Summit of Amon Obel
The central town of the Haladin is situated upon the flattened crest of the high hill of Amon Obel. Several trees are surrounded by tufts of lush grass, in some places tracked by the folk who traverse across it. For the most part, the wooden houses that are the dwellings of those who live up on the hill are in the southern reaches. Gardens, in some places wild and others well tended, are here and there amid the landscape. Between the trees and structures occasional glimpses of the running rivers that border the forest in the east and south can be seen in those directions, while the dark mountains of the north contrast with the ever brighter light of the Western horizon.

The late morning sun rides high upon featureless azure skies, shedding its brilliant, glaring rays down upon the bare crown of Amon Obel. The summer heat is stifling, and even the occasional gusts of a weak breeze do little to refresh the men and women who work under the near noon sun. The playful shouts and laughter of children drift across the Beorian refugees' pavilion, as do the smoky scents of roastin meat and heated stew from the various cooking fires that dot the encampment.

Here, near the eastern edge of the scattered shelters, walks Istadris. The lean woodsman keeps to the edge of the pavilions, moving amidst the tall, silvery birch trees that provide some measure of shade against the hot sun.

Stepping down out of one of the huts in the pavillion come Emeldir, who immediately must lift a hand to shade her eyes from the bright sun. She turns towards the shade of the birchs, the sweltering heat making her feel a bit dizzy, her steps faltering briefly before she reachs the welcoming and somewhat cooler shelter.

There she espies Istadris, and she moves towards the former Ranger, "Istadris!" she calls to him softly. "I do hope ye'll forgive me for asking ye to lead a search for Sionell," she entreats of the younger man as she draws closer to him, her voice lowered. "Still though, I believe a party should be sent out...do ye have any ideas who might be willing to go, milord?" she inquires of him.

Though drawn towards the Beorian shelters by the smells of cooking and smoke, Istadris halts beside a small clump of birch trees. The looming trunks shed little shadow upon him, yet he leans back against one and turns to survey the scattered men and women ahead through narrowed eyes. His gaze is drawn towards Emeldir as her call rings softly out from across the dirt lane, and he dips his head wordlessly in greeting. "No harm done." He replies simply, offering a dismissive shrug of his shoulders at her apology and nodding in agreement. "The way is dangerous, Emeldir." He declares, clasping his arms over his chest, "The yrch have surely begun to stray even as far as the pass into Hithlum, though I'll wager Hador's folk patrol those lands."

From the Courtyard, Aldawin can be seen standing beneath a shading pine, though her attention is focused solely upon a group of seven or eight Haladin children playing a game--of which she is not familiar. Chuckling amidst the cries of glee, the Beorian healer tilts her head and considers the contest as a wooden ball is prodded across the courtyard by two of the group who wield rough-hewn sticks, while the others attempt to block the ball's path with their feet. Every now and then a shout arises, though the healer cannot quite understand the meaning of the goal of the game, and as one of the stick-bearers makes a wild shot which nearly clips the healer's ankles, she hops aside and watches the ball skip by, only then seeing Istadris and the Lady Emeldir across the way, nearer the dwellings. Leaving the children to their game, Aldawin makes deliberate strides towards the two Beorians.

Lying idly beneath the cool shade of the trees, Finnabair gazes upward through the leafy overhang, twirling a long blade of grass between her fingers as the sun dapples downward. Around her drift voices, laughter and the hum of summer insects in the trees, lulling her into a dozing wake. Legs stretched out, she crosses one over the other and turns her head to the side, watching the lane upon which Emeldir and Istadris have met in conversation.

Emeldir's brow furrows, the corners of her mouth turning downwards even as she nods her head to acknowledge Istadris' declaration. "Aye, milord. I only wish we had heard earlier..." she admits still in hushed tones, "Sionell may not have even made it that far," she adds somberly. "One thing is certain, though," she continues, "Lord Hador will send someone to accompany her on the return journey."

She pauses from the conversation with Istadris, looking up as Aldawin approachs. Emeldir bows her head as she makes a polite greeting, "Good day, milady," she calls to the younger healer. "Have ye perchance met with any of the Haladin healers yet?" she inquires.

