Brethil's Roleplaying Logs

Brithiach: West Bank of Sirion
The river Sirion flows quietly from the northeast here. Windswept plains of gorse and grass grow right up to its edge. The river is shallow enough here to be forded and the road seems to continue on the other side. To the West the road skirts along the north edge of a forest. Silvery green birches and pines dominate its growth, and a high hill amidst stands out as well to the south.

Hidden archers watch the river banks from their posts high up in the great trees at the edge of the woods.

Cold and gray dawns the day, and winter's bitter chill creeps forth across the vast forestlands of Brethil. Gloom hangs beneath the intertwined canopy of mostly leafless boughs and branches, like the obscuring shroud of a perpetual night. Yet, a short ways beyond the eastern edge of camp, more than a handful of Haladin warriors have gathered for their morning drills and exercises. It is there, between a ring of towering pine trees that the elven marchwarden, Thenin, stands with Leana and Istadris.

The Beorian tracker once again ventures out with a soft laugh, and his gaze is drawn to the newcomer elf. "Join us as you will." He offers, beckoning the other forward and into the clearing with a sweep of his hand, "Then perhaps after the practice I shall find a suitable string for your bowstaff." With a glance over to the smithy, the tracker advises "I would wear the armour even now, Lee. I am surprised that you did not find any for yourself, before now."

After setting the quiver aside, Thenin straightens, turning to Leana to offer his right hand in a returned clasp of greeting. "Lee," he confirms, the smile still held as he leans slightly forward and unfastens the clip that holds his cloak about his neck. "I am Thenin," he replies, drawing back to fold the cloak and place it with his other belongings. With a glance to the woodsman, Thenin nods. "Well, then. I shall join, gladly," he accepts, drawing the longsword from its sheath; the blade glints even in the clouded morning's light.

"Well, I simply never bothered," Leana admits a bit sheepishly as she turns away from greeting Thenin. She shakes out the leather armor and then sets it to the side, taking off her axe and the straps that bind it to her back before putting on the suit. "Not a bad fit," she remarks absently, taking up the axe once more. "Though Aldawin's quite a bit taller than I am."

Finnabair leans with ease against a narrow rock inside the circle of trees, observing from a distance the Haladin's practice. Arms folded beneath a long, heavy cloak which rests upon her shoulders, drawn about to withstand the cold, she looks aside and notes the conversation held between Istadris, Leana and the Elf. Pushing forward, she begins to pace slowly toward the three, around the others set in pairs, their test of arms ringing clear in the morning air.

With a quick glance over his left shoulder, Istadris edges slowly back along the edge of the trees, drawing ever further away from the narrow trail leading to camp and putting a few yards of space between himself and the other two. "I should like to see what Lee has learned in these past months." He says, nodding to the young Haladin and then lifting the blade from his own shoulder. The weapon's tip is lowered until it points roughly towards the smithy's throat, though he stands well beyond reach. With his booted feet spread apart in the snow-burned grass, the Beorian beckons the others forward. "You shall each have a turn at me, if you wish." He says, peering over to Thenin as well, and seeming unaware of Finnabair as she pushes towards where he stands, "I only ask that you keep out of each other's way, for now."

"Wonderful," Lee says dryly, apparently not looking forward to being assessed on her progress with the axe. Nonetheless, she shifts the weapon in her hands slightly to get a tighter grip and pauses, eyes flickering over Istadris' stance. The apprentice smith steps forward a pace or two, diminishing the distance between herself and the ranger yet not getting with in striking range just yet. She pauses again, but only briefly before rushing forward and slightly to her right, seeking to avoid the Beorian's extended blade while swinging her axe in a tight arc towards his side.

Noticing movement in the surrounding forest, Thenin only glances in the direction of the approaching female ranger, though no greeting is uttered yet as he turns to look at Leana. "Take the first, my lady--" he begins to say lightly to the Haladin smithy, turning the weapon in his grip and touching the gleaming blade's tip to the layer of snow at his feet, though already, the apprentice has made her attempt, which sends the Elf to grinning.

With a stern glance, Finnabair stops as Istadris raises his sword at Leana, and the young smith returns his gesture by making the first attack hers, assailing him with a strike meant for his side. The boldness of her movement lifts the Ranger's brow and at the same time she withdraws several steps back toward the line of trees, casting another brief look at the Elf the woodsman has also invited to have a turn with him.

Istadris' keen eyes flicker between Thenin and Leana at first, yet it is upon the latter that his gaze truly settles as she advances suddenly upon him. With his knees bent just slightly, and his right leg and booted foot facing Leana, the woodsman is in easy position to a hurried pace backwards. His sword hand is raised only slightly as he leans back upon his left leg and twists instinctively away from the axeblow that arches safely past a good number of inches before him. No strike does he follow with, but with words instead as he edges yet another step backwards and towards the line of trees near which Finnabair now stands. "Do not overreach with the weapon, Leana..." He cautions, still following the Haladin with his gaze, "But do not be afraid to lean into the blow a little more--for reach, and power."

The apprentice smith steps into the blow to keep her balance as the Beorian dodges it, pulling the weapon's swing to an easy halt and then turning out to look towards Istadris. She takes his instruction in quietly, simply nodding in comprehension and then asking, "Shall I go again?"

