"Morning!" Leana calls out, lifting her free arm in greeting while the other grasps the crutch all the more tightly. Lee continues down the path a few more steps and seems to be about to continue speaking when a rooster begins its loud cry, apparently from a pen behind the house. "Shut up, you dumb bird!" Leana turns and hollars, volumes just as loud and raucous as the creature she is trying to silence. "You'll wake everybody up!"

The apprentice smith's hollering is hardly to be missed in the placid morning, shattering the silence like smashed glass. Aldawin looks up, inevitably, having missed the earlier greeting called by Leana. Clutching the thick cloak now in both hands, the small bunch of herbs held before all else, the Beorian healer looks up and nods a more calmed greeting to the girl, offering the beginnings--though not quite a full--smile. "Good morn, Lee," she says, glancing overhead at the riot of birdsong taking place in the tall birch tree overhead. "How is you ankle?" she queries, nodding towards the wrapped limb. "I trust you mending alright, since I've not had occasion to see or hear otherwise?"

"Aye, it's mending fine. Doesn't hurt anymore, save when I knock it," Leana says with forced casualness, rubbing the sleep out of her left eye with that same hand before continuing. "And how are you faring? Do healers always rise this early?"

Finnabair appears at the corner of one of the homes set along the row, one hand resting against the building as she frowns across the where to where Leana stands, scolding the birds. A puzzled look on her face, she walks on with a small pack bouncing against her hip as she nears Leana who she sees now speaking with Aldawin. "Good morrow.", she voices, slowing her step and nodding to them along with her greeting.

The chirping birds have drawn another as well, strolling slowly down the birch-lined path. Hearing familiar voices, Emeldir lifts her head, looking ahead to where Aldawin and Leana are chatting. She lifts a hand as she calls out a greeting, "Good morn, miladies!" turning in their direction, pausing to bow her head as she now recognizes Finnabair approaching as well. "Good day, Finna. Tis a fine summer morn, yet cool enough for a stroll," she comments to her friend with a bright smile.

Aldawin nods in seeming satisfaction with Leana's report on her ankle; her expression continues to be thoughtful. "And how is the swelling?" she asks, not answering the apprentice's question straightway. At Finnabair's greeting, the healer sweeps her gaze upwards and she turns slightly to greet the approaching ranger. "Good morn, Finnabair," she offers in return, only greeted yet again by the lady Emeldir's brightened voice and smile. Begrudgingly, it seems, Aldawin is finally coaxed to a smile, if strained, and she bows her head in a greeting to the elder healer. "Lady Emeldir, good morn to you," she offers.

Folding her arms across her chest, Finnabair shifts her weight to one foot and peers at Leana a moment, listening as she speaks with Aldawin about an injury. "Do even the birds offend you, Leana?", she wonder, chuckling and then turning to the voice of Emeldir. "Good morrow, m'Lady!", she calls back, lifting one hand. "Tis a fine one indeed, but for the noise.", she adds with another look to the Haladin smith.

Lee returns abruptly to a terse mood when Finnabair arrives, unable to keep from scowling at the ranger even as she nods in greeting. "/That/ one offends me. Dumb rooster should've been eaten long ago, though it'd probably taste foul just to offend us." Turning her gaze quickly back to Aldawin, she replies, "Very little swelling, it's almost all gone down. I shouldn't bother anymore about it, it's well under control." Emeldir is given a much more polite nod than Finnabair receives, almost deep enough for a bow --which action is prevented by the crutch on which the smith leans.

Stumbling lightly and exhausted, Geleviel enters the village. She drags her pack wearily, dropping it upon seeing her friends. "Compatriots!," she exclaims. "I have been lost these two weeks without company. A trapper led me hither. I have lived on sweet bramble berries and honey with some regrets. It is good to see you and me alive too this evening. I feared I would wander north again. I wanted only a look at Brethil and it seems my Dorthonion skills in the pines are no use to me now. But the sun is the same in setting west and the rivers contained my steps. At least I am finally safe again. How fare you today?" She smiles with exhuberence.

Eyeing the bird now herself, Emeldir observes wryly, "He looks as if he'd be tough and stringy to me," allowing the corners of her mouth to twitch only briefly in her attempt to keep a straight face. "Tis good to see that your ankle is healing nicely, though, Lee," she adds quietly, addressing the young smith now, before glancing in Aldawin's direction. "And how are ye feeling this morn, milady?" she inquires of the younger healer. "Is your forearm still bothering ye, or has the remedy we spoke of helped?" she asks additionally, leaning closer towards Aldawin, lowering her voice.

