Woodshop
The smell of new-cut wood and sawdust hangs in the air, a pleasant and earthy essence for a shop cluttered and stacked with oak and pine boards and pieces of wood as well as woodworker's tools. A large and sturdy sawhorse sits in the center of the room, and a pole lathe and spoon auger nearby as well. The shop is used year-round to shape and cut wood harvested from the forest, and a small fireplace serves to both heat the room and dispose of the unusable remnants of wood. Various projects, half-finished and just begun, line the east wall upon shelves, while scraps and curlings of wood litter the floor liberally.

The sound of carpentry fills the air, as well as the fresh lingering smell of pine and cedar. As usual, the Woodshop is a mess, with shavings and bits and pieces scattered all over the place. In the center of the room, working on a wooden horse, is Falsten -- clamping a leg together. Near his hand, a small pot of glue rests, as well as a tin of nails.

The Summer afternoon is warm, though it grows late, and the first mellowing of the rays of the westward sun grow less intense, and in the courtyard beyond the packed dirt road can be heard the sound of children at play. Walking upon this shaded lane--the birches swaying gently with a subtle breeze--the healer Aldawin peers towards the woodshop, and seeing shadows of movement within the walls, quickens her steps to the entrance, and peers inside. "Ahh," she says of the common tongue. "There is someone here at last..." And she waits for the other to acknowledge her.

"Eh?" comes the soft reply, as the carpenter jerks up suddenly, nearly knocking over his small pot of glue and the small tin of nails. With a soft curse that sounded something like 'Trees on fire', he grabs frantically at the teetering equipment. Finally, once all is righted once more, Falsten takes a deep, shakey breath, and turns to see who it is. Blinking, he notes the foreign features and nods, "Ahm... good afternoon."

Aldawin offers a pleasant smile, looking about the shop with a curious gaze as if to note anything new about. As her sudden appearance causes the carpenter to start, though does not even offer so much as a smile at the mishap, and instead reaches forward as if to keep the nearly-spilled bottle from falling. Standing away as the carpenter seems to have all in hand, the Beorian gives a nod. "Good afternoon," she says. "I am sorry...sorry to startle you so. I was just surprised to see anyone here, is all. I have been by for the past week to find none here in the shop."

"Oh...! Oh!" replies Falsten quickly, offering a rather sheepish smile, and looking like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. "I'm dreadfully sorry that there wasn't anyone here to greet you." He points out one of the windows towards a covered woodpile. "We have to log some of our own wood. Although most of the foresters take care of the Oak and the Pine, the Cedar and the Cherry we have to go and get ourselves. And usually that's only for special projects." As he speaks, his hands move in explination of the situation. Again, the glue is almost knocked over and a juggling act is to be had once-more.

The smile broadens upon the young Beorian's face, and Aldawin steps another pace inside, seeming more at ease. "Ahh...of course you must," she says, nodding, gazing more closely at the various projects set about the shelving. "I had spoken to someone about a chair, but it was not you." Her lips press together of a thought, and she draws her hands behind her in a clasp. "Are there others who work this shop?" she wonders, craning over to look at the rich whorled wood of a recently-lathed bowl.

"Well..." replies Falsten, "Yes." He looks around and says, "We've got a few woodworkers here... they do bowls and such. And a couple more carpenters, but... I'm the main one here, right now. All the rest, they come in and work as its needed."

"Falsten's the name..." the carpenter adds, akwardly. "I do buildings, furnature, and other knick knacks that need to be done."

Turning her attention from the bowl she idly inspects, Aldawin smiles faintly as the other speaks, nodding once again in reply. "Aye, then. Tis good to meet you, Falsten," she says, the gaze diverted of another glance as she sees the workings of shop. "I am Aldawin, daughter of Deorwin of Ladros. Coming as we have from Dorthonion, we have little with us brought, and I was wishing to inquire about a chair to be made for my father. Out of oak," she adds. Taking a step to the side, the healer brings her gaze back to the carpenter. "By way of payment I may barter healing balms and salves, and my mother is a weaver and chandler, and thus has soaps and candles at her disposal."

