Elendor
Honey-tongued Bards Are Dangerous
Cecilia goes out for dinner with Lith, and her older brother isn't too happy about that.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Beorning Village
Description: Early evening at around twilight isn't too bad a time to come to the inn and tavern. It is not yet packed full of laughing, over loud, boisterous men. Most of the village is only just returning from the day's labours and many will sup at home before they come to unwind and drink at the tavern.
Thus, as the harper enters with his lovely companion upon his arm, there is no difficulty in finding seating. Lithiugelir pauses to draw out the bench a bit for Cecilia to aid her to take a comfortable seat before he himself will set his harp upon the table and sit also.
"This is good. Later, it will be too loud in here to hear each other speak, let alone sing." A bit of a smile, then a glance for a server to take their orders.
Cecilia takes her seat, still smiling cheerfully. She orders some fish and a bowl of fruit, then waits quietly. She watches Lith, her grey gaze wandering to the harp frequently as one hand toys with the end of a braid again.
The harper likewise orders baked fish in sauce, vegetables, sharp hard cheese, dark bread, and mead. The server lad nods and hurries off to take thier order to the kitchen before he can be delayed by others.
Turning his dark head back to Cecilia, Lith's pale eyes slip over the young woman and he smiles, "You are welcome to look at my harp, Cecilia, if it interests you. Alas, she has been damaged of late." He turns on the bench to retrieve the intrument, sized just right to rest in his lap and reach up to rest against his shoulder. The old wood is grey, a few shades darker than his eyes, and has a shallow relief carving of crashing waves hitting rocks with some kind of sea birds flitting overhead. The strings and pins are silver and bright with much use. There are a few missing strings though on one edge and a nasty gash deep into the wood.
A hint of sadness as the man's fingers lightly trace over the damage caused to his beloved harp, "It may well have saved my life, but it nonetheless grieves me to see it ravaged so."
More than a few of the locals look up as Lith enters--and then do a doubletake at the sight of the Tree Skald's daughter on his arm. Uncrowded as the place may be, the couple sets off a steady buzz of whispered conversations and furtive looks thrown their way.
"Couldn't you just get a new one?" The young woman asks, ignoring the whispered words that drift towards the two of them. "Though, it sounded pretty enough to me at the fletcher's shop." Cecilia, it may be noted, has somewhat nicer garb than the average Beorning, the embroidery on her dress fancier and certainly cleaner than the one or two outfits that most might wear in day to day life.
A look of faint shock meets Cecilia's suggestion of simply replacing his beloved harp, "No, certainly not!" But he keeps his voice soft, a glance around and not really sure why the others are watching them and whispering. But folk here always stare at him for his leather wearing. If Mobeorn didn't accompany the harper so much, likely the man would have been run out of town and beaten with sticks.
Silvery grey eyes level upon Cecilia, keeping his voice low, "This harp has been in my family for many generations. It was at one time cleaved entirely into two pieces long before I was born, and mended so that you can't even tell. I shall have assistance to see that she is mended again."
And then, a hint of a smile as his long fingers lightly stroke the strings, bringing forth a sweet sound. If the harp sounded better before being damaged, it must be difficult to imagine.
Cecilia presses her lips together, trying to understand why one would bother with so much hassle, and finally simply smiles and nods. "It sounds lovely, even broken. Will you play something?" She asks with a hopeful expression in her eyes. The girl still seems completely at ease around the man, despite that she's just met him.
With a playful glint in his eye, the harper nods, "But of course." A glance as their drinks are set out before them, but no food yet. Lithiugelir gets a sip of mead and then sets the tankard aside before at once beginning to coax a playful, upbeat tune. His fingers move easily with great familarity with the instrument, not bothering to glance down at it, watching Cecilia with faint mischief in his epxression.
The sound of the harp strings quiets a few of the other patrons around them who pause in their conversation to listen. After a moment, still keeping his voice modulated so as to carry but not be loud, Lith's tenor begins:
"A gypsy rover came over the hill
Down through the valley so sha-ady.
He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a la-ady.
Ah-dee-doo-ah-dee-doo-dah-day
Ah-dee-doo-ah-dee-day-dee
He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a la-ady..."
Watching Cecilia for her reaction to his playful song, Lith continues:
"She left behind her velvet gown
And shoes of finest lea-ther
They whistled and they sang 'till the green woods rang
As they rode off toge-ther.
Her father saddled up his fastest stead
And roamed the valley all o-over.
Sought his daughter at great speed
And the whistlin' gypsy ro-over.
He came at last to a mansion fine
Down by the river so sha-ady.
And there was music and there was wine
For the gypsy and his la-ady...
Ah-dee-doo-ah-dee-doo-dah-day
Ah-dee-doo-ah-dee-day-dee
He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a la-ady...
"He is no gypsy, my Father," she cried
"but Lord of these lands all o-over.
And I shall stay 'til my dying day
with my whistlin' gypsy ro-over!"
The tune goes on to repeat without words, jaunty and gay. A bit of a smile in Lithiugelir's face as he plays what is likely among one of his favorite tunes.
Cecilia grins when he begins singing, twisting on the bench to sit crosslegged so that she can watch him. When he gets to the part about shoes of leather she wrinkles her nose up in disgust, but it fades as she goes on to enjoy the rest of the tune with a wide smile on her face. When he's finished she says in a happy voice, "Oh, that was just wonderful! You are very good!"
