Brethil's Roleplaying Logs

Tavern
A dimly lit tavern set back amid the birches. A few small tables dot the room, as well as a short bar in the back corner. The patrons are few, and the conversation quiet.

The smell of food carries into the room through a curtained door in the left wall. The food looks to be of good quality, and served out in large portions. It is delivered by a single barkeep, a large man wearing a clean tunic and breeches.

At a small table near the fireside, tilted precariously upon the rear two legs of his chair, Raelin slowly on his flagon while watching the morning crowds come and go. When greeted, the scout offers a polite nod, but says naught. Once in a while, the man's gaze drifts to the flames dancing atop the burnt husks in the hearth, but the opening and shutting of the establishment door draws his eyes away each time.

Finnabair pushes through the door of the tavern, ushering herself inside to leave the cold of the morn out. Almost entirely hidden beneath a long heavy cloak, its hood cast forward and a scarf wrapped several times round her face and neck, she stands a moment at the door, one hand pressed against the rough wall. Stiffly, with her free hand she pulls back the hood and off the scarf and then starts to walk slow and awkwardly on to the next table, there to pause again as she casts her eye around the dim room. As her eyes come back to the fire, she looks to the man at the table next to it, frowning a little as in thought.

As if on the ranger's heels another walks in just moments after, the booted steps echoing dully against the planked flooring, drips of half melted frost leaving damp footprints. Fingers draw the scarf from her neck and throat, and begin tugging at layers of cloth, till at last the face and form of the wearer is revealed, grey eyes skimming the room with curiousity. Stuffing the cloths, under her arms, and removing the wollen gloves in a like manner Sionell smiles slightly, eyes darting first to the scout and then to the ranger. She begins to approach, sparing only a momentary heated glance at Trefil. Obviously the lass has some unresolved business with the poor haladin for her continues dabbing at the counter top with studious inclination as she passes.

"G'morn Lady...Mi'lord" The greeting offered, though quiet is warm and the smile that accompanies it loses none of the warmth in her eyes.

The marachian scout walks in the tavern slowly, leaving a trail of snow in the entry, He takes his large cloak of fur and get's it off, then while he puts the cloak by the fire place, is eyes seem to wander from person to person untill they find the ranger who helped them get safly to Brethil...almost to brethil during the summer. And he also see Sionell, he bows gently to her before saying" M'lady Sionell, it's been a while" he smiles then turns to Finnabair" I do hope that you are well My Lady Finnabair." then he accept the bench proposed by Trefil and goes in that corner.

Glancing up as the young messenger speaks, Raelin returns her smile. "G'morn, Sionell," he half-rises, inclining his head. Gesturing to a chair opposite him, he adds, "Please, join me." Another movement from the door catches the man's attention, and he looks over to the approaching ranger, then again to his entering kinsman. "G'morn you two. I trust the morning finds you well," his inquiry is accompanied by a polite nod to each in turn. Smoothing his trousers, the scout re-takes his seat. "It seems the hour has made this place quite popular. Please, join me," the scout punctuates the last by motioning for the tavernkeep to set three more places.

As her eyes adjust to the light, the figure by the fire becomes more familiar to Finnabair, "Raelin, is it not?", she asks him, but turns away as two enter the tavern nearly at the same time. Offering a nod to Sionell and another to the Marachian scout that passes her and steps on toward the fire, she greets him, "Glorfin.", adding her answer, "Well enough.", though she follows after him with a limping gait and by the time she seats herself at Raelin's table she looks paled and wearied by such small effort. "What has brought you to Brethil?", she asks, working at the brooch that clasps her cloak together and shifting in her seat slightly to look for Sionell.

A dip of the head is given to Glorfin and the messenger smiles. "G'day Mi'lord..tis good to see you again. How might that Isil of your be and yourself?" she begins to ask when Raelin addresses them both and her gaze is half torn between the two, and the lady. "Thank you Raelin..."she adds, tugging the cloak as she makes her way after the ranger, eyes noting the limping gait with concern. "Are ye well..Finnabair Mi'lady? You had not that..the last I saw you....."she murmers, settling into the chair with quiet thought.

