Elendor
Discussing Grishnakh, and Visits to the Injured.
Lord Gimli pays a visit to those laid up in the infirmary and discusses the foul orc with the invalids. Halla drops in to see the patients as well.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Northern Village - Infirmary
Game Date: Late July
IC Time: Morning
Description: It's been almost three weeks since Ranol first encountered the foul orc that nearly took his life, and only now in the last few days is the dwarf truly starting to show solid signs of his health improving. The fever that plagued him has passed and his color is much healthier.
It's the morning after the two men were brought in so greviously wounded that's showing the most startling change in his health, but only those that have been seeing him every day may notice the change. And no longer is Ranol the only one in the infirmary for an extended stay. Mobeorn and Lith both are here as well after tangling with a group of orcs in the night.
The dwarf has already awoken and enjoyed a light breakfast, and now he sits against several thick pillows, carving at a piece of wood while he waits for Mobeorn to wake, eager to get more details of his fight with Grishnakh.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] On the cot closest to the window lies the Harper who has given his name as Lith--the man is sound asleep but at least he no longer looks to be on death's door. Mobeorn is in the next cot over, the Beorning man heavily bandaged on his torso. He opens one eye--the first time he has been awake since the elf tended his wounds. He groans, grumpily. "Should've had mead."
[Gimli(#30149)] The door of the healer's house creaks open, and in comes another dwarf. This one sports a brown beard, and bright mail protects him. This is a good example of dwarven mail, made to endure yet still artistically smithed, with intrincate designs. After exchanging a few muttered words with one of the healers, the dwarf comes towards Ranol and the large Mobeorn. "A good day to you", he says, nodding forst to the Huskarl and then to the Man. "I heard the bad news, and came to see if there's anything I can do", he adds, as his dark eyes go from Ranol to Mobeorn.
Ranol lifts his gaze from the piece of wood in his hands, blue eyes landing on the Beorning man. "Good morning, Mobeorn." He offers in a quiet tone, some concern on his face and in his words. He reaches to set the wood and knife aside, then considers for a long moment. He truly feels much better this morning, and gives a furtive glance around before shifting to swing his feet off the cot. Thari isn't here, and while he hasn't gotten her approval to be moving about yet, he figures going to Mobeorn's side can't cause too much damage.
Ranol's just about to push himself up to his feet when Gimli walks in and a faint flush touches his face. The visiting dwarf probably won't realize that the huskarl is defying orders, but Ranol still feels guilty. "Lord Gimli, good morning to you."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Mobeorn shifts a bit on the pillows behind him, but one scolding look from the healer stops him from trying to actually sit up--that and the grimace of pain that runs across his face when he tries to move. "Still sleeping is he..." he says, glancing to the prone figure of Lith. "Help?" he continues at Gimli's words. "Well, I suppose if you folk want to get home across the Old Forest Road, you'll have to help. It's held by orcs at the moment."
[Gimli(#30149)] Gimli looks at the large man, but remains silent for a moment. Then he nods once. "So the news I heard are true", he says, and then he sighs. "It seems we shall win through then, as you say Mobeorn, and dislodge the orcs from their place.. or take a long detour that'll take months... and also many other perils, known and unknown". He looks about and locates a vacant chair, which he gets and places in a free space between mobeorn and Ranol. "I would hear what you have to say about these orcs, and specially about their chieftain", he says as he sits, "for if we're going to attack them, 'tis better to know the most we can before we act".
Ranol doesn't try to stand again. Instead he eases back to sit against the pillows again. The news brings more worry to the huskarl's face, but he's glad that the dwarves at least aren't planning to rush off and feed Grishnakh's blade more blood. "Lord Gimli, this Grishnakh is more cunning than most orcs .. and powerful. We may not have the numbers to oppose him directly."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Seeing the Beorning man up and awake, one of the healers brings him a mug of some steaming liquid--not animal-based, by the smell of it. Mobeorn sniffs at it before he sips a bit, making a face. Then his attention returns to more serious matters.
"This orc can stand the sunlight, though we ran into him at dark, I'm afraid. He's crafty. Waited for me to wear out my strength before he gave me the full brunt of his attack. Though I have to say that I did manage to draw his blood."
[Gimli(#30149)] Gimli nods, his face grave. "I see... this is the first time I've heard of an orc that can stand in broad daylight", he says, as he pats his beard, and then starts to twirl its end. "'Tis troublesome to know that such beasts exist, and that they have come so far north to haunt us. A new proof that the Darkness of the East spreads and grows stronger", he adds, as his face grows troubled.
Ranol nods in agreement, "He is different." The huskarl looks towards Mobeorn. "Do you feel well enough to speak of your fight, Mobeorn? I have no details beyond what you mentioned last night.."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "I'm well enough," the Beorning answers gruffly, putting one hand to his heavily bandaged torso. "And as soon as this wound knits, I am up again and out to the road. No foul scum will taint the lands while I live," he growls. "As for the fight..." Mobeorn lifts one shoulder in a small shrug, but there are bandages along his shoulder blades, too, and the movement is painful. "Like any other fight. They came out of the woods, challenged us on the road. There were about 10 of them, easily killed, and this Grishnakh--for that's who we guessed who he was--hung back, laughing and being smug. The harper there....he threw himself into the fray, attacking Grishnakh himself. Was a sight to see, I'll tell you....what was he going to do, strangle the beast with a harp string?" He smiles, allowing himself soem humor now that it's clear Lith will live.
