Elendor
Summer visitor
Dingadarn Keep receives an unexpected visitor, and two young people renew their acquaintance
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Dingadarn Keep, Redvyrne
Game Date: Summer/autumn 3045
IC Time: Afternoon
Description: It is a golden afternoon. The summer sun slants down on plains of gently waving grass where cows and a few horses graze, broken here and there by the the uneven patchwork of strip-holdings. In their midst rises the grey fieldstone mass that is Dingadarn Keep. The fortified farmstead is Redvyrne in minature - thick outer walls shelter turf-roofed buildings of various kinds, and in their midst a square tower rises. Narrow windows are cut into the unyielding stone, watchful eyes that stare blankly down on the unwary. From one of the highest a heavy blanket hangs, as though to keep out the light of the sun.
Now, at mid-afternoon, a few bored-looking guards patrol the walls, but the courtyard is quiet save for an old woman feeding some chickens and a girl who is drawing water from the well. Bucket in her hands and hair twisted into a crude rope, she might be any farmgirl - save that what farmgirl would wear a gown that fine, or use silver combs to pin back her raven tresses. The girl rests the bucket on the edge of the well, glances up to that blanketed window and sighs.
[Finnian(#23897)] A young man approaches Dingadarn Keep at an easy pace, with a carefree fashion to the way he moves. More than once he stops to climb up onto a fence and look out over a field or admire the animals. Eventually though, Jadiran Dunhallow reaches the keep proper.
There's almost a jaunt to the step of the young man, sixteen and cocky as they come. He has thick brown ringlets that are held back by a green sash that's tied over his brow, almost the same color as his green eyes that too often look as if they're laughing at some private joke.
As he arrives at the gate, Jadiran sweeps back his light traveling cloak and graces the guard with a bright, toothy smile. "Good day!"
The guard at the gate eyes Jadiran, his manner unimpressed but not unfriendly. "Afternoon. State you name and your busi-"
At this point the girl by the well, who has looked round at the sound of voices, interrupts. "Jadiran?" Her tone is questioning. Smoothing down her skirts, she walks lightly toward the gate, surveying the new arrival as she goes. "You've grown." She manages to make that simple remark sound almost disapproving.
[Finnian(#23897)] "My business is.. right over there." Jadiran says with a laugh and turns his attention to the young woman. He sweeps a formal bow and then graces her with a look of apology. "I'm afraid that's what happens, Eilidh. I would try to turn back time but I'm not sure that Keirn would grant my request." He tries to move past the guard to approach her, shrugging off his pack to dump on the ground. Strapped to it is an unstrung bow and quiver of arrows. He also wears a long-bladed knife at his side.
Eilidh's cheeks colour a little at those first words. "Just how far would you turn it? I remember a little boy with a runny nose ..." Her lips past, though that time, at least, must be long past. "Oh, let him in," she directs the uncertain guard with a wave of her hand. She eyes the bow and arrows thoughtfully. "We should have an archery contest sometime. My aim is somewhat better than before - I've been practising. You're looking for Bledrann? He's .. away, I'm afraid. It's that time of year you know," she adds airily.
[Finnian(#23897)] Jadiran grins and closes the distance to the woman when the guard backs away. He reaches for her hand to try and light a faint kiss upon it. "I would turn it back to better days when Redvyrne was prouder and stronger.. before those we care about took ill." His words grow softer. "How is your mother? That is why I have come.. I heard that she is not doing well." At closer range, the edges of scars a decade old peek from the edges of the sash along the left side of his face, and down below his neck.
Eilidh twitches like a startled deer as Jadiran reaches for her hand, but she allows Jadiran to press a kiss on it. "I see you've learned manners, at least," she remarks coolly - but her eyes glint, and there is a trace of a smile on her delicate lips as she pulls her hand away when he is done.
"Before the Bear took our High Seat, you mean?" For a moment a harshness creeps into her voice, but then she shakes her head as though to dispel it. "You heard rightly. Grandmother has not left her bed these past three months. They-" she bites her lips and falters as she twists her neck to gaze up at that blanketed window, "the healers say it cannot be much longer. Yet still she holds on ..." There is a weariness in her tone, and she twists her hands together, then looks back to the young man, her gaze focused mainly on the right side of his face. "Those we care about ... who is it that have you lost, Jadiran?" Compassion softens the query.
