsure whether his mother intended for his return when she sent him through the portal, but it seemed no matter what she had intended, some force was calling to him and drawing him back. What kind of prince would he be to his people if he abandoned them and left them to die when he now had the means to help what few of them might be left living? Despite the danger, this was something he had to do. It was the right thing to do; it was the honorable thing to do. Even if he was only able to bring back a handful, he would never be able to live with himself if he did not try. He'd be a fool if he wasn't at least a little afraid of what he might find there, of what might happen upon his return, but he would not let that fear master him - not anymore.

"Hinya," Raniel called to Arandir from the chosen spot, nodding briefly to the mage who had been assisting. "It is time. The weakness is here, but it may never be here again. If you wish to take advantage of it, now is the moment."

Arandir nodded and waved a hand to acknowledge Raniel's statement, but there was one thing more he had to do before he could go on this quest of his. He only hoped he had enough time to do it. Though Carina should already know how he felt, he needed to say it so that if the worst happened, if he didn't come back, she would always remember him and know that he loved her and their unborn child. He offered Vethen a respectful and even grateful nod before drawing Carina a short distance away, taking her hands in his. "I must go now, a'mael," he told her, as gently as he could. "I want you to know that no matter what happens, I will always love you."

She had tried so hard not to cry, but she knew there was a chance that this was the last time she would ever see him again. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at her husband, her verno'corm. "I love you," she whispered. "Amin mela lle, lirimaerer. Come back to me. To us." Drawing her hands from his, she cradled his face in her hands, stroking her fingertips against his ears. "We need you."

He did not know what the future held and could not promise to come back, but he could promise something else. "As I love you, mela en'coiamin," he replied as he, too, took her face between his hands and drew her close to touch his lips to hers. "I will do everything in my power to return to you, I promise." There was no other promise he could make but that one; there was no other promise that mattered.

She breathed him in, hoping that this would not be their last kiss. The thought of losing him, of raising his child without him, was too painful to bear. "Be safe," she whispered to him softly. "We'll be waiting."

He smiled softly and kissed her again, wanting her to remember him as he was - to remember his smile and his warmth and his love - not the sorrow of this moment. He had promised he would do everything he could to return to her, and it was a promise he intended to keep. He touched his fingers in a gentle caress against the flat of her stomach, as if to caress the child within and tell him or her of his love. No matter what happened to him, he knew Carina would raise their child in love and help him or her to know who their father had been. He kissed her one last time, knowing time was running short. "I must go."

Reluctantly, she drew away from him, returning to her grandfather. Vethen wrapped an arm about her, holding Aran's gaze for a long moment with a silence that promised the young man's family would be loved and protected, even if he didn't make it back. "Gods go with you, Arandir."

He pulled gently away, not wanting her to see how leaving her was tearing him up. Was this what growing up was all about' Taking responsibility and making sacrifices for the good of his people, just as his mother and grandmother had before him' It was a heavy burden to bear, and he knew it was even harder for Carina to watch him go than it was for him to leave her. Aran was ready to ask Vethen to take care of her, but he seemed to read an answer to that unspoken request in the man's eyes and knew that no matter what happened, she and their child would be well loved and cared for.

"Thank you, Vethen," Aran replied, offering the man a hand. He had a lot to thank him for, but this was only the beginning, and his own gaze seemed to say it all for him.

The old man clasped his hand firmly, nodding his reply without speaking. Even if Arandir did not come back, Carina would not be alone. She would have her parents and grandparents to help her, but they all knew they would never be able to heal that wound. They could only hope that he would return to heal it himself.

As horrible as Aran looked, if Carina looked for them, there were signs that he yet lived. There was color in his face, his pulse thrummed with life, and he was breathing - all signs that he lived. His eyelids fluttered as consciousness slowly returned, and he heard Carina's voice calling him and felt the warmth of her arms around him. "Ca-rina?" he whispered, as he pried his eyes open to look up into her teary-eyed face. He lifted a hand to touch her cheek and brush those tears from her face, if he could. "I am here, a'mael."

As heartbroken as she was, she didn't see those signs, or listen to those around her as they pointed them out. She didn't even hear the whisper of her name, her own eyes opening with startled joy as she felt his hand against her cheek. "Oh, thank gods," she breathed through her tears, gathering him closer to hold him tight. "I thought I'd lost you."

"I will never leave you again, I swear," he promised, his voice low, obviously as weary as his companions. She was certainly a sight for sore eyes, as the saying went, and he couldn't help the tears that were mirrored in his own eyes as he looked up at her and knew he was home. There was joy and relief in those tears, but something else, too - a sadness and grief that laid heavy on his heart and of which he had yet to speak. But for now, he was glad to be home.

