Brethil Hall
The long and spacious Brethil Hall is an open, airy inviting space. This is the meeting and festival hall of the woods folk of Brethil, and often many gather here after a days toil to spend time with friends and family. A brightly burning fire is central to the long hall, the smoke curling off the burning embers to be carried upwards through open ducts atop the high, gabled ceiling. Trunks of trees, the bark still intact, rise as pillars from the wooden planked floors to support the long running beams of the ceiling. Long and low oaken tables are placed here and there, with stubby tree trunk sections to sit upon.

The early morning dawns brightly beyond Brethil hall's gaping entryway, and no few of the local townsfolk have gathered here to break fast before attending to their daily duties. The low din of conversation drifts across the spacious wooden chamber, as do occasional calls from the hall's patrons and attendants. At the end of one of the long tables near the wall opposite to the entryway sits Istadris, quietly enjoying his own meal. The woodsman eats from a bowl of porridge and a plate of sliced bread and cheese, all the while gazing idly across the room and to each of the many familiar and unfamiliar faces gathered around nearby tables.

The doors push open to admit Emeldir, a shawl draped over her shoulders to ward off the early morning chill. She makes her way straight to the food, judiciously selecting slices of fruit and cheese along with a small chunk of bread before taking a look around the room for a familiar face. She espies Istadris, all alone, raising a hand to wave and catch his attention. Carefully balancing her plate in one hand, she moves towards his table, "Good morn, Istadris. Might I join ye?" she inquires with a polite bow of her head.

Through the entryway, out upon the long, western porch Finnabair can be seen standing at the wooden railing, back to the hall as she stares out across the wide view that Amon Obel's summit affords. Green forest stretches out for miles around, rising and dipping with the land with a few scattered colours of red and yellow only just beginning to hint that autumn is truly upon them. The wind stirs gently over the great height and Finnabair turns her face toward it before glancing over her shoulder at Emeldir's voice.

The woodsman does indeed notice Emeldir wave from a short distance across the sparsely crowded room, and his grey eyes lift to seek hers as he calls a quiet greeting. "Good morning." He voices, dipping his head and gesturing to the chair near his side as the Beorian lady approaches, "Please sit." Though Istadris' gaze strays past Emeldir and across the room, he shows no sign of noting Finnabair's presence where she stands outside, upon the hall's patio. "How have you fared here, Emeldir?" He asks in all seriousness then, with a questioning look directed at the lady, "Have you moved out of the shelters and into more appropriate quarters, yet?"

Several moments pass while Finnabair remains out upon the porch, catching only the murmur of Emeldir's and Istadri's voices back in the hall. As the sun retreats behind a passing of clouds, the day darkens and the morning air chills remarkably, forcing Finnabair to move away from the rail to seek the warmth of the fire inside. Stepping through the doorway she nears the table the two sit at, saying nothing to interupt their talk as she slides to a seat with them.

Emeldir smiles as Istadris extends invitation to her, slipping gratefully into a chair opposite the woodsman. She takes a small sip of tea before setting the cup down, reaching next for a slice of apple before she looks across at Istadris, "Nay, in fact I am still in the temporary shelters, milord," she admits with a mock wince. "It's really not so bad, though. The bed is comfortable, and that's better than the ground, especially as winter is not far off," she confides to him, pausing to take a few nibbles of apple. "I should ask the Lord to see to more appropriate housing today, milord," she promises with a smile, now breaking off a chunk of bread. "Forgive my appetite, Istadris... I do need to eat heartily, though," she explains, her cheeks flushing briefly.

No fewer than eight figures stand crowded at a long table near the back door that leads to the porch...village women seemingly interested in wares that have been set up in harried fashion of the morn. Their voices quiet but consulting, the ladies--mostly Haladin--view the candles, soaps, and offerings of earthen jars of salve that are arrayed, and only as one of them parts with an assuring nod away the table and make steps towards the double doors does a window to those who sell the wares open. Tis Aldawin and her mother who there sit behind the table; the latter does most of the bargaining for barter while Aldawin answers questions of the wares. "Nay, this is salve for bruises and inflammation, this is salve for hands," she explains, holding up the covered jars for inspection. So busy is she in answering questions of what there is to sell, that she fails to notice the woodsman or elder healer at first, only catching Finnabair's form striding towards the others' table. With only a moment to glance at the three, Aldawin is once again asked about the wares before them, and pleasantly goes about explaining once again.