A wince for not having remembered to change out that part about the leather shoes, "I am sorry. I forgot. I didn't write that song - it's very old. Silk would be even more dear and suitable, just there." A more timid smile, full of apology. And just as well, for that part also gleaned more than a few dark looks among those large northmen here in the tavern. One can't afford to be making such mistakes, or first impressions here.
Lith's hand quiets his harp, laying lightly against the strings. He picks up his mead and sips of it, glancing up as their food is brought out. In an asside to his table companion he adds, "You are too kind, lady." But he is good at his craft, especially for his apparent age.
Cecilia reaches for her own drink and takes a small sip. "I only speak the truth. You're excellent and I know anyone else would say the same." Then she leans forward, asking in a more eager tone, "Can you tell me where you are from? And where you are traveling to? I'm sure you have the most facinating tales to tell."
Securing his harp against himself in his lap sideways so that he can lean forward to the table, Lith draws a handsome small knife and begins to slice sharp cheese and bread for them both, "Oh, I'm from the other side of the Misty mountains. And, that is where I hope to return as soon as possible." A glance at his most engaging table partner and a hint of sadness, "I wish you and I had met earlier. I will be departing within a few days at most. There is some haste you see, before the pass fills with snow."
Cecilia takes a piece of bread, thanking him, and nibbles at it. She's in no rush to get through the meal. "What brought you east?" She asks, then adds, "If we had met a few days earlier you would still be injured and surely not allowed to entertain me in such a fashion." It seems Cecilia has done a bit of homework. She picks a strawberry from the bowl of fruit she ordered and takes a bite, grinning.
Cecilia continues eating, picking through her food in a slow, thoughtful manner. "Perhaps that will change, in time. I think I might like to travel. Are there lovely things to see, west of the mountains?" She asks, not terribly interested in dwelling on darker topics, it seems.
A shrug, "The mountains are breathtaking, but riddled with orcs. The woods of the Shaws are dark and gloomy, something like your Mirkwood, though not quite so bad. Full of trolls though, and a few stray orcs. Plains after that, wide and grassy with nothing upon them much. Then pleasanter, mixed rolling land with some settlements, farming community. Simple, quiet folk. Past that, wild, empty land again and more trolls... eventually mountains and the sea further on, I'm told."
The harper continues eating, having a bit of an appetite. After all there has been that swimming in the river with Mobeorn. That's a lot of exercise for a man recently mending from serious wounds.
A look back to this handsome young woman, "What about yourself, Cecilia? What do you and your family do in this village?"
"I've never been over the High Pass.. but my brother has!" Already, a plan begins formulating in the girl's mind. "My family does a lot of things. My father is a healer, you might have met him.. his name is Erik?" She doesn't wait for an answer and keeps speaking, "Two of my brothers, Vernon and Kai, are warriors, they fight the goblins. Dagur is a healer, but his wife just had a baby and he hasn't gotten out much. Amund is a beekeeper." She says that last bit with emphasis on the job, stressing it's importance.
Listening, the harper is all ears for whatever this lovely creature wishes to tell him. He smiles faintly at her, watching her mouth move, the culr of her golden hued hair, the light of her eyes. Goodness. But then he realizes that she has finished speaking for the moment and he wakes up from his distraction to nod, "Yes, bee keeping. Mobeorn had mentioned the making of honey, and a misadventure he had once while on the other side of the mountains with someone else's hives." A small laugh, at remembering that story.
Finishing up his meal, the Dunadan sips of his mead which the server lad comes by to top back up for him. A nod of thanks to the boy, then Lithiugelir's attention returns to Cecilia, "You have quite a family. I have no siblings and my sire was dead when I was still a child. But my mother is a strong woman. Always a pleasure to be bossed about when I see her." A wink, then over his drink.
Cecilia continues eating slowly, taking small, delicate bites. "I love my mother, she's wonderful. She says we have to team up against all the boys." The girl grins, "I bet your mother is very happy to see you when you visit. Do you write songs for her?"
A bit of a laugh, "Not usually. I do write some songs but not many. There are so many to learn and remember already, I can't play them all enough to remember the ones I already know!" He may or may not know how to write, to write them down to refer back to. Most musicians just learn by ear and retain them in memory.
Another sip of his mead before Lithiugelir adds, "I do get inspired now and then, especially by some event, or some -person- I wish to remember." Like Ceciliar herself, perhaps?
Ah well. The man finishes off his drink and picks up his harp once more, turning away from the table so that he might play more. Cecilia has a way to go yet to finish her own meal, and he has an arrangement to pay for his meals with hours of harp and song. So while she finishes her repast, Lith begins to draw forth another slower tune upon the old harp. This one has no words to go with it, but the music is haunting, if not quite sad. Something old, perhaps. Patrons about the room quiet down a little once more, but the hour has grown later and it is beginning to get loud and busy in the tavern. A promise of an early frost is bringing the villagers in, and the rumor of the harper entertaining, perhaps. It's a warm, cheerry place to be.
Cecilia never finishes the food. She eats all the fish and picks at the fruit for a long time, but her appetite isn't terribly large and there's more food than she can eat. She seems plenty happy sitting and listening to the music, still smiling.
Weaving his way through the increasingly crowded room now comes a tall, broadly built man with a shock of red hair distinguishing him. He wears teh hardened woodmen armor that is distinctive to this land, a sword at his side and a battleaxe as well. Though neither of those weapons are in use--the man's hands are occupied by three large mugs of mead, which he is carefully balancing. Then Vernon spots his sister...by that crooning foreigner, of all things...
Cecilia is lounging easily, still smiling and obviously enjoying herself. Her gaze wanders through the crowded room, searching for any of her friends that might be here. She notices Vernon, though, and he's looking right at her.