Istadris tugs idly at the loosely bound collar of his shirt and gazes irritably up into the cloudless skies as Emeldir speaks. "I was told that one of our own guides accompanied her." He adds reassuringly, his narrowed eyes dropping to meet the lady's, "And 'tis true that Hador will provide her escort, if needed. Yet, this is perhaps the reason for her not having returned, yet. The way may be impeded by the creatures." The woodsman's gaze follows that of Emeldir's as she looks to Aldawin. His thin lips curl with a welcoming smile, as he voices a soft greeting, "Ay, Aldawin."

The lean Beorian's gaze is drawn past Aldawin, however, and towards Finnabair as he first notices her beneath the shade of some nearby trees. "And there rests Finnabair!" He observes, looking to Emeldir, "Perhaps should would help in this task...?"

As Aldawin nears the others, she offers a broad smile to both with a gladdened, "Good day," only then noticing the ranger Finnabair lounging under the leafy shade of one of trees nearby. "And good day to you, too," she calls to her, though next answers the Lady's question after a quick glance to the woodsman. "I have, in fact, met with two healers. The other day when I chanced upon them in the herb garden. "Our exchange was brief and not terribly useful," she says with a shrug. "Have you fared any better in your discussions with them?" At the former ranger's words, however, Aldawin looks back to the woodsman, curious. "Task?" she offers of a query.

Finnabair lets go a long sigh and closes her eyes, beginning to fall into a light sleep only to be drawn back by the voice of Aldawin. Peeking one eye open at the healer, who she sees has joined Emeldir and Istadris, she groans quietly and draws herself up, wrapping her arms about her knees. "Good day.", she returns groggily, managing a smile for the three without rising. Her face brightening briefly at Istadris' next words, Emeldir replies, "Aye, Sionell was indeed accompanied by a skilled scout, and twould be likely that if the pass is ... overrun that Lord Hador would request Sionell to stay longer in Hadorsford, at least until that safe return passage could be ensured," she concedes.

Her gaze follows Istadris' now, one brow quirking as she considers the possibilty of Finnabair, before turning to answer Aldawin, "Nay, milady, I have not yet had a meeting with the healers here," she tells the younger woman. "Istadris and I have been discussing, again, Sionell's delayed return," she adds in explanation to Aldawin's last query. At Finnabair's greeting, Emeldir dips her head in the direction of the still-supine Ranger, "Good day, Finna! Would ye care to join us?" she calls out softly to her friend.

The woodsman slips a step away from the silvery trunk of the tall birch, seemingly intent on approaching Finnabair, yet halted by Aldawin's questioning look. "Aye..." He utters, frowning lightly and glancing aside once more to Emeldir as she speaks, "Seeing the route to Hithlum." Istadris' right hand lifts to shield his brow from the glaring sun as he steps forth from the shade and takes several quick strides in the ranger's direction. His curled lips broaden with an amused grin at the sight, and his voice is low, half-mocking as he calls out, "Been drinking so early, Finnabair?"

Giving the ranger a peculiar look, Aldawin raises a brow. "Are you not well, Finnabair?" she wonders aloud, though certainly loud enough for the other to hear. Her words are clipped to silence as Istadris speaks, however, and with the woodsman's steps away and humored question to the ranger, the younger healer turns to the Lady for a moment. "And how are you feeling this day, Lady?" she wonders, though there is more than a casual interest in the asking.

Finnabair crooks a smile to the Lady's invitation and shakes her head, "No.", comes her quick answer, adding one to Aldawin's question, "I am not ailing, but today the shade under these trees make for better company. Tis too hot!" Watching Istadris make the short journey to where she sits, laughs and then ponders the thought, "I have not been drinking, but why not go and fetch me one?", she fires back, her voice taunting him as he did her, "I could use something to quench my thirst and you have little else to do these days."

Istadris quickly crosses the narrow lane and comes to stand beside one of the thick trees that tower over the resting ranger. Gladdened for the refreshing shade, the lean Beorian leans aside to rest a shoulder against the silvery birch trunk, and glances down upon Finnabair. "Bah!" He spits out at her mocking words, only half in jest, "I would fetch us both drink, if only the tavern were not closed this early in the day." The woodsman gives a dismissive shake of his head and eases himself down to crouch against the roots of the tree. "What have you to say for yourself, Finnabair?" He questions lightly, turning aside to glance towards where Emeldir and Aldawin still stand in conversation, "Have you met many of the archers and wardens in the forest?"

Emeldir's brow furrows more at Finnabair's response to Istadris and Aldawin, remaining quiet for a few moments before answering Aldawin's inquiry. "I am fine, milady, though the heat seems to be affecting me," she admits in a lowered tone. "So I have been resting more, and trying to stay in cool, shady places," she tells the healer.

