Beleriand time is: Daytime (About 6AM) on Mersday of Summer - August 25, 463

Base of Amon Obel
The forest thins out somewhat, spreading at the base of a large hill, the larger trees giving way to younger ones. The pathway widens heading gradually upwards to the crest of Amon Obel to the west. The hillside is covered with long grasses waving in the breeze, and dotted with colorful wild flowers.

For once Aldawin is not carrying something. Her arms unencumbered by herbs or satchels, or else, she walks quite freely along Amon Obel's base, having just descended the steep pathway down to the forest. The wide, well-kept path is host to others as well who have left the summit village of this early morning, and upon whom streams golden rays of light which sends the long, dewy blades of grass to glittering. In fact, Aldawin seems of a rare mood. Her mouth curved in the faintest of smiles, she is humming a tune under her breath, and stops to study a shock of purple and red wildflowers that grow against the treelined path.

Corrin is standing to one side of the path, talking with one of his fellow Haladin, a scout just recently arrived if his slightly travelworn appearance is anything to go by. Despite the fact they both seem deep in conversation when Aldawin first comes into view, both of them simultaneously stop talking for a few seconds when the Beorian healer is recognized, then attempt to start speaking again at the exact same moment. The incongruity of this draws a chuckle from the warden, who then excuses himself from the man he was speaking to with a nod, and heads over in Aldawin's direction, raising a hand in greeting.

No little surprise is shown is upon the healer's face as she recognises Corrin, and leaving the cluster of colorful flowers and going towards him as well. "Corrin," she says, her smile broadening, "Tis been awhile since I've last seen you. Your cousin Istadris has wondered at your absence, and I as well," she adds, turning her glance quickly to the other that the warden has been speaking with. "What has kept you away for so long, if you do not mind my asking. Is all well?"

"Well, I...needed some time away," begins Corrin in answer to Aldaawin's question. As it turns out, however, he does not elaborate any farther on the issue of his recent absence, turning the subject instead to, "Finnabair, the ranger of Dorthonion. I would speak to you about her, if you have a moment, healer? She left for Dor-Lomin, did she not?"

As Corrin speaks in a more subdued vein, Aldawin, too, reflects that change in her expression, ever more attentive in what Corrin says. At first she nods her head, bowing of the thought of the warden needing time away, but next--as he speaks of Finnabair--the glance is watchful upon him again. "Aye. She left some time ago," she says, the words a bit rushed. "Has she returned?" But by the warden's look, the healer sounds doubtful of the next. "Or is there else...?"

"I just received word from some of the men posted out near the crossing of the Teiglin," replies Corrin, his serious demeanour continuing to lend support to the healer's doubts. "They recently encountered a group of Marchians, led by your messenger, Sionell, and granted them entry to the forest. The ranger Finnabair was not with them. Was there any plan for her to return separately? One of the Marachians has joined our men in looking for her, for they do not know where she is either."

The smile is all but washed of the healer's face as Corrin continues speaking, and her gaze once again drops to the ground in thought as a early morn and summer breeze lifts the birch leaves in flutters along the pathway, trembling the shadows at her feet. "That is certainly not like Finnabair," she answers, solemn, amidst the shaking of her head. "You say there are already those out in search of her? Where do they search?" she asks, her grey gaze piercing upon the warden.

"Down towards the source of the Teiglin, I believe," the warden says after a moment, reaching a hand up towards his chin and scratching at it absently, "Apparently that's the direction she told the Marachians she was going to go. I imagine they've probably just missed her on the way, but just in case, I was thinking some of us might head down in that direction to look for her. She did not seem to me to be the sort to be unpunctual."

Listening carefully to the response of the warden, Aldawin nods once again in understanding. "Aye. I best tell your cousin, Lady Emeldir and any others who might wish to join in the search." The grey eyes hold caution of their next glance. "As you go in search as well, be careful, Corrin," she says, and once again she looks to the brightly beckoning sprig of wildflowers that grow along the road, though it seems she looks through, rather than at, them.

With a quick nod, Corrin says to the healer, "If you could pass the news on to Istadris and the others, I would greatly appreciate it." Though his words are formal, there's a touch of sympathy in the warden's voice, an unexpected gentleness in his manner towards the healer given his usual gruff manner. It's fleeting, however, and he soon adds, "Well, I must be off, if we're to get anything done about this before the end of the day. Until later, Aldawin."

Giving a final farewell to the warden, Aldawin watches as the other takes his leave, and the healer, herself, wastes no time in retracing her steps up the winding pathway that leads to Amon Obel's summit.