The young woman sucks in a breath, her smile faltering. She quickly slips away from Lith and moves to intercept her brother before he can approach and make a scene. "Vernon!" She greets cheerfully, putting on her most charming smile that she can. "I'm so happy to see you! Would you like some help with those?" She reaches to take one of the mugs from him.
"Aye." Vernon nods, letting Cecilia ease one of the mugs from his grasp, though his eyes are narrowed on Lith's back. "What are you doing with that foreign man, Cecilia?" he asks sharply.
"Nothing.. I was just listening to him sing. He's friends with Mobeorn." As if that qualifies that the man is perfectly okay to speak with. "How was your day?" Cecilia asks pleasantly, waiting to see which table he's moving to, continuing to throw disarming smiles at her older brother.
Vernon, though, may know his sister better than that: He fixes her with a keen look, light eyes unblinking. "Mobeorn isn't friends with many.." he hesitates, though, doubt creeping in there. Another glance is thrown the harper's way, then back to his sister. "But that's no excuse for you to be sitting nearly at his feet, making eyes at him. Anyone can sing! And half the girls of this village are pining after that man. It's undignified for you to be seen doing the same!" He grunts, acknowledging her question, then. "It was good. Not good enough--no goblins killed."
Cecilia bites down on her bottom lip as her usual methods of charm fail to work on Vernon. "I'm not pining after him. I was just being friendly. He bought me dinner and I couldn't very well walk away right after that. He would have thought me terribly rude." She sets down the mug at his table and casually clasps her hands behind her back. "I'm sure you'll get some tomorrow. You're so fierce that they're scared to come near our lands."
"He bought you WHAT?!" Vernon roars--fortunately, the roar of the crowd competes with him, and only a few quite nearby actually bother to turn and look as Vernon's face starts turning the color of his hair.
"He should have been born a beijabar," one of the locals mutters, commenting on Vernon's reknowned temper.
"CECILIA ERIKSDOTTIR!! YOU ARE BETROTHED! Promised!" Vernon continues, one hand reaching out to grab his sister's arm if he can. He would never hit her--never has in all their years despite his temper. But grabbing her tightly? Not out of the question. "Betrothed! Promised! You don't go letting men--strange men! Any men! even friends of the Laird himself! buy you dinner!"
She frowns when her brother takes her arm. "Shhhh, Vernon! You're overreacting. It's just a dinner." Cecilia glances over towards the harper, glad for the fact that her brother is at least speaking Eothrik.. though it seems loud enough that Lith can't hear them anyway. "You're hurting me, I'll get a bruise on my arm." And that is her concern, that he might mar her pretty skin. The mention of betrothal goes in one ear and out the other.
Hurt his sister! Vernon is instantly aghast, his grip loosening at once, and his temper turning to red embarrassment. Damn kid sister--she's always doing this to him.
"Am not talking loud," he whispers harshly in Eothrik. "But you had better watch your place, Ceci! You are the son of the Tree skald and betrothed! It''s unseemly to let a man buy you dinner! An outsider! Even if he -is- friends with Mobeorn--even if he -did- go up against that troll and the sun loving orc, how do you know he is who he says he is? How do you know he won't lure you into a field of clover and have his way with you? When one of us isn't around to look after you? We're not -always- here, you know.."
Cecilia immediately inspects her arm, rubbing it with her hand to be sure that no bruise -will- form. That would be horrible, having to wear long sleeves until it faded. She seems satisfied after the cursory inspection and lifts her gaze to her brother again. "There are dozens of people in here, Vernon. How could he possibly 'lure' me away without anyone seeing? And he wouldn't do that, anyway. He's nice. And he didn't actually -buy- the dinner, he's earning it by performing." She smiles again, "So everything is okay, see? Nothing to worry about."
"Oh, he doesn't have to lure you at all, Ceci. You're just so gullible...and then he could grab you and bruise you ..and worse!" Vernon sneers at Lith's back, but then Cecilia would recognize that her brother is floundering in his argument--knowing that she is probably right but not willing to admit that of course. "Are you hurt?" He abruptly changes the subject to brotherly concern over the sister they all dote on.
Cecilia rolls her eyes when he says that she's gullible, naturally disagreeing whether it's true or not. When his topic of concern shifts she flashes him an adoring smile. "Of course not, you would never hurt me." She goes up on her tiptoes to light a quick kiss on Vernon's cheek. "You're such a sweet brother, looking out for me. I'll be careful." This is the prelude to what will be her retreat back to Lith's side if he doesn't stop her. A common tactic of hers.
"We -all- worry about you, Ceci. And...." Vernon's eyes alight with that lethal fire again as his gaze returns to Lith, "I will personally break the neck of any man that so much as lays a hand on you. Besides your betrothed."
Cecilia gently pats him on the arm, "You worry too much." Then she grins and says in a teasing tone, "Oooooh, what if it -is- him?? Wouldn't that be something!" She's trying to get a rise out of Vernon now, watching in anticipation.
"A harper who makes his living BEGGING?!" Vernon roars in Eothrik, suddenly angry as a bear again. "Have you lost your mind, girl?! Do you think for a moment, your father or family would betroth you to...to that!!"
Cecilia cringes under the sudden ferocity of her brother, who's standing so close. But even though her shoulders are crunched up to her ears now she's grinning, thoroughly enjoying the reaction. "It would be terribly romantic, don't you think?" She dares to ask as she presses her lips tightly closed again, but the amusement is terribly obvious in her eyes.