[Gimli(#30149)] A grim smile draws on Gimli's lips as Mobeorn recounts the battle, specially at this "Haper" and his attack. "A valiant man, to be sure", he says, "for even without a blade he still attacked his foe. Yet... I wonder how many cronies this Grishnakh has with him, for you have said you killed ten of them, before getting to the scum", he adds.
"It was the two of you alone tha-.. " Ranol trails off as Gimli speaks, allowing the dwarf lord to say his piece. The huskarl looks over at the harper, studying him quietly, a calculating expression on his face. After what Frarin and Thari said, he's starting to agree that there's more to the man than song and wandering. "He had two with him that I saw when I encountered him, lord Gimli."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] A shake of the large Beorning man's head, wry smile on his lips. "No, a jest. He has a sword and a bow and he was quite adept with it. And courageous, going after this orc leader and not withdrawing though he suffered grave wounds. I wonder at who he is, in fact, and why he would risk harm so." Mobeorn shrugs again, but this time more carefully. "What precisely did Frarin and Thari say? And in total, I counted an unlucky 13 orcs...but where there is one, there are hundreds, as they say."
[Gimli(#30149)] "Truly do you speak, Master Moboern", Gimli replies, nodding earnestly. "I wish this to be a roving band of orcs, yet we cannot discount that there might be many more than those we have seen as of yet", he adds, a shis brow furrows. "I deem that only if the Beornings and us join forces, we may be able to dislodge them from the road. They seek to estrange the East from the West, and have the Beornings between the hammer and the anvil... between the goblins of the Mountains and these orcs in the woods. We cannot allow that to happen".
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "Beornings and orcs..." Mobeorn smiles. "Yes, I think perhaps so. Thranduil's folk, too, I'd imagine, but they seem to be deeper in the woods than ever. Perhaps the elves of the sorceress to our south...Elladan could enlist their help?"
Ranol listens attentively, considering the situation. "It's a shame that we cannot send word to our kin in the mountain.." The dwarven numbers are so few now.
[Gimli(#30149)] "Thranduil's folk are far east, near the eastern edge of Mirkwood", Gimli says, "and although it'd be good to have the Elvenking and his own helping us, I know not how to reach him with a plea for help". The dwarf-lord curls one more time the tip of his beard pensively, as he adds, "As for this sorceress... I know not of her, yet your words signal caution. Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, my father used to tell me, for they are quick to anger and you never know what to expect of them. Even if the wizard Gandalf turned out to be a quite good fellow".
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Another grin from the Beorning. "I won't even go in their lands, except that some that the Laird trust also trust this sorceress. But better that we not meddle, as you say," Mobeorn admits. "The Beornings are not so few in numbers that we have to plead to our neighbors for help."
"You said that you were able to hurt him, Mobeorn.. How injured would you say Grishnakh was?" Ranol asks, the huskarl still harboring that look of intent concentration as he chews over the situation. "Maybe we can lure them into an ambush of our own.."
[Gimli(#30149)] "It'd be difficult, Huskarl, for we know not exactly where their lair lies", Gimli replies, "and even then, this Grishnakh you speak of seems difficult to lure into a trap, being so wily... after the fashion of his kind", he adds. "Yet, as master Mobeorn says, I think we can win through if we get together... provided that we don't meet an overwhelming quantity of orcs, that is", he adds.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Mobeorn's face darkens. "There was blood, master dwarf. And much of it, some his, much mine. I didn't stop in the dark to see how bad off he was when it was clear that the harper wouldn't survive another blow and my own strength was failing. And you can bet that just as we are recoupoing, so is this foul goblin."
Ranol nods at their words, "But he is arrogant and proud as well. He expects us to come for him and is waiting for it. He knows we will strike back. He spoke to me of as much as I was bleeding upon the ground." The dwarf pauses, sorting his thoughts out. "He will be watching for when our caravan begins to move, expecting to see us gear up to go after him. Somehow we should be able to turn that to our advantage."
[Gimli(#30149)] "That bears consideration, indeed", Gimli agrees, nodding to Ranol. "So Braldor has told me also. This orc wants something... and badly. Be it our blood, or something else. But all this taunting has to be for a reason. Either he feels overly confident because of numbers", he adds, as his gaze goes from Ranol to Mobeorn, "or he has something he thinks will give him victory... or else he's just addled, and wishes for his own death".
"What if he is trying to draw our kin and the Beornings away from the village? There may be more afoot than one commander with a deep thirst for blood.." Ranol speaks thoughtfully, trying to imagine what Grishnakh may be after. "What if he seeks to distract us?"
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
The Harper has remained unconscious for hours as night have given way to morning, the sun well up now. Someone has brought in his bow and leaned it against the wall. The man's scabbarded long sword has been cleaned and propped there too, though his leather armour, belt, and boots are ... discreetly hidden away where they will not alarm folk.
