Brethil's Roleplaying Logs

Talath Dirnen, East Bank of Narog
The plains of Talath Dirnen begin to slope upwards in the north, forming low hills, a foreshadowing of the foothills farther on. The river Narog is wide and appears too deep to cross though a path is visible on the nether shore. The banks of the river are low, perhaps only a few feet above the white sand shores and is easily reached by the path leading down. If one were to gaze west, the opposite shore can be seen quite clearly.

There are blankets in plenty for the baby, folded into a carrying-basket that rests upon the floor. Yet Elesteliel seems warm and content, cooing now that she is resting in warm, snug arms.

Elwen draws the blanket even over her head, her shivering not abating. a draft comes into the tent, and even some blown snow, as the storm rises.

Alquawen walks towards the exposed opening and carefully moving on hand to secure the tent flap, she attempts to shut off the chill gust blowing in. The wind proves too much for her efforts, though she tries securing the flap with a strip of cloth and sighing the healer moves to seat herself in the chair. Her arms continue rocking the babe gently and she lifts a finger to play with the downy curls of the child's dark hair.

"You'll look after her, won't you, sister?" asks Eklwen softly, her voice muffled under the blankets. "I love her so..." She sighs, and nestles deeper under the coverings.

"Of course" is the soft reply, the healer smiling slightly as the little ones moves in her arms. "When she is older, you will tell her tales of this night and many others like it.."she adds, eyes half closing, as she listens to the wind 's fury outside.

"I hope so," murmurs Elwen, her voice softer yet. "Though... perhaps she would not like to hear of such a night. It is so stormy out..." Elwen sighs, and then shakes the blankets from her head. "I cannot get warm, sister.'

There is a scrambling at the canvas door of tent and a hand slips inside, trying to find the tie that holds it closed against the wind and snow and then it disappears. A moment later a figure, engulfed by a heavy winter cloak, crawls in through the opening at the bottom until it is well within and then it collapses. Breathing heavily, Finnabair tosses back the hood, shaking snow off her and leans upon both elbows, fighting to regain her breath.

"It is hard to esacpe the chill.."begins the healer nodding her head in agreement. "Is there anything I can do, some tea more blankets?" Her words are cut off by the sudden appearance of the Beorian ranger. A gasp comes from Alquawen's lips and the startled eyes fall on the collapsed form, "Finnabair..come in, there is little warmth here but more so than outside" she says softly, her eyes studying the ranger in the dim light. "There are blankets, take one and wrap yourself in it..." She rocks the child gently, tucking the fols of cloth about the babe, shivering herself.

"Just... watch Elesteliel... I want to sleep. So cold... so sleepy," murmurs Elwen. For a moment her eyes focus upon the entering Ranger, and her brow furrows. "Finnabair?" she asks, as if unsure of whom she sees. And then her eyes close, and her head falls back upon the floor.

Finnabair lifts her head and blinded by the white storm outside, peers through the dimness of the tent's interior, focusing upon the two voices that greet her. "The storm has come of a sudden.", she says breathlessly, clambering forward and searching out the blankets Alquawen offered. Gathering up more than one, she wraps them about her and sits cross-legged while her eyes adjust, colour high upon her cheeks. Frowning as she notices Elwen, she asks, "Does she sleep?",

Cradling the child all the more against her, Alquawen nods. "Tis as if the winds came....from the north.."she murmers, but it is whispered faintly and could only be heard by the keenest of ear. The ranger's question is left unanswered for the moment, the green eyes resting on Elwen quietly. "We, do not sleep...as your people do, mellon."she says softly, "resting, in dream or meditation is more our wont. Though neither of both is to be had with this clamour.." The semblance of a smile touches her lips faintly, and she lets her attention rest on the child in her care.

And the child gurgles happily, cooing and kicking her legslooking up at Alquawen and reaching up her hand to touch the healer's face. Tiny fingers tough chin, mouth, exploring.