"OH! You evil evil woman!" Vernon roars again, though his anger has now switched to laughter. Around them, villagers breathe a sigh of relief. Still, Vernon lowers his voice. "You can't be certain of these foreigners. Watch what you do with him--it looks bad to spend too much time alone with such as he."
Cecilia laughs as well, now that he's caught on to her teasing. "I'm not -alone-! Stop fretting over it. There's nothing to be concerned over. Mobeorn trusts him and so should you." She glances over towards the harper, noting that he's still involved in his songs. "You don't know who father has picked.. do you?" All her efforts to wheedle the knowledge out of the man has failed, and she's -tried-.
"Why do you keep asking me that?" Vernon grumbles, sliding onto an open bench and sitting down, finally. "You -know- I don't know. And I wouldn't tell you if I -did- know," he grins. "Whoever father has picked for you, I'm sure will make a fine match. Stop fussing over it so. Are you a Tree skald's daughter or not?" he challenges her, pushing his mug of mead her way for her to share.
Cecilia sighs in defeat and sits down next to him, lifting the mug to take a small sip. She sets it back down for him to take. "I know, I know. I can't help wondering about it, though. There are too many that it -could- be." And rather suddenly she switches topics, "You trust Mobeorn, right?"
"Well...." Vernon begins, hesitant. "I don't know the ..man..that well. He is kin of Grimbeorn, though, and Grimbeorn trusts him, so yes, on that level at least I trust him. He is a viscious foe of the orcs and the evil of the forest. Why?"
"Well.. you would trust him if I was with him, right? To keep me safe?" Cecilia tries to keep her tone light and innocent, hoping that he won't guess at what she's after before he answers.
"Of course he'd keep you safe!" Vernon answers promptly, drinking the rest of the mead--more than half the large tankard--in one long gulp. "He's kin to Grimbeorn, isn't he? -He- can buy you dinner anytime! I wouldn't worry about your reputation with Mobeorn!" He snorts.
That victorious smile returns to her face, and she nods quickly in agreement. "That's what I thought, too. Surely I'd be as safe with him as with anyone on the High Pass, right?" Ceci speaks quickly, "And this is the last chance that I'll ever get to go before the wedding, and then probably a dozen other things that will keep me too busy here, and I hear that the mountains are gorgeous! You want me to see the mountains, right? You'll support me when I ask father, I know you will!"
"The what?!" Vernon's temper is ever-present when it comes to two things--orcs and his sister. "The pass?! Lass, what's got into you?! Do you have a death wish? WHY would you want to see the mountains? They're full of orcs and evil....the wounded and the dead you see in the infirmary--that's because of the high pass!"
Cecilia takes on an injured expression. "I know how they get hurt. But why shouldn't I do my part to help out? They'll need a healer on the trip and I've never gotten to go. Not once! You've been.. Kai has gone.. Why can't I go?" The young woman grows more upset, "Don't you want me to experience things? Why did I get training if I'm never allowed to leave the village?"
"I DON'T WANT YOU DYING OUT OF A STUPID WANDERLUST TO SEE THE MOUNTAINS!!!" Vernon slams the empty tankard down on the table so hard that the still-full mugs bounce, spilling mead over the knife-scarred table. The room falls silent, heads turning to watch brother and sister he speaks in Eothrik, which is always his choice of language unless he's dealing with outsiders. Realizing he's overreacted, though, Vernon sighs, glaring at the starign patrons until they go back to their food and drink. "Ceceilia, we're trained to fight. And even when the High Pass Guides adn the beijabar help us over the pass, men...and women die. Or are horribly maimed. What if I convinced our father to let you go and you were hurt or worse? I could never forgive myself."
Cecilia grows quiet this time, far less amused by his yelling. Her gaze goes to the table and she watches the spilled mead slowly spread away from the mugs, the liquid following the grooves in the wood. "Maybe my husband to be is a brave warrior that will take me someday.." She says finally, in a quiet voice heavy with disappointment.
Vernon sighs heavily now. "You want to be a warrior?You want to walk the Pass? Then I'll teach you to fight. You learn to fight some and you can come with me, though I will regret it to my dying day. Maybe your's too. But that's my promise to you."
"I want to be a healer, like father. How many don't survive the pass because there is no trained healer to tend to them? If someone was there to see to their wounds, they would be far better." Cecilia's guilt trips aren't getting her very far, but she still has a few cards up her sleeve. She lowers her voice to a soft whisper, her tone accusing. "I can't believe you don't think Mobeorn could keep me safe on -one- quick trip through the pass."
A sharp glance to his sister. "The kin of Grimbeorn attend to the greatest threats, and that doesn't mean they will always stay with the travelers on the rod. It's up to the villagers to be abel to hold their own, and if you're up on the Pass and there's an attack, you can't rely on Mobeorn or anyone else to keep you safe." At least he's no longer yelling, and the noise of the crowded tavern has returned to normal. "But..aye...we need healers up there. And often...." Still, he shakes his head. "You'll have to ask father. I'll not give my support to this crazy notion." There. She's won a small victory--he won't oppose it.
Cecilia recognizes his shift in stance on the matter immediately and a smile blooms again, her face lighting up. She leans over to wrap her brother into a tight hug. "You're such a dear, Vernon!" Her tone is delighted. She straightens, pulling away from him as she looks towards the harper. "I'm being terribly rude to Lith." The young woman stands, "Thank you, Vernon! I'll see what Kai says too, about it.." She attempts to slip away before he can raise any more objections.