Beneath the man's cot, the rest of his things are set neatly - small pack, a little water skin he was carrying, his leather harpcase partly obscured by Lith's cloak, which has been folded and laid over to conceal the leather goods, likely enough.
Lying abed, the long, lean man stirs a little, turning his head slightly. His eyes remain closed, yet.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Mobeorn has fallen silent to drink the mug of hot herbal broth the younger healer brought to him--apparently the drink is soothing, despite the beijabar's initial reaction to it. He turns now, as the harper stirs. "You awake, Lith?" the Beorning asks--never one for subtletry.
[Halla(#30997)] The door opens, bringing with it the faint scent of hay and a new arrival: the forester Halla, a small satchel slung over one shoulder. She enters with jaunty stride of the hale and hearty, squinting along the rows of cots as though seeking one particular occupant - and stops dead, staring at the bed by the window where Mobeorn is propped. Her grey-green eyes are wide, her mouth parted slightly as though in shock.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Breathing a little rougher, the semi-conscious man that Mobeorn addresses starts to cough, painfully. He chokes and turns his head to spat something out, then lies still for a moment, sucking breath.
You don't want to look too closely at the floor, at what he spat up from his lung.
Finding breath easier, sharp pain easing, Lith swallows and opens his eyes, looking up at the ceiling.
Ranol notes that Lith is awakening, but his gaze is drawn to the door as someone new arrives. Does the dwarf recognize his rescuer? He was in considerable shock at the time and his memory is a bit hazy. She looks familiar, and he sits, blinking, as he tries to recall why he recognizes her.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "Ah..you -are- awake," Mobeorn notes, sounding almost cheerful--must be whatever the healers put into the mug he's drinking. "Alive at least, too. And not muttering about your lady love anymore, either." The Beorning man, in fact, seems quite happy to be alive this morning, and he shows it witha rare grin--and an even rarer wink--to Halla. "Lassie, there's no need to stare. Just got a bit scratched up. We'll be patched up in no time at all,' he tells the woman.
[Halla(#30997)] Halla clears her throat. "Now /that/ must have been some fight," she remarks admiringly. "Don't tell me, that chattering jay there," her sarcastic gaze rests on the coughing Lith for a moment, "drank too much mead and challenged you to single combat?" One brow arches in hopeful query. As she awaits explanation her gaze flickers to the dwarves. Noting Ranol's glance, she offers him a slight nod.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Lith swallows again, some foul, slimy taste in his mouth. Some of it's blood, but Elladan had wiped his face mostly clean, at least. Turning his head to try and see who else is in here, the Harper smiles thinly, voice a little weak, "My lady love? Who wou- " but he hesitates, loosing his smile, "My harp!"
Suddenly alarmed, the injured man shifts his arms as though he would try to sit up and look around, "Where is my harp?"
Ranol grows more quiet than he was previously, watching all this interaction with silent interest. The dwarf is looking much improved since the last time Halla saw him, though it has been almost three weeks. When Halla looks his way he still seems uncertain, that searching expression on his face. He nods politely all the same.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Both of the healers--older and younger--now rush to Lithuigelir's bedside, the older woman emerging from the back room at the sound of the harper's voice. "Lie down! Be still!" Gentle hands urge the man back into the cot. "Your harp is safe, under the bed!"
Watching from where he sits in his own bed, Mobeor's smile fades slightly. "You're in the village of Beorning in the lands of Grimbeorn, son of Beorn. Do you think for a moment that my kin and our people would let someone steal your harp while we tend your wounds?" he asks the man. He pauses to finish whatever drink was in his mug and set it aside on the table near his bed. Then he leans back on his pillows. "No, Halla...I think he drank too much and offered to come scout for orcs with me."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
The Beorning woman need not worry - sharp, dizzying pain makes the harper light headed. Lith falls back, gasping for breath, shifting his left hand to his bandaged chest and fighting to retain consciousness. A few moments pass, easing breathing and pain, clearing his head slowly. Words sink in.
The man lays quietly, listening to the others, likely as not trying to remember what had happened the night before.
[Halla(#30997)] At Lith's query Halla snorts. "You've barely kept your life and you're fretting over some damn harp? I can see it - I think," she offers helpfully, surveying the space beneath the man's cot from her higher vantage point. She doesn't offer to get said harp - there's that gob of discoloured mucus in the way, after all. Let the healers do the dirty work.
At Mobeorn's answer, the woman's features twist. "/More/ goblin scum? Must be something afoot - I brought in one injured stray the other week ..." her gaze flicks again to Ranol. "You're mending, fellow?" she asks him gruffly.
Oh, and then it all clicks. Halla... injured stray.. The familiarity is replaced with a clearer recognition and Ranol's eyes widen. "You are the one. Please.. allow me to offer my thanks for your aid, woman of Beorn." The dwarf speaks, his soft voice rumbly but genuine in it's sincerity.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "The one?" Mobeorn's large head tilts in confusion--but then these dwarves have strange ways about them, so he dismisses it with a grunt. "Same fiend that attacked the dwarf here, we think. Orc that can walk in sunlight. Claims thathe controls the road through Mirkwood now."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] The older healer looks with disdain at the gob of blood on the floor--and then muttering something about the manners of wandering vagabonds, she makes the younger one clean it up.