As for Elwen, she does not move, her breaths coming soft and slow and shallow. The blankets about her are lifted at the corners every now and again by the draft, letting in the cold air, but she does not even seem to notice.

Finnabair looks closely at Alquawen as she explains, and then says, "I did not think so.", keeping her voice low so as not to disturb Elwen, but enough that her words can be heard above the howling wind that shakes the tent. Bundled within the blankets, she looks to the young elven child, peering at her intently for a moment before saying, "We will have to try and push on to Brethil in a few hours. Else we will be snowed under."

Smiling at the babe's antics, the tiny feet and porbing arms lending a moment's distraction from the raging storm, the healer tickles the kicking feet with her fingers. Her gaze is drawn to the ranger as she speak and a quiet nod of reponse is given. The smiles fades, an expression of doubt filling its stead, the healer shivering all the more at the prospect of venturing forth in the tempestuous weather. "Perhaps...the storm may calm a little by then.."she murmers, yet there is doubt in the tone and a soft sigh rolls from her lips of its own accord.

The child squeals happily as the healer tickles her feet, kicking them all the more. Outside though, the wind howls, and there is a great gust, and then another. The tent-poles creak, and then there is a sound outside of snapping. The tethers break,, and the next gust of wind snaps the tent-poles and sends the tent collapsing down.

Finnabair inclines her head, "I think that it shall.", she says, "I judge--", and her words are abruptly cut off as the tent is brought down by the next gust of wind, its heavy folds falling as a curtain over the four inside. Fighting with it, Finnabair scrambles out from under, trying to pull it off the others as she calls out over the storm, "We will never get it back up in this!"

A sharp cry both of surprise and alarm is all the healer has time for as the tent envelops them all. Pressing the child against her, she brings her arms about the babe protectively not moving while the child rests in her arms. Finnabair's words are held just barely beneath the wind's screams and even Alquawen's sharp ears are hard pressed to make sense of what is said.

"Elesteliel!" Elwen rouses, and her muffled cry comes from beneath the blankets and the fallen canvas. She struggles, trying to free herself from the wreckage.

Finnabair hears Elwen's cry from under the wild snaps of the fallen tent and with a great effort she begins to drag it off the Elleth, shouting again to Alquawen, "Take the child to the next tent!" Slipping in the snow the Beorian falls back and than quickly regains her feet, tugging until the tent flies free and off on the wind a short distance.

Heeding both cries, Alquawen half crawls , slowly rising to her feet. Care is taken to keep the child snug against her and she lifts her voice to Elwen "I have her ..."With this hardly out of her mouth, the healer struggles against the fitful wind, pulling the grey cloak about them both as she lunges out towards the nearest tent, steps careful in the slipping slow, though she hastens.

"Elesteliel!" Elwen cries again, and then the tent is pulled away, and she looks up from her tangle of blankets, blinking. "Finnabair!" she calls. 'Where is Elesteliel? Alquawen? Are you all right? Are they?" dazed, she tries to gather her and Angadil's and Elestelie's belongings together before they can blow away.

Finnabair sees Elwen rise up from out of the snow and cups her hands around her mouth, "She is with Alquawen!", she shouts out over the wind, gesturing to the next tent over, "Elwen!", she calls again, when the Elleth only begins to move about in the snow, trying to gather her belongings. "Forget them!", she cries, the biting wind pushing her back a few steps.

"I have to.... at least... get Elesteliel's things!" Elwen cries back, ducking as a bit of debris flies by and nearly hits her in the head. "I--" The wind howls again, ripping the words from Elwen's mouth. She huddles over, carrying what she has managed to retrieve, and soon is beside the adan.

Finnabair fights against the strong winds, her arm shielding her from the stinging snow, "Come!", she cries, turning as Elwen finally joins her. Her cloak is snaps out on the wind before her like a banner and stepping slowly through the drifting snow, makes her way to the nearest tent.