Turning her attentions back to Finnabair, Emeldir inclines her head, "Lady Sionell has not yet returned from her journey to Hadorsford, Finna," she explains to the Ranger. "Istadris shared with me a few days ago about Minas Tirith's demise, and that the beasts freely roam the lands of Dimbar to the north. Would ye mayhap be ... willing to lead a scouting party, to check on Sionell's whereabouts, Finna?" she inquires of her friend, hastening to add, "Twould likely be quite dangerous."

Listening to the lady's words, and regarding her with a watchful eye, Aldawin nods in turn with Emeldir's reply, clearing her throat softly 'ere she responds. "Tis a prudent thing to do in such stifling weather. And to drink often of cooling teas or water." With this agreement, she turns her gaze to the Beorian ranger once more as the Lady speaks on to Finnabair. And with another glance to the elder healer and a slight frown following the grave words, Aldawin approaches, too, to where Finnabair rests beneath the generous shade of the birch.

Finnabair lays back upon the shaded earth again, glancing upward to where Istadris stands over her, "I have met a fair number.", she replies, "Why not come out with me next time, meet them yourself? I am sure your cousin would join us and would be glad for the distraction. ", she adds, breaking off when Emeldir begs a question of her. "Sionell has not been gone so long as to make for concern, m'lady.", she says, frowning, "She was well escorted and is surely safely there and will be safely back. What is your worry?"

Istadris folds his arms before him, leaning forward upon his bent knees and looking up to gaze across the sunny glade atop Amon Obel. "Aye, I would go with you next time you wander out into the forests." He declares with a slight nod, before looking back down upon Finnabair, "And perhaps Corrin would show us some of the hidden warden posts." The woodsman's lips purse as Emeldir calls out to Finnabair about Minas Tirith's fall, and he settles back to lean against the tree trunk, his shoulders hunching up uneasily. "Sionell was supposed to bear news to Hador and return immediately, Finnabair." He adds then in hushed tones, "We have heard not from the folk of Marach since before the war, and even now we are given reports of the yrch come further south. The route to Hithlum may be broken by them, now."

From somewhere a-south-ways comes a figure far shorter than any currently in the gathered, though obviously female. She pauses just past a cluster of saplings, holding a skin up to her mouth to drink of something, before tying it back to her waist-belt and continuing. Since she approaches slowly, and quietly, you may not have caught sight of her until she is almost upon you, speaking a good-natured, "A welcome to our welcomed kin..." in such a way as to not startle the unaware. Yaisalin gives no note of having heard your conversation, though surely she caught some of it.

"Aye, Finnabair," Aldawin adds as her steps bring her only a pace or two away from woodsman and ranger, either in response to the Lady Emeldir's words, or having anticipated Istadris' quietly spoken. "There is some concern warranted here. And Sionell has been gone longer than was expected." The approach of another is duly noted by the younger healer, but her attention to the matter at hand yields little more than a brief glance and hesitant nod to the stranger in turn, and Aldawin's gaze returns to first look to Istadris in question, and then Finnabair.

As the three have come to join her in the shade and now a fourth drawing near, an irritated look crosses over Finnabair who sits up and rises to her feet, giving only a curt nod to the unfamiliar Haladin. "In any matter, I do not think there is any cause for worry, for she was well guarded for the journey.", she answers briskly, brushing her hands over her dusty breeches, "Sionell has likely been invited to stay a while longer and rarely does anyone home arrive home on the day first set. Give her a few more days." Casting her gaze about to them each, she shrugs.

The woodsman's gaze remains intent upon Finnabair at first as he gauges her expression and hears out her reply. "It has been three weeks since she was expected back." He utters, frowning at the ranger's words, "And what does well guarded mean when yrch and worse freely roam the lands north of the Teiglin and Malduin rivers?" His words trail off then, and he gazes past Aldawin and to the Haladin stranger at her quiet greeting. With a light shrug, he too rises from his crouch to stand firmly upon booted feet. "I will go seek passage as soon as I may, Emeldir." He declares then, his frown deepening as he looks to the Beorian lady.

Aldawin's grey eyes widen in a mixture of disbelief and frustration, turned at first to the ranger, then next to the woodsman; though the words that follow are strangely calm. "Then I shall go as well," she says next, shifting her stance and folding her arms before her. "I seem to have naught that is better to do of my own, and Sionell is a friend I would see returned safely." Folly or not, her words are firm.