[Gimli(#30149)] At this, Gimli's gaze goes to Mobeorn, and he breaks his silence. "He does claim that... yet not for much longer, I deed,", he says, as he looks at the Skinchanger. "If I know the Men of Beorn, soon they will dislodge them from their hold in Mirkwood, as they have done many times at the High Pass".
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
He does not care that the woman, Halla, chastizes and mocks him for his concern for his harp. Lith's face looks pained, tenor voice low, "Please... someone get it for me." The man swallows and gets his breath, "It is dear to me." Pale eys close, weak, "I do ... not wish it ... fouled by the orcs."
Ugh, but such is the life of a young woman having to clean up after others. Be they injured or merely infant children that make messes out each end. Mirraya does as she is bid, wiping up the clotty mess with a wet cloth, which she does to rinse. She does not, however, make to lay a hand to the leather harpcase beneath the man's cot.
[Halla(#30997)] "Eh?" It seems that Ranol has a power shared by neither bloodied beijabar nor silver-tongued harper. For a moment the woman looks quite disconcerted. She recovers quickly, though, answering with a snort, "Nothing to thank me for. Leaving you there to bleed like a pig would only've drawn trouble to the Village." Her alto voice is gruff.
Mobeorn's information only serves to shock the woman further. "But ... goblins /don't/ walk in daylight," she protests, clearly appalled. It's debatable whether she even hears Lith's request at that point.
Ranol takes her gruff manner in stride and only nods. "Of course, but I thank you all same." He knew that someone had come to his aid out on the road, but his memory had been unable to produce a name. Now that he's had a chance to thank the woman properly he feels the weight of a small obligation lifted.
The huskarl looks back to the other dwarf, "Lord Gimli.. do you think it possible that this Grishnakh's purpose for allowing me to live was a deliberate plan to pull a force away from the village? Out in the daylight.. bold attacks on travelers and scouts. It could be that we are playing right into his hand and focusing all of our attention on him instead of elsewhere?"
[Gimli(#30149)] "Tis hard to tell, Huskarl", replies Gimli, as he stands from his chair, "yet possible. My guess is that scouts ought to be sent west and north and south, to check the lands beyond, and see if thre's any sign of trouble there. If not, then we shall concentrate on the east... and get this Grishnakh out of our way", he adds, and then he turns and bows low to all present, in true dwarven fashion. "I have taken planty of your time, and I shall leave before the healers chase me away, so you can rest. I bid you all fare well, until we meet again". And with that Gimli leaves, closing the door firmly behind him as he leaves the healer's house.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "I've scouted," Mobeorn notes, sounding a bit weary. "There's no sign of them in the mountains--not more than usual. No sign of unusual activity south of us.That leaves the forest. The Laird will send out further scouts, if he didn't already last night, and we'll hear from them soon."
He glances to the injured harper, frowning. "And yet you risked all, taking your harp into battle with you against the orcs. Why not leave it in the safety of the Laird's hall? No orcs will claim it here in teh vilalge, I assure you--none have ever or ever will dare to enter into Grimbeorn's lands."
"As for orcs in daylight..." the Beorning man continues to Halla, "this is a new evil set upon us, apparently. The Spider does its work."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Ah, alas, the injured Harper has lapsed out of consciousness. It matters not if anyone takes pity upon the man to fetch forth his instrument, for he's really in no condition to hold it anyway. Lith lies quietly, resting, and either unaware of the conversation of the others, or listening without further comment.
[Halla(#30997)] Halla listens to the conversation between the Dwarves and her own countryman. "I know the forest," she offers to Mobeorn almost diffidently. "If there's a need for an extra axe ..." She pats the one hung at her belt, and her features twist from a scowl to an almost feral grin.
The rest of Mobeorn's words seem to have penetrated too, for without really looking she tosses toward Lith himself, "What is it with that wretched harp? Got treasure hidden inside? Perhaps if you wrapped it in something other than a rotten carcass it might be safer." Perhaps it's for the best if the injured man is in no state to hear her.
"You know your lands best.. " Ranol says with a nod as Mobeorn outlines the scouting he's done. "Perhaps we are meant to meet this one head-on. I only hope my wounds repair quickly enough that I can face him again myself." His gaze strays to Halla and then on to Lith. "He is quite skilled a musician." The dwarf comments in idle thought.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "As your laird said, though, the Beornings are not about to sit back and let the orcs control anything in or near their lands. Even our women will take up axe and shield," Mobeorn grins to Halla.
The shapeshifter's nose twists a bit as he spots the leather harp case under the man's bed, Halla's words making him look that way. "Foul thing, that...but then the man wears leather too, as many who are outsiders do....the Laird's view is taht as long as they are fighting orcs and not hunting on our lands, we're to tolerate it. Don't know why a man would care so much for a harp that he takes it into battle..then frets over it as if it's a child."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Someone has heard Mobeorn's grumblings, for the older Beorning woman who's name has not been mentioned yet, comes back into the infirmary from outside. She looks over the occupents of the chamber, nods her head politely to Halla with a warm smile, then walks directly over towards the cot that Mobeorn occupies. She sets a tall wooden up down on the chair closest and works her hands to open what is obviously a bottle of mead.
