Tavern
A dimly lit tavern set back amid the birches. A few small tables dot the room, as well as a short bar in the back corner. The patrons are few, and the conversation quiet.

The smell of food carries into the room through a curtained door in the left wall. The food looks to be of good quality, and served out in large portions. It is delivered by a single barkeep, a large man wearing a clean tunic and breeches.

The low creaking of the swinging doorway draws the Beorian woodsman's attention, and he glances up from his partially drunk ale to look upon the arrival of the Haladin, Leana. Through narrowed eyes, Istadris watches the young smith cross the room and order her drink from the happily obliging keeper. His right hand slides across the table's smooth worn surface to grasp at the mug before him, and though he lifts it to his thin lips, the lean man does not drink. "Good afternoon yourself, Lee." He calls back with a nod, before glancing towards the entryway as it is swung open once again. A curious smile graces Istadris' expression as he recognizes the arriving healer, and he looks between Haladin and Beorian with momentary concern, before gesturing for them both to join him at the table.

The smith's eyes turn briefly to Aldawin, betraying the briefest flash of worry before her gaze flickers back to Istadris. Noting his gesture, she nods and takes a seat at his table, curiously silent, her teeth clenched shut. She occupies her gaze in peering intently down into her ale, as though seeing something of interest in the liquid depths.

Adjusting to the lack of light in the tavern at last, Aldawin sees the woodsman first of her glance and with an acknowledging smile she starts forward across the room. Though as Istadris motions to another that sits at the bar, Aldawin looks curiously to the side, and seeing Leana, halts of her steps. For a moment, she simply stands there and watches as the Haladin smith takes a seat at the table. Then, with a glance of resignation to the woodsman, Aldawin approaches at last.

Istadris tilts the mug in his hand, drinking deeply from the cool, dark ale within it as he watches Leana come to take one of the seats at his table. His thin smile quirks with mild uncertainty as he notes Aldawin's hesitation, though he slides his own seat back and reaches out to take the sword and cloak from the chair beside him. "Sit down, Alda." He offers, while twisting around to drape his garment and weapon across the back of his own sturdy wooden chair. "I do wonder, Lee." He begins, his grey eyes lifting questioningly to the young smith, "You are not too young to share ale with the others here..." The woodsman sets his own mug down firmly upon the table and stoops slightly forward. "Are you not old enough then, to think before you speak, and hold your tongue when you have nothing wise to say?" He asks, his expression suddenly serious, and his grey eyes flashing irritably.

Leana recoils at the woodsman's words, as though struck. Soon after, however, she mutters a curse in Haladin at herself and straightens up, her brows drawn together harshly. "I had ..." she begins apologetically, her gaze flickering between both Dorthonions before her mouth tightens into a frown. "I am not a child," she says fiercely, avoiding the real topic. "And while I was neither tactful nor kind, which I am /sorry/ for," she spits out the words with such vehemence that it certainly doesn't seem like she is sorry, "I was still right, to the best of my knowledge. Even after yelling at me, that other woman she was with came to the exact same conclusion that I had, that Dorthonion has fallen."

The creak of the tavern's door interrupts the room once more and Finnabair leans inside, peering through the darkened space with a hand resting on the handle. Spotting first Istadris at a table, she lifts her chin and steps inside, beginning to cross the room to join him when sight of Leana spreads her lips into a grin that only widens when she catches Istadris' words and the Haladin girl's answer. Lower laughter comes from Finnabair, who pauses to speak a word to the keep, asking for a drink and turning away to find Aldawin making her way to the table she continues on toward as well.

As Aldawin approaches the table in the darkened corner of the tavern, and the woodsman clears a place for her to sit, her hesitation is momentarily lifted as she takes the seat slowly; the wooden legs scrape against the floor as she scoots the chair closer. Resting her hands upon the table and clapsing them lightly before her, she does lift the studying grey gaze to the smith across the way, though as Istadris speaks his censuring words, that same studying gaze travels to him--hinted with question at his bold words. The answered retort by the Haladin girl sends her gaze drilling downward once again, however, and she notices not that Finnabair has entered.

Though the woodsman's narrowed eyes are darkened by his restrained annoyance, he remains otherwise calm and sips casually from the mug in hand. His sharp gaze lifts to meet the Haladin smith's once more, and he nods wordlessly in response before glancing across the sparsely crowded room to watch Finnabair at the bar. "Aye, Lee." He voices quietly at last, "I truly hope you are sorry. We have not come here willingly, and some of us do not willingly stay." The lean Beorian raises the mug high in hand, beckoning for the ranger to join the small gathering, before again looking closely upon the Haladin smith. "If you were man, I would call you out and trounce you as an example for this insult, whether what you said was true or not." He declares with unwavering certainty, "And I shall do the same for any other who questions my kin's courage and skill."