Falsten gulps slightly and then nods, turning away from the wooden-horse he heads on over to the work bench where several leaflets are cluttered there. "Well...," he begins, "Modry didn't tell me about any chair. So... if ye could, maybe you could show me what you have in mind..." Digging through the papers for an unused side, he shows various other pieces of furnature that he's been commissioned to make. "Do you want a rocker? Or a straight back? If it a straight back, and you said your mother was a weaver, it might be more comfortable if the seat or part of the back is woven instead of wood. But, the problem with woven parts is, that often they can deteriorate a whole lot faster than a wood piece."

Hesitantly, he looks over to Aldawin, to see if she sees anything that she likes.

With a soft chuckle, the healer points to a sturdy, straight-backed piece. "My father is a woodsman and hunter, taller than me by two hands," she explains. "Twill need to be a chair of sturdy make and size. And he will have naught but oak." There is a will of determination to that order--as if she echoes it of another voice, but the smile that follows softens the hardness of it, and once again Aldawin looks to the other. "As for payment, would you find such barter acceptable?"

"Um... oh certainly, I am sure," replies Falsten. Looking around, he grins again, a bit sheepishly, "There's a neverending amount of banged up thumbs, or nails in places they shouldn't be here... as usual. Its a work area after all." He smiles and then looks at the drawing she pointed out. "Alright... that sort of design. Is he a heavy sort? And how much... um... ornamentation would he like?"

"I may make a salve for that especially," the healer offers, and one for skin worn calloused and dry with work. But I shall let you make the chair, then set the payment after," Aldawin says; her expression offers assurance. "Whate'er you ask shall be fair, I trust." Gazing at the paper once more, the Beorian healer creases her brows in thought. "Of my father yet? He is a man broader than I, to be sure, though still bears a leanness of his age, so he needs no special accommodations of design. And while he might not ask for any ornamentation, I would ask of one. And gladly pay for the extra work of it." Pointing at a drawing of a particular chair's back, Aldawin nods as she draws her finger along the top piece. "A carving of a bear...here," she says, looking to Falsten with an upraised brow. "It may be in profile walking, and needs not be any great work. But it must be a bear. Is there one in the shop, or in the village, who might do such a thing?"

Lifting his hand up to rub at his reddish mop-like hair, Falsten considers the request, "Well... payment, isn't an issue yet. And yes... I'll accept those terms. Now, this bear ornamentation bit, may be a more difficult thing to swing here, ma'am." Looking up to the healer, he says, "You see... it takes a special kind of carver to create an honest likeness of forest creatures such as that. My best carver, young Whitley, I doubt has actually seen a bear up close. Anyone else, might just mangle the job, sadly..." Looking down at the picture again, Falsten rubs his head some more, "But... I don't know. I can see what I can do."

As the carpenter expressed doubt, Aldawin seems to reconsider, and her mouth twitches to a smile as she is joined of another possibility. "Perhaps, if I might have the unfinished piece I might take it to someone else? I know of two that might do a decent job of whittling out a carving of a bear. Aye. Would that be aggreable? Then I may bring the unfinished piece back to you?. "

The carpenter blinks, and then nods. "Certainly, that would be acceptable." He smiles and nods again, as if firmly placing a mental picture of this chair in his mind. "It may take a fortnight or so to have the unfinished piece done. Oak requires a lot of soaking... its not a plyable material at all."

"There is no hurry for the chair," Aldawin assures the other, seeming more glad to finally have it set to the making than else. "I shall return for that piece," she says with a brief and faint nod. "My thanks to you, Falsten. If you find you must reach me in question, I am staying among the summit shelters." With a brief glance out the door into the cooling afternoon, the young healer once more utters a thanks and makes her way to leave.

With a slight wave, Falsten tilts his head and gives the retreating healer an odd look, before turning back to the wooden-horses, and the object his working on there.