Forest East of Amon Obel
The Brethil Forest continues here as its beauty and silence amaze you. The trees here are very large and they crowd each other for the light. You can hear some animals scurrying off in the distance as they make their way through the forest. You can see that paths lead off to the northwest, southwest, east, and southeast.

The long summer days of Brethil are breezy, with a laziness that settles into the early evening like a softly lilting rhyme. The large oaks that span the perimeter of Corrin's lodge have been host to chattering squirrels and chittering birds throughout the day, their busy exchanges finding recess with the sun's lowering in the western horizon.

But within the lodge, there has been little of rest for the healer Aldawin. After a morning of gathering herbs, she has painstakingly followed the directions given her by the elder healer Emeldir in attempt to bring Lia out of her consuming illness. And as the day has progressed, Corrin's wife has only grown more still, to the point where she no longer can be roused from the prolonged bouts of sleep which overtake her. And though Aldawin has hardly said a word the day long in seeing to her ministrations, a shadow of worry is now company to her expression as she sits at the young woman's bedside and attempts to awaken the lady again.

Standing in the doorframe as Aldawin attempts to wake Lia, Corrin says nothing and watches in silence. His hands, however, are clenched into fists at his sides, the knuckles white with pressure.

The cool, refreshing shades of summer evening grow and deepen beneath the eaves of the towering oaks and silvery birches that surround the Haladin's isolated lodge. The woodsman, Istadris, walks quietly beneath the leafy, tangled boughs and low-hanging branches that crowd around the narrow trail leading to the nearby creek. His injured arm hangs limply at his side, no longer bound by a sling, and showing little hint of the thick bandages that still bind his upper arm and shoulder beneath the loose shirt he wears. Several dried, broken branches are carried by his side, tucked under the crook of his right arm. The lean Beorian's brisk strides bring him towards the wooden cottage ahead, though his sharp grey eyes lift momentarily towards the darkening skies as he passes by the sheltering trunk of a great oak and into the clearing.

With steps that make no sound over the soft, forgiving forest floor, Finnabair skirts through the trees to the northwest of the clearing where lies the lodge of the Haladin Warden, Corrin. A gap in the trees reveals the path ahead and stepping onto it she spots the figure of Istadris not far along, moving with ease. Hurrying to catch up with him, but remaining silent, she comes to within a few paces short of him and then matches her strides with his as they enter the clearing and approach the lodge, where appear several figures at its door. Shifting the longbow that rests upon her back, the Beorian woman casts an eye to the sky overhead where the sky has begun to fold into night.

The healer's gaze flashes upwards as she senses the presence of another at the doorway. Seeing the warden there, and as well evidence of his concern and frustration, Aldawin stands from her seat, sets a dampened cloth near the ceramic basin on the table, and rounds the bed where Lia lies still and pale. "Corrin," she says quietly coming to stand just a pace from him. "I would have a word with you." She glances past the warden into the small front room, and seeing it empty, motions him back away from the doorway. "Perhaps in the front room, there. Or even outside," she says softly. "It might be well for us both to get a little of fresh air after being inside most of the day."

Istadris hefts the bundled stack of broken branches higher up his side, curling his right arm around them and resting his left hand lightly atop them as he approaches the edge of the grassy clearing. His gaze is drawn towards the lodge entryway, shut for now against the cool evening breeze. Noting movement near his side, the wounded adan's lengthy strides slow, and he turns to glance over his right shoulder. "Ay, Finnabair." He greets, upon finding the ranger near his side. The tall adan moves to stand beside the front wall of the lodge, where he stoops to stack the branches upon the grassy ground near the front entrance. "Have you brought news from Amon Obel?" He asks the younger Beorian.

"Lia will be alright if we step outside?" asks Corrin quietly, even though the question seems moot given the healer would not have suggested it if it were not so. He runs one hand through his hair, and turns to open the front door of the lodge, and hold it open for the Beorian healer. Indeed, despite his question, he seems eager to leave the lodge, though perhaps it's merely a need to take some other sort of action.