[Finnian(#23897)] "Me? I suppose I have been fortunate." Jadiran answers, letting his hands fall to his sides. He follows her gaze up to the window and a frown crosses over his face. It doesn't linger overly long before he looks back at her with a bit of a smile. "Not happy about the bears coming to play with the wolves? You should hear -my- father speak of it." He rolls his eyes to the clouds for a moment. "I don't see what difference it is. You pay tributes either way."
"I'm sure the menfolk will sort it all out to their satisfaction," Eilidh replies placidly. "And then the women can come in and clear up all the mess." She smiles sweetly at Jadiran, then presses, "And you didn't answer my question. "Who have you lost? Or fear to lose?"
[Finnian(#23897)] "The only one that I would fear losing .. " Jadiran grins, "Well, she's standing in front of me. Though, I suppose I would regret hearing of your brother meeting his end, not that he could ever best me in anything, anyhow." Hardly the truth, but Dunhallow's youngest son has more than a flair for exagerration. He's turned it into an art form. "Do you mind if I visit for a time? I would like to see your grandmother, and my mother sends a letter for her as well."
Eilidh's cheeks darken a shade, and her gaze lowers. When she looks up, it is coolly condescending. "Really? Perhaps you and Bledrann should take the hounds out hunting sometime."
Perhaps she regrets that last comment, for she murmurs. "Forgive me. Come in, sit and rest. I'll have the servants make up the guest quarters. Grandmother ... you may see her. But I fear she is beyond letters." Her voice holds little enough of sorrow, only a weary desperation. "And I'm sure Bledrann will want to see you when he returns. It's that time of year, you know, the horse herd needs replenished." Is that last explanation given just a little too quickly?
[Finnian(#23897)] All mirth passes from his face at her jibe, his throat constricting with a hard swallow, but he recovers exceptionally well. Jadiran forces a laugh, shaking his head. "I don't need hounds to help me track down prey, my arrows strike true enough." He waves a hand, "Nothing to forgive. I'll collect my things." The young man moves to scoops up his pack again and heft it over one shoulder. As he returns to her side he says in an overly dramatic tone, "I -suppose- I could tolerate humoring your brother." There's a smile pulling at his lips.
Eilidh waits for Jadiran to collect his things. Almost, she reaches out a hand to take his bow, the lightest part of his burden in the end she does not. "Oh, you suppose so, do you?" she remarks over her shoulder as she leads him toward the Keep, her skirts rustling softly with each step. "You mean you suppose the pair of you could waste your time drinking, sparring, playing knucklebones ... What a trial for you! Whilst I occupy myself with the ordering of a Keep: laying in provisions, supervising the servants, ensuring that the animals are well tended." She purses her lips, as she had done earlier - clearly the girl does not find adulthood agreeable.
Within the Keep the Hall is cool, and empty. Eilidh glances round it in irritation, but does not raise her voice. "Where is Aoife when she's needed?" she mutters in a muted near-whisper.
[Finnian(#23897)] "It's always -his- idea.. hardly mine. I always say, 'You know, Bledrann, we ought to make ourselves useful' but your brother, he always insists on dicing and trying to outdrink me." Jadiran shakes his head in a sad fashion. "Your brother is bad influence on me. Terrible, really. Maybe I shouldn't spend time with him at all." There's not an ounce of seriousness or truth to his words. He lets his eyes roam around the hall, taking in any details that might have changed in the time since he was last here.
If Jadiran remembers the hall well, he will find it perhaps a little dustier, but little else has changed. Still those faded and ancient tapestries depicting scenes from the life of Wulf (at least that's what the Faol children always claimed - some of them are too musty and threadbare to make out any details), still that shield with the family coat of arms, still the carven seat at the head of the table, across which someone has carelessly flung a green cloak in need of mending ...
Eilidh turns now to face Jadiran, her expression quizzical. "Oh, really? And who would else you spend time with then, young man?" Her hands are on her hips, though there is the hint of a smile on her lips.
There is the creaking of floorboards from above, and then footsteps can be heard descending the twisting stairs. A grey-haired woman who looks to be of middle years enters the room, a tray of untouched food in her hands. "Lady Faol was asking for you, young mistress." Eilidh pales, her smile fading at once, then murmurs, twisting her hands nervously, "I'll go. Aoife, we have a visitor. Can you see to it that Jadiran has food and drink, and get the guest quarters ready?" With only a nod of the head for her visitor, she sweeps out of the room and is gone. Light footsteps climb the stairs, then there is naught but silence.8
[Finnian(#23897)] "I think I already answered that ques-.. " Jadiran trails off when the older woman appears. He watches as his old friend hustles off to see to more important matters and lets out a soft sigh. Soon enough, though, the young man is flashing a wide smile for the servent. "You remember me, Aoife? Your favorite guest from the west?" He adjusts the balance of the pack he's carrying and moves to make his own way in the direction of the guest quarters with a grin on his face.
