(Archive) Kisses in the tavern?

You stride into the Sleeping Stallion Inn.
The Sleeping Stallion Inn
The common room of the Sleeping Stallion Inn is a crowded bustling place.
The rohirrim flock to this inn in droves, coming here to savor the fine
ales brewed by the barkeep Vhran, and also to sup on the tantilizing fare
he and his family provide. The tables are arranged hapazardly around the
room, with no real pattern emerging. The walls are decorated with many fine
tapestries and paintings, mostly dealing with life in the Mark, and the
horses which the rohirrim worship above all else.

Contents:
Colinor
Bora
Aearwen
Gwendolyn
Marie
Obvious exits:
Stairs Up leads to The Sleeping Stallion Inn -- Second Floor.
Street leads to The Marshal Square.

Real time is: Sat Sep 18 18:58:11 1999 - Rohan weather is: Stormy
Elendor time is: Late Night on Sterday of June 6, 3018
The Moon is: waxing gibbous

Thunder peals fitfully in the distance, difficult to pin down as far as direction, for it seems to come from everywhere. A moody, grumbling sky, though but baseline noise this late afternoon, as the tattoo of rain can be heard above it upon the roof of this place, overlayed by the din of conversation. The common room is warm, and smells of mutton and stew. The folk here are either wet or newly dry, for an impressive storm has made an appearance, and looks to come in fuller force later tonight. Right now, it is merely insistent.

The door opens, as it is prone to do from time to time, and Colinor stands out there in the rain, golden hair matted to his head, scattershod from the wind, as he foregoes immediate relief from the wet, holding the door for another.

That other is not long in making herself known, Aelspeth's cloak-wrapped form slipping in beneath her companion's outstretched arm with a quick-stepping haste that betokens an intensification of the afternoon's storm. Droplets scatter as she draws up, moves aside that Colinor might enter behind her, and lifts finely-boned hands to push back the soaked fabric of her hood.

The lady is smiling though, color brushed upon her cheeks and laughter not dimmed into stillness in eyes that snap amethyst upon the man's face before swaying to those others that find their rest here in the room.

Traveling back to the Inn from her meeting with King Theoden, Aearwen and her escorts are caught in the sudden storm. Slipping her quickly soaking cloak up over her auburn tresses in an effort to ward off some of the pelting rain, Aearwen hurries through the strange town. Nearing the Inn her footsteps slow as a man stands holding the door open for his lovely companion.

Her sodden skirts dragging limply as she slips through the door of the Inn, obviously hoping to make a quick exit to her room. Slipping her cloak from her head, her bedraggled curls are pasted to her face. Glancing around the room with a wry smile on her face, she pushes back the wet hair and pulls out a hankie to wipe at her face.

A young girl sits in the corner, it's the bar maid from last night. But tonight she is not on duty and simply sits alone drinking a brandy quietly.

Walking into the tavern with a slight limb is a petite raven-haired woman. Her long shiney hair is styled in a manner to shield her right side of her face. As she walks in favoring her right ankle, she spots Lady Aearwen and makes her ways slowly over towards her.

Colinor did, of course, wait for everyone else to arive before cutting through the doorway with his tall, lean form. He wears no cowl over his soaked, golden hair, perhaps having long since figured that such a thing was futile, or overly constricting. As he moves into the common room proper, he comes to stand beside Aelspeth, casting a glance at the bar. "Not much has changed, my love," he intones in a voice which is touched by music. "SHall I get you somethign warm to drink?"

A distant dawn makes a brief appearance at the tavern scene, when the door shifts, letting in the first rays of the budding sun. A man walks in, his steps steady and his gaze questioning... Bora drops his jaw down, surprised to see him arrive.

"Tea.. would be wondrous, Col," murmurs Aelspeth in a lowered tone, she standing nearly as tall the man whose features her smile caresses. "Bora had best remember how I like it, we've not been gone all that long." Her eyes tip sidelong, and her lashes lower as an inclination of her head serves as greeting to the aformentioned barkeep. Then the heavy folds of her cloak are peeled off, unclasped by slim fingers and laid over her arm in the moments before she heads off in the direction of the fire's gilt warmth. Some poor soul has chosen this moment to leave that warm haven and head for the out of doors. She casts him a commiserating glance before arching a brow at Colinor from over a shoulder.

Walking into the tavern with a slight limb is a petite raven-haired woman. Her long shiney hair is styled in a manner to shield her right side of her face. As she walks in favoring her right ankle, she spots Lady Aearwen and makes her ways slowly over towards her.

Was that the touch of a smile that has just crossed the stranger's face? The same sure nod, and even the same arched eyebrow, "Yeah, that's me... Even the dust of the eastern plains has become too used to me already...

Was that the touch of a smile that has just crossed the stranger's face? The same sure nod, and even the same arched eyebrow, "Yeah, that's me... Even the dust of the eastern plains has become too used to me already..." This time, there is no mistake. Xatra's smile fills his face, as he opens his arms...

The girl sighs her silence broken she looks at the large group of people who just entered and finds some of them to be the same people from last night. She hopes Bora will not make her work now with all these people comming in.
Corinne knocks her boots one at a time against the mud scraper, carefully letting the chunks of earth fall to the floor. She nods occasionally at the man who seems to be talking rapidly at her, making wild gestures with his arms. When he pauses, she replies "Yes of course, you'll get your payment soon." The man snorts through his nostrils and makes his exit adding a colorful expression certainly not fit for the ears of young children. With a shake of her head, the troubled baker weaves her way into the warm room, a dripping cloak draped over her arm.

Leaving a trail of water on the floor as she makes her way to the fireplace, Aearwen nods her head slightly to those that catch her eye, noting many hiding a smile as they turn away. If they had by chance looked closely, they would have noticed crystal blue eyes twinkling with amusement. Fluffing at the mass of curls around her face, her hankie is quickly soaked. Smiling an amused smile as she stands by the warmth of the fire gazing at the many lovely tapestries on the wall, before her gaze once again crosses the room. Smiling warmly as she tips her head at Elowyn's entrance, beckoning her near.