Quickening her pace to come aside the woodsman, Finnabair turns her gaze from the lodge and shakes her head, "No.", she answers him simply, "I have not come from the wooded hill, but from the forest's northeast.", she says, gesturing with a hand toward the trees that lie that way. Stopping with him beside the lodge, she nods her head toward the doorway, just as it begins to open, and asks, "Your family's home? I came upon your cousin here just yesterday."

Accompanied by a guard and a young woman, Emeldir slowly makes her way over the narrow yet well-trodden path through the forest. Her coloring is pale and though she wears a warm shawl which covers both her head and shoulders, shivers a visible as she pauses every few steps, leaning against the arm of the guard that guides her. The woman traveling with her wipes her brow, inquiring if she is certain that she can make it, tis only a short ways to a clearing where a small cabin appears to be. Emeldir nods her head briefly in acknowledgement, peering ahead into the darkening gloom, a look of relief coming into her grey eyes, slightly dulled with her sickness. She reassures her companion that she is able, then takes a sip of water proffered from the skin by their guard, continuing on to the clearing, "Good even, Finnabair... Istadris," she calls out softly, her voice barely audible.

The Beorian woodsman nudges one of the heavier branches with his booted right foot, shoving it towards the wall with the other broken, dried pieces of firewood. "Aye, this is Corrin's home. He lives with his wife, Lia." He says in answer, while gazing curiously towards the trees where the ranger has gestured. "So what is happening northeast of here?" He questions, though his attention is drawn towards the soft sounds of the Lady and her companions' approach. "Here comes the Lady now, perhaps from the wooded hill." He adds, even as the lodge's doorway is swung open from inside. The lean adan turns expectantly to see who emerges, though not before raising a hand in greeting to the arriving Emeldir. "Good evening, m'lady..." He returns in greeting.

"Aye, she is resting now," Aldawin says with a glance back at Lia, before stepping past Corrin into the front room and stirring the simmering stew in the a large iron kettle which hangs over the fire in the hearth. As the warden opens the door, though, the healer sets the wooden spoon upon the hearth's mantle and follows after Corrin, stepping out into the cool-breezed evening. The sight of Finnabair and the elder healer is a surprise, and Aldawin gives the ranger a nod of greeting, as well the Lady. "Hello, Finnabair, Lady Emeldir." Her gaze goes uncertainly to Istadris briefly, but falls finally upon Corrin once more.

"Istadris. Lady Emeldir," says Corrin to those present by way of greeting as he steps out of his house. A split second passes as he obviously tries to recall Finnabair's name, despite having seen her only this morning. "Fi..Finnabair," he says finally, with a nod to the ranger. Not seeming perturbed to see the Beorians outside his home otherwise, he asks, "May I offer you the hospitality of my house or serve you in some other way?"

Figures approaching on the path behind them, draws Finnabair's attention away from those at the door, though she answers Istadris, "Much, Istadris. I went to see the lay of the forest and come to know it better." With eyes narrowing through the dusky light of the summer evening, the shape of Emeldir forms more clearly as she draws nearer to the lodge and stepping toward them several paces, a frown grows upon Finnabair as notes the lean of the woman's body, the paleness of her face and the bare whisper of a greeting. "M'lady?", she asks, concerned, managing a glance back to the open door to acknowledge Corrin and Aldawin as they step out, "Good even. The Lady Emeldir arrives and she does not seem well.", she says, turning back to the older woman.

Istadris stands aside as Aldawin and Corrin emerge from within the cabin's doorway, and offers both a nod and half-hearted smile in greeting before turning back to Emeldir. His cool grey eyes narrow in the dying light of evening, and he glances questioningly to Finnabair for a brief moment, before again turning to study the pale-faced Lady. "What is it, Emeldir?" He asks, frown now with suspicion.

