Brethil's Roleplaying Logs

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.

"Well, I just hope your skill in the smithy surpasses your skill with charm, otherwise our hopes of making /anything/ useful are shot!" Turthalion replies as his laughter dies down a bit. He looks into the face of Leana and seeing it still fuming, he says, "Oh come on lady, can't stand for a little joking? I mean, I'm really not all that bad. Rather than dwell on my bad points, you could instead, ohcomment on my good looks. Or even tell me about my glowing personality!" A huge smile then crosses the face of the Haladin, looking once more into the apprentice's eyes.

"You are about as good looking as the oldest donkey in my father's barn," Leana replies rudely, refusing to back down in the slightest. "And as for my skill with charm, I know full well I don't have any and I don't need a clod like you cracking jokes about it! I can stand a little joking, but foppery and idiocy are different matters /entirely/. I have commented on your looks and personality. Happy now?"

The doors at the end of the long hall open wide, allowing a gust of damp, autumn wind to race with chilling speed down its length before they can be shut behind the figure that arrives within and as the woollen cloak about her settles, Finnabair turns about to face the hall. The fire burning at the centre of the space invites her forward, and with long strides she makes her way, grey eyes passing over those present and then alighting upon two engaged in lively conversation, chuckling to herself at sight of Leana fending off the unwanted suitor.

"I've been happy ever since I met you, Leana, daughter of Nathan!" replies Turthalion, once again laughing. "You are like a shining...well not exactly /shining/, but you get the idea." With a swift movement, Turthalion kneels down, grasps Leana's hand in his and kisses it. "Your hands are like the sweet...rawhide...of...nevermind." Turthalion, stumbling with his suave comments yet again, stands up, towering once again over Leana.

From the courtyard next enter four women--three of younger age and one upon whose crown is infused the grey hairs of wisdom. The eldest carries in her hand a basket of many herbs and flowers, and the three who follow her into the hall seem to pay the other their utmost attention. The morning sunlight, bright and golden, streams upon the wood-planked floors until Aldawin, the only Beor in the group, closes the door and awaits with the others the lady's words. "But what is most important is how these herbs work together. Apart they are well enough, but in your ministrations always look for how one herb may strengthen another." The wrinkled face lifts to a smile, and the woman gives a glad sigh. "I shall be in herb garden the rest of the morn, should you wish to ask me more." From there the elder healer's steps take her from the hall, and the women disperse, Aldawin seems encouraged to follow, when she hears Leana's name spoken by an apparent suitor.

And indeed the apprentice smith is no less than under the bright rays of adoration as another young man, unrecognised to the healer's eyes, attempts to kiss the Haladin's hand. The Healer from Ladros blinks, surpressing a broadening smile, and only then espies Finnabair across the way as well. With a glance between the three, she throws the Dorthonion ranger a look of unconcealed amusement.

"What?" Leana roars, snatching her hand away as swiftly as she can and turning it quickly into a fist. "I am nobody's /shining/ anything, and my hands are fairly /itching/ to get around your throat right now, you ... you ... clod!" Leana seems at a loss for words as well, though obviously for different reasons than Turthalion's stumbling. "You idiot! I could trounce you, if I liked, taller than me or no, and you ... you ..."

The haladin smith is fairly purple with rage as her mouth works for words to express her indignation.

Taking a seat about the fire, Finnabair warms her chilled hands, watching on as Leana and her suitor parley with one another and as the man goes to a knee and takes the girl's hands, petitionining her with compliments, Finnabair shoulders begin to shake in silent laughter. Attempting to hold back her amusement, Finnabair rises quickly and takes herself to one of the nearby tables, busying herself by retrieving a cup and flagon of warmed, spiced wine. Turning back round as she pours, one eye still upon the two, she spies Aldawin across the hall and is about to invite her over when the words of Leana's enraged outburst threaten to leave Finnabair laughing, but instead she clears her throat loudly and shields her grin behind the cup.

The smile of amusement upon the healer's face turns to slight concern, though still is played about the lips the hint of now-veiled amusement. Her steps carry her closer to the two, but still of a measured distance as she calls in casual greeting, "Good morn, Lee." To the challenged suitor she merely smiles as she offers a nod, her steps carrying her towards the empty seats by the hearthside.

"Clod? Yes, I know. You've called me /that/ more than my name." Turthalion says once he sees Aldawin has moved away. Looking around, Turthalion finally recognizes the commotion the two of them have caused. People have put away the wares that they were interested in buying and instead focused their eyes on the angry girl and the resolute man. His eyes finally connect on another Haladin, who is trying hard to keep from laughing as she pours wine into her cup. "Real funny isn't it lady?" he bursts out at her.