He approaches the bar now, does Colinor, and after Bora has had a chance to exchange pleasantries with the other man, offers the barkeep a smile which almost literally brightens the room. White teeth, perfectly straight, dimples, and all. Just on the short side of being pretty, he is--to many people--magnetic. "Good morn," he intones int hat selfsame voice of near-music, "Could I trouble you for some tea? For two, please."

"'Tis Xatra! Bake me over an orkish fire if that's not you!" Bora wades through the room, stopping a few steps to the man in question, his head leaning to a side, as if for another cautious look, "Why, indeed! Mead, as always?"

A heavy hand makes his shoulder drop an inch, "As always... A long night behind, a long day ahead. Good to be back in the city..."

Elowyn smiles weakly as she sees Aearwen beacon her closer. She starts to move a bit faster but then stumbles and fall to her hands and one knee as her ankle gives out. She let out a sharp cry of pain. "AhhhhH!" And stays there for a moment and shifts from that undignified position and shifts her legs under her to sit.

Flowing skirts brush against the leg of a stranger, and Aelspeth takes the time to pause in her progression toward the hearth, birthing a smile and soft apology to the Rider snagged by the velvet of her garb. Words are exchanged, a hint of subtle laughter to underly the general murmur in the room, before the woman moves on, finally achieving her goal of that table set just beside the fire's glimmer. The cloak is carefully arranged over the back of one chair, her gaze alighting upon Aearwen for a moment as she straightens and pushes a few damp tendrils of gold from her temple. "Good day, m'lady," speaks she out, adding a smile before she sinks into the seat nearest the hearth's heat. "'Tis not fit for outdoor travelling."

A mug of warm mead is pushed aside, yet a small cloud of vapor stays for a moment, before the aroma dissipates into the inn's habitual atmosphere... Xatra turns around at the familiar voice, forgetting about Bora and his helpful assistants... A few steps toward the hearth, and a stern gaze down to the noblewoman, "I wouldn't say so, m'lady. The way here was quite... fitting." A hardly percieves smile betrays his real approach...

Barking out to the guards standing there Aearwen stays, "Do not just stand there, see to Lady Elowyn! Get her to a chair so I may have a look at that wounded ankle." A frown marring her lovely brow as she waits for them to help Elowyn to a chair. Turning to a serving girl she inquires, "Would you please see to getting some hot tea, I am chilled to the bone." Her head bends closely as she speaks to her lady in waiting, "Go to my room, get my bag with the healing supplies in it and bring it down as obtrusively as possible."

Someone at the bar has moved to make the tea for Colinor, and sets it, and two large ceramic mugs, upon a tray before giving the lot to the tall rider. "You've been gone for quite some time, M'lord Colinor," he says by way of conversation, looking the taller man in the eye and patting him on the shoulder. Apparently, they have a history, these two men.

Colinor, for his part, nods, reaching up to run long, slim fingers through hsi bedraggled hair. Droplets of water fall in a tiny rain upon his shoulders as he glances about the room, reaching down to place a hand upon the tray. "I've come in search of Eartnan. My cousin would be put out with me --to put it mildly-- if I didn't pay a visit when so near."

The revelation of Xatra's identity is almost lost in the moment, for Aelspeth's ear is caught well and fully by the sharpness of Elowyn's cry. The slender woman is up and poised between weaving her way amongst the tables when the wanderer draws up to inadvertently block her path to the fallen lady. Eyes of darkling violet widen in surprise.. thick lashes enhances that emotion as it paints its way across her features. Then the brightness of a smile finds its way onto her lips so quickly that the gloom is dispelled from her part of common room. "Cousin!" Tossing aside some of the polite reserve she ever bears, she reaches out to embrace Xatra with a warmth that bespeaks undeniable bonds between them both. "Long.. long has it been since we have spoken. My homecoming is completed now that we are met again." She pauses then.. angling her face to look upon Elowyn, "But there is one here in need of aid, cousin.. might we wait our full reunion for but one moment longer?"

Xatra nods, angling toward the fallen Gondorian, "Of course, Ael... I'm afraid, my homecoming is only about to start, though." Turning around, he examines the scene with a well concelaed air of curiosity...

Elowyn looks gratefully at the guardsmen that come and help her up. She lets them help her to a chair where she sits down and looks down at her ankle. She lets out a deep sight as the pain is obvious on her delicate face.

Aelspeth's smile curves slightly upwards and her slim hands tighten upon Xatra's arm before then move to snag her ever-present healer's bag. "Homecomings are all the more better loved when they are long, cousin. I shall return in haste. Until then.. speak you well to my companion." There is one more pause, though something in the lady's posture speaks her hunger to move on to one who is in pain. "Colinor.." her eyes seek out the man and she beckons him closer with a nod of his chin. "Cousin, this is Colinor," she pauses then, growing a touch enigmatic, "my betrothed. Col.. this is my beloved cousin Xatra." And with that.. she is gone, moving amongst the tables with a practiced grace that makes her movements fluid.

Aearwen's lovely face pales and her fingers pause in their task as her ears suddenly become aware of the conversation at the bar. Turning slightly, her eyes widen as she hears the importance of the words spoken by Colinor. Her mouth opens to speak and then closes, slumping into a nearby chair, she can only stare at the stranger as she obviously tries to gather her thoughts. Slender fingers nervously pleat and unpleat the folds in her skirt as she is quite unprepared for this turn of events. Quietly watching the man, her eyes well with sympathy, brightly shining as she dreads her task.

Colinor turns to look upon Xatra, that selfsame smile upon his face that he had worn for the barkeep. Crossing the few steps to the man with an effortless grace, he extands a hand in greeting, "It is good to meet any family of Aelspeth's, m'lord. She has spoken quite highly of you." His words carry upon them an unconscious, careful enunciation which sets him apart from the common man, or even the common warrior. Upon his back, one might note, the dissonant presence of both spear and harp case.