Now, at mid-afternoon, a few bored-looking guards patrol the walls, but the courtyard is quiet save for an old woman feeding some chickens and a girl who is drawing water from the well. Bucket in her hands and hair twisted into a crude rope, she might be any farmgirl - save that what farmgirl would wear a gown that fine, or use silver combs to pin back her raven tresses. The girl rests the bucket on the edge of the well, glances up to that blanketed window and sighs.
[Finnian(#23897)] A young man approaches Dingadarn Keep at an easy pace, with a carefree fashion to the way he moves. More than once he stops to climb up onto a fence and look out over a field or admire the animals. Eventually though, Jadiran Dunhallow reaches the keep proper.
There's almost a jaunt to the step of the young man, sixteen and cocky as they come. He has thick brown ringlets that are held back by a green sash that's tied over his brow, almost the same color as his green eyes that too often look as if they're laughing at some private joke.
As he arrives at the gate, Jadiran sweeps back his light traveling cloak and graces the guard with a bright, toothy smile. "Good day!"
The guard at the gate eyes Jadiran, his manner unimpressed but not unfriendly. "Afternoon. State you name and your busi-"
At this point the girl by the well, who has looked round at the sound of voices, interrupts. "Jadiran?" Her tone is questioning. Smoothing down her skirts, she walks lightly toward the gate, surveying the new arrival as she goes. "You've grown." She manages to make that simple remark sound almost disapproving.
[Finnian(#23897)] "My business is.. right over there." Jadiran says with a laugh and turns his attention to the young woman. He sweeps a formal bow and then graces her with a look of apology. "I'm afraid that's what happens, Eilidh. I would try to turn back time but I'm not sure that Keirn would grant my request." He tries to move past the guard to approach her, shrugging off his pack to dump on the ground. Strapped to it is an unstrung bow and quiver of arrows. He also wears a long-bladed knife at his side.
Eilidh's cheeks colour a little at those first words. "Just how far would you turn it? I remember a little boy with a runny nose ..." Her lips past, though that time, at least, must be long past. "Oh, let him in," she directs the uncertain guard with a wave of her hand. She eyes the bow and arrows thoughtfully. "We should have an archery contest sometime. My aim is somewhat better than before - I've been practising. You're looking for Bledrann? He's .. away, I'm afraid. It's that time of year you know," she adds airily.
[Finnian(#23897)] Jadiran grins and closes the distance to the woman when the guard backs away. He reaches for her hand to try and light a faint kiss upon it. "I would turn it back to better days when Redvyrne was prouder and stronger.. before those we care about took ill." His words grow softer. "How is your mother? That is why I have come.. I heard that she is not doing well." At closer range, the edges of scars a decade old peek from the edges of the sash along the left side of his face, and down below his neck.
Eilidh twitches like a startled deer as Jadiran reaches for her hand, but she allows Jadiran to press a kiss on it. "I see you've learned manners, at least," she remarks coolly - but her eyes glint, and there is a trace of a smile on her delicate lips as she pulls her hand away when he is done.
"Before the Bear took our High Seat, you mean?" For a moment a harshness creeps into her voice, but then she shakes her head as though to dispel it. "You heard rightly. Grandmother has not left her bed these past three months. They-" she bites her lips and falters as she twists her neck to gaze up at that blanketed window, "the healers say it cannot be much longer. Yet still she holds on ..." There is a weariness in her tone, and she twists her hands together, then looks back to the young man, her gaze focused mainly on the right side of his face. "Those we care about ... who is it that have you lost, Jadiran?" Compassion softens the query.
[Finnian(#23897)] "Me? I suppose I have been fortunate." Jadiran answers, letting his hands fall to his sides. He follows her gaze up to the window and a frown crosses over his face. It doesn't linger overly long before he looks back at her with a bit of a smile. "Not happy about the bears coming to play with the wolves? You should hear -my- father speak of it." He rolls his eyes to the clouds for a moment. "I don't see what difference it is. You pay tributes either way."