Setting the bottle aside, she picks up the cup and takes the chair herself, holding the mug cup out to the Beijabar, "Sip it."
[Halla(#30997)] "He is?" Halla, on hearing Ranol's comment about Lith, raises an eyebrow. "Haven't heard him sing. Heard him talk - that was bad enough." She rolls her eyes.
Looking back to Mobeorn, she protests, "Even? This axe'll hew goblin heads at a speed to match the menfolk any day." There is a gleam in her eyes that might almost be challenge. She pauses to nod to the healer, then, returning to the topic of the harp as some injured beast might probe a wound, she, "Oh, I tolerate it, doesn't mean I have to /like/ it."
"Yes.. I'm certain we will defeat this orc. I only worry that don't miss any other threats while we plot his demise." Ranol says in a somewhat placating tone. He grows quiet, as seems to be his manner, reaching for the block of wood that he was carving at earlier.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] The beijabar grins, needing no encouragement to take this 'medicine.' "Thought it thins the blood," he says under his breath--but only after cup and mead are safe in hand. Still, the healers here -must- know the taste for honey that the kin of Beorn have, after all.
Content now, Mobeorn settles back against the pillows behind him once more, though his eyelids droop some and his energy seems to suddenly wane. "Beware what you promise, lass...it could cost you your life with this orc..."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
The Beorning woman gives Mobeorn a scathing, but nonetheless adoring, motherly look, "You aren't bleeding now. Hush up or I shall bring you no more." She stands and -takes- the bottle with her into the other room. There are lanterns from last night to be refilled, after all. And more bandages to be prepared, and poultrices...
[Halla(#30997)] It is now midmorning, and outside the sun is high in the sky, warming the grasses. Here in the infirmary are both wounded and hale - Mobeorn occupies a bed by the window, the harper Lithuigelir unconscious in the next cot. Both are heavily bandaged, as is the dwarf Ranol - though the latter, at least, seems to be mending.
"This orc?" Halla raises an eyebrow. "I don't promise to slay your day-walker, but I've swung an axe before. If the price for cleaning our land of goblin filth is to walk the Bear's mead-hall, so be it." Her piece said, she moves instead nearer to Ranol, her sharp gaze falling on the object before him. "You carve?" There is a light in her eye.A
[Halla(#30997)] Halla, by contrast to those she discourses with, is in the prime of health.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] The beijabar looks hurt--deeply hurt, at least for a fraction of a second--as the healer takes the mead bottle with her. "At least bring me some bread and honey!" he calls after the woman, hope in his voice. "I need it to heal!" A likely story, but worth a shot.
"Aye.." Ranol answers as Halla approaches. The wood in his hand is still in it's infancy, little more than an unrecognizable shape thus far. "It is a hobby of mine."
[Halla(#30997)] Halla squints at the object Ranol holds. "I - ah, do a little," she admits. "Now and then. What's this one to be?" She tilts her head better to see the grain of the wood. With her attention thus caught, she almost forgets to be surly.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
The woman sticks her head out from the back, a cask of lantern oil in her hands, "I'll bring you something to eat soon enough, Mobeorn. Stop your grumbling!" But though she is trying to be stern, the woman can't help but laugh, too.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
All these voices bantering back and forth rouses the Dunadan once more. Lith opens his pale eyes and turns his head once more, looking around a little. But he says nothing, does not try to move.
[Valdi(#22570)]
The door to the infirmary opens and closes, creating a briefly cool breeze as the air flows outside before a healer shuts it again with his foot. His arms are full of a few branches with vines growing on them, which he holds crossed in front of him. Valdi looks around and then shakes his head in dismay. "More variety in here than Dale," he comments, nodding to the beijabar and Halla before he heads into the back, laughing faintly as the woman he passes makes her bit known.
"You do? Maybe when I am free of this bed, I could see some of your work.." Ranol says, smiling now. He's always fond of those that share a hobby with him. He looks down at the wood, running his free hand through his short-cropped black hair. "I think I would prefer not to say, just yet.. What types of carvings do you do?"
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "Valdi!" Mobeorn calls loudly as the healer enters. The shapeshifter isn't seen much in the village--at least not until recently--but he knows this man's name somehow. Likely throug the Laird. "She only gave me a taste of mead. How is a man supposed to live if not without mead and honey?"
[Halla(#30997)] Halla turns at the sound of a new, albeit reassuringly Beorning, voice. "Oh aye. All we need is a pointy-eared tree-dweller to complete the menagerie," she answers him lightly before returning her attention to Ranol.