"Oh, hysterical!" Leana rages, taking advantage of Turthalion's distraction in order to crutch over in the direction of Aldawin, whom she regards darkly. "Good morning, and I don't want to hear a /word/ about this," she grumbles in a low voice. She tries defiantly to ignore a group of young people her age, who are snickering and smirking openly at her.

Looking at the young people snickering openly at Leana and sensing a chance to save part of his pride, Turthalion calls out, "And that, everyone, is Leana, daughter of Nathan! The light of /everyone's/ life!" The room breaks out in laughter as the smiling Turthalion glances over at Leana and Aldawin.

As the young man turns upon her, Finnabair lowers her cup and offers him a plain smile, "Indeed it is.", she answers, beginning to walk a slow pace back to the fire, "Though in a moment we may be mourning you, once Leana decides upon how she will make an end of you.", she cautions, tilting her cup at the purple-faced smith who is now moving toward the healer, Aldawin. Lowering herself back to a seat by the fire, Finnabair stretches out her legs casually, enjoying the wine as much as the entertainment Leana and her suitor have provided the hall with.

With a quiet "Good day, Finnabair" to the ranger, Aldawin has just taken a seat, managing to grab up an apple in her tracks towards the hearth's blazing perimeter. As Leana makes her own awkwards steps towards her and returns a good morning, the healer's smile is subdued--but only slightly. Clearing her throat, she polishes the apple upon her sleeve and digs at a small bruise on the fruit's side. Her eyes are lifted as well at Turthalion's utterance, though she only shakes her head slowly with a shrug of her shoulders as she regards the apprentice smith a moment. "He seems...besotted," she offers in the midst of Finnabair's observations, "though you might tell him that Lauson has also turned his gaze in your direction, as I was given strict instructions to send his fond regards when I next saw you." The once-again supressed laughter is hard-fought.

Leana's hot reply to Turthalion is choked quickly back as Aldawin speaks, and she turns quickly in the healer's direction, indignant, fuming, and alarmed. "The other clod?!?" she demands, stomping her crutch against the floor to punctuate her words. "I am /not/ remotely amused and you can give him the good smack upside the head he so richly deserves when you next see him," the smith says darkly.

Now she turns her flaming head and temper in the direction of Turthalion, standing straight.

"I have to go to the smithy now, but be sure that if I weren't I would have a few more choice words for you," She calls over at him, eyes sparking. "But if you continue in this /idiocy/ than I will simply be forced to fight you and /forcibly/ knock some sense into your head. Understood? Goodbye." Without waiting for another word, she turns and heads outward, gaze locked sternly on the floor so she cannot see the laughing faces about her.

With a turn, Turthalion moves to follow Leana out the door, but choosing wisely this time, he simply heads out back to rejoin the Guard.

Finnabair returns Aldawin's greeting by acknowledging her with a smile and managing to offer a "Good morrow." before Leana's temper flares again and she stalks out of the hall, abandoning the young man who makes his own hasty retreat. Silent as the smith's crutch thumps across the floor of the hall and then fades once she exits, Finnabair turns back to Aldawin with a bemused look, "Two suitors?", she asks, surprised.

Puzzlement is part of the healer's gaze now, and as Aldawin glances after the departing Leana and spurned suitor, she gives a shrug as she returns Finnabair's bemused gaze. "Aye. I suppose being difficult, unkind and caustic is the right method of garnering a suitor. At least those suitors. But who said the Haladin had to make any sense?" With a smirk, she bites into the apple.

With the hall settling back into its normal, less dramatic happenings, Finnabair looks off toward the double doors through which Leana has just left and presses her brows together in bewilderment, asking, "Did the last one have as much success as this one?", setting her cup down beside her and leaning in toward the fire.

Chewing the fruit slowly, Aldawin seems to consider the apple before taking another bite, resting against the chair's back as she puts one of her booted feet upon a low table before her. "He was certainly not as persistent as this one," she answers after she has swallowed. "But I've no wish to be placed in the middle of the courtships of others," she says with a grin. "Especially with one such as the smithy." She looks to Finnabair in contemplation a moment. "I have tried to use good humour in her presence, but it is hard to forget her slight upon our people, and those of our kindred dead, including my brothers." This seems to darken the healer's mood, but she takes a bite of the apple and shakes off the thought. "But let us speak of else. What word is there to be found of yrch and bandits of late. I have been told it is not safe to stray far from the Hill without guard in attendance."

