When Aron returned to the Elven camp, a few of the Elves still sat around the flickering blue flame of their mage-fire. Aron stepped back into his place in the circle and gazed at the faces turned his way. No one spoke. They did not need to. Telepathy served them in lieu of speech more often than not.
His lieutenant looked up, caught and held Aron’s gaze. A slight smile and keen curiosity painted Harlane’s narrow face. ::You saw your kinsman? Is he willing to ally with us and accept our aid?::
Aron twitched one shoulder. ::As much as he can at the moment. He still doubts and fears; still feels torn. His upbringing taught him there is naught but evil in us and our ways. He learns and opens his spirit to begin acceptance, but it’s very hard for him. Some of the others may warm to us faster