"This and that," she answers the dwarf with a diffident shrug. "Playthings for my brother's brood, mostly." She hesitates, then plunges a hand into her satchel, scowling. "Didn't know you carved. I .. uh, thought this might pass the time." She deposits something in front of him, a mass of interlocking carved wooden rods that form a rough cube shape - some kind of puzzle, by the looks of it. "Though I guess you won't lack for company," she adds acidly. "When yon word-spinner recovers you'll be craving solitude." When, not if - she grants the harper that much.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Ha! The harper in question is awake again, if being very quiet. Grey eyes watch that woman, Halla, over by Ranol and he might even be amused. But the man says nothing, conserving his stregnth - what there is of it.
The woman, Lailath, comes back into the main room and gives Mobeorn a grough, 'Don't you dare sass me' look before she heads for the door, "I said to SIP IT not guzzle it, you brute." She winks and steps out, "I'll bring lunch, shortly."
"Halla.. yes?" Ranol asks to confirm her name, then smirks at her mention of elves. "There was an elf here last night, actually.." He says with wry grin. When she pulls out the wooden puzzle his brows lift even as he chuckles at her comment of the harpist. The piece of wood is set aside and he picks up the puzzle with keen interest. "Interesting.. You did this yourself?"
[Valdi(#22570)]
"No mead? No honey?" The shout from the other room sounds scandalized, and in a moment he then walks back into the other room, a plate with bread and honey and a bowl of mead. "He can have my lunch," he says to Lailath before turning to Mobeorn. "Here, but keep it down," he urges, and then nods as he sees one of the men awake. "Much to my regret, this ain't a meadhall."
[Halla(#30997)] Halla grunts in answer to the dwarf's question, and ducks her head in an awkward fashion that might be construed as a 'yes'. "There was?" she queries. "Now I've heard it all. Let me guess - /he/ wants in on the hunting too. Hmmph."
Hearing Valdi's conversation across the room, she calls out with a chuckle, "Pity. I was fancying a mug."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Spoiled brat of a beijabar, getting his way like a bear insisting on sticking his hand into a beehive to get out the honey--persistent, no matter how many stings he gets on his tough hide. He smiles, content again, as Valdi brings him honey AND mead, then winks as the young healer woman leaves. "I heal better witha full belly," he notes.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
It's just as well that Lailath held her tongue and just let the door shut behind herself, rolling her eyes. She's got better things to do anyway. Silly men.
Ranol shrugs. "I'm not sure.. It was very late, I don't recall. Perhaps he means to join the hunt." He continues to look at the puzzle, slowly turning it in study as if to find the solution before ever attempting to move a piece. "This is intriguing.."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
For his part, the other injured man doesn't look the least bit interested in food. Lith was hurt worse than Mobeorn and is slower to bounce back. Ineed, if it had not been for Elladan's efforts, the guest might not have made it though the morning.
Since his 'silver' tongue isn't highly appriciated here, Lith makes no effort to say anything. His pale eyes roam slowly over the room and those here, lingering upon the newest arrival he does not know.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Mobeorn takes only one swipe of the honey with his finger, licking it off, before his injuries seem to get to him. His eyes close, and he falls asleep.
[Valdi(#22570)]
"Right you do. I hope, too, you appreciate that you'll only ever fall asleep after this meal on your own accord." When the beijabar promptly falls asleep, he shrugs. Then Valdi looks over to Halla and fights back a grin, "I'll be your barmaid any day." Then a wink as he turns to the nearby injured man. "Well, so long as you're awake. I'm Valdi. Who're you?"
[Halla(#30997)] "Mmm." Halla's scowl falls away as she, like the dwarf, focusses on the puzzle. "It comes apart easy enough - the trick's to get it back together again. That's the biggest one I've done. Have to admit, it took me a /long/ while to figure out the shapes." But then, she's not really known for intelligence.
At Valdi's words an eyebrow quirks and she queries with a wink, "Oh? Where's my mug then?"
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Valdi's introduction elicits a faint smile from the prone man, "Name's Lith... " he moves his elft hand a little, "Forgive me ... not getting up, for a proper introduction." A glance towards Halla though, expecting maybe a sarcastic comment from the woman.
Ranol lifts his thick hand to cover a yawn, all the morning's excitement looking to be wearing the dwarf out as well. He's still a long way from recovered, despite the improvement from the elf's healing touch. "I shall see how I do, if you do not mind me borrowing it for a time? I promise that I won't run off with it.." The huskarl grins.
[Halla(#30997)] Halla, amazingly, forbears from commenting on the harper's words. Perhaps because Ranol speaks just after. She shakes her head, then states curtly, "Keep it. It's a gift." Her head ducks down at those words, just for an instant, but a moment later she's back to her usual prickly self. "Day's wasting," she states gruffly. "If I'm to hunt orcs, better get some practise in. See you about." She lifts her hand in a sketchy wave and turns to go. "Oh, and hold that mead," she instructs Valdi as she passes - and now she is grinning.
[Valdi(#22570)]
"Oh, go to the Mad Dog and tell them I sent you, if you want a mug. I serve my mead in bowls." Valdi counters to the passing Halle, shooing her away with his hand. Then turning to the quiet ward, he shoos something away a second time. "I don't stand on propriety, so you can lie down on it, Lith," the healer replies. "Need anything? Medicine? Mead? Conversation?"