In anwser to the question of Sionell, a Small, yet funny Atchoom gets out of the pounch where Isil usually is, at that moment Glorfin takes her out of the pounch and adjust the seat in order to be in front of the fireplace, he then puts the little weasel on it's feet and say" Not too well...I told her not to go near the river...but would she listen, no, and next thing I knew she came back half frozen to me..." he looks at Sionell and say" But dont worrie, I take extra care of her, she'll be fine."he then turns to Raelin and say" I am alright, thanks brother.

Another enters, a lithe and young child eyes large and warmly clad. Dripping snow onto the floor and wandering to the table, the messenger finds a small hand tugging on her belt with growing insistency. Lowering her gaze and bending, half under the table she sighs, seeing the child. Dirty face and smudged nose, beaming a smile up at her. "Ah-I've come for me lessons.."he pipes up, wiping a hand across the ruddy countenance, the bright eyes darting from the ranger shyly to the Dor -Lomin men..."You said..you'd.."he begins to whinem mouth working a tantrum. A sligh sigh and embarrassed gaze and Sionell rises hurriedly. "Excuse me...Mi'lords..Lady.."she pauses, "Isil." A twinkle creeps to the grey gaze, though now adopting a scodling glare. "If your mother..finds you in such a place..."are the last audible words, the lass scooping the child up like a clothes bundle as she directs her way to the door with surprising swiftness. An apologetic smile is offered over her shoulder to those seated, before the curious pair disappear into the snow clad exterior.

Noting the ranger's walk as the Beorian messenger comments on it, the scout frowns. "Indeed, though it has been several months since I last saw you, I do not remember the limp." As colour becomes more clear by the firelight, the scout's eyebrow arches. "You seem ill, Lady Finnabair.." the scout's voice is touched with concern, "Perhaps you should be resting.." The messenger's sudden scolding cause Raelin's eyes to dart to the source, and back to Sionell, a wry grin crossing his face. "Be well, M'lady," he bids he departing Beorian. Turning back to the ranger, he continues, "Baradil had a message to deliver, and then we were forced to remain through the length of the quarantine. Alas, I fear we shall be here for an eternity."

Glorfin says, "I am no healer, and I dont want to sound like one, but if I can make an analogy, I'd say you took a bath in the river with my weasel" he smiles to Finnabair" Unless it's another more terrible illness. "Closing is eyes he starts to play in the winter furr of is weasel, while listening to the sounds of the fireplace."

Finnabair undoes the brooch, unshoulders the cloak and shifts in the seat to lean on her right side, "Well enough to make it this far.", she says, smiling dryly at Sionell. Glancing over to the fire where the Marachian scout sets down a pouch that contains the small, slender animal, Finnabair gives it an odd look, "You keep that as a pet?", she asks, offering Sionell and the child a less than attentive good-bye. Raelin's queries has her press a hand to her left leg, "No dip in the river for me. The limp was is thanks to a bandit's well-aimed arrow.", she answers blackly, "And I am certain the lady attending me would agree that I should be resting, but she is not here to say.", she says, smiling broadly. Leaning with her right arm over the chair, she glances between the two scouts, "The timing of your arrival is unfortunate, but with the Eldar here to help, we hope the sickness will not last much longer. Till then, maybe you would be of some help?", she asks, or perhaps suggests.

The marachian nods for himself at the proposition of Finnabair, his eyes remain closed, yet he seems happy to be amongst friend near a fireplace, his hands still carress the furr of Isil, has he states " It's a gift from my grand father" he smiles to himself and then continue" I do not consider Isil as a pet, but as my friend, thank's to my Grand dad, he had a way to see the creatures of the earth that was contagious I guess" he smiles again and then say" And to anwser your other question, I would be happy to help your community Mylady Finnabair.

Finnabair lifts a brow at both Glorfin and his "friend", "First, you may leave off calling me 'my lady' Finnabair. I am no lady.", she says, shaking her head, "You will have heard of the bandits that have been plaguing Brethil's forests these last few months?", she asks, "They harrass the folk of Haleth and trouble travellers on the forest paths. Many times we have gone out after them yet we have not been able to rout them out and stop them. They have grown so bold as to waylay the company of Mithrim I lead them here and that is how I got these.", she says, touching upon the hidden wounds, her leg and left shoulder too, "It irks me greatly that we must waste our time dealing with foolish Edain when there is a real enemy to guard against."

