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.

Warm summer light bathes the forest of Brethil, dressing it in colours of deep yellow and bright gold as evening approaches. The pad and rustle of animals sound through the trees and down from their branches birds trade songs with one another, making it a noisy place, this guarded woodland. To the northeast of the clearing, where lies the lodge of the Warden, Corrin, hails the brown-clad figure of Finnabair, moving swift and surefootedly. Nearing the opening, she eases her pace to a walk with an eye to the dwelling that lies before her, the great length of her bow bouncing against her back.

There seems nothing unusual about the small lodge from the outside, its simple roof bears the first of the golden leaves from the surrounding, enshadowing trees, the wood sides of the dwelling lit with the warm early evening light. Though inside is a mild scurry of activity as healer and others see to the occupants within. Hefting a large wooden bucket, Aldawin makes her way to the front door and opens it slowly, careful not to spill the clouded water within. Leaving the door open as she walks around to the north side of the lodge, she spills the murky water upon the grassy ground, returning to close the door, and only then sees the shape and shadow of Finnabair approaching. "Good even, Finnabair," she calls, holding the empty bucket in her hand.

Finnabair treads across the clearing, approaching behind the cottage and around the corner appears the healer, Aldawin. Observing as the woman pours the contents out onto the ground before turning back toward the door, the Beorian ranger is about to raise her voice in greeting when Aldawin catches sight of her and gives her own, "Good even, Aldawin. How fare those that ail?", she asks, "Corrin's wife? The Lady Emeldir?", she asks, reaching to slip the strap of her bow over her head as she comes aside the home and rests the weapon against the wall.

Roused by the low yet familiar voices outside, Emeldir rises from a chair inside. She makes her way to the doorway, calling out a greeting, "Finnabair.. how goes with ye?" smiling somewhat wanly as she gives Aldawin an acknowledging nod. "I am fine, just still...." she searches for a plausible explanation for her symptoms, her coloring palish though not as much as it had been, "... my strength is sapped. Tis not a .. sickness however," she hastens to add, with a cautious glance in Aldawin's direction.

The washwater pools upon the grassy ground and seeps slowly into the soil, leaving the blades of green to glisten in the golden, early evening light. "The Lady Emeldir has been resting, and is attended to by the healer that travelled with her--" she begins, but overlapping her own voice is that of the Lady's and the younger healer falls silent to let Emeldir speak. The bucket is turned of Aldawin's hand slowly, and she answers the next question asked by the ranger. "I have been with Lia for most of the day," she says quietly, a solemness shadowing the grey of her eyes. "She does not improve," is all the younger healer offers.

Finnabair unshoulders her small pack and sets it to the ground beside her bow, stretching out stiff limbs as now Emeldir appears at the doorway. "Ah. Good.", she says solemnly to the both women's assurances, gazing on the elder woman with a critical eye, though she casts a quick, questioning look to Aldawin. "Lia is Corrin's wife?", she asks, leaning against the wood wall of the lodge. Ahead of her the sun sinks down through the trees, hints of sunset's colours beginning to spread up into the sky.

Turning a discerning eye to the elder healer, Aldawin's gaze lingers upon Emeldir a moment, her expression undefined by any certain emotion. "Tis good you have been able to rest, Lady," she says with a slight smile. Returning the gaze to Finnabair, Aldawin answers, "Aye, Lia is Corrin's wife. He is in with her now." The contemplative gaze turns to view the last glory of color that builds with the sun's slow retreat, the golds blaze to orange and red in the backdrop of the forest.

Her grey eyes darken, Emeldir lowering them briefly at Aldawin's assessment of Lia's prognosis. "I fear there is naught more that we can do for the lady, unfortunately," she comments quietly. She looks to Aldawin now, "Lady Aldawin, does the babe still move within Lia? Mayhap .. mayhap we could take the child, if tis near the time of her delivery," she says, slowly shaking her head. "Tis sad to say, but sometimes, complications arise that even healers cannot help with..." she adds softly.

Leaning forward a little, Finnabair frowns as Emeldir and Aldawin talk of the woman and she frowns as she hears more of her ailment. Their conversation grim, Finnabair looks to the ground and no words come from her to add to their's as she grows uncomfortable and begins to shift her footing restlessly. Raising her glance to the stump where Corrin's axe lies planted deep, she draws in a breath and finally asks, "Is there any word or thing you might need from Amon Obel? I will be returning there."

Twisting and fidgeting with the handle of the bucket, Aldawin finally sets the wooden container down, and while she considers the Lady's query, there is little of question about it. "The child has not moved this day that I could tell, and Lia, herself, cannot be roused." Her voice is softened of the next. "I fear we wait now." She shifts her weight to her left foot as she looks to the ground a moment, and she shakes her head, lifting her gaze to the Lady Emeldir. "The baby would not survive this early of its development." She prods at the damp ground with her booted foot, and seems to convince herself of the next. "We have done what we could this late of her illness."

Emeldir's shoulders slump as she lowers her head, murmuring a prayer on hearing Aldwin's words. After a few moments, she looks towards Finnabair, lifting her head, "I will try to come the rest of the way to Amon Obel, Finna. In a .. few days, perhaps," she says sadly. "If you are granted a meeting with Lord Haldir, will ye stand in my stead when greeting him?" she requests of her friend.

Finnabair bends down to retrieve her pack and reaches for her bow, holding them both down at her side as Emeldir answers and makes a request of her, "Tis not my place to greet the Haladin's chief for our people, m'lady.", she says, shaking her head and noting the sun as it dips lower through the trees and the sky deepens to the west. "I hope all will be well with Corrin's wife. Give him my greetings and tell Istadris I will bring him back news on the morrow.", she adds, lifting a hand in farewell to the two women and hoisting the pack to her shoulder as she makes long strides across the clearing, heading eastward through the trees.

With a nod and wish of "Farewell," to the ranger, Aldawin watches as Finnabair takes her leave and is swallowed of the woodland's densely-grown birch and oak trees. Her gaze it kept there for moments after the woman is gone from view, and with a deep sigh she turns to the elder healer. "Aye, it would not be reasonable to expect that our work should always aid those that can regain their health. Death is as much a part of life for us." The solemned expression softens, and the trace of a smile lifts, if only faintly, the corners of her mouth. "But tell me what I may do for you, Lady, in your continued stay here. I was going to fetch more water from the stream." She looks to the sky, a low light in the clearing. "There is still enough light to gather herbs if you need such." She looks to the elder healer expectantly.

Her brow knitting at Finnabair's reply, Emeldir nods her head slowly in acceptance, "Travel safely then, Finna," she calls after the ranger as she treks off towards the village at the crest of Amon Obel. She looks now towards Aldawin, smiling as she shakes her head, "Thank ye, milady, but I think I will retire to the chair once more, and a cup of soothing tea," she tells the younger woman. In actuality, her stomach turns at the thought of gathering herbs right now, and she is forced to admit in further explanation, "For some reason, the ... aroma of several herbs makes me queasy," she confides in a lowered voice, before turning back towards the doorway.

There is no little interest in the younger healer's expression as she quirks a brow at the Lady's confession and watches Emeldir move towards the door. "I hope you will find rest, Lady," she says. "I will get more water and return shortly." And stooping to pick up the bucket, Aldawin moves beyond the clearing in the direction of the stream, the whisper of wind in the leaves and swaying of the oak's restless boughs accompanying her silent journey.