Aldawin's glance flashes to Finnabair after she questions the Haladin smith about the birds being offending, and there is something in that glance that suggests quelled mirth in agreement, though she says naught else as Emeldir addresses the rooster in question and then inquires after the lingering injury. "The poultice seems to have done its work, and I am bothered by it no more than a bit of stiffness, which works itself out with use," she says gladly. "My thanks to you lady--" All else the healer might have said is interrupted with Geleviel's appearance, and with this tangle of a tale that the weaver offers, Aldawin lifts a brow in some surprise. "Two weeks wandering?" she repeats. "That must have been a journey so newly arrived as we are. I might recommend the tavern, for a more substantial repast." She smiles a little. "The food there is quite good."

The arrival of Geleviel fully claims Finnabair's attention, who turns slightly from the others, leaving them to discuss Leana's injury as she marvels with eyes wide and staring at the tale the weaver wends. Once the woman finishes it, Finnabair takes a step toward her and asks after Aldawin's own suggestion for finding fare, "Sweet bramble berries and honey, was it?", she asks, wholely amused, "Might we interest you in a rooster who has worn out his welcome? I think Leana will gladly serve him up for you."

Feeling a bit out of place amongst all these Dorthonions, Leana runs one hand through her tangled titian tresses. "Lee," she speaks up to Gelevial. "My name is Lee. And if I could strangle that accursed creature I would thrice over, but he is not mine. The hospitality of my aunt does not go near that far. The tavern food is good, though, we appreciate a hearty meal here," she boasts. "And it is easy enough chance to get lost in Brethil, but a lucky one too, for there is no safer forest in my knowledge."

Geleviel shrugs, "Two weeks, seems so, off alone one might lost themself. Well it has been a while since I have seen these faces. Lee", she presents, "I am Geleviel, a weaver and merchant's daughter." Geleviel pulls up her pack and spills out folds of fabic and a bundle which she unties. "I have found mushrooms, but I did not eat them. They are akin to the ones from Rivel, but not exactly, still I would not throw away a good thing, if it were. I wonder who might know the type. Sun goes down..." She looks into the twilight. "I would not have it set in a posioned sleep." She giggles.

Aldawin's gaze flashes upwards to the Haladin, followed by the twist of her mouth and a curt nod. "Dorthonion was once safe, too," she states quietly, though the words do not have the curtness they might have been expected to. Looking again to Geleviel, she wonders aloud. "And what things did you see on your journey, Geleviel? I have noticed there is a bounty of herbs here. I can only imagine what things you have discovered as a weaver." She chuckles with a nod to the fungus the weaver holds in the bundle. "As for those, I would caution you on asking one of the Haladin here before you sample odd mushrooms." And she winks.

Turning her gaze now upon the young weaver, Emeldir smiles and dips her head, "Greetings to ye, milady. It certainly is good to see ye arrived safe and sound, though mayhap in need of a change in diet..." she quips with a quirked brow, peering more closely now as the young woman reveals the mushrooms she collected along the way. "Aldawin and I could help discern if they are edible, mayhap even useful in healing remedies," she suggests to Geleviel. "Twas certainly wise not to eat, for there are certainly some poisonous toadstool which grow alongside edible mushrooms," she adds soberly.

Finnabair steps forward and gazes down curiously at what Geleviel presents, running her eye over the harvest of mushrooms she has found. Nodding to the remarks both Aldawin and Emeldir make, she asks after them, "You do not intend to eat them, do you Geleviel? Will you make a dye? I have heard some can even make shades of purple.", she notes with interest, kneeling down she reaches to pick on up, holding it up and turning it around. "Where did you find them?"

"I'm a smith," Leana replies to Geleviel's introduction, though her tone has suddenly turned to one of aloof arrogance. "Daughter of one of the Guards of the Haladin. Nathan, if ever you hear of him." She does not deign to respond about the mushrooms, instead adjusting her grip on her crutch and hobbling forward, the lopsided motions nonetheless energetic and purposeful. "And here I have wasted away the coolest parts of the morning with idle chatter. I'll be heading to the smithy now, I'm sure I will see all of you around. Good day."

"I found these below a falling brook near the stream bed and under some hanging moss I took for a curious cave, though it was an indentation in the embankment, and none too comfortable for sleeping. For dye I found yarrow but one always can find yarrow I suppose, a gift of nature. Nothing less common I have crossed, but then with our journey no one was much concerned with trade, but liberty and safety, though that was my feeling. I imagine many days spent in the fields on route could have been spent gathering dyes" Geleviel sighs. " I was not meant to be a weaver. My mother was a weaver. I am not my mother, though it seems less likely then it was." The weaver offers Finnabair a mushroom, "Take one if you like, perhaps they are precious. I might taste a corner if no person ever has, though I find that unlikely. I ate a poison mushroom once. It made me sick. I did not die. I suppose many are like that, or not at all sick making"

Finnabair looks upon Geleviel, listening intently as her words spill out in answer to her own simple question. Smiling and canting her head to the weaver's offer, she tosses up the mushroom she holds and catches it in the air, "Thank you, Geleviel. I shall take it, for I find the use of such things for dyeing to be interesting.", she says, pocketing it and rising to her feet once more. "But pay heed to the Lady and Aldawin and do not eat of it till you know its properties.", she adds with a warning look.