"If I were a man!" Leana shouts, easily twice as angered by that aspersion as by his lecture on her foolish words. "If I were a man!" she repeats, clearly having no other words appropriate to express her outrage. Some of her fellow Haladins stop their conversations to turn amused glances on the young smith. She hesitates, sizing up the woodsman quickly before continuing. "I do not /ask/ for special treatment, and I am as tough as any boy my age," she finally says scathingly.

Dragging a chair from the table next to their's, Finnabair takes a seat amongst the three and leans back with as yet no greeting, sensing the tension between Istadris and Leana. The keep arrives and places an earthen cup of ale before her and managing an halting word of thanks in the man's own tongue she reaches for the drink, holding from tasting it as Leana erupts. Hardly a note of surprise registers on the Beorian woman and carrying the drink to her lips she sips leisurely from it, gazing on the Haladin smith patiently.

Aldawin's gazes continues focused upon her hands clasped upon the table before her. As Leana shouts her scathing reply, the healer continues her contemplative muse, quelling the bitter smile that curves her lips. But, given a moment after the outburst, the healer speaks. Her words, though soft, are edged with clear reproach. "If you must recount the previous day's events, Lee, you might do well to recount them accurately. I did not once raise my voice in a yell to you." Now the gaze lifts piercingly to the other, solemned and steady. "Or would you belittle my dignity, as well?"

Only now does Aldawin notice Finnabair's arrival, and with a low nod, gives the other a wordless greeting, while clearing her throat softly.

Istadris eases himself against the sturdy chair's high back and lifts the mug of dark ale to his lips for a last, long sip of the remaining drink. The Beorian woodsman sets the mug down once more and draws a deep, patient breath as Aldawin speaks out near his side. With a light, uneven shrug of his shoulders, he turns to more carefully study the young Haladin. "Tough as any boy you may be." He replies, before sliding back upon his seat and rising to his full, imposing height, "But I do not deal with boys." The tall adan sets to collecting his light cloak and sheathed sword, and prepares to depart before dipping his head to Finnabair and Aldawin. "I shall be outside a moment." He adds.

"/You/ never shouted at me, you're a /girl/, I bet you never shout," Leana says dismissively to Aldawin. "I was talking about her," she points to Finnabair, "But if you want to be /completely/ factual, she didn't shout either. But she called me out all the same." More than a little intimidated by Istadris as he rises, she glances out after him and snatches up her mug of ale to take a swallow to wet her suddenly dry mouth. She stares after him for a while, looking as though she'd like to be angry at him for slighting her, but cannot help being relieved that he chose not to fight her.

The grin still tugging at the corner of her lips, Finnabair looks from Istadris to Leana to Aldawin, the last to which she nods in returns and tips her cup in salutation, tipping it again when Istadris rises and leaves the table. Lifting a brow high when Leana points toward her, Finnabair sets the cup down and leans forward in her chair, "Call you out, did I?", she wonders, directing a hard look upon the smith, "Those are not words I recall.", she adds, shaking her head.

Aldawin merely shakes her head as Lee answers; there is almost a look of pity that settles upon that sober grey gaze. "Aye, Lee," she says in a tone that suggests resignation, "I could not suppose to guess at what has turn you so contrary and spiteful at so young an age, but I may as well look to a fencepost as find any compassion in you." So said, the Beorian healer rises from her seat and gives a nod to the ranger. "I shall return soon," she says in her tongue, then steps away to approach the bar and order a drink for herself.

The Beorian woodsman slings his sheathed sword's scabbard over his right shoulder and drapes the light cloak over his left before turning on his heel and leaving the others' squabbling behind him. His stony features darken with a frown as he crosses the tavern's sparsely crowded chamber, and though some of the gathered Haladin men and women cast him curious glances, the lean man heeds them not. The wooden door swings open at a nudge from his booted left foot, and the brilliant crimson light of the setting sun spills briefly into the dim room before the portal is shut again after Istadris' passing.

"Will you all stop trying so hard to hate me!" Lee rages, stomping her foot childishly as she turns her gaze to Finnabair, locks of red whipping about her face, accenting her fury. "You were annoyed at me. You /lectured/ me and treated me like a four year old. And I was annoyed at myself!" she adds, cursing once more in Halathian and earning several glares from annoyed patrons, who did not come to the tavern to watch a temper tantrum, entertaining though it may be. "I am /sorry/, and if every /one/ of you took me out into the street and pummeled me I would consider it fit punishment. But I will not take scorn and condesension!"

Aldawin rises from the table, leaving Finnabair alone to bear the brunt of Leana's petulance. Drawing in a deep breath and allowing the girl to finish, Finnabair reaches for her drink and downs it all at once before rising herself. "You have yet to learn how to hold your tongue, child and again you shame yourself and your people.", she says, waving a hand around to other patrons of the tavern and lifting her brows in question, "What would the Lord Halmir say of you, were he to hear such talk?"