Just then Geleviel opens the door and hauls in a sack of potatoes to drop it before the small crowd. She looks around and drags it to the corner, leaving it to take a place near the bar. Shouldering an overweight patron she catches the barkeep's attention. "A mug of ale, Trefil." she says, "And not with potato mash! I have had too much potatoes these days." Trefil pours her drink and serves it on the bar before her. She takes a sip an appraises the dark room. "OH my day vision is gone and I see Finnabair. How do you fair scout. I recognized the voice but couldn't place it. Bandits, yes ma'am, we've see the rout too."

The Marachian opens both eyes, lift a brow and turns to Finnabair in one swift movement, he looks very puzzled, like if he was searching what he did wrong, by 3 times his mouth open and closes untill he finally says" Heu..I am sorry if I have offensed you La..Erm...Finnabair, it was not my intent, I assure you" he blushes and and then say" I'd be more then happy to go and hunt these bandits who roams your land like a plague, and to bring them back to you for judgement." he pauses and then say" I am sure that Raelin and Baradil will say the same, and will come with me in this quest.

Finnabair waves off Glorin's apology and says, "Tis no offense." Looking around to see Geleviel arrive, she laughs, "Good morrow, Geleviel.", lifting a hand in greeting, "Perhaps you should come out and deal with the bandits with that sack of potatoes I see you have there. It seems a likely weapon and I think it would receive their arrows better than I." The scarf is still wrapped about her neck and she reaches up to pull at it idly, "These are my thoughts, Glorfin.", she nods, "If you would seek out Istadris, I think he would be grateful for your aid. With the plague we have few to go out and I will be of little use for a while yet.", she adds, "Speak with Raelin and Baradil and see what they say. Tis not your lands and you are not obliged to help."

Geleviel laughs at the arrows joke. Speaking loudly across the small tavern she says, "Would be a fair target and do no harm to your shafts, but truly a soldier as yourself could find better armament, maybe a pumpkin!. Not to worry, the bandits fear me and shudder at the mention of "The Weaver!" Which reminds me why I am here. The young woman asks Trefil about a sewing job and he opens a cupboard to pile dirty garments on the bar. Geleviel makes a snooty at the pile of laundry. She eyes the sack of potatoes for the burlap and asks, "Does anyone want a barging on loose potatoes?"

Glorfin nods to the newly entered women and then turns back to Finnabair and say" But we are madam, I assure you that we are" he smiles and say" Was it not from your help, wisdom and skills, the foul creatures of the ennemy would have tear our companie apart, your people are in needs, and we folks of Hador dont leave our friends and allie alone to fight their battles, be it the ennemy or bandits." he smiles once more, looks at is weasel and then say" I am sure that Baradil and Raelin would have tell you the same.

Finnabair chuckles at Geleviel's jesting, "But you could bring the Loom of Geleviel down upon them.", she banters quickly, playing off the word "Doom". Turning back to Glorfin with a pleased look, she cants her head and says, "The folk of Haleth are not my people, but they are in need and they are the Beor's allies too. They have allowed us to live amongst them and for that we are grateful.", she says, "Well am I glad to hear that the folk of Hador will lend a willing hand to them. There is little I can tell you of the bandits. They are at the least two dozen and I believe they are led by two men, brothers they seem to me, for they look alike.", she goes on, "Their band roams the forest and it is hard to guess where they may make their presence felt next. They are Haladin and they know the woods as well as any Warden."

"I am learning all things of these woods and very deep and dark they can be." Geleviel reflects, "It is not always easy to find someone who wants to be found and these highlands have many caves and much of watery places to avoid. It is not dry as Dorthonion was much like. Maybe Rivil, yes, but here are mossy woods not prairie, and vines and brush which pull at you as if they have a will of their own. A great fighter is no better then a weaver if it is there are none to fight."

Finnabair nods in understanding with the Weaver, "I am learning of it as well, Geleviel.", she says, "These forests are strange to me, with many hidden things." Reaching to pull her cloak back on to her shoulder, she sits forward, "I should take myself back to Laurina's cottage.", she thinks aloud, "She will not be pleased if I am gone too long and I think the dressings need changing in any matter.", she says, using the table to steady herself as she stands. "Speak with Raelin and Baradil, Glorfin, and then with Istadris if they are in agreement. Good day to you both.", she says to the Scout and the Weaver, turning and limping slowly out of the tavern.