"But...." Vernon raises one finger to make a last point, but the girl is too quick, slipping his grasp already and heading off to the damnable soft-crooning stranger who is wooing the women with his song and smiles. He stares daggers at Lith's back, then grabs a half-full mug of mead and drinks his anger down.
Thus, as the harper enters with his lovely companion upon his arm, there is no difficulty in finding seating. Lithiugelir pauses to draw out the bench a bit for Cecilia to aid her to take a comfortable seat before he himself will set his harp upon the table and sit also.
"This is good. Later, it will be too loud in here to hear each other speak, let alone sing." A bit of a smile, then a glance for a server to take their orders.
Cecilia takes her seat, still smiling cheerfully. She orders some fish and a bowl of fruit, then waits quietly. She watches Lith, her grey gaze wandering to the harp frequently as one hand toys with the end of a braid again.
The harper likewise orders baked fish in sauce, vegetables, sharp hard cheese, dark bread, and mead. The server lad nods and hurries off to take thier order to the kitchen before he can be delayed by others.
Turning his dark head back to Cecilia, Lith's pale eyes slip over the young woman and he smiles, "You are welcome to look at my harp, Cecilia, if it interests you. Alas, she has been damaged of late." He turns on the bench to retrieve the intrument, sized just right to rest in his lap and reach up to rest against his shoulder. The old wood is grey, a few shades darker than his eyes, and has a shallow relief carving of crashing waves hitting rocks with some kind of sea birds flitting overhead. The strings and pins are silver and bright with much use. There are a few missing strings though on one edge and a nasty gash deep into the wood.
A hint of sadness as the man's fingers lightly trace over the damage caused to his beloved harp, "It may well have saved my life, but it nonetheless grieves me to see it ravaged so."
More than a few of the locals look up as Lith enters--and then do a doubletake at the sight of the Tree Skald's daughter on his arm. Uncrowded as the place may be, the couple sets off a steady buzz of whispered conversations and furtive looks thrown their way.
"Couldn't you just get a new one?" The young woman asks, ignoring the whispered words that drift towards the two of them. "Though, it sounded pretty enough to me at the fletcher's shop." Cecilia, it may be noted, has somewhat nicer garb than the average Beorning, the embroidery on her dress fancier and certainly cleaner than the one or two outfits that most might wear in day to day life.
A look of faint shock meets Cecilia's suggestion of simply replacing his beloved harp, "No, certainly not!" But he keeps his voice soft, a glance around and not really sure why the others are watching them and whispering. But folk here always stare at him for his leather wearing. If Mobeorn didn't accompany the harper so much, likely the man would have been run out of town and beaten with sticks.
Silvery grey eyes level upon Cecilia, keeping his voice low, "This harp has been in my family for many generations. It was at one time cleaved entirely into two pieces long before I was born, and mended so that you can't even tell. I shall have assistance to see that she is mended again."
And then, a hint of a smile as his long fingers lightly stroke the strings, bringing forth a sweet sound. If the harp sounded better before being damaged, it must be difficult to imagine.
Cecilia presses her lips together, trying to understand why one would bother with so much hassle, and finally simply smiles and nods. "It sounds lovely, even broken. Will you play something?" She asks with a hopeful expression in her eyes. The girl still seems completely at ease around the man, despite that she's just met him.
With a playful glint in his eye, the harper nods, "But of course." A glance as their drinks are set out before them, but no food yet. Lithiugelir gets a sip of mead and then sets the tankard aside before at once beginning to coax a playful, upbeat tune. His fingers move easily with great familarity with the instrument, not bothering to glance down at it, watching Cecilia with faint mischief in his epxression.
The sound of the harp strings quiets a few of the other patrons around them who pause in their conversation to listen. After a moment, still keeping his voice modulated so as to carry but not be loud, Lith's tenor begins:
"A gypsy rover came over the hill
Down through the valley so sha-ady.
He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a la-ady.
Ah-dee-doo-ah-dee-doo-dah-day
Ah-dee-doo-ah-dee-day-dee
He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a la-ady..."
Watching Cecilia for her reaction to his playful song, Lith continues:
"She left behind her velvet gown
And shoes of finest lea-ther
They whistled and they sang 'till the green woods rang
As they rode off toge-ther.
Her father saddled up his fastest stead
And roamed the valley all o-over.
Sought his daughter at great speed
And the whistlin' gypsy ro-over.
He came at last to a mansion fine
Down by the river so sha-ady.
And there was music and there was wine
For the gypsy and his la-ady...
Ah-dee-doo-ah-dee-doo-dah-day
Ah-dee-doo-ah-dee-day-dee
He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a la-ady...
"He is no gypsy, my Father," she cried
"but Lord of these lands all o-over.
And I shall stay 'til my dying day
with my whistlin' gypsy ro-over!"
The tune goes on to repeat without words, jaunty and gay. A bit of a smile in Lithiugelir's face as he plays what is likely among one of his favorite tunes.
Cecilia grins when he begins singing, twisting on the bench to sit crosslegged so that she can watch him. When he gets to the part about shoes of leather she wrinkles her nose up in disgust, but it fades as she goes on to enjoy the rest of the tune with a wide smile on her face. When he's finished she says in a happy voice, "Oh, that was just wonderful! You are very good!"
A wince for not having remembered to change out that part about the leather shoes, "I am sorry. I forgot. I didn't write that song - it's very old. Silk would be even more dear and suitable, just there." A more timid smile, full of apology. And just as well, for that part also gleaned more than a few dark looks among those large northmen here in the tavern. One can't afford to be making such mistakes, or first impressions here.