Ranol creases his brow in confusion, surprised that she's giving him something when he's the one that's indebted to her. He smiles lightly and answers, "Thank you, Halla. I hope you'll come by again when I'm feeling better." Preferably before everyone rushes off to get themselves killed by orcs. "I feel I owe you a great deal for your kindness."
[Halla(#30997)] It's debatable whether Halla hears Ranol's final sentence - if she did, it would doubtless have brought on another of those snorts. As it is she slips quietly out of the door. Once she's outside, a faint off-key whistling can be heard as she goes on her way.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
There is a little bit of a smile for Valdi's comment about standing and lying. For a few breaths though, it looks like the man wishes for nothing except, perhaps rest. But then Lith remembers something he had asked for but that the others had mocked, "I ..." A hesitation, glancing over the infirmary, "I wanted my harp." But it is no where to be seen - from his vantage.
Because the leather harpcase lies beneath his cot where the man can not see it, next to his small pack, partly covered over by a thin, grey cloak that has been folded over to partly conceal the ... leather case.
[Valdi(#22570)]
"Your harp? Did they go hide it? I'll have to have a talk with a master healer about that," Valdi huffs, and looking downward spots the small pack. He kneels down to look beneath there. Then he pushes the small pack a little aside. "Ah," the healer says, a small frown appearing in his forehead. "I see. Smart man." Then starts clambering under the bed, muttering an oath under his breath for touching what he dare not think about, and pulls the harp out roughly but whole while leaving the case beneath there. He kicks it further in the shadows. "Here," he offers. "Do you sing?"
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Oh yes, that is what the man wanted. The old grey wood decorated with a shallow relif carving of waves crashing upon rocks and sea birds, strings and pins gleaming silvery with use. Lith takes the small harp and smiles, "My thanks, sir."
Alas, the injured man is too weak yet to sit up or handle the instrument, so it just comes to rest on the cot by his side. A sigh of relief though, and the dark haired man nods, "My profession."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Nevermind the quiver of long arrows hanging on the bed post, the long yew bow propped against the wall, and the old, scabbarded long sword keepnig it company - other of the man's things, no doubt.
[Valdi(#22570)]
Valdi shakes his head in disbelief, but there's the hint of approval as he speaks. "Far to carry that harp with all those other implements. I appreciate a good song though, or a better story, and you'll find that many around here do. If you can keep the case out of sight, I'd enjoy hearing you when you get better, afore you move on."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Pale eyes watch the other man and Lith is slow to respond, but he nods his head faintly again, "They let me .. sing and play... at the tavern, for my bread." More of that faint smile, but then it fades a little, "I mean no offense. That I carry leather goods."
[Valdi(#22570)]
"I know," Valdi says with a slight smile to return his. "It's something we don't approve of. You do good not to keep it displayed with a beijabar sleeping next to you." He shrugs toward Mobeorn. "But you don't know any better, where you come from. So long as you kill no animal but wargs in this valley, I'll make no more mention of it."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
The injured harper glances past Valdi towards Mobeorn who is not far from him. The barest flicker of a chuckle, "I know enough ... not to hunt here, in your Laird's lands." The man does not seem worried, "Except for orcs." But then Lith frowns, "Doubt I'll do much of that either ... for a while." His low tenor voice is a little weak, but otherwise clearly spoken.
"Some one ran off," another glance at his things, long bow, etc, "with my armour and boots anyway." Then his gaze returns to Valdi, "Unless they too are beanth the cot?" But they are not.
[Valdi(#22570)]
"No." Valdi doesn't have to look, having just seen under there. "Well, sometimes people get silly about such things." He talks as if he has a few culprits in mind. "Forget you're guests. They're probably long gone. The boots, I mean," he explains mostly to himself. Then he ahems. "We can get you new boots. And wooden armor, maybe. They're much more comfortable, anyway. At least, they look more comfortable," he backtracks, winking. "Looks like you'd get way too hot, wearing that armor."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Hrm. Not to happy about that news, is the Dunadan. But he keeps his mouth shut. He is indeed the guest here, not one of these folk. He licks his lips and tries to let it go - worry about that later, "I shall definitely need some boots, at least." And he tries not to frown, "I had meant only ... to pass through.
[Valdi(#22570)]
"Aye, aye." Valdi looks guiltily to the back though, just as his stomach rumbles. "I've taken a long hike all night and this morning from the edge of Mirkwood. So I'm going to scrounge up some lunch for myself. But after, I'm going to ask a few questions around, alright? Just to find out."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
There is no comment about his own, recent trek back from Mirkwood last night, with Mobeorn. Lith nods his head but looks rather tired and in need of rest, himself, "Thank you. Valdi, wasn't it?"
Drawing a bit of a deeper breath causes the dark haired man to wince with pain. "Think ... maybe I'll doze just a bit." But he doesn't ask after any food himself.
[Valdi(#22570)]
"Alright. And Valdi's my name." He gets up from where he was kneeling and brushes himself off. Then he peeks in the back room and then in a few quick strides goes out the front door.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
The old grey harp is drawn close, clasped between his right arm and his side. The harper closes his eyes and tries to rest, like the others are doing. The day is already warming up now that it's past mid summer. It will be dreadfully hot by late afternoon. Best to sleep...
