Wooden Lodge
Crafted from rough timbers felled from the forest surrounding, this lodge is sturdy but not too large in its making. The floor of solidly-packed dirt is covered with two large woven rugs. A smooth-finished table and chairs sit in the front room before the hearth and hosts two large beeswax candles and a lantern. The hearth is large--made from heavy river rock set in mortar, topped with a finished wooden mantle. Off of the front room, to the right, is a small cooking area with a simple brick-hearth oven, and off to the left of the kitchen, sectioned off by a finished wooden door, lies the bedroom.

The delicious smell of food pervades the lodge of Corrin and his wife, tucked away in the woods near Amon Obel this evening. While his wife lies sick abed, Corrin labours in the kitchen, creating a savoury stew of rabbit and various root vegetables that will hopefully be soft enough for Lia to eat, should she ever awaken to do so. Grinding up some peppercorns in a small bowl, he glances between the bubbling pot of stew and the door to his wife's sickroom with equal frequency.

The front door to the lodge opens, and with it enters the young Beorian healer, carrying the large wooden bucket of water. The open door creates a window to the forest outside, the softer afternoon light casting its mellowed and warming rays upon the clearing's grasses in plays of cool colors. As Aldawin carefully sets the bucket down, the clear spring water within rings about its inner sides and ripples. The healer's trips to the creek have been many in the past few days--all in all a welcomed respite from the sobering plight of the warden's gravely ill wife.

Closing the door, Aldawin again lifts the bucket up and crosses the front room into Lia's, turning a warm, but cautious smile to Corrin. "That surely smells good," she calls--but not too loudly, refilling the ceramic basin next to Lia's bed, then setting the bucket and crossing over into the kitchen.

"It's almost ready, at that," says Corrin, adding some of the ground pepper into the stew and stirring it with a spoon, "Are you hungry, healer?" he asks politely, "You should eat something. I was about to eat as well. Then see if Lia might..possibly wake and eat a little." The look in the Haladin's brown eyes reveals he knows very well how unlikely it is that his wife will wake, but despite that, he does not retract his words.

The poignant, brittle hope of the warden is not easily witnessed by the healer, yet Aldawin offers a masking smile in return and meets the brown-eyed gaze steadily. "I would be grateful for some," she answers, rubbing the annoying ache of her left arm after balancing the heavy bucket. "Is there aught I may do in the meantime?" she asks, looking about the kitchen, not wanting to 'hover.'

Corrin nods towards where a few wooden bowls are stacked, and says, "If you'd grab some of those and dish out some of the stew for both of us, I'll see about making us some tea to drink with it. It might be a little spicy for you." As he speaks, Corrin goes to put a kettle of water on the fire.

As Corrin goes into the other room to set the water to heating, Aldawin reaches of her right hand for the bowls, cradling one in her left carefully as she spoons the thick, hearty stew into the wooden dishes one by one. The smell is tantalising, and the Beorian healer dips closer to smell of the simmering pot. "The smell is delicious," she calls over her shoulder, filling the last bowl and setting it aside. Waiting for Corrin's return, she searches quickly and finds some spoons as well, setting them in the individual bowls.

Corrin returns, and smiles slightly as Aldawin compliments the scent of the food. "It's the taste that's the most important, though," he notes, "Go ahead and try it before you say anything more." Taking a seat where he can see into the other room, he begins eating.

The warden's admonition causes the healer to smile slightly, and taking a seat of her own, Aldawin does as suggested, stirring the stew with the spoon before taking a taste. "Tis as it smells," she says after a moment, smiling once more and giving a nod of approval. "Very good. Thank you." She takes a larger spoonful of the stew next, and continues to eat quietly while gazing every few moments into Lia's room. "I was wondering," Aldawin says, setting the spoon down for a moment. "If you have need of any supplies or such in Amon Obel, or elsewhere. You have been here constantly, and I am certain either myself or Istadris could see to any such needs?"

Corrin shakes his head, and he says, "It's alright. I have family that can see to such things, who live nearby. Though if we do run short on anything suddenly, I may ask you or my cousin for help." Tilting his head slightly at a sound from the next room, he says, "The water's probably boiling. I'll go make the tea." True to his word, he gets up and does so.

Left in the silence of the room, Aldawin returns to eating the remaining stew--fairly cleaning the bowl as she leaves not a spoonful behind. "It has been a long time since I have eaten food this good," the healer says. "Not since leaving Ladros, really," she remarks. "I reminds me of home," she says in a quieter tone. "Thank you, for such simple things as this are appreciated." And she looks towards the front room.

Returning, Corrin pours the water into a pot and infuses the tea. "You are very welcome," he says to the Beorian healer, "After all, not only are you here tending to my wife, for which I am very grateful, it is also my desire to help make you and your people feel welcome here in Brethil." Coming back to sit at the table, he picks up his bowl to finish off his food, and remarks, "It is a difficult situation, and I sense even Istadris is frustrated with the differences between our folk."

"I am more than glad to tend after Lia," Aldawin hastens to say; her serious gaze is clear confirmation of her words as she looks across the way to the warden. She seems about to say more, but the words seem faltered before they are uttered and instead she pushes the empty bowl before her aside. Shaking her head, the healer pursues another thought. "As for Istadris, he is not as much frustrated as you might think," she seeks to assure him. "T'was said by him after you left that he might have been somewhat harsh with you." Aldawin chuckles lightly, nodding to the empty bowl of stew. "We are perchance more similar than we are willing to admit?"

"Hmph," says Corrin eloquently in reply to Aldawin's words. "Perhaps," he admits grudgingly, standing and dishing out another bowl of stew. There is a light of humour in the Haladin's eyes as he turns around, though his next words are merely, "There's plenty left. Make sure your lady Emeldir and the others have something to eat. I'm going to see if Lia will have any." That said, he takes bowl and spoon off to his wife's bedroom, leaving Aldawin behind in the kitchen.