Istadris picks idly at the porridge in his bowl as he hears Emeldir's words. A light, disapproving frown mars his tanned brow at mention of the lady's housing, and he offers a quick shake of his head in reply before speaking out. "Aye, do speak to Lord Halmir of it." He advises, only then reaching to take the mug of cider before him in hand, "You shall certainly be in need of more accomodating quarters by the winter." The woodsman's gaze strays once more as he lifts the mug to his lips for a long sip, yet he fails to note the presence of Aldawin and her mother where they sit, obscured by the Haladin women gathered around to barter with them. With a curious glance to the approaching Finnabair, Istadris again dips his head and speaks out in greeting. "Well, I see you've been let out by the healers today." He states only half in jest, "How are those cuts?"

Finnabair leans upon her elbows and regards Emeldir and Istadris quietly as they speak, offering them both a quick greeting only once they have finished and then answers the woodsman's question with a frustrated look, "My convalescence has lasted far longer than I anticipated.", she says peevishly, "It has taken me weeks to recover and only now am I beginning to regain my strength and feel my old self again.", she adds more brightly. "What has been happening in the meantime?", she asks.

Emeldir gives a brief acknowledging bow of her head to Istadris as she continues with her breakfast. "Aye, tis true, milord, and I shall speak of it with Lord Halmir this day," she promises, between bites. When Istadris greets Finnabair, Emeldir looks up from her plate, nibbling now on a slice of creamy cheese, "Ah, Finnabair, tis good to see ye again! Welcome back, my friend!" she exclaims to the young Ranger with a broad grin. "And I am most glad to hear that ye are recouperating nicely as well," she adds quietly, her brow furrowing for a moment, looking between Istadris and Finnabair. "Who has been tending to ye, Finnabair?" she inquires of the younger woman.

The lean Beorian man sips quickly from his mug before placing it down upon the table once more. His grey eyes shift intently from Finnabair to Emeldir and back as the two speak out, and in the meantime he eats from the sliced bread loaf upon his plate. "Bandits." He utters simply in response to the ranger's inquiry, and again lifts the heavy mug of cider to his lips. "The carpenter, Falsten, was beset by one of the ruffians some weeks ago while he wandered out in the woods south of here, some ways near the Teiglin." He explains after setting down the drink, "Rather near where I found you, in fact, only on the northern side of the gorge. Sionell also encountered one of these men, this time nearer to the hill. She fended him off and escaped, though she was quite agitated when I last saw her."

Referring two of the women to her mother for a bartering price, Aldawin reaches down to gather up several more jars of salve from a large basket near her feet, setting them carefully on the table. Her glance goes intermittently to the place where the Beorians sit in quiet conversation, and there is no lack of interest in the healer's grey eyes, though once more she is called to the duty of answering questions of the wares. Finally, three of the women make good their bargain and hurry off to retrieve the items in barter required, and with a sudden excuse to her mother--and quite ignoring the questioning glance given in return--the younger healer rises from her seat and weaves her way around tables and servers towards her Beorian comrades.

Finnabair chuckles at Emeldir's question, "One of the Haladin leeches, when I would let him. He was a good enough man, did not fuss overly much.", she answers, leaning back from the table as she turns toward Istadris with eyes that widen at the word "bandits". Astonished only a second, she narrows her eye suspiciously, asking, "What would bandits be wanting of Sionell, much less a carpenter? There is little bounty in such marks."