"I'm sure the menfolk will sort it all out to their satisfaction," Eilidh replies placidly. "And then the women can come in and clear up all the mess." She smiles sweetly at Jadiran, then presses, "And you didn't answer my question. "Who have you lost? Or fear to lose?"
[Finnian(#23897)] "The only one that I would fear losing .. " Jadiran grins, "Well, she's standing in front of me. Though, I suppose I would regret hearing of your brother meeting his end, not that he could ever best me in anything, anyhow." Hardly the truth, but Dunhallow's youngest son has more than a flair for exagerration. He's turned it into an art form. "Do you mind if I visit for a time? I would like to see your grandmother, and my mother sends a letter for her as well."
Eilidh's cheeks darken a shade, and her gaze lowers. When she looks up, it is coolly condescending. "Really? Perhaps you and Bledrann should take the hounds out hunting sometime."
Perhaps she regrets that last comment, for she murmurs. "Forgive me. Come in, sit and rest. I'll have the servants make up the guest quarters. Grandmother ... you may see her. But I fear she is beyond letters." Her voice holds little enough of sorrow, only a weary desperation. "And I'm sure Bledrann will want to see you when he returns. It's that time of year, you know, the horse herd needs replenished." Is that last explanation given just a little too quickly?
[Finnian(#23897)] All mirth passes from his face at her jibe, his throat constricting with a hard swallow, but he recovers exceptionally well. Jadiran forces a laugh, shaking his head. "I don't need hounds to help me track down prey, my arrows strike true enough." He waves a hand, "Nothing to forgive. I'll collect my things." The young man moves to scoops up his pack again and heft it over one shoulder. As he returns to her side he says in an overly dramatic tone, "I -suppose- I could tolerate humoring your brother." There's a smile pulling at his lips.
Eilidh waits for Jadiran to collect his things. Almost, she reaches out a hand to take his bow, the lightest part of his burden in the end she does not. "Oh, you suppose so, do you?" she remarks over her shoulder as she leads him toward the Keep, her skirts rustling softly with each step. "You mean you suppose the pair of you could waste your time drinking, sparring, playing knucklebones ... What a trial for you! Whilst I occupy myself with the ordering of a Keep: laying in provisions, supervising the servants, ensuring that the animals are well tended." She purses her lips, as she had done earlier - clearly the girl does not find adulthood agreeable.
Within the Keep the Hall is cool, and empty. Eilidh glances round it in irritation, but does not raise her voice. "Where is Aoife when she's needed?" she mutters in a muted near-whisper.
[Finnian(#23897)] "It's always -his- idea.. hardly mine. I always say, 'You know, Bledrann, we ought to make ourselves useful' but your brother, he always insists on dicing and trying to outdrink me." Jadiran shakes his head in a sad fashion. "Your brother is bad influence on me. Terrible, really. Maybe I shouldn't spend time with him at all." There's not an ounce of seriousness or truth to his words. He lets his eyes roam around the hall, taking in any details that might have changed in the time since he was last here.
If Jadiran remembers the hall well, he will find it perhaps a little dustier, but little else has changed. Still those faded and ancient tapestries depicting scenes from the life of Wulf (at least that's what the Faol children always claimed - some of them are too musty and threadbare to make out any details), still that shield with the family coat of arms, still the carven seat at the head of the table, across which someone has carelessly flung a green cloak in need of mending ...
Eilidh turns now to face Jadiran, her expression quizzical. "Oh, really? And who would else you spend time with then, young man?" Her hands are on her hips, though there is the hint of a smile on her lips.
There is the creaking of floorboards from above, and then footsteps can be heard descending the twisting stairs. A grey-haired woman who looks to be of middle years enters the room, a tray of untouched food in her hands. "Lady Faol was asking for you, young mistress." Eilidh pales, her smile fading at once, then murmurs, twisting her hands nervously, "I'll go. Aoife, we have a visitor. Can you see to it that Jadiran has food and drink, and get the guest quarters ready?" With only a nod of the head for her visitor, she sweeps out of the room and is gone. Light footsteps climb the stairs, then there is naught but silence.8
[Finnian(#23897)] "I think I already answered that ques-.. " Jadiran trails off when the older woman appears. He watches as his old friend hustles off to see to more important matters and lets out a soft sigh. Soon enough, though, the young man is flashing a wide smile for the servent. "You remember me, Aoife? Your favorite guest from the west?" He adjusts the balance of the pack he's carrying and moves to make his own way in the direction of the guest quarters with a grin on his face.
Players: Eilidh, Jadiran
Located in: Dunlending
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