Finnabair picks up a half burned length of wood and pokes at the coals with it, stirring them till they burn red and hot, "Nor will I aid Leana in fending off her assailants, she will have to do that on her own and seems more than capable of turning every one away.", she agrees. Sparks and ashes drift upward to the opening set in the roof of the hall and Finnabair leans back to answer the healer's inquiries, "Of yrch there is none, but of bandits I am uncertain.", she begins, "Yesterday I came upon two men in the woods not far from here and thought perhaps they were the brigands we seek.", and she stops, frowning and saying aloud her thoughts, "But as I crept up upon them another stumbled through the camp and there was a strange exchange between them."

Yet another bite of apple is taken as Aldawin listens to the ranger's report. Chewing slowly, Aldawin merely smiles as Finnabair speaks on regarding Leana, though that smile fades noticeably as the other speaks of her recent spotting of the men in the forest. "What counted their exchange as strange?" she wonders aloud, glancing at a rough-looking forester-type who stops briefly at the fireside to warm his hands. Her voice lowers as she cradles the apple in her own hands and leans forward to speak to Finnabair in a quieted tone. "There is much of peculiar happenings lately," she next offers with a shake of her head. "Figures in the forest who call out but stay hidden, and an odd symbol made of twigs found in the bough of an oak tree." Once again the gaze flicks upward to the Haladin who warms himself near the fire. "I suppose none of it is new. Perhaps it is just that we who are new are finally heeding them."

Finnabair takes up her cup and sips upon the now cooled, spiced wine, shaking her head, "It was strange because the men in the camp spoke Haladin, so I could not understand them, and the man that stumbled through it spoke in the Eldar's tongue to them. He I could understand, but he seemed to speak in friendly tones and called out to others in the forest that I could not see and when he did, one of the men ran from the camp and disappeared into the forest.", she says, frowning again, "Twas confusing and I cannot say if they were bandits or simply men of Brethil, but I did not want to stay to find out, for I was alone.", she ends, turning toward the healer with a shrug, "But I know the spot and can bring the others to it and we shall see then. Peculiar happenings?", she asks, curious, "What of them?"

"Heard you any names of this encounter?" Aldawin asks Finnabair, her interest keen. The bearded forester several paces away rubs his hands briskly, turning back to give Aldawin and others nearby a nod of acknowedgement before trudging away in heavy, booted footfalls. The healer watches after him a moment, somewhat absently, before looking back to the ranger. "And aye, perhaps there should be some scouts alerted to check the area, or keep watch." The white center of the apple has started to turn brown, and Aldawin raises the fruit to her mouth for another mouthful. This she chews quickly, and upon swallowing continues to speak. "The other day I chanced upon a boar in the forest. At first I thought it was charging me, but it seems instead that the creature was frightened and fleeing from another....who called out in a tongue that I did not readily recognise. Thankfully, Istadris was nearby and heard the commotion, but the other who had called out vanished quickly, and though his tracks proved difficult to find, a single set lie beneath one of the oaks, from where it seemed he had leapt. And an odd symbol of entwined sticks was found in its boughs above."

Finnabair's expression changes with each portion of Aldawin's tale, waiting till the end when she gives the healer a serious look, "You are lucky the boar did not run you down, their tusks can be fatal. And that is a strange thing, this twig figure found in the trees.", she adds. "Perhaps the rumours are true then.", she muses, toying with the empty cup in hand, "I have heard it said that the Forest of Brethil is haunted and full of magic and that is why the yrch fear to enter it. You did not follow the tracks from the oak to see who it was that called out?", she asks.

"Then you have heard more than me concerning these rumours, for I have heard naught about magic and hauntings," Aldawin says, her grey gaze intent upon the other. "The symbol was something I have never seen before, and as for the boar, it near scared me to death," she utters, a tense smile crossing her face. "But of the stranger's tracks..." She casts her gaze now to the fire's light, watching the flames in their flickering dance before shaking her head. "There were none to be found save the one set of prints where he had possibly leapt from the tree. The boar's were apparent enough, but not of this man. If man he was."

Finnabair's brows rise high at that, "Strange and stranger still!", she exclaims quietly, shaking her head as she looks to the healer gazing upon the fire. "I wonder if that mystery will be solved, but for now I should see to other things and find Istadris or one of the others and see if they are ready to prowl the woods again for those brigands.", she says, clapping her hands upon her legs and rising from the comforts of the fire, "Heed the advice, Aldawin, and do not stray from the hill alone.", she adds, striding for the doors and calling over her shoulder once she reaches them, "None of your herb-gathering forays until they are dealt with!" And with that she slips outside.