"Not particularly bright bandits." Says the woodsman in answer to the ranger's query. A dry, crooked smile curls at his thin lips then, and he speaks on. "I know not what the ruffian wanted with Falsten. Sionell says he claimed at first to be a warden, and bid her stay with him a while to meet his brothers. She refused, of course, finding him unpleasant company, and the two apparently came to blows before the lass was able to flee." Istadris gazes past Finnabair then, as he lifts a spoonful of the porridge to his lips, and at last notices Aldawin as she approaches from across the sparsely crowded hall. With a wave of his hand and a warmer smile, he greets the healer and gestures to the empty chair beside the seated Emeldir.

Pausing from her meal, Emeldir listens with growing concern as Istadris tells of the recent attacks. Her lips quirk to a fleeting grin at Finnabair's remark on the Haladin healer not fussing over her treatment, but it is clear that her attentions are focused now on the bandits.

The lines in her forehead deepening, Emeldir leans closer to Istadris to ask, "These ... bandits, are they other Haladin, renegades perhaps from another settlement?" she whispers, her mind quickly leaping ahead with her next question, "Or could they be .. agents of the Enemy?"

Her strides bearing her quickly to the table at last, Aldawin glances over her shoulder once more to her mother, offering her an assuring smile, though the next is a warm and even cheerful greeting offered to all at the table. "Good morn," she says, drawing the chair Istadris has motioned to out and taking a seat. "I am not certain how long I may stay," she utters quickly. "Though I know my mother could well handle twenty queries and barters at once, she surely does not wish to." Studying the faces before her, Aldawin's eyes are narrowed slightly, and with a darted glance to the elder healer, she offers in lowered tone, "It seems I have entered upon a conversation of some importance..." The gaze next flicks between Finnabair and Istadris, "and though I might guess at what it is, I shall let you continue on."

A cool morning breeze spills into the hall briefly as Antyr pushes open one of the building's double doors and announces his presence to those nearby with a yawn. The young man then turns briefly, pushing the door closed behind him with a light thud, and once again turns towards the hall, surveying the slowly filling building for somewhere to sit.

Finnabair's lips spread wide with a smile at Istadris' sarcastic comment but it is does not carry to her eyes, a wary look there as Emeldir asks her question and she adds her own, "Have they been seen about by the Haladin?", she queries, "Is it the first they have ever caused trouble to Brethil's borders? I have not heard their mention before." The arrival of the healer draws her attention away from the talk of bandits momentarily and she nods a wordless greeting to Aldawin as she takes a seat amongst them.

Over by the salve and candle table, an interested looking Falsten peers at the various wares. To some of the more frilly and nicer candles, the rough carpenter scratches his head, before moving on to the plainer styles. As the lady manning the table begins to engage the man in speech, Falsten listens with interest. By her hand movements, it looks like perhaps she is explaining to the man the difference in creation of the long, thin, candles versus the short and fat candles.

Istadris looks intently to Emeldir as she leans forward to voice her quiet questions. His shoulders roll with a light shrug in response, and he shakes his head again. "I know not, Emeldir." He says, settling back upon his chair and grasping the mug of cider in hand, "Yet, I would wager they are mere bandits and ruffians, and no agents of the enemy. The enemy would never reveal themselves by waylaying a pair of passersby." The woodsman nods simply at Aldawin's words, and glances curiously across the hall in the direction that the healer had approached and where even now Falsten peruses various wares. "These are not Brethil's borders we speak of, Finnabair." He says then, with a look to the ranger, "Sionell encountered the stranger only a short ways south of here. I have heard of bandits roaming the far southern regions of these woods before, but none to my knowledge have ever ventured so near Amon Obel." The woodsman's keen grey eyes lift to peer towards the hall's entrance as he notices Antyr's arrival. "Here is your cousin, Aldawin." He notes with a slight nod to the younger man.

Looking somewhat relieved at Istadris' comments with regard to the bandits, Emeldir nods her head slowly, "Aye, mayhap ye are right about that.. there are some ruffians among the Haladin," she comments quietly, glancing across the table now to Aldawin, "Good day, milady," she greets the younger healer belatedly, with an apologetic smile. "And Antyr.. tis good to see ye as well," she adds, blinking with surprise when Istadris points out Aldawin's cousin. "I will likely be staying here in Amon Obel, milady. Will ye be here as well, or were ye going to be in one of the other villages?" she inquires of Aldawin.

