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.

Light and chill rain drips down upon the forest of Brethil, collecting on the branches and budding leaves in the treetops and gathering into larger droplets that fall heavily down to the forest floor. The sunset is hidden by the thick clouds that layer the sky, though the blue-tinged light indicates that night approaches. Making her way across the muddy ground of the camp, Leana returns from guard duty, her cloak wet through. She takes it off and sets it near one of the low fires. The apprentice smith pauses and glances about the quiet camp, as though searching for somebody.

From the reaches of the forest south of the encampment comes the very audible sound of travellers apporoaching. They make no secret of their arrival to camp, and a very loud "Whoa" is given to the horses that draw a cart and a wagon each. The animals are soaked through, their backs saddled with rain--the driver of the wagon no less--though several armed scouts and guardsmen accompany in clothing better for such weather, their oiled leathers repelling the moisture. "I hope there surely be some hot wine and stiff ale for us," comes the call from the driver as he hops off the wagon and begins to untie the fastenings that cover the wagon's contents.

Her eyes lighting upon the wagon as it arrives, Leana cannot contain her curiosity and begins to walk that way, her boots leaving deep prints in the slippery mud of the camp. "There's good ale by the center campfire," she calls to the driver, lifting a hand to wave at the group. "Any help needed unloading? Is this another shipment from Amon Obel?"

The man's weathered face betrays a smile as Leana asks after the shipment of the wagon, and he offers a nod as he gives a hard slap to one of the taller items covered by the tarp. "Some more ale, here," he says, and it appears that there is at least one or two barrels contained in the wagon, by the shape of the tarp. "Also, some weapons were sent from the forge on the Hill, and some food..." He eyes the girl with a grin. "And something else I'm sure you'll find interesting." Though the tarp is secured tightly at the front end, the back fastenings are left somewhat loose as the oiled canvas droops over the wood sides. "Are ye awake back there, miss?" the driver asks, and flinging up the covering in a shower of collected rain, he gives a laugh. "We're here at last, heh."

And there, in the back portion of the wagon, resting up several layers of blankets and half surrounded by rough sacks of what might be ground meal or flour of some sort is the Beor healer, Aldawin. Returned at last to Brethil. "Aye, I'll be glad to find the ground with my feet," the young woman says as she rubs at her side with her left hand, though a smile crosses her features. Preparing to disembark the wagon, she does not yet see the smithy's apprentice, but casts her searching gaze beyond the driver towards the camp.

"Aldawin!" Leana fairly shouts, unable to prevent a bright grin from breaking out over her face, breaking her usual cold and sneering demeanor. "You're back! I was beginning to think the elves would just keep you there, the way Beor stayed his whole life." The smith steps forward towards the wagon, still grinning brightly. "You didn't miss much up here, though. Few more skirmishes here and there, and a whole lot of cold weather and annoying scouts."

The healer seems a bit stiff as she is helped from the wagon by the driver, though she thanks him earnestly and rubs her right shoulder with her left hand once her feet are set to the ground. Laughing softly at Leana's remark she shakes her head--and seems glad to view the camp once again, and even the smithy's apprentice. "Nay, they could never persuade me to stay, though the caverns were magnificent, Lee. I wish you could see them. Still..." Aldawin steps away from the wagon as the goods are starting to be unloaded from the wagon. "I have missed the company of the rest of you." A slight mischievous tone is added to that admission. "A few skirmishes here and there," She repeats upon Leana's report. "Are all in good spirits and health?" She seems to search about the camp, her grey gaze lingering by each campfire.

"Caves," Leana scoffs, shaking her head. "They cannot make trees and sunlight out of stone, can they?" The smith pauses, glancing back towards the camp. "Good spirits have quailed a bit here and there, I think, though now that spring is come people are merrier, and your friends are all in good health. You were missed quite a bit as well, you know. So did the elves fix your shoulder? I sometimes wonder about those elven healers ... I was fixed up by one after a skirmish, and was not at all happy about it. He was thoroughly obnoxious."

Aldawin lowers her glance as her grin broadens at Leana's words. "I found the Elven healers most helpful," she says with a glance to her right shoulder. "I could not move my arm before I arrived in Nargothrond, and while it will take me some practice to regain my strength and ability with the sword, I think I am able as a healer." The smile seems forced in a way, but grateful. "It is enough for now." She draws in an audible breath and gives the smithy a nod. "I trust that that 'Elven healing' served you well at least in getting better?" It might be that the Beor is amused...

"Yes, yes, I was healed quite quickly," Leana says irritably, though at least part of her annoyance is feigned. "I didn't even scar. He /was/ obnoxious, though, truly. Perhaps it's a trait unique to the elves from Doriath ... though I like some of them fine. I suppose all elves are strange, to some extent." The smith speaks quickly, as though letting out months of pent-up speech. "Anyway, you must be tired. Want to head over towards the fire and get some ale? Although I suppose I should help unload the new supplies..."