Lith's hand quiets his harp, laying lightly against the strings. He picks up his mead and sips of it, glancing up as their food is brought out. In an asside to his table companion he adds, "You are too kind, lady." But he is good at his craft, especially for his apparent age.
Cecilia reaches for her own drink and takes a small sip. "I only speak the truth. You're excellent and I know anyone else would say the same." Then she leans forward, asking in a more eager tone, "Can you tell me where you are from? And where you are traveling to? I'm sure you have the most facinating tales to tell."
Securing his harp against himself in his lap sideways so that he can lean forward to the table, Lith draws a handsome small knife and begins to slice sharp cheese and bread for them both, "Oh, I'm from the other side of the Misty mountains. And, that is where I hope to return as soon as possible." A glance at his most engaging table partner and a hint of sadness, "I wish you and I had met earlier. I will be departing within a few days at most. There is some haste you see, before the pass fills with snow."
Cecilia takes a piece of bread, thanking him, and nibbles at it. She's in no rush to get through the meal. "What brought you east?" She asks, then adds, "If we had met a few days earlier you would still be injured and surely not allowed to entertain me in such a fashion." It seems Cecilia has done a bit of homework. She picks a strawberry from the bowl of fruit she ordered and takes a bite, grinning.
Cecilia continues eating, picking through her food in a slow, thoughtful manner. "Perhaps that will change, in time. I think I might like to travel. Are there lovely things to see, west of the mountains?" She asks, not terribly interested in dwelling on darker topics, it seems.
A shrug, "The mountains are breathtaking, but riddled with orcs. The woods of the Shaws are dark and gloomy, something like your Mirkwood, though not quite so bad. Full of trolls though, and a few stray orcs. Plains after that, wide and grassy with nothing upon them much. Then pleasanter, mixed rolling land with some settlements, farming community. Simple, quiet folk. Past that, wild, empty land again and more trolls... eventually mountains and the sea further on, I'm told."
The harper continues eating, having a bit of an appetite. After all there has been that swimming in the river with Mobeorn. That's a lot of exercise for a man recently mending from serious wounds.
A look back to this handsome young woman, "What about yourself, Cecilia? What do you and your family do in this village?"
"I've never been over the High Pass.. but my brother has!" Already, a plan begins formulating in the girl's mind. "My family does a lot of things. My father is a healer, you might have met him.. his name is Erik?" She doesn't wait for an answer and keeps speaking, "Two of my brothers, Vernon and Kai, are warriors, they fight the goblins. Dagur is a healer, but his wife just had a baby and he hasn't gotten out much. Amund is a beekeeper." She says that last bit with emphasis on the job, stressing it's importance.
Listening, the harper is all ears for whatever this lovely creature wishes to tell him. He smiles faintly at her, watching her mouth move, the culr of her golden hued hair, the light of her eyes. Goodness. But then he realizes that she has finished speaking for the moment and he wakes up from his distraction to nod, "Yes, bee keeping. Mobeorn had mentioned the making of honey, and a misadventure he had once while on the other side of the mountains with someone else's hives." A small laugh, at remembering that story.
Finishing up his meal, the Dunadan sips of his mead which the server lad comes by to top back up for him. A nod of thanks to the boy, then Lithiugelir's attention returns to Cecilia, "You have quite a family. I have no siblings and my sire was dead when I was still a child. But my mother is a strong woman. Always a pleasure to be bossed about when I see her." A wink, then over his drink.
Cecilia continues eating slowly, taking small, delicate bites. "I love my mother, she's wonderful. She says we have to team up against all the boys." The girl grins, "I bet your mother is very happy to see you when you visit. Do you write songs for her?"
A bit of a laugh, "Not usually. I do write some songs but not many. There are so many to learn and remember already, I can't play them all enough to remember the ones I already know!" He may or may not know how to write, to write them down to refer back to. Most musicians just learn by ear and retain them in memory.
Another sip of his mead before Lithiugelir adds, "I do get inspired now and then, especially by some event, or some -person- I wish to remember." Like Ceciliar herself, perhaps?
Ah well. The man finishes off his drink and picks up his harp once more, turning away from the table so that he might play more. Cecilia has a way to go yet to finish her own meal, and he has an arrangement to pay for his meals with hours of harp and song. So while she finishes her repast, Lith begins to draw forth another slower tune upon the old harp. This one has no words to go with it, but the music is haunting, if not quite sad. Something old, perhaps. Patrons about the room quiet down a little once more, but the hour has grown later and it is beginning to get loud and busy in the tavern. A promise of an early frost is bringing the villagers in, and the rumor of the harper entertaining, perhaps. It's a warm, cheerry place to be.
Cecilia never finishes the food. She eats all the fish and picks at the fruit for a long time, but her appetite isn't terribly large and there's more food than she can eat. She seems plenty happy sitting and listening to the music, still smiling.
Weaving his way through the increasingly crowded room now comes a tall, broadly built man with a shock of red hair distinguishing him. He wears teh hardened woodmen armor that is distinctive to this land, a sword at his side and a battleaxe as well. Though neither of those weapons are in use--the man's hands are occupied by three large mugs of mead, which he is carefully balancing. Then Vernon spots his sister...by that crooning foreigner, of all things...
Cecilia is lounging easily, still smiling and obviously enjoying herself. Her gaze wanders through the crowded room, searching for any of her friends that might be here. She notices Vernon, though, and he's looking right at her.
The young woman sucks in a breath, her smile faltering. She quickly slips away from Lith and moves to intercept her brother before he can approach and make a scene. "Vernon!" She greets cheerfully, putting on her most charming smile that she can. "I'm so happy to see you! Would you like some help with those?" She reaches to take one of the mugs from him.