A nod and a smile... Not much more needed to acknowledge what Aelspeth has already been doing... As his cousin makes her way to the lady in need, Xatra shifts his gaze to rest upon Colinor's broad figure, "Well met, sir. The name's Xatra..." Few words, a long studying gaze... and anticipation...

Over to Elowyn does Aelspeth go, gliding to a halt and crouching down beside the chair to which the other woman has been escorted by the guards. "M'lady, move you not lest your injury become more serious than it must." Earnest concern limns her finely wrought profile as she reaches out a hand that's meant to calm.. though does not yet touch the lady, for she's received no permission to do so. "I am known as a healer amongst those of the Mark, and would gladly offer to you my services if you desire that I look to your hurts."

Corinne drops into a table with a group of other women who breaks away from their conversation only long enough to greet her before resuming their gossiping. Sacks of vegetables from the market lay by their feet but they seem more interested in the goings on of the tavern than their hungry husbands. Corinne smiles as she listens half-heartedly, her eyes wandering over unfamiliar faces in the room.

The handshake is well met, the firm grip appearing... testing. Xatra's lips curve into a smile, "I know by whom I would have always be remembered... years past..." A long pause, "To join our kin is an honor. I hope you will meet it well."

A nod and a smile... Not much more needed to acknowledge what Aelspeth has already been doing... As his cousin makes her way to the lady in need, Xatra shifts his gaze to rest upon Colinor's broad figure, "Well met, sir. The name's Xatra..." Few words, a long studying gaze... and anticipation...'.

Melethron has arrived.

Colinor seems pleased by a relatively warm greeting from Aelspeth's kinsman. Pleased, in addition, to actually be indoors, out of the elements after a long trip. He's rather disheveled at the moment, and that fact is not lost upon him. "I would venture that, next to her luminescence, I look like a wet hound." He meets Xatra's gaze with his own of striking, verdant emerald.

Elowyn offers Aelspeth a pained smile. She nods and extends her foot o ut for the kind healer to take a look at her swollen ankle. "Thank you kindly. I fell on the trip over to this land and the healers with our company have not yet had a chance ot take a proper look at it. One of thier aides did tend to it initially, but said I just twisted it."

Rising from her chair, Aearwen slowly makes her way across the room, her eyes only on the tall man at the bar. Coming to rest near him, she softly speaks, "Forgive the intrusion, but did I hear you mention Eartnan a few minutes ago?" As she awaits his answer, she tries to smile at his companions, her one hand clenched and tight in the many folds of her dress.

There is a kindness that comes to soften her eyes and the rather hawkish intensity with which Aelspeth gives heed to Elowyn's words. "Just a twist, m'lady? We shall set it straight then with herbs to reduce your swelling and ease some of the pain you so valiantly do conceal." Her smile is gentle, reassuring, matching the tone of her voice as she touches the woman's hand and then sets her healer's bag beside her on the floor, heedless of what the dust there does to the rich velvet of her skirt. "Mind you if I unwrap what they have done and take a better look at your injury? And.. would you tell me, please, m'lady, did you fall from a horse, or in a hole, or upon the earth?"

Lifting his hands in a surrendering gesture, Xatra smiles widely, "I'm afraid that's not for me to judge..." His own travelling attire, soaked through with the rain, confirms as much. "Though a hound you might be... I've heard you're looking for someone?"

Elowyn shakes her head as a light crimson color comes to the raven haired merchant's face. "I was walking up an embankment to get out of a downpour of rain. I lost my footing on the steep embankment and turned my ankle and went sliding back down." A wistfull look come across Elowyn's face. "A knight of Dol Amroth happen to be there to take me back tot he camp."

Colinor nods, "Aye," he replies, eyes flickering over to Aelspeth, and then to the injured woman, before they return to Xatra, "My cousin, Eartnan. He has not been seen in quite some time, and the villagers who live near Forensvale are concerned. He is the last remaining blood kin which I have, as I am the same for him...so I must admit that I'm a bit concerned. It is not like him to be gone for such lengths of time."

Though the morning sun has yet to dawn upon this dreary day, still there are those gathered within this place seeking companionship and food for the long day at hand. The weather's dreadfulness has seen that many are now within the walls of thier home, while the hours time merely adds to the sum of that number, yet there are those who would trudge through the streets of Edoras even upon a day such as this.

Between the entering and exiting of various people, some Rohirric by birth, others of the visiting Gondorians, there comes one donning an oiled cloak of the darkest night, hood raised against the elements though it is quickly lowered after entering the place. He is tall, of Numenorian descent as evidenced by his features, though little else can be discerned about this man until chance divides the cloak about his shoulders to reveal the silver swan upon his chest, a Swan-Knight of Dol Amroth this one is. And though the weather outside be terrible, the temper of the man seems at ease.

Colinor nods, "Aye," he replies, eyes flickering over to Aelspeth, and then to the injured woman, before they return to Xatra, when Aearwen speaks to him, having drawn near. He looks down upon her, his face a pleasant smile, "My cousin, is Eartnan. He has not been seen in quite some time, and the villagers who live near Forensvale are concerned. He is the last remaining blood kin which I have, as I am the same for him...so I must admit that I'm a bit concerned. It is not like him to be gone for such lengths of time."

Motioning to an empty table away from everyone Aearwen says quietly, "May I have a few words with you in private? " Shaking her head slightly she says, "Forgive me, I am Lady Aearwen of Ethring-Bragollach, I am an envoy to the Prince of Dol Amroth." Her manner very solemn as she makes the request for a few minutes of his time.

It matters not the weather, nor the comings and goings of those that brave the watery downpour of tears the heavens spill for the loss of the sun to the greyling clouds. Nothing matters to the slim healer that moves to kneel beside Elowyn save for the pain and condition of her patient. "Treacherous footing in the rain, m'lady.. and very easy to lose one's balance whilst on a tilt. T'was most fortunate for you that one so noble as the men of that city found himself in a position to aid you." While she speaks, voice pitched to convey a sense of calm, her deft fingers move to unwind the lady's bandages. Ever gentle, Aelspeth diverts her gaze to the ankle in question, one palm providing support while the other gently probes the areas that are swollen. She pauses, gives Elowyn a smile, and then lifts her gaze to the table nearby.. where sit a group of Rohirric ladies, Corinne amongst them. The curve of her lips remains, though there is a touch of the healer's command beneath her politness, "I hope you will forgive me for interrupting, but might some one of you please ask the barkeep for a bowl and pitcher of heated water?"