Disquieted, Finnabair nods at Istadris and then says, "Then it would be wise that none go outward alone and none unarmed, from the hill." Shifting upon her seat she turns toward the entrance to where the rest look to he who has arrived at the hall, Antyr. Smiling to him, she adds a word to beckon him over before she turns back to the table, the conversation having returned to more idle matters of lodging, shared between Emeldir and Aldawin to whom her gaze passes upon.

Aldawin grins curiously at Finnabair's subdued and wordless greeting but soon returns her glance to the woodsman as he continues speaking on and confirms her thoughts about their conversation. The carpenter Falsten goes unnoticed--as the Haladin is out of her line of sight--though Istadris' mention of Antyr gains immediate attention. Looking to the double doors, the younger healer half-rises in her seat and waves at the scout, beckoning him to join with a motion of her hand. "Good morn, Antyr," she calls just above the din, though settles once again in her seat to address the Lady's question, her mouth turning downward of a thought. "I had not given consideration to it, though with the winter coming soon, and bandits roaming at will, it may be wise to stay here as well. I suppose it will depend also upon where my parents wish to settle, though I am hardly bound to follow them. Are there those who wish to leave the Hill to settle in the forests?" Pointedly, she looks to Finnabair and Istadris next in turn.

Antyr's eyes stop on Istadris as he gazes about the hall, and he offers a nod of his own in reply to the woodsman. Noticing that the group at the table with Istadris is filled with familiar faces, including those of Emeldir, Finnabair and his cousin Aldawin - whom call out their greetings to him, Antyr begins to walk towards an empty seat at it. "Greetings all" He calls out as he approaches, unclasping his cloak from about his shoulders and swinging it off and folding it over an arm. Reaching the table, he throws his cloak onto an empty seat beside the one which he sits himself down in, raising a hand to stifle another yawn as he does so.

Istadris's head dips in simple response to the ranger, and he edges closer to her to speak in a quieter voice as the others at the table converse. "I would accompany Corrin, or whomever among the wardens goes, to track these men." He says, before turning to offer Antyr a wordless nod in greeting. "Would you go?" He asks, frowning lightly, "Or do the wounds prove too troublesome, yet?" His left hand tightens around the mug of cider, which he lifts at his side but does not drink. "Tracking them should not prove too much of a challenge, specially if we have a Haladin guide who knows the lands south of here well enough. It may prove a more daunting task to apprehend them, if they are many."

Reaching for the last slice of cheese, Emeldir nibbles thoughtfully, giving a polite bow of her head as Antyr joins their table. "Well, twas thought that the Beorians would spread out through Brethil, so as not to ... overwhelm our Haladin hosts, yet many are still here in Amon Obel," she notes in response to Aldawin. "And with the coming of winter not far in the future, mayhap we should remain here, at least until spring. Many have offered their services, in payment for our keep, so that should not really present a problem now," she comments additionally, pausing as Istadris answers Finnabair. She nods her head slowly, "Tis a good suggestion, to find out whatever more we can about the bandits," she agrees, looking to Finnabair.

At the candle table, the tall Carpenter leans forward and dickers out a trade with the lady manning the booth -- until finally, a satisfactory agreement has been made, and Falsten rises with several small whicked candles in his arms. Some further discussion, and the lady points down towards the ground at something; presumably a stool or an automan.

Nodding in assent, Falsten turns away with his bundle, feeling rather pleased with himself and makes his way towards the Beorian table.

Finnabair shifts her gaze about the table in time to catch the direct look from Aldawin, "I had no plans to settle anywhere. I have no need of it, did little use even my small cottage in Rivil.", she says after Emeldir has spoken, shaking her head. Turning her attention to Istadris' lowered words, "I would go and see what this is about.", she says simply, in the same quieted tone, "I am hale enough." As Antyr joins them, she offers him a more proper greeting than before, "Good morrow, Antyr. Tis been some time since last we saw each other. You are well?", she asks.