Aldawin betrays faint concern with the weaver's words, glancing after the apprentice smith Leana as she hobbles off down the lane. "If the one you ate once was poisonous," she speaks of the mushroom, and glancing to Finnabair with a nod, "then you are fortunate it only made you sick. You should take caution for yourself, Geleviel, for none of us want you to to be sick, even a little," she says with obvious regard. Glancing up at the elder healer, Aldawin offers a faint smile, shifting the thick cloak which is folden in her arms, and rustling the sprigs of herbs in her hands. "Is there word from the north at all?" She then asks, looking to Emeldir and Finnabair, and slight consternation colors her gaze.

Emeldir remains quiet, listening thoughtfully to the discussion, nodding in agreement with both Finnabair and Aldawin to Geleviel's concerns regarding the mushrooms she found. "Tis quite likely they are harmless, when considering where ye found them, Geleviel," she says at first, then hastens to add in caution, "To be certain, though, Aldawin and I shall check first with some of the healers here in Amon Obel," she suggests, looking now towards the younger healer. "I have heard no further word, milady," she replies in a lowered tone.

The sun has long since risen, dressing the morning in the warm light of summer, blue sky peeking through the birches that line the row by the same name. Standing together in conversation is Lady Emeldir, Aldawin, Gelevial and Finnabair, who shifts the pack at her side, "Then again, these mushrooms might go nicely with that rooster yonder.", she grins, tossing her head toward the yard where the fowl still struts between the hens, crowing loudly. Assuming a more sombre look, she glances to Emeldir, shaking her head, "No word but what we already know and none from Anach.", she says.

"Well I shall surrender them to you Lady Emeldir. I should say they are two days fresh, in case the color has changed, though I can't say it has. She holdsone up. They look delicious. The ones in Rivil I had with dinner and butter. I would ask that unless they be miracle healing mushrooms please give them back at least in a portion. Oh and the scarf they are wrapped in is for sale, or I would have that back. It took an afternoon to fashion on a standing loom. Looms. Are there any here?" Geleviel looks around the village with abrupt movements.

Long, quick strides carry Istadris along the packed dirt avenue leading westwards, further into the village atop Amon Obel. The woodsman's tanned brow is creased, his cool grey eyes narrowed in the bright rays of the morning sun that stream through the gaps in the overhanging tangle of leafy birch branches. At his side dangles a quiver half filled with black-fletched darts, while the curved staff of his strung longbow he carries gripped firmly in his left hand. Noting the small gathering of Beorian women not far ahead down the narrow way, the lean adan veers in his steps towards them and begins his approach, nodding wordlessly in greeting to those who stand facing his way.

Aldawin's gaze drifts lazily in thought as the women continue to debate the probability of poisonous mushrooms in Brethil. She draws the small handful of herbs up to look at them with a debating stare, and the thick cloak she carries begins to slip from her hold, its half-unfolded length falling to the ground. Carefully, Aldawin gathers the free edges up, though the last question asked by the weaver catches her attention. "Aye, they've looms here," she answers. I saw one in the woodshop, or at least what looked like the beginnings of one." At the woodsman's approach, Aldawin sets her gaze along the avenue and offers a nod to Istadris in greeting; her smile is subdued.

"And there you go," says Corrin in Halethian to one of his countrymen, handing him what looks to be a good dozen red and white fletched arrows. The two are carrying out their transaction at the doorway of one of the houses in this place, from which they have just emerged. They seem to be at the very end of their business, however, since after a few more nods and handshakes, the warden turns and starts walking out towards the main avenue, hefting what looks to be more arrows, all tied together in some sort of oversized quiver arrangement. Closing in fact, on where the Beorians are standing.

Finnabair says a word to Geleviel and Emeldir as they take their leave and then shoulders her pack in preparation for her own departure. Turning back to Aldawin, the only one left of their small Beorian gathering, she catches the focus of the healer's look as she smiles slightly to someone approaching from down the row. Looking over her shoulder, Finnabair finds that it is Istadris come to join them and she offers him her own salutation, "Morning. Where are you heading?", she asks, glancing at his bow and supply of arrows.

The approaching woodsman glances curiously after Emeldir and Geleviel as the two depart, though he seemingly dismisses the pair of Beorian women and instead turns to the two others left behind. "Good day, Finnabair." He replies, dipping his head to the young ranger in greeting. "Where am I off to?" He adds, repeating the other's question before looking to Aldawin and flashing the healer a faint smile. "I had hoped to see if there was a place where I could practice archery around here, or perhaps not far from the hill." He answers then, though his gaze breaks from the two and strays down the lane, towards the approaching warden. "And here comes Corrin, of all people, he would know." The lean Beorian raises a hand to salute his cousin, stepping nearer the other and calling out, "Oy, Corrin! I've a question for you..."