Colinor glances over to the table, and then to Aelspeth, of all people, before nodding. "M'lord..please pardon me for a moment.." before he offers up a smile to Aearwen, though it is an understandably curious one. He has rarely been the target of important discussion, most having gone to his betrothed, who is a woman of some power in these parts. "After you," he says graciously, the picture of gentlemanly smoothness.

Xatra's glance shifts from Colinor to the lady, clearly of Gondorian demeanor, "Forensvale... Is that where you hail from?" A half-smile at Aearwen, "Of course, m'lady. I won't hold you any longer... If you'd like to see me at any time, ask for Xatra."

The women at Corinne's table who probably had one too many ales "to shake the wet cold off th' bones" have now erupted into bawdy laughter. A mug tumbles over as one of them doubles over with laughter and bangs the table hard with her meaty fist. The content spills over across the table and onto the floor. Corinne jumps from the table and looks over at the beautiful healer gratefuly. "If I can be of service, m'lady," she says politely and elbows her way towards the bar.

Turning to smile gently at those standing nearby, Aearwen graciously says, "Again, please forgive the intrusion, but I do need a few moments of private conversation with this man." Nodding slightly as she passes by Colinor to take a seat at the table, fingers folding over one another on the table as she waits for him to be seated. Obviously pained by the smile she tries to paste on her face, Aearwen turns away for a moment to gaze at Elowyn and returns her gaze to Colinor.

Through the crowd he wirls, around this young lad, stepping aside for this lady or that, to the bar, or the barkeep for that matter, for there comes a time when all men, be they of the Mark or of the Stoninglands, to eat and regain of their strength. For this man it is no different, and upon drawing near the man of the house, Melethron raises his voice for a glass of vintage wine, red if present, white just the same.

With his order placed, leaning thus upon the bar, the Knight takes of the moment to gaze about the common room for faces known to him. His cousin, the Lady Aearwen there, and Lady Elowyn who appears to be under the minstrations of a Rohir Lady, curious, but not foolish enough to draw near a healer at work, the man rest, waiting upon his glass.

Colinor doesn't sit, of course, until Aearwen has, and then he takes his spot at the table. He's not missed the pained look, the forced smile, which adorns the woman's features, and --being him-- he fears that he has perhaps offended her somehow. That has to be it, of course.

Corinne is gone so quickly.. that Aelspeth can but cast a grateful smile in the departing lady's direction before returning to the most important task she bears at this particular moment. "I am pleased to tell you, m'lady," her eyes, a smoky sort of violet, lift up and find Elowyn's for a time, "That your healers possessed skill and that that your ankle is indeed but sprained. It is a bad twist though, and often enough it is the sprains that cause more pain and difficulty than a clean break." Carefully, she positions the lady's foot upon the seat of the chair upon which it was propped and reaches into the voluminous depths of her bag. "I will wrap it up for you and give you something for the pain. That should help for the time being, though it is but rest and remaining off of it that will bring true healing to your leg." Liberal smiles pepper her words, along with glances to her patient as she gathers various vials, jars and bags of leather beside her on the table's surface.

Casting his cloak aside, Xatra settles into a chair. Overlooking the scene through the prism of the vapor rising over his mug of mead... Only the grim eyes know what he's thinking...

Softly spoken words come from the noble woman's lips, "Did I hear you correctly when you stated that you were the only living relative of Eartnan? That his friends have been concerned about his disappearance? " Her normally pale face seemingly even whiter against the starkness of her dark hair as she continues, "My questions are not of idle nature or meant to be offensive, there is an important reason for my inquiry. "

The smile fades just a touch from Colinor's eyes, and a like amount from his lips, as a feeling of foreboding begins to creep into the pit of his belly. "I am," he intones evenly, meeting the woman's eyes, refusing to look away, "Closest of friends as well, are we. My father...his father...brothers."

Corinne leans over the bar to yank the shirt of the barkeep who had begun to walk away, one leg up to keep her balance. She makes her request but the barkeep tilts his head with a puzzled "Eh?" She takes a deep breath and shouts over the din, "Hot water for the healer!" Finallly, the barkeep looks over Corinne's head and nods in understanding as he sees Lady Aelspeth at work. Corinne thanks the barkeep as he sets the requested items down, balancing them carefully in her hands. Before she departs, she mutters to Melethron, "The red is moldy this time of year. I recommend the white.." and swims back into the crowd towards the healer.

Elowyn looks gratefully at Aelspeth. "thank you, M'lady. I was not so sure of the diagnosis of the apprentice of the healer that looked at me a few days ago, but it is imperitive that I be on my feet I have a lot of business to do while we are here in your fine country." Her dark eyes scan the room and spots Melethron. Her eyes immediatally cast back down on the healer as she binds her tender ankle.

Swallowing with great difficulty, Aearwen struggles to continue her conversation, her soft blue eyes shining brightly as time seems frozen as she looks at Colinor. "I became aware of your cousin, for the first time, in the Hero's Inn in Pelargir." Her eyes soften and her voice drifts lower, "I was travelling with the Gondorian host on an official trip to Pelargir and your cousin joined one of my best friends, Rorgan for a conversation and meal that evening." A smile plays across her lips, "I can still hear them talking Rohirrim and laughing over the meal, it was a very good night for renewing friendships and strengtening bonds."

Be it twist of fate, or gift of the Valar, but a woman speaks unto him while the man of the Bragollach's waits upon his wine, "White you say?" his words cheerful and merry, "The good barkeep, make it so!" Yet even as he turns, a glass of the white has been resting behind him, quick is the service of goodman Vhran, and quick is the payment for the drink offered, the cost and more for his espediant service. With a sip upon his lips and the tase of a chilled white wine within his throat, Melethron turns now to the crowd again, his silvery gaze looking out upon the men and women of the Mark for the giver of fine advice, and when his eyes fall upon her they rest there for awhile, pondering curiously many things within his mind, yet stare he does not, but always does his gaze find it's way to her after a moments time.