The second Beor ranger now joined closer to the others at the treeline, Thenin looks over his shoulder and offers the woman a bright greeting. "Good morning, Mellon," he says, though not long is his attention spent before he looks back to the first ranger, lifting the longsword's blade before him, though acquiescing to Istadris' instruction.

"No farther, Istadris.", Finnabair warns gently as the woodsman's backward steps bring him close to where she stands and holding her place she plants her feet firmly apart upon the snowy ground. The greeting from the Elf draws her gaze, "Good morning to you as well.", she returns, nodding though he no longer looks toward her but now to Istadris. A few have left off their own practice and come to join the space about the three, quiet comments and observations passed between them as they watch.

The ranger's cautioning words bring Istadris to a sharp halt, though he ventures not even a quick look over his shoulder to where she stands by the trees. The sword is still firmly gripped in his right hand, while his left hangs in a loose fist near the same knee as he begins to pace very slowly to his left and away from Finnabair. Paying no heed to the few gathering Haladin onlookers, the woodsman glances first to Thenin, then to Leana once more while he lifts his hand to halt her. "Will you not join in as well, Finnabair?" He asks over his right shoulder, "Treat Leana to your axe, perhaps, so I may see to our visitor."

"Better and better," Leana laughs ruefully, leaning her weight on one foot and digging the other boot slightly into the ground. She leans the haft of the axe against her shoulder, casually balancing it with one hand. "Though perhaps, as much as I would love for Finnabair to teach me, I'd best be along. I'll be leaving for Amon Obel soon. Thank you for the lesson, Istadris, short though it was." Lifting a hand in brief farewell, the apprentice smith then turns and walks back towards the center of the campsite.

Finnabair's eye follows as Istadris directs their practice leftward, "No, I think not.", she answers to Istadris, shaking her head, "Leana will do well to put her axe against your sword. Did not I?", she asks, grey eyes glittering with amusement. But Leana's words forgo the woodsman's thought and she her gaze now follows Leana as departs suddenly. "Where does she go in such a hurry?", she asks, turning back to the two, "What takes her back to Amon Obel?"

"It is a treat then, is it, mellon?" Thenin asks, the grin held, ever-present this morn, upon his face. "Well, you shall find me a more willing opponent, then." And even as Finnabair questions the other Beor upon Leana's abrupt departure--and for a moment the glance is spared in the Haladin's direction--the Elf brings the blade up again, leading his pace to the woodsman's and then lunging forward upon his left leg. The long blade sweeps upward in an underhand stroke, its leading edge sent towards Istadris' right side.

Istadris' grey eyes widen with surprise as Leana disengages and hurries away, into the trees and back towards camp. "Travel swiftly, Lee!" He calls after her, and though the sword before him dips slightly, his stance remains readied and his booted feet set firmly apart upon the frost-burned ground. "The Wardens have sent her and another to the hill with news." He explains, at last looking over to the ranger, "And to request supplies and extra arms for the outposts along the Brithiach."

It is just then that Thenin makes his own move for Istadris, and the tracker's words falter as his gaze sweeps over to the elven marchwarden. With a surprisingly swift, darting step backwards and to his left, the woodsman narrowly avoids the other's underhanded swing. His own sword is raised at that same instant, level with his shoulders, and he lunges a pace forward upon his booted right foot. With a turn of the wrist, the Beorian made blade is swung downwards in a quick, but yielding blow aimed for the top of Thenin's left knee.

His 'hit' finding nothing but air, Thenin is committed to the follow-through of the swing's momentum, which extends his arm fully before he can draw back in a counterstrike to his trainer's reply. Still, in a deft movement, the Elf seeks to avoid the blades contact, shuffling his feet quickly up the snow-patched ground. Still unable to dodge the ranger's skillful tap, a slip, however slight, sends the Elf to one knee and though recovery to his feet is swift, the only answer remains a hearty laugh with narrowing eyes as the blade is held crosswise before him. "Well done, Mellon," he says, bursts of exhaled breaths misting the air before him.

Finnabair's eyes widen with understanding, "Busy child.", she adds with a shrug, returning her attention to Istadris and his remaining partner, the Elf. With little pause in the practice the two draw together and Finnabair falls silent and still as she returns to observing the exchange. Their movements are deft and skilled as each tries to gain past the other's defense, but after a few moments Finnabair turns and walks toward one of the Haladin who also watches, taking up a conversation with him.

The woodsman feels the light collision of his blade upon the other's leg, and draws the weapon back instantly to his guard. Though he does not press on the attack, the weathered Beor warrior stands his ground in a forward stance: The weight of his body placed predominantly upon his slightly bent right knee, with his booted right foot pointing forward while his left leg stretches out behind him. The sword he grips firmly in hand just above his right knee, with the point of the blade held upwards to point towards Thenin's throat. "Have one more try, if you wish." He says invitingly, though his thin lips curl wryly, "Then I shall halt a while." He pays no heed to Finnabair yet, where she stands off by the trees with one of the other Haladin onlookers.

Their conversation brief, Finnabair takes her leave of the Haladin and gives her attention back to Istadris and Thenin for another moment before departing herself. Without a word to interupt the practice, she turns and takes a different path then the one Leana took, edging for the trees. Stopping beneath one of the tallest she speaks a word up and a rope ladder drops down from its branches which she grabs and swiftly ascends, joining the watchers above.