"Aye." Vernon nods, letting Cecilia ease one of the mugs from his grasp, though his eyes are narrowed on Lith's back. "What are you doing with that foreign man, Cecilia?" he asks sharply.
"Nothing.. I was just listening to him sing. He's friends with Mobeorn." As if that qualifies that the man is perfectly okay to speak with. "How was your day?" Cecilia asks pleasantly, waiting to see which table he's moving to, continuing to throw disarming smiles at her older brother.
Vernon, though, may know his sister better than that: He fixes her with a keen look, light eyes unblinking. "Mobeorn isn't friends with many.." he hesitates, though, doubt creeping in there. Another glance is thrown the harper's way, then back to his sister. "But that's no excuse for you to be sitting nearly at his feet, making eyes at him. Anyone can sing! And half the girls of this village are pining after that man. It's undignified for you to be seen doing the same!" He grunts, acknowledging her question, then. "It was good. Not good enough--no goblins killed."
Cecilia bites down on her bottom lip as her usual methods of charm fail to work on Vernon. "I'm not pining after him. I was just being friendly. He bought me dinner and I couldn't very well walk away right after that. He would have thought me terribly rude." She sets down the mug at his table and casually clasps her hands behind her back. "I'm sure you'll get some tomorrow. You're so fierce that they're scared to come near our lands."
"He bought you WHAT?!" Vernon roars--fortunately, the roar of the crowd competes with him, and only a few quite nearby actually bother to turn and look as Vernon's face starts turning the color of his hair.
"He should have been born a beijabar," one of the locals mutters, commenting on Vernon's reknowned temper.
"CECILIA ERIKSDOTTIR!! YOU ARE BETROTHED! Promised!" Vernon continues, one hand reaching out to grab his sister's arm if he can. He would never hit her--never has in all their years despite his temper. But grabbing her tightly? Not out of the question. "Betrothed! Promised! You don't go letting men--strange men! Any men! even friends of the Laird himself! buy you dinner!"
She frowns when her brother takes her arm. "Shhhh, Vernon! You're overreacting. It's just a dinner." Cecilia glances over towards the harper, glad for the fact that her brother is at least speaking Eothrik.. though it seems loud enough that Lith can't hear them anyway. "You're hurting me, I'll get a bruise on my arm." And that is her concern, that he might mar her pretty skin. The mention of betrothal goes in one ear and out the other.
Hurt his sister! Vernon is instantly aghast, his grip loosening at once, and his temper turning to red embarrassment. Damn kid sister--she's always doing this to him.
"Am not talking loud," he whispers harshly in Eothrik. "But you had better watch your place, Ceci! You are the son of the Tree skald and betrothed! It''s unseemly to let a man buy you dinner! An outsider! Even if he -is- friends with Mobeorn--even if he -did- go up against that troll and the sun loving orc, how do you know he is who he says he is? How do you know he won't lure you into a field of clover and have his way with you? When one of us isn't around to look after you? We're not -always- here, you know.."
Cecilia immediately inspects her arm, rubbing it with her hand to be sure that no bruise -will- form. That would be horrible, having to wear long sleeves until it faded. She seems satisfied after the cursory inspection and lifts her gaze to her brother again. "There are dozens of people in here, Vernon. How could he possibly 'lure' me away without anyone seeing? And he wouldn't do that, anyway. He's nice. And he didn't actually -buy- the dinner, he's earning it by performing." She smiles again, "So everything is okay, see? Nothing to worry about."
"Oh, he doesn't have to lure you at all, Ceci. You're just so gullible...and then he could grab you and bruise you ..and worse!" Vernon sneers at Lith's back, but then Cecilia would recognize that her brother is floundering in his argument--knowing that she is probably right but not willing to admit that of course. "Are you hurt?" He abruptly changes the subject to brotherly concern over the sister they all dote on.
Cecilia rolls her eyes when he says that she's gullible, naturally disagreeing whether it's true or not. When his topic of concern shifts she flashes him an adoring smile. "Of course not, you would never hurt me." She goes up on her tiptoes to light a quick kiss on Vernon's cheek. "You're such a sweet brother, looking out for me. I'll be careful." This is the prelude to what will be her retreat back to Lith's side if he doesn't stop her. A common tactic of hers.
"We -all- worry about you, Ceci. And...." Vernon's eyes alight with that lethal fire again as his gaze returns to Lith, "I will personally break the neck of any man that so much as lays a hand on you. Besides your betrothed."
Cecilia gently pats him on the arm, "You worry too much." Then she grins and says in a teasing tone, "Oooooh, what if it -is- him?? Wouldn't that be something!" She's trying to get a rise out of Vernon now, watching in anticipation.
"A harper who makes his living BEGGING?!" Vernon roars in Eothrik, suddenly angry as a bear again. "Have you lost your mind, girl?! Do you think for a moment, your father or family would betroth you to...to that!!"
Cecilia cringes under the sudden ferocity of her brother, who's standing so close. But even though her shoulders are crunched up to her ears now she's grinning, thoroughly enjoying the reaction. "It would be terribly romantic, don't you think?" She dares to ask as she presses her lips tightly closed again, but the amusement is terribly obvious in her eyes.
"OH! You evil evil woman!" Vernon roars again, though his anger has now switched to laughter. Around them, villagers breathe a sigh of relief. Still, Vernon lowers his voice. "You can't be certain of these foreigners. Watch what you do with him--it looks bad to spend too much time alone with such as he."