The words are at odds with the look upon the woman's face...this is what crosses the detatched part of Colinor's mind as he looks upon her. This was the first part of her message, and there is, he knows, another part. "Indeed," he intones, his musical voice low, audible but to her and any who might be trying to listen from nearby, "He is here, with you, then?" an almost desperate hope grips his stomach as he says this. Perhaps...perhaps she will say yes.

Several of those leather pouches are reviewed by a discerning eye and returned to the darkness of the healer's bag before Aelspeth is satisfied with her collection of treatments. "I understand that well, m'lady.. the importance of your mission," flawless is the woman's smile as she upturns it in Elowyn's direction. "However, I must again stress that your ankle will only continue to give out and to worsen if you do not find the proper amount of rest. You must remain off of your feet for much of the next few days." Such a gentle voice, woven of music and wind, and low pitched for a woman.. but it holds that subtle steely command of a healer that knows her craft and is used to be obeyed. Her eyes match that tone with a glint of seriousness before she returns the smile to her lips. "Perhaps we might find some manner with which to convey you to your various meetings and procure a chair when you've arrived at them." She nods, turning to widen the curve of her mouth at Corinne's approach. "I cannot thank you enough, m'lady.." there is a pause and a rueful turn to her words, "I fear I know not your name."

A soft smile stays on the woman's face as she obviously recalls days past, "Your cousin told Rorgan that he counted himself among his men and that the Oath of Eorl demanded he assist his allies against their foes in the desert. That is how he became part of the Gondorian host." Sighing softly as her eyes focus on the man across from her, "Rorgan tried to dissuade him from continuing the trek, but said a stronger devotion to the Oath, he had never seen." Her smile gentle as she inquires, "Shall I continue with what I know of your cousin?"

The smile has more or less slipped fully from Colinor's normally bright, almost boyish features, and he nods, licking lips suddenly gone dry. "Please, m'lady...it always..." a pause, as he swallows around the lump in his throat, "..heartens me to hear of my cousin's exploits." He offers a chuckle, then...no mirth living within the confines of its hollowness, and a smile which is just as phantasmal, "...always enjoyable to hear of my cousin's exploits. He is a brave man."

Elowyn shakes her head and looks at Aelspeth. "Please excuse my rude behavior. I am Lady Elowyn of the house Rovacil. I have traveled tot his fair land many time with my father merchanting his goods here. For it is my house that holds the main trade routes from Gondor ot Rohan. " Her hand fidgets with her hair that shields the right sode of her face. "Now that he is dead. I plan on merchanting in his place and carrying on his good name."

The inclination of her head holds some innate elegance as Aelspeth turns her gaze from Corinne to Elowyn once more. "It is my great honor to have your acquaintance, m'lady," spills out her voice with manners that might more befit the land of Gondor than her home. "I am.. Aelspeth." She gives no house or titles, merely follows her name with a smile, though the cast of her personage bears the stamp of the noble. "I am certain that a woman of your fortitude will well carry on the tradition of your sire's household."

"I hear your last batch of bread was a booming success!" a somewhat inebriated man taunts Corinne. The baker halts in her steps, turns, and throws the hot water into the man's face. The drunkard reels back in surprise, much to the delight of his friends. Their laughter is quickly drowned out by the general noise of the room and Corinne is at last at Elowyn and Aelspeth's side, with a bowl and a pitcher half full of hot water. She curtsies quickly as she sets them down a nearby table, remarking "I beg your pardon for taking so long, m'ladies. Is there anything else I can do?"

Nodding her head in agreement, "Yes, a very brave man. He rode with the Silver Guardsman and survived the massacre on the South Road." Shuddering as the images of the many bodies, dismembered and strewn on the road as the Gondorian host made its way to Caldur. Her voice quivers as she sees the faces of fallen men rush through her mind. "Your cousin continued on with us, in the taking and securing of Caldur. It was stated that such fierce ness and courage have never been witnessed before." Glancing down at her hands for a long moment she stills, then finally continues on with her story, "Next came the assault on the city of Umbar...", a flush covers her cheeks as she pauses again and gazes at Colinor with saddened eyes. "This part of the story pains me, forgive me for being the bearer of bad tidings Colinor. The army was pinned against the wall of Umbar and then the foul goblin host did bring in an attack from the rear." Her breathing increases as the flow of her words increase, obviously agitated by the conversation, "Grievious were the wounds suffered that day, so many ..so many...and Eartnan was no exception to that. Of the 200 men that rode onto that field outside of Umbar, only 8 made it back safely to the Gondorian line." Aearwen reaches out one soft hand, placing it on Colinor's arm, "However, the Drihten made it no further. I am sorry to have to be the one to tell you this grievious news, but he fell at Rorgan's feet single red-hafted arrow piercing his heart."

Elowyn gives Aelspeth a sincere smile. "It was in deed a pleasure to meet you, Aelspeth. If I catch up to you later on. I will bestow something from my travels down to the desolate land of Umbar. I have picked up many interesting items that might interest you." She smiles knowingly. "Maybe some herbs found only in that arid land?" She motion to a couple of her assistants that have made it into the tavern. They come to her side and assister to her feet. "Thank you agian, but I must rest now." Her assistant help her up to her room as they make thier way out.

Who could miss that? Aelspeth's attention has been given to Corinne from the moment the man called out. It is with brow arched that the healer responds to the question, couching the words around a barely contained smile. "It is I who am indebted for your aid, m'lady." Even kneeling, she casts her eyes to the man whose been baptised with the water, and the baker's ire. "Does he give you great trouble?" Having been away from some months, she is not up-to-date on the latest happenings in the city, and she sides instinctively with the lady. All the while though, her hands are pulled herbs from various pouches, each marked with a twist of multi-colored thread. Yarrow and deerberry are dumped into the bowl and the water poured atop where they can seep. Not long.. not long, and she's dipping clean linen into the mix and laving Elowyn's ankle with the same trademark gentleness. A salve follows, drawn from a squat, earthenware jar.. then those capable healer's hands continue on, winding strips of fresh bandage around the injury. Not too tight, nor too loose are those bonds, and Aelspeth ties them off neatly when she is done. "There.. if you couple rest with tea brewed from these herbs four times a day, you will find your pain eased and your gait back to its normal state within a week." With that.. the lady departs, and the healer rises to her feet.