Looking with gratitude yet apologetically as well in Corrin's direction, Emeldir inclines her head as she return the greeting, "Good even m'lord Corrin. And Lady Aldawin," she offers, her voice remaining just above a whisper. Turning her gaze back to Istadris, she relates, "I have not yet made it to the Village on Amon Obel. These past few days have found me ... sickened and unable to move," she tells further, gesturing towards the last campsite further down the hill slope. "Twas only this morn that I was able to rise from my bedroll. Lady Melen has been tending to me, fortunately," she explains, smiling to the woman who accompanied her. Emeldir's eyes return to where Aldawin and Corrin stand in the door of the cabin, "How is your wife, milord? Has Aldawin been able to help her?" she inquires anxious and concerned. "I am sorry that I was unable to come before now."

Standing to the side while greetings are made, Aldawin watches on, but seems little involved--her thoughts, seeming of a graver nature, keeping her to vague acknowledgements only. At first she does not seem to even notice the Lady's pallor, though at the ranger's voicing of it, Aldawin steps forward towards the lady. "I have followed your prescriptions of treatment," the younger healer voices, though seems to hesitate of offering else with Corrin standing so near by. "Lady, I was going to speak with Corrin, though I should like to speak with you first, if I may?" She glances at Corrin with a tight, cheerless smile, her gaze flicking to the woodsman standing beyond as well before it returns to Emeldir.

Stepping back from the path that leads to the door, allowing Emeldir approach with the healer and guard, Finnabair moves her gaze between the Lady to Corrin and Aldawin. Emeldir's quiry about Corrin's wife throws the Beorian ranger into silence, though with Aldawin's words she volunteers a small suggestion between answers, "Perhaps if Emeldir were to rest inside first." Corrin nods at Finnabair's words, and with a glance at Emeldir's pale face, opens the door to his lodge wider and gestures the lady and her escort inside. "Yes, please," he says, "My home is yours, lady. I thank you for coming despite your infirmity."

The Beorian woodsman slides a step over to stand with his back against the wooden wall while he listens to the exchange between the other edain before him. His right heel drops to rest easily against one of the splintered chunks of firewood stacked neatly against the wall, while his arms rise to clasp over his chest. Istadris' frown deepens as he catches Aldawin's wordless glance, and he lifts an eye to wordlessly study his own cousin. "I shall wait out here a moment, Corrin." He says, as the Haladin swings open the door of his home to admit the others. The injured man turns to look questioningly upon Finnabair then, and adds, "I would speak with Finnabair..."

With a glance of thankfulness in Finnabair's direction, Emeldir inclines her head towards Aldawin, "Of course we may speak, milady, though twould be most grateful if I could sit down. The climb has sapped my strength, I fear," she grudgingly admits, even now sagging against Lady Melen at her side. In concern, the guard steps to her other side, looking to Corrin as he asks, "Twould it be possible for our Lady to step inside and have a seat, perhaps a cup of tea to sustain her?" his tone polite, yet anxious for Emeldir's health.

Adjusting the set of the longbow on her back, Finnabair turns her glance over to Istadris and his question, "What of?", she asks, taking a step closer to him, "There is illness under this roof and too many will be underfoot it seems. I will go back to Amon Obel this eve.", she adds, nodding to herself with the thought.

Istadris paces calmly alongside the cabin wall, gesturing for Finnabair to accompany him as he makes his way towards the corner opposite from where the others converse. "So you've been along the woods northeast..." He states in hushed tones, while rubbing involuntarily at his sore left shoulder. The injured woodsman's sharp gaze lifts to meet Finnabair's, and he speaks on only once his soft words are out of earshot of the healers and his cousin. "Have you spoken much with the wardens, there?" He asks, watching for the ranger's reaction, "Have they said aught of the yrch in Dimbar?"