Growing more concerned by the tones of the conversation, Emeldir remains quiet, observing the interaction between Istadris and Finnabair, giving a brief yet barely noticable shake of her head at Finnabair's seemingly cavalier attitude towards Sionell's delayed return. To Istadris' last suggestion, Emeldir's head dips in his direction, "Milord, ye have not healed completely enough to wield a weapon yet, as Aldawin reminded me the past even," she tell him, her grey eyes widening when the younger healer herself suggests she might accompany the former ranger.

Turning her gaze to Aldawin now, Emeldir responds softly, "That would not be so wise an idea, milady. There may well be needs for ye here in Brethil," she tells her. "Mayhap we should wait a day or so more," she is willing to concede now.

Yaisalin listens to the conversation flow around her, whether in understanding or not, finally taking one more draught from her skin before returning any nods and continuing on through, heading toward one of the gardens to the north. At this point, you may catch a look at the sizable pack she carries across her back, laden mostly with furs, but also with a few strange-marked pouches.

Finnabair turns a cool look toward Istadris, "You miscount the days. It has not been three weeks since she was due back.", she answers, "But if you insist that someone goes, then someone shall, but it will not be you.", she adds evenly, gesturing toward his arm, "I will take someone able of body." Glancing quickly aside at Aldawin's announcement, she looks at her incredulously, "You will not go either.", she says flatly, nodding to the Lady's own words. "I will start off today.", she ends with, already striding past them through the trees and shelters set about them.

Istadris' grey eyes widen with mild astonishment, and he turns to cast Aldawin a strong cautioning glance before looking to the Lady Emeldir, and lastly to Finnabair as she speaks out. "I said I would go when I may." He declares, "I am no fool, and know my own injuries better than any of you. But I mean to seek passage on my own, if we have not yet heard from Hador's folk by the time I can draw my own bow again." With an irritable shake of his head, the lean woodsman draws a pace aside from the other Beorians and turns to watch curiously as the Haladin stranger wordlessly departs. "Ask Corrin if he would accompany you, Finnabair!" He calls after the ranger, though his narrowed eyes betray stormy thoughts.

Emeldir's gaze comes to rest now upon the young Haladin woman and she offers a warm smile as she greets her, "Good day, milady, and thank ye for the welcome," bowing her head politely. "Would ye mayhap be acquainted with any of the healers of Amon Obel? Lady Aldawin and myself were hoping to mayhap join up with one or two, to discuss herbs and remedies," she adds.

Yaisalin turns after a few steps at what, she must have figured, was a welcome addressed to her. As she turns, slowly, her pack moves less than fluidly with her, but she makes a bow as best as possible by bending slightly at the knees and nodding her head. "Milady," she says, voice louder as she approaches again, adding, "Alas, I am not, though I am known to herb lore, if that is all you seek?" Her steps may be slow, but they carry strength and could bear her in stealth, perhaps, were she not laden.

Aldawin appears stung, between the aloofness of Finnabair and Istadris' sharp protestations. Clasping her arms tighter about her, she glances at the retreating ranger, and then to the woodsman nearby before withdrawing of a step, turning on her heel and gazing into courtyard--now empty of its earlier young occupants in their game. She releases a slow sigh as she lowers her head and lets the uneasiness pass as it will, partially heeding the conversation of the Lady to the stranger.

The woodsman stands unmoving a short while there beneath the cool shade of the towering copse of birch trees, his arms clasped lightly over his chest. His gaze lifts to seek Aldawin's at first, though she has turned away, and so he glances towards Emeldir and the Haladin stranger that stands conversing with her. "I will be at the hall." He announces then, the words spat out bitterly. With a last, hesitant glance back at the younger Beorian healer, Istadris turns on his heel and strides off to follow the dirt lane across the summit of Amon Obel, to the tall common hall that stands at the far edge of the clearing.

Her attentions focused now on the Haladin lady, Emeldir listens attentively as she speaks, the briefest frown creasing her face, though, on hearing the young woman is not a healer, "Ah nay, we do seek out healers, milady. There are several here in Amon Obel, are there not?" she inquires politely, hastening to add, "Thank ye for the offer," her face coloring slightly now, suddenly recalling she had neglected to introduce herself, "Forgive me, milady. I am Emeldir of the House of Beor, and Lady Aldawin, also of Dorthonion.. both healers among our folk."