Colinor's face goes ashen, eyes widening, lips losing all hints of the forced smile which had intermittently tried to take up residence there. He murmurs something under his breath, as haunt is birthed within his green eyes, which suddenly don't look so verdant, not so full of life anymore. Dumbly, he stares at the lady who has brought him this news. "A red-hafted arrow...Eartnan always did do well in the archery competitions.." he says, words having little bearing upon the subject at hand, save that they are what his frantic mind, his shocked and numb mind, manages to dredge up as...something to say.

For a reason unknown to him, the Knight's eyes are now drawn unto the form of his cousin, sitting alone with a Rohir, the air about that place grim and grave, a heavy pall hanging over that table. Taking the last of his wine, Melethron rises again to both booted feet, his path to that of the gloomed over table, and close does he draw, but the distance is not completely covered for it would be against his, and more importantly his cousin's honor to thrust himself into such a situation without prior invitation.

With an effort his gaze goes back to the common room, to Rohir and Gondorman alike, the merriness of his features having faded away to reveal something akin to a commander of battles gauging the mettle of his men, though nothing is spoken from his lips, his eyes take in all, including the healer, the baker, and the drunk... especially the drunk, for now that fiery temper so akin to those of his line has begun to burn once again, and there is little that could cause it to flare so than a drunken fool making jest of a woman.

Gently patting his hand, Aearwen speaks in a soothing tone, "Do tell me of him as a young boy. It would gladden my heart to see happier images instead of the last ones I witnessed. " Her face tightens as she picks up her hands and looks at them, "Do you see these hands? They were blood soaked and dripping that day in Umbar, as were my clothing, sodden with the valiant men that fought against the darkness that threatens us. Eartnan was brought into the healers tents, but we could do nothing for him...his face along with a multitude of others are burned into the images of my mind. So yes, please tell me a story of happier days, of you and your cousin, young, carefree and laughing." Her hand squeezes his for a moment, "Word alone cannot express my sorrow for your loss."

By the glance that touches along the profile of Malethron's carved countenance, Aelspeth is of like mind in regard to both the woman who has aided her and the man who did make jest of the same. As readily as warmth can spin beauty from her features, so can displeasure bring those delicate lines and planes into a mask of living granite. "One must not pay heed to the words of a fool that has found his way into the bottoms of far too many cups of wine and ale, m'lady," finally flow her words, infused with a pleasant tone as she offers a smile to Corinne. "I always seem to bring a mess along with me wherever I decide to go." That is self-deprecating, but the shake of her head holds some inner amusement as she crouches down and collects her healer's things.

Maeghan has arrived.

Aearwen's words penetrate --but only barely-- the thick fog which has slid over Colinor's thoughts. Everything seems so grey right now. Perhaps it was always this way.

He is the last. There are no more of his line.

"Strong..." he says, dredging up what he can, as half of him struggles to accept the enormity of the fact. He's operating on automatic right now, his considerable bardic skill as a storyteller not evidenced by any of his words. "We used to wrestle.." he says, holding his arms out before him as if preparing to wrestle some unseen foe. He looks down at those arms, and then back up to the woman, before a look os confusion creeps into his eyes, his face. Or perhaps it's fatigue. "Where's Aelspeth gone off to?"

Bested by a mere woman, and in front of his buddies of all things, the red faced drunk regains his footing and pushes himself off from the bar, to begin staggering over to the two women. His shoulder brushes against Melethron in his unsteadiness, and he nods his head as if in apology, but he spits with distaste as he lumbers past.

Smiling a soft smile as she listens to the disjointed words that Colinor speaks, well understanding his shock and pain. Gently speaking, "The two of you wrestled? Who won the most or was it a toss up?" Sighing softly at the confused look in his eyes she whispers ever so softly, "I will say this to you, count your blessings that you have so many rich, loving memories of your cousin. He was such a brave, valiant man and served with honour. Remember all of those things...his smile, laughter...all of the wonderful things that made him the person he was. His memory refuses to let you do less than remember his greatness with a smile Colinor...you can do no less for him."

Of course, Aelspeth is bent upon business of her own, the craft to which her heart.. and perhaps her soul truly belongs having taken precedence over everything and everyone for a time. She rights herself now, though, slinging her bag atop the table and only then taking note of the fact that the drunken man proceeds in her general direction. Not daunted in the least, she merely squares a slim set of shoulders, speaks some quiet word to Corinne, and gives that sotted fool a quirk of her lips and the arch of a brow that is her hallmark as he approaches.

"Oh. no...he was always much stronger.." Colinor says, his mind picking out bits and pieces of what Aearwen is saying. But, inevitably, rational thought begins to seep into the confines of the numbless which has taken him, and he takes a moment to collect himself, closing his eyes, talking a deep breath, planting palms down upon the table before once again opening his eyes to look upon Aearwen. "I'll need to see him, if possible," he intones, a slight waver to hsi voice, "And...I shall see to his burial, if you please. He would have wanted it that way."

Like the stone from which the land of his birth draws it's name does the Knight stand in the path of the drunken lout, only as the man stumble into him, then around, does the Knight move... a sigh of regret from his lips even as a hand reaches forth to grasp the hair of the man in a grip of steel, pulling back to the point where the man is forced to either bend or lose the majority of his hair, "You would be well advised to leave them in peace friend," his words soft and dangerous, the meaning of them clear as ice upon a snowy morn.