Cecilia laughs as well, now that he's caught on to her teasing. "I'm not -alone-! Stop fretting over it. There's nothing to be concerned over. Mobeorn trusts him and so should you." She glances over towards the harper, noting that he's still involved in his songs. "You don't know who father has picked.. do you?" All her efforts to wheedle the knowledge out of the man has failed, and she's -tried-.
"Why do you keep asking me that?" Vernon grumbles, sliding onto an open bench and sitting down, finally. "You -know- I don't know. And I wouldn't tell you if I -did- know," he grins. "Whoever father has picked for you, I'm sure will make a fine match. Stop fussing over it so. Are you a Tree skald's daughter or not?" he challenges her, pushing his mug of mead her way for her to share.
Cecilia sighs in defeat and sits down next to him, lifting the mug to take a small sip. She sets it back down for him to take. "I know, I know. I can't help wondering about it, though. There are too many that it -could- be." And rather suddenly she switches topics, "You trust Mobeorn, right?"
"Well...." Vernon begins, hesitant. "I don't know the ..man..that well. He is kin of Grimbeorn, though, and Grimbeorn trusts him, so yes, on that level at least I trust him. He is a viscious foe of the orcs and the evil of the forest. Why?"
"Well.. you would trust him if I was with him, right? To keep me safe?" Cecilia tries to keep her tone light and innocent, hoping that he won't guess at what she's after before he answers.
"Of course he'd keep you safe!" Vernon answers promptly, drinking the rest of the mead--more than half the large tankard--in one long gulp. "He's kin to Grimbeorn, isn't he? -He- can buy you dinner anytime! I wouldn't worry about your reputation with Mobeorn!" He snorts.
That victorious smile returns to her face, and she nods quickly in agreement. "That's what I thought, too. Surely I'd be as safe with him as with anyone on the High Pass, right?" Ceci speaks quickly, "And this is the last chance that I'll ever get to go before the wedding, and then probably a dozen other things that will keep me too busy here, and I hear that the mountains are gorgeous! You want me to see the mountains, right? You'll support me when I ask father, I know you will!"
"The what?!" Vernon's temper is ever-present when it comes to two things--orcs and his sister. "The pass?! Lass, what's got into you?! Do you have a death wish? WHY would you want to see the mountains? They're full of orcs and evil....the wounded and the dead you see in the infirmary--that's because of the high pass!"
Cecilia takes on an injured expression. "I know how they get hurt. But why shouldn't I do my part to help out? They'll need a healer on the trip and I've never gotten to go. Not once! You've been.. Kai has gone.. Why can't I go?" The young woman grows more upset, "Don't you want me to experience things? Why did I get training if I'm never allowed to leave the village?"
"I DON'T WANT YOU DYING OUT OF A STUPID WANDERLUST TO SEE THE MOUNTAINS!!!" Vernon slams the empty tankard down on the table so hard that the still-full mugs bounce, spilling mead over the knife-scarred table. The room falls silent, heads turning to watch brother and sister he speaks in Eothrik, which is always his choice of language unless he's dealing with outsiders. Realizing he's overreacted, though, Vernon sighs, glaring at the starign patrons until they go back to their food and drink. "Ceceilia, we're trained to fight. And even when the High Pass Guides adn the beijabar help us over the pass, men...and women die. Or are horribly maimed. What if I convinced our father to let you go and you were hurt or worse? I could never forgive myself."
Cecilia grows quiet this time, far less amused by his yelling. Her gaze goes to the table and she watches the spilled mead slowly spread away from the mugs, the liquid following the grooves in the wood. "Maybe my husband to be is a brave warrior that will take me someday.." She says finally, in a quiet voice heavy with disappointment.
Vernon sighs heavily now. "You want to be a warrior?You want to walk the Pass? Then I'll teach you to fight. You learn to fight some and you can come with me, though I will regret it to my dying day. Maybe your's too. But that's my promise to you."
"I want to be a healer, like father. How many don't survive the pass because there is no trained healer to tend to them? If someone was there to see to their wounds, they would be far better." Cecilia's guilt trips aren't getting her very far, but she still has a few cards up her sleeve. She lowers her voice to a soft whisper, her tone accusing. "I can't believe you don't think Mobeorn could keep me safe on -one- quick trip through the pass."
A sharp glance to his sister. "The kin of Grimbeorn attend to the greatest threats, and that doesn't mean they will always stay with the travelers on the rod. It's up to the villagers to be abel to hold their own, and if you're up on the Pass and there's an attack, you can't rely on Mobeorn or anyone else to keep you safe." At least he's no longer yelling, and the noise of the crowded tavern has returned to normal. "But..aye...we need healers up there. And often...." Still, he shakes his head. "You'll have to ask father. I'll not give my support to this crazy notion." There. She's won a small victory--he won't oppose it.
Cecilia recognizes his shift in stance on the matter immediately and a smile blooms again, her face lighting up. She leans over to wrap her brother into a tight hug. "You're such a dear, Vernon!" Her tone is delighted. She straightens, pulling away from him as she looks towards the harper. "I'm being terribly rude to Lith." The young woman stands, "Thank you, Vernon! I'll see what Kai says too, about it.." She attempts to slip away before he can raise any more objections.
"But...." Vernon raises one finger to make a last point, but the girl is too quick, slipping his grasp already and heading off to the damnable soft-crooning stranger who is wooing the women with his song and smiles. He stares daggers at Lith's back, then grabs a half-full mug of mead and drinks his anger down.
Players: Cecilia, Vernon, Lithiugelir