Returning into the front room of the lodge, Aldawin awaits the Lady and her attendants to settle into the humble seats set near the hearth. The younger healer stands near the mantle, fidgeting with the wooden spoon and staring at the simmering stew in the kettle above the fire, though her gaze does stray to the small room wherein Lia lies. "You look not well, Lady," Aldawin says in expressed concern. "Was it wise for you to make such a journey?"

Finnabair turns with Istadris and walks with him away from the others, shaking her head as she answers in a low voice to match his own, "I kept a distance from the Wardens, Istadris. I was not certain that they would welcome me wandering their woods without leave or guidance. But if you think it seeming I can seek them out and what news they might have.", she says, peering at him through the shadows of the night. "Is that what you wish?"

The Beorian woodsman's easy stroll brings him to the far end of Corrin's lodge, where he veers around the wooden building's corner and disappears from sight of those still standing near the front entrance. His head dips agreeably to Finnabair as she speaks out, and he pauses there beside the tall silvery trunk of an old birch. "Aye, if you will." He says, his stony features stern. "See if they know where the Yrch encountered in Dimbar come from." He asks of the ranger, "Anach has not fallen yet, but there is rumour that the stronghold of Minas Tirith is taken. If this is so, then the yrch have a free road to Brethil..."

The Beorian lady follows Aldawin into Corrin's cabin, accompanied by both Lady Melen and her guard, who help her settle into a chair as comfortably as possible, Melen bringing Emeldir a cup of tea as offered. Emeldir takes a long, grateful sip, then wipes her brow before replying to Aldawin. "Aye, milady.. twas time to move onward, and I have hopes of making it to the village in the next day or so," she confides, glancing towards the guard, who nods his head, albeit with reluctance, in acknowledgment. Color appears once more in Emeldir's cheeks now that she is resting, and she leans forward towards Aldawin, her brow knitting, "What do ye wish to speak to me of, milady?" she inquires quietly. "Is there trouble with the Lady Lia's pregnancy?" she asks further.

Finnabair rounds the corner of the lodge with Istadris and lifts her gaze to the black night, "I have heard rumour of Minas Tirith too.", she says, frowning. "The distance to Brethil's northeast edge is not so far. I can make my way there quickly and I think I can track a Warden down, even in his own forests.", she says, grinning at her own words of bold confidence. "I will go tonight bring back word to you.", she says, her fingers busy upon the straps of her armour again, already beginning to stride away from him, toward the trees that shine white in the darkness, "See to the Lady Emeldir.", she adds quickly, before fading into the shadows.

Returning her look of concern to the elder healer, Aldawin nods and seems assured by Emeldir's words, as well her improving color. As the Lady inquires after Lia, however, Aldawin leaves the hearthside and comes to stand near the other, kneeling so as to meet her gaze and speak of a lowered tone. She shakes her head, swallowing back a wave of frustration. "She has steadily deteriorated in the days I have been here," Aldawin says. "Despite the treatments that were suggested, she has shown no improvement. If anything she lapses to a very deep sleep and today could not be roused at all." Yielding a heavy sigh, Aldawin lowers her gaze a moment. "I had not spoken to Corrin about the possibility that Lia may not recover. I was going to speak to him this even, in fact. 'Tis only fair that he know."

The ranger's brash boast goes seemingly unnoticed by Istadris, whose stony features remain unexpressive and blank. His grey eyes are strained and narrowed in the dim light of the starry skies as he looks to Finnabair. "Aye, I know you can." He responds at length, even as the younger Beorian turns away and hurries off into the deepening veil of gloom hanging beneath the forest's eaves. "I will be here, when you return." He calls quietly, while stepping back to lean against the corner of the wooden lodge. The Beorian woodsman stands there silently a long moment, before at last turning on his heel and strolling back around the cabin and towards the front entrance.

Having remained just outside the lodge, standing by the door after the two healers and Lady Emeldir's escort went within Corrin nods to Istadris as his cousin returns from speaking with Finnabair. He gives him a slightly questioning look, though he asks no questions about the Beorians' conversation.