The woodsman nods satisfiedly to Finnabair and leans back upon his sturdy chair, at last lifting the mug of cider to drain what little remains of its contents. "Then I shall see about finding some of the Wardens to guide us south." He declares, glancing idly at his almost finished bowl of cooling porridge and pushing it lightly away from his place at the table. "I am expected by the loggers near the eastern gate soon." He adds with a brief look to Aldawin and Emeldir, "I shall see you all tonight, perhaps." The lean Beorian rises from his seat then, and offers Antyr a nod of his head before turning from his companions and trudging off across the sparsely crowded room. His gaze is drawn by the familiar face of Falsten, however, and he veers in his steps to meet the other man. "Good morn, Falsten." He greets, looking curiously to the bundle that the Haladin man carries, "Have you had chance to meet with Sionell and Corrin as of yet?"

Antyr settles himself in his seat, and leans forward, resting his arms upon the oaken tabletop. Looking to Finnabair, the young man offers her a smile, "Good day Finnabair. It has been a while indeed - and yes, I am well enough. And you?" Antyr replies.

"Good day, Istadris," echoes the Haleth Carpenter to Istadris cheerily. "Alas, no I have not. Indeed, I've not even yet spoken to Sionell over her damaged staff. But, fear not. We will." Whether the tall Falsten speaks of his commission over the staff, or the bandits and the Warden, it is difficult to say.

Shifting the bundle to a more comfortable spot beneath his arm, Falsten notices Istadris' curious gaze and says quickly, "Candles. And at an excellent deal, if I might say so. Winter comes on fast in these parts, and it gets dark quicker than the river swifts, so stock up when you can."

Finishing her tea, the contents of her plate long gone, Emeldir rises to her feet, dipping her head, "Time for me to see to meeting with Lord Halmir or an aide," she comments, looking around the table. She smiles as Antyr greets Finnabair, then whispers to Aldawin, "If ye have time, milady, could ye stop by the pavillion later this morn, please? There is much we have to discuss." Emeldir makes a small curtsy, then turns to leave the common hall.

Finnabair cants her head to Istadris as he departs the table, already beginning to rise herself. Returning a smile to Antyr, she answers, "I am well now, but I had best go see the leech and give him the news that I will no longer be his abiding patient. I hope that his lecture will be a brief one.", she grins, stepping back. "Good day.", she says to those left at the table, "M'lady.", she adds to Emeldir, inclining her head before turning away for another of the entryways of the hall, her slightly stiff gait telling of a favoured right step.

"Candles?" Repeats Istadris, a vague smile curling at the corners of his thin lips, "Aye, perhaps I shall purchase some later this night." With a dismissive shake of his head, the woodsman speaks on. "Speak to me when you have met with Sionell and Corrin, if you will. Finnabair and myself shall be among those who go seek the bandits out." With a brief glance towards the doorway, he dips his head and continues on his way. "Good day." He calls back over one shoulder, though the words are nearly drowned out by the din of countless conversations surrounding. Istadris crosses the hall with quick strides and is soon vanished from sight beyond the entranceway, out into the bright light of the early morning.

Her gaze turned dutifully towards the table where her mother works, Aldawin sees not only that only three or four of the Haladin still survey the items for trade, but that Falsten seems to have made a bargain of his own, the candles in his hands as he approaches them now. "Good day, Falsten," Aldawin hails him with a smile, though glances up at the woodsman at his departure. "Aye, and a good day, Istadris," she offers at his leaving, watching for a moment as he veers in his steps to speak to the Haladin carpenter. A moment passes, and Aldawin turns next to her cousin, though her words to him are interrupted by the abrupt departure of Emeldir and Finnabair. Curiosity again crosses the younger healer's face, though she nods briefly to the Lady and turns back to her cousin. "Well..we are just two of us here then."

Looking quizzically at the retreating Woodsman, the Haladin Carpenter's face seems to mirror the question in his head. Why in the world would anyone want to go out and actively *look* for trouble. But, with a shrug, he nods and calls out, "Certs, Istadris. Or, mayhap Sionell will tell you." He gives the man a quick wave and then faces another greeting.