Receiving her ale from the barkeep, Aldawin takes a swift, deep drink from the mug before she makes steps back towards the table, though with steps slowed and obviously unhurried. Turning a glance only at the Haladin smith, she looks with more earnestness at Finnabair, setting the mug upon the table, though not taking a seat. "Have you seen Lady Emeldir today?" she asks, looking impatiently towards the tavern's exit.

"He would say ... he would say ..." Lee stutters, searching desperately for something plausible he might say that wouldn't be exactly what the Dorthonions have said to her. Finally, she squares her shoulders and looks Finnabair in the eye, or as close as she can get from her shorter height. "He would say I am an arrogant brat who can neither control her temper nor her tongue, and a disgrace to all my kin. I'll leave you now." At the mention of Lady Emeldir, whoever, she flinches visibly, strangely enough, even as she picks up her mug of ale and begins to walk towards the furthest empty table from the Dorthonions.

Finnabair looks expectantly at Leana as she tries to form an answer, which to her surprise is one of truth. "Oho!", she laughs loudly, thumping the table with the palm of her hand as the girl stalks off to the corner of the tavern, "At least the girl knows herself.", she says, her laughter turning to a chuckle as Aldawin returns to the table. "No, I have not seen the Lady today, Aldawin.", she answers, still standing and casting an amused look to the smith again.

Aldawin sinks slowly into the seat once again, taking another drink of the mug and nodding with the Beorian ranger's answer. The smith's departure from the table is a welcomed relief, though the healer still bears some annoyance in the aftermath of the other's words. She raises a forefinger to absently trace the rim of the mug, then taps upon the container, sighing heavily. "I think I shall return to Corrin's tomorrow," she says for want of easing the tension and taming the silence.

The amused look and shout from the Dorthonion Ranger do none to alleviate Leana's admittedly sulky mood as she tries her best to ignore the Dorthonions, tipping her chair back and putting her booted feet atop the table. She turns her mug of ale about in her hands and takes a long draught. She peers with disappointment into the empty mug, but doesn't call for another, just yet, merely turning up her head to stare idly at the ceiling.

Finnabair dismisses the sulking Leana with another look and chuckle, resting a hand on the back of the chair beside which she still stands. Aldawin's question returns the Beorian woman to a sombre mood and she nods, "To see how he fares?", she asks, waving away the keep as approaches to refill her empty cup. "I would guess he will be in mourning some time."

"Aye, to see how he fares," the Beorian healer answers. "And to see to other things yet unfinished," she adds, tilting the mug once again to her lips. She sets the mug down, turning it in her hands slowly as she raises her gaze once more to the ranger. "What will be done concerning the yrch found along the Sirion," she asks quietly and shifting once again to her own tongue.

Frustrated in her attempts to eavesdrop on the Beorians, Leana scowls once more at her empty mug, tipping her head to the side, inwardly debating something.

"Oh, poor little girl. Wanted to make some new friends and just ended up acting like a brat again, didn't you, Lee?" The mocking tones, from a boy of about the same age and clearly similar temperment as the smith, float clearly over the tavern, spoken deliberately in the common tongue, instead of Haladin. For a moment, it seems as though Leana is going to throw something at him, her finger tightening white-knuckled over the handle of her earthenware mug. Instead she merely mutters a belligerent "Go away," in her native tongue and glares at the boy.

Finnabair drops her head and nods to Aldawin, saying, "Give Corrin my greetings when you go to him.", lifting her head and glancing to the corner where Leana receives the teasings of a young boy, "As for the yrch.", she starts, smiling mirthlessly, "Fight each one till none of left to plague us?", she asks, shrugging and stepping back from the chair, "For now it will be to aid Brethil in defending its borders, since here is where our home lies. Good even to you, Aldawin.", she says lastly, turning upon a heel to step to and through the door and out into the cool summer eve.

Just outside the tavern stands Emeldir, making ready to step inside when the door is pushed open from within. The Beorian lady nearly bumps into Finnabair but catches herself just in time, pulling up short. "Good even, Finna!" she greets her friend, dipping her head. "Are ye leaving now? I was just coming for a quaff of ale or some wine," she tells the young Ranger.

Aldawin keeps her gaze upon the ranger as she answers, though her brow furrows at the last and a frown taints her neutral expression. "It is not my home. Not yet," Aldawin answers quickly in refute, though amends the clipped nature of her tone with a more subdued, "Good even Finnabair," as she raises the mug to nearly drain it empty. The Haladin smith is all but forgotten to the healer now, though as Aldawin seems prepared to leave of her own, she hears the lady Emeldir's pleasant greeting at the door. The gaze lifts, and Aldawin awaits the elder healer's gaze.

Finnabair quickly steps aside when Emeldir appears on the other side of the door, "I am, m'Lady. Beware what lies beyond that door though!", she chuckles as she continues down the row, making away with steady strides.