"My prince."

Carina raised her head at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, only to find an armed elven man on one knee before them, kneeling in deference to Arandir. She moved to help her husband sit up, at least, as the man spoke.

"What would you have us do, my prince?"

Aran winced just a little as Carina helped him to sit. Thankfully, any injuries he had sustained were minor, but the force of the blast that had forced him through the portal had been strong enough that he almost felt like he'd been thrown against a brick wall.

"Aleron, see to the survivors."

He looked around for Raniel, so that he could refer the elf to him to see to the care of the survivors. Whether the Aran that had gone through that portal to find his people had been accustomed to giving orders, it seemed the Aran that had returned was.

"Carina, help me up," he said, though it was more of request in her case than an order.

"At once, my prince." Aleron paused as he rose, needing a little more than that to go on, but between Arandir's gesture and the helpful motion of Raniel and others, he was able to go about his business, giving orders to those who were capable of following them.

Still deeply concerned for him, Carina rose awkwardly as she helped Arandir up onto his feet. "Where are you hurt?" she asked him softly.

Where was he not hurt' Over all, though, he was perfectly healthy in comparison to his people, who had fared far worse than him. "I'm all right, a'mael," he assured her, as he slowly climbed to his feet. He was sore and hungry and tired, but nothing that a few days of rest wouldn't cure. "Did they all make it?" he asked aloud, as he looked around, still clinging to her arm. He frowned as he took in the small group, his heart aching to know he could not have saved more of them.

"You were the last one through," she told him quietly, turning her eyes toward the group. The people of Anarven had worked quickly - those in most need of medical attention were already receiving it, while others were bandaged, and those unhurt were shown where they could lay their heads for now. Carina could feel the weariness in Aran, tucking her arm about his back. "You need to rest, a'maelamin."

He considered arguing with her, insisting that his people needed him, but he had at least gotten them here, relatively safely and soundly, and it seemed Raniel and Vethen's people had things well in hand. "How long?" he asked, needing to know how long he'd been gone and having no sense of time on this side of the portal.

She shook her head, not quite able to believe the answer as she gave it to him. "About an hour," she said in a quiet tone, gently beginning to draw him away from the forest to her grandparents' home, where space had been set aside for them.

"An hour," he echoed, moving slowly, almost gingerly, every muscle in his body aching, though he didn't want to complain. He was grateful just to be alive and back home. "Carina, I've been gone for weeks," he told her. It was just the start of a long story that didn't have the happiest of endings.

"Weeks?" Her brow furrowed, unable to tie in what she knew and what he knew to be the truth. But it was his physical condition that worried her most, glad that her grandmother had foreseen a certain need. "Come inside," she told him. "Soak in a hot bath while I find you some food, and you can rest."

At least, he did not have to worry that anything had happened to her or the baby in the hour he'd been gone. "Carina," he said, turning her to face him even before they could find refuge and privacy inside the house. She looked the same as she had when he'd left, except for the blood that she was now wearing that belonged to neither him nor herself. "I have missed you so, a'mael," he told her in a low whisper, for her ears alone, and he kissed her, slowly and tenderly, uncaring who noticed or who watched. She was his heart-mate and his soul-mate; there was and never would be any other.

Nothing could have stopped her from returning that kiss, tasting his love and the bittersweet joy of having returned in one piece. She didn't care who was watching, what they thought of this display of affection. Arandir was home, and she was not going to let him go gallivanting off on an adventure again without her. "You're home now," she whispered to him softly. "You're safe."

He smiled at last through a sheen of tears. Despite all the sadness and the terror, he was home, safe in her arms, and he'd brought what remained of his people with him. "I would be grateful for a bath and food and rest, with you beside me," he admitted, surrendering his care to her.

"Good, because that is what you are going to get," she informed him, no nonsense in her tone. "Also clean clothes." Yes, she had finally noticed that she was covered in blood now as well as him, but it paled when set against the task of settling him comfortably to begin recovering from whatever had happened on the other side of that portal.

There was no point in arguing when all of that sounded good after the hardships of the last few weeks. It seemed almost impossible that it had only been an hour here, but he knew time was different on the other side of the portal. He let her lead him finally into the house, feeling strangely disoriented, perhaps in part because nothing had changed - but he had changed.

He was no longer the fearful, uncertain, insecure youngster he had been when he'd first arrived here. While he was still the same Aran that loved her, he had matured and grown into the prince his people needed him to be.