In the doorway appears the figure of a self-assured young woman, not much older then a girl really, but her eyes seem older. Her firey hair ripples down to her waist. Pausing for a moment before entering, she studies the occupants of the room. With a soft cry, the young lady's lips form a wide grin, "Aelspeth!", indeed this is the figure of the young Master Healer of Gondor, the Lady Maeghan of the Isilrim.

It is indeed a night for reunions.. and even though the drunk's immediate threat has been averted, it takes Aelspeth several moments to tear her eyes from the man's figure, and that of the knight that has chosen to deal with him. They skim over the room, coming to rest upon the woman who has entered, and then.. not for the first time in this evening, do they widen in a surprise that brings pleasure singing back into her smile. "Maeghan!" She raises a hand, and lifts her voice, enough to be heard over the general din.. though several patrons have now ceased their conversations to watch
the altercation taking place in their midst.

A frown marring her lovely brow as she speaks, "Truthfully, I am a bit confused by this turn of events. Our caravan is on the way to Forensvale, to deliver his body, sword, other effects along with a personal scroll delivered to my keeping my Prince Imrahil. Do you wish to change those plans? " Her fingers tap lightly on the table as she thinks, "Perhaps you could travel with our caravan and hear more clearly the events of your cousin's untimely ending. Many of the Silver Guardsman, as well as Rorgan are with us and will be more than happy to answer any and all questions." Smiling gently as she says, "This is my advice to you..you can take it or leave it. But I would suggest, resting on the information you received tonight. Let your heart and mind grieve for your loss...remember the good times and on the morn, face the many details that are in front of you."

Silence befalls in one corner of the otherwise lively room when the tall Gondor grabs the red faced man by the hair. Ill mannered he may be, the man's friends will not sit idly by and watch him be humiliated by one who is so well armed. Three of them rise from the stool and with arms crossed, make their way towards Melethron, eyes darting somewhat nervously to Melethron's sword.

With eyes now for the three friends of the man, Melethron smiles, "Gentlemen, I mean your friend no harm, mere do I seek to offer wise advice to him..." he stops for a moment, his free hand resting easily upon the sword hilt at his hip, "It would be well advise for him to retake his seat with you his good friend and ignore the minor retribution recieved at the hand of this woman, and though it may have been misplaced, wise is the man who can over look the short comings of others." Yanking hard upon his hand, drawing the red haired brute to place the man between the Knight and his new found foes, Melethron contines, "If he agrees to retake his seat and leave the lady be, then violence will pass, but know that I will not stand for a man to strike a lady... that is my advice and my warning..."

Gliding through the crowd, Maeghan heads towards Aelspeth, pausing a moment she cries out with a faint frown, "Melethron!", her direction shifts and she heads towards the altercation itself, a well known 'look' in her eye that tells anyone who knows her that someone is about to get the sharp end of her tongue, more then likely many someones. As she hears that a man was about to strike a lady, her focus turns towards the drunks and she scowls, "Absolutely not! I cannot believe that one of your years would even THINK to strike a lady, no matter what she did. You should be ashamed of yourself, acting like a 5 year old...for shame!....", and a bit more along those same lines.

The men look at each other, somewhat baffled. "What did he say?" one of them asks the other from the corner of his mouth. "I think he called us retributes. What's a retribute?" the other one mumbles. "I dunno, but I think he called you short." The men start to work themselves up into a froth on their own. Meanwhile the drunkard protests. "I wasn't gonna hit no lady. SHE threw water on me face first when I was merely jokin." The result: No one backs down.

"A joke is taken lightly by all good man," The Knight says, releasing his grip upon the drunk, "Now, go you, have a drink upon the silver that I share with you, for it will buy much for you and your friends." With his hand freed now, a silver dime appears between his fingers, tossed into the air at the red haired man, a smile offered to him though his eyes never turn from the four of them, his hand never leaving his hip and the hilt of that blade he wears.

Is there an altercation going on in the common room? Colinor is dimly aware of it, though it is in a detatched, otherworldly way. His mind jumps from point to point, emotion having fled him for the moment, for it is always easier to ignore, than to cope. "I shall ride to Forensvale immediately," he intones, voice dead, eyes even moreso. "we shall make the funeral arrangements there. Is this acceptable?"

Maeghan takes another step forward and just GLARES at the drunk, jabbing a finger towards his chest and says, "Poppycock, you should NEVER hit a woman...you a much bigger man...it is absolutely criminal! You really should be ashamed of yourself..", she looks towards the other men, "And you men, wanting to gang up on one man, a guest at that...an absolute disgrace...Theoden-King really would never approve of such actions...", she shakes her head and tsks. As the knight gives them money she says, "Really Melethron, you encourage them to drink more?"

With the future object of her own ire suitably cared for by her compatriot, Aelspeth is left to smile softly at Maeghan's tirade. Much of the stone has melted from her expression, though there is a wariness in her gaze that only hints at the level to which she watches. It all changes, though, when she moves.. for the first time since tending Elowyn, to find the man with whom she entered. The curve to her lips fades clean away at the look upon Colinor's face, and it is with a few murmured apologies and thank-yous that she departs Corinne's side and moves through the crowd to rest her hand upon his shoulder from behind. "What is wrong, Col?" drops her lowered voice into his ear.

Even after untold mugs of ale, the drunk is still fast enough to snatch the thrown coin from the air with one hand, beating out three other pairs of hands. Though poorly dressed, he is still a proud man, and he stands tall for a moment and nods his head to acknowledge that he and Melethron are equals. Without further ado, he turns and swaggers back to the bar, nostrils flared, and takes a seat-- lucky for him, he sits in time to avoid an accident in his trousers. The other three gives Maegan a bewildered look, as if she speaks too fast for them to comprehend what she says, and backs slowly away until they are once again mingled with the crowd. The corner of the room seems to heave a collective sigh.

Colinor's words suddenly brings the entire room back into focus, glancing over with shock at the fight in progress. Laughing softly Aearwen says, "It tis hard to believe the rest of the world was so completely blocked in my concentration to give you every detail that I could remember. Again, I would say, sleep on your thought of going to Forensvale with hast. Perhaps your heart needs the words you would hear by traveling along with the same men that spent the last hours of life with your cousin. " Her hand rests gently on his hand, Any decision you make, is of course, suitable.