Looking up as his name is called, Corrin waves back at Istadris, and makes his way over towards him. As he nears, he nods politely to the other Beorians in the vicinity, and says to them, "Hello. I hope the day finds you all well. What can I do for you, Istadris?"

Corrin's approach, too, draws a faint smile and greeting of "Good morn," from the Beorian healer, and Aldawin considers the warden with a thoughtful gaze. She turns to Finnabair at her questioning the woodsman on his plans, however, and only then notices the bow and arrows the other carries, and some slight question is betrayed of the glance that returns to him, though she says naught else as Istadris notices Corrin's approach and greets his cousin.

A door opens of one of the small homes lining the lanes, and the occupant--a rather stout and inquisitive-looking fellow--pauses a moment to watch the gathering of Beorian folk outside upon the lane. Aldawin notices the movement of the opening door, turning to take a look, after which the Haladin narrows his gaze, gives a curt nod in the semblance of a greeting, and returns back inside, closing the door behind him. With a slight shrug, Aldawin looks back to Finnabair, nodding at the pack she carries. "And where were you off to, before conversation led you astray?" she wonders with the hint of a grin.

Finnabair brows lift at Istadris' mention of archery practice, "I should like to join you in that, but not this morning.", she says regretfully, glancing away to where the Haladin warden makes his way toward them, waiting for him to arrive before offering him a greeting, "Good morrrow, Corrin.", she says, "Well enough.", she answers, smiling and turning to Aldawin's question, "I have a small errand of my own to carry out.", she answers, patting the pack at her side, "Nothing as interesting as strange, deadly mushrooms or ideas about disagreeable roosters, though.", she chuckles.

Istadris steps aside from the two Beorian women and turns to look more closely upon his Haladin cousin. His brow arches questioningly, and he casts the other man's bundled arrows a curiously look before speaking out, "I had hoped to find a range, or some place to test my bow out, Corrin." Oblivious to the stout Haladin stranger that steps outside to look briefly upon the gathering, the woodsman runs his index finger down half the length of his taut bowstring and speaks on, "Is there such a place around Amon Obel, somewhere not too far, perhaps?" The tall man glances over one shoulder to Finnabair and dips his head in acknowledgement, "Aye, I wish to try my luck against your bow again, Finnabair. Though I am rusty, and my arm is quite weak still."

For the first time of the morning's conversation, the healer's smile broadens with Finnabair's assessment of her errand. "What else might be as interesting as those?" she wonders, darting a glance about for the troublesome rooster, though listening with half-attention to the ensuing conversation between cousins. "However," Aldawin adds of a thought, and lowering her voice a little, "you are in Brethil, and the simplest errand is apt to hold some possibility of interest, at least from what I've seen." And she shrugs, turning to listen as the woodsman speaks of his rusty skills in practice.

"A range?" Corrin repeats curiously, "I don't quite follow, cousin. Do you mean a place to practice with your bow? We have some places we use, in the forest. You'll see some targets on the trees if you head out from the East gate and walk on a ways. But mostly any place away from the dwellings will do, if it's not near a path." A glance down at his own burden, then the warden offers, "Do you need any arrows, Istadris? The making of bows and arrows is my trade, if you did not know."

The woodsman's thin lips curl with a crooked smile at Corrin's last question, and he eyes the other man's bundled arrows briefly before letting out a chuckle and nodding his head. "Aye, I had noticed." He replies then, before dipping his head gratefully to the other and patting the half-filled quiver at his side. "I need no more now, but I shall surely tell you when this quiver needs refilling." With a quick glance back to Aldawin and Finnabair, however, Istadris draws a place closer to Corrin and gestures the other aside. "I had wondered of other matters as well, cousin." He says, gazing intently at the Haladin warden. "Beyond the Sirion, to the east..." He begins, a deep frown marring his brow, "Those lands belong to the secretive elves. Yet, they patrol the Dimbar as well. Do your kinsmen ever have contact with them?"

Finnabair shakes her head and laughs at Aldawin's inquiries, "Tis nothing of interest, Aldawin, that is for certain.", she says, her hand still resting on the pack at her side and with half an ear attuned to Istadris and Corrin's conversation of archery and targets and other words spoken lowly between them. "But if I delay any longer, I shall be late.", she says quickly, already stepping back from the three. Lifting a finger to Istadris, she says to him, "It is good to see you at practice again! A good day to you all!", she calls, turning and striding off quickly along the treed laneway, disappearing around the corner of one of the homes.