There are no less than five that help with the unloading of the wagon and cart, and several more that have taken particular attention to the cart's contents. Aldawin looks back to the buzz that surrounds the cart and rider; her expression grows pensive. "Aye, there is a peculiar quality to the Elves, but I suppose I have grown used to their ways. In Dorthonion we saw those from Mithrim frequently..." A slight shrug follows this, then a smile as Leana suggests some warming ale. "You could help to unload the cart if you wish, though there look to be more than enough hands at it. Ale, however, sounds good, unless Meg has some mulled wine in the healer's tent."

"Aye, there're plenty of people helping," Leana remarks, turning to walk towards the healers tent. "Mulled wine it shall be, I suppose. I've not seen many elves. I think two winters ago was actually the first time for me, when the elves from Nargothrond came up for the plague. We've always rather kept to ourselves, as a people..."

"Aye," Aldawin muses thoughtfully as she follows Leana through the camp. The low cookfires stuggle to burn with the constant drizzle of rain, and it seems more folk are apt to find shelter than sit about the outdoor fires. "I suppose unless you were set to the border watches you would not have occasion to see the Firstborn oft." She dips low as one of the birches--its leaves laden with water--send droplets in a sudden sprinkling as the healer brushes against one of the snowy branches.

"My father would see them occasionally," Leana remarks absently, brushing a few droplets of water out of her face. "And they would come occasionally to Amon Obel, but I didn't go there often until I was older, started apprenticing with the smith. Not that big a deal, though... I'd rather meet one of the drug than one of the Firstborn, as the drug live here in this forest, and the elves don't."

"The Drug?" Aldawin questions, raising her brow with a curious glance. "Who are they?" The two young women have almost reached the healer's tent by now, and the last of the evening's light is smothered with the covering clouds and grey rain. A slit in the healer's tent betrays the warming brazier set and burning within, and a glad smile lifts Aldawin's face as she reaches forward with her left hand to pull the flap of the entryway open, motioning Leana to go inside first.

"That's what we call them," Leana says with a slight shrug, ducking into the tent and walking towards the brazier. "I thought I'd spoken with you about them ... the stone people. You might have seen their statues, by the borders -- usually of dead, dying, or fleeing orcs, but sometimes of themselves. They look sort of like us, but not ... not quite."

"I've heard them mentioned..." Aldawin says with a glance to Leana as they pass by the brazier. Its radiating warmth is a welcome change to the chill breezes without the tent. And while the healer peers about for the elder Haladin healer, Meg, the woman seems not to be there. The wine is set in the corner, though the warming rods are cold, and none seems to have been set to the warming bowl. "Meg must be gone, or not seeing to her usual duties," Aldawin says with a chuckle. Moving the warming rods to the brazier, she pours a quantity of wine in the bowl, glancing back to Leana as she does. "Have you seen aught of Istadris lately?" she wonders.

"Not too much," the Haladin admits, frowning slightly with thought. "I haven't seen very much of anyone of late, though, I've been keeping to myself as I can. He's around, though. He seems to be doing well enough."

Watching as the mulling rods warm in the brazier, Aldawin turns them after a few minutes, and silence follows as her thoughts make a careful track of what has been said. She nods at the smithy's answer, and the wind whips the opening tent flap; cold air and droplets of water follow. "Why are you keeping to yourself, Lee?" she wonders; the grey gaze is not easily avoided.

"Always have," Leana says, meeting Aldawin's gaze only briefly before turning her eyes quickly towards the mulling rods. "I like myself better than other people do, anyway. I just get into arguments when I don't, anyway." Lee pauses for a moment, and then forces her somber visage into a mocking grin. "Perhaps when everybody else realizes that I am always right, I shall be more sociable."

The grey gaze lowers after Leana's first utterance, and testing the iron rods Aldawin takes them from the glowing gold of the brazier and sets them in the bowl to heat the wine. Another sprinkling of herbs is added to the bowl, and with a slow stirring, she considers the apprentice's words with a broadening grin. "But what if they never do realise it?" she wonders, adding another handful of spices to the brew.

"Then that's their problem, and not mine," Leana says, looking up towards the ceiling of the tent and laughing slightly. "I can't fix it for them, poor fools."

The healer only continues to smile as she stirs the rods once more in the bowl then removes them and sets them aside. Covering the bowl with a gauzy straining cloth, Aldawin pours the mulled wine into cups. Offering one of the cups to Leana, she takes a seat upon one of the cots and yields a contented sigh. "Well, t'would not be the same without you here, Lee." Now she smiles to the other. "Be who you are, and if they are truly fools, as you say, they will pay you no mind. If they are not fools, they will call you friend." She takes a sip of the wine and draws in a deep breath moving her feet to follow upon the cot and rests against her head upon the pillow. "I may just fall asleep right here," the healer says with a chuckle, lifting her head to take another long sip of the warm wine before resting back once more and staring thoughtfully to the ceiling overhead--the patter of rain apt accompaniment to her musings.

"Right," Leana replies, though she casts Aldawin a brief look of disbelief. She shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot and decides aloud, "I'm going to get some ale, instead. See you, Alda." Without waiting for a response, the apprentice turns on her heel and heads out, ducking quickly through the tent flap and then disappearing into the camp.