Our desire was to return a fallen hero to the fold of his family and land." Turning her head as the honey soft voice of Aelspeth speaks to Colinor, Aearwen smiles, "My apologize Mi'lady for keeping your companion from you for such a long time." Rising from the chair she nods to both Colinor and Aelspeth, "I leave you two to discuss the events I was saddened to impart. Good evening to you both. And again, Colinor, think of traveling with the caravan." The soft rustle of satin swishes as she moves through the Inn, weariness written clearly on her lovely face.

Grinning all the while, with Maeghan's gaze upon him, Aearwen can clearly note that she does not notice the last actions of the drunken friends, "Lady Arclaft," Melethron says, "This is not Gondor, men here can do what they please and if it pleases them to drink... then by all let them do so..." he raises a hand to gesture in the direction of the missing four, "Unless you would rather have violence done in this place when it could have been easily avoided?"

Colinor nods dumbly to Aearwen as she gets up to leave. "M'lady...." he begins, hopefully stopping her logn enough to stand, look down upon her, and nod again, looking for all his twenty-seven years like a sober little boy trying not to cry. "I shall indeed ride with the caravan. Please inform them that I...and my betrothed...shall be honored. It is...duty, as well as honor."

A hand has found that of Aelspeth, though he has yet to say anything to her. One might note, though, that where he holds her hand, he is squeezing so hard that his knuckles are white.

Maeghan sighs and lifts a hand, admitting grudgingly "I suppose you are correct, though I really dislike their actions, preposterous...", sighing again she shakes her head and says, "Shall we go get some tea and talk, Melethron?"

Blinded by the tears that pour from her beautiful blue eyes, Aearwen blinks as they course down her creamy skin. Walking quickly through the Inn, biting her lips to keep back the sobs that are ripping through her. Just as she reaches the steps, a forlorn sob rips from her lips, her hand reaches up to stifle the sound as she hurries up the steps and into her room. Mindless of anything but the sadness in Colinors face...images of Eartnan vividly replaying over and over. Falling to her bed, she grabs a pillow and buries her face in it, letting the grief spill from her in the solitude of her room.

Once the room appears safe, Corinne crawls out from behind the table and dusts herself off. She looks around the room until she spots Melethron and waits until there is eye contact. Not wanting to intrude upon the nobleman's onversation with the Lady Maegan, she bows her head apologetically from afar.

The hands of a healer are used to such vices, and there is no discomfort about her as Aelspeth pulls herself closer to Colinor, lifting her free hand and finding a place for it on his arm. Solemnity has come to her, and there is a melange of questions and concerns within the eyes that pace themselves to Aearwen's departure. The lady cannot escape before a graceful nod is given in her direction, and it is only after the woman has faded into the crowd that the healer turns to her companion, worry lacing her very tones, which she pitches lowly. "What caravan do you speak of, love? What has happened in the brief time that I have been away? You look.. as if.." she will not finish that thought, shaking her head, "Did.. Tell me," she finally ends, waiting, face upturned to his.

As his cousin moves past, the tears evident within her eyes, Melethron's attention seems to be fixed upon her, the words of Maeghan are lost to him, yet he does take a moment to excuse himself, "A moment please lady Maeghan," his words soft and distant, "I must see to Aearwen for awhile."

And even as those words pass his lips, the man is in motion, up the stairs and to the door of the Lady Ethrig-Bragollach, a knock, soft, is placed upon her door, "Aearwen," his words matching still those offered to Maeghan.

Maeghan hmms as Melethron leaves, letting him go comfort his cousin, her good friend. A worried look in her eyes as she moves to the bar and orders some hot tea.

Colinor looks towards the stairwell,a nd thent o Aelspeth. "Can we go speak in private, my love?" he asks, voice tired, eyes tired, as he looks into the gaze of his betrothed. "I fear that I need to rest...and speak with you..." yes, whatever it is, this news is certainly not good. As far from sunny and gay as the ponderous, stormy eve outside.

Maeghan is near the bar, sipping a cup of hot tea, looking around her with a vaguely worried expression..

"Of course.. you have me worried now, Colin." Aelspeth's finely wrought features shade into the palette of grave as she looses only one hand to take up the cloak that has dried in its place before the fire. She never did get to so much as touch the tea that waited there for her, and the poor, cold cup is ignored now as she draws the garment about her shoulders and moves back in to the man's side. A copper is placed upon the table, left to catch at the flickering tongues of the firelight, and to rest in the pouch of the maid that comes to clear the mugs away. And then they go, the woman all but leading the taller Rider as they wind their way to the door. Outside, the weather's anger has increased with the falling of darkness, a thundering tatoo of raindrops and thunder that makes itself heard with the opening of that portal. The healer pauses there, looks back toward the bar and to Maeghan, and then to Colinor. A decision is reached..and after she brushes a quick, soft kiss along the man's jaw, she precedes him into the storm.

Maeghan waves a hand towards Aelspeth and nods in understanding. She smiles gently at the other healess and then looks about the tavern once more.

That that kiss brings a softening --however slight-- to Colinor's tense frame. As thunder peals ominously in the distance, and the door opens, he fits in well against the dark backdrop of brooding, rainy sky which is just now becoming suffused with the palest light from a sun which is rising, only to be blockaded by stubborn clouds. It is cold out there, a front having moved in. Omen, perhaps, of things to come.

He pauses there for a moment, sweepign his green eyes across the room, the joy gone from his face. Joy which had touched his features only an hour or so ago, when he had entered this place. And so it is that he leaves, following Aelspeth, out into the rain and the wind and the solitude, where things may be discussed.

Out in the rain, where a man can cry, and perhaps...no one will notice.

He pauses there for a moment, sweepign his green eyes across the room, the joy gone from his face. Joy which had touched his features only an hour or so ago, when he had entered this place. And so it is that he leaves, following Aelspeth, out into the rain and the wind and the solitude, where things may be discussed.

Out in the rain, where a man can cry, and perhaps...no one will notice.