It's the morning after the two men were brought in so greviously wounded that's showing the most startling change in his health, but only those that have been seeing him every day may notice the change. And no longer is Ranol the only one in the infirmary for an extended stay. Mobeorn and Lith both are here as well after tangling with a group of orcs in the night.
The dwarf has already awoken and enjoyed a light breakfast, and now he sits against several thick pillows, carving at a piece of wood while he waits for Mobeorn to wake, eager to get more details of his fight with Grishnakh.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] On the cot closest to the window lies the Harper who has given his name as Lith--the man is sound asleep but at least he no longer looks to be on death's door. Mobeorn is in the next cot over, the Beorning man heavily bandaged on his torso. He opens one eye--the first time he has been awake since the elf tended his wounds. He groans, grumpily. "Should've had mead."
[Gimli(#30149)] The door of the healer's house creaks open, and in comes another dwarf. This one sports a brown beard, and bright mail protects him. This is a good example of dwarven mail, made to endure yet still artistically smithed, with intrincate designs. After exchanging a few muttered words with one of the healers, the dwarf comes towards Ranol and the large Mobeorn. "A good day to you", he says, nodding forst to the Huskarl and then to the Man. "I heard the bad news, and came to see if there's anything I can do", he adds, as his dark eyes go from Ranol to Mobeorn.
Ranol lifts his gaze from the piece of wood in his hands, blue eyes landing on the Beorning man. "Good morning, Mobeorn." He offers in a quiet tone, some concern on his face and in his words. He reaches to set the wood and knife aside, then considers for a long moment. He truly feels much better this morning, and gives a furtive glance around before shifting to swing his feet off the cot. Thari isn't here, and while he hasn't gotten her approval to be moving about yet, he figures going to Mobeorn's side can't cause too much damage.
Ranol's just about to push himself up to his feet when Gimli walks in and a faint flush touches his face. The visiting dwarf probably won't realize that the huskarl is defying orders, but Ranol still feels guilty. "Lord Gimli, good morning to you."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Mobeorn shifts a bit on the pillows behind him, but one scolding look from the healer stops him from trying to actually sit up--that and the grimace of pain that runs across his face when he tries to move. "Still sleeping is he..." he says, glancing to the prone figure of Lith. "Help?" he continues at Gimli's words. "Well, I suppose if you folk want to get home across the Old Forest Road, you'll have to help. It's held by orcs at the moment."
[Gimli(#30149)] Gimli looks at the large man, but remains silent for a moment. Then he nods once. "So the news I heard are true", he says, and then he sighs. "It seems we shall win through then, as you say Mobeorn, and dislodge the orcs from their place.. or take a long detour that'll take months... and also many other perils, known and unknown". He looks about and locates a vacant chair, which he gets and places in a free space between mobeorn and Ranol. "I would hear what you have to say about these orcs, and specially about their chieftain", he says as he sits, "for if we're going to attack them, 'tis better to know the most we can before we act".
Ranol doesn't try to stand again. Instead he eases back to sit against the pillows again. The news brings more worry to the huskarl's face, but he's glad that the dwarves at least aren't planning to rush off and feed Grishnakh's blade more blood. "Lord Gimli, this Grishnakh is more cunning than most orcs .. and powerful. We may not have the numbers to oppose him directly."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Seeing the Beorning man up and awake, one of the healers brings him a mug of some steaming liquid--not animal-based, by the smell of it. Mobeorn sniffs at it before he sips a bit, making a face. Then his attention returns to more serious matters.
"This orc can stand the sunlight, though we ran into him at dark, I'm afraid. He's crafty. Waited for me to wear out my strength before he gave me the full brunt of his attack. Though I have to say that I did manage to draw his blood."
[Gimli(#30149)] Gimli nods, his face grave. "I see... this is the first time I've heard of an orc that can stand in broad daylight", he says, as he pats his beard, and then starts to twirl its end. "'Tis troublesome to know that such beasts exist, and that they have come so far north to haunt us. A new proof that the Darkness of the East spreads and grows stronger", he adds, as his face grows troubled.
Ranol nods in agreement, "He is different." The huskarl looks towards Mobeorn. "Do you feel well enough to speak of your fight, Mobeorn? I have no details beyond what you mentioned last night.."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "I'm well enough," the Beorning answers gruffly, putting one hand to his heavily bandaged torso. "And as soon as this wound knits, I am up again and out to the road. No foul scum will taint the lands while I live," he growls. "As for the fight..." Mobeorn lifts one shoulder in a small shrug, but there are bandages along his shoulder blades, too, and the movement is painful. "Like any other fight. They came out of the woods, challenged us on the road. There were about 10 of them, easily killed, and this Grishnakh--for that's who we guessed who he was--hung back, laughing and being smug. The harper there....he threw himself into the fray, attacking Grishnakh himself. Was a sight to see, I'll tell you....what was he going to do, strangle the beast with a harp string?" He smiles, allowing himself soem humor now that it's clear Lith will live.
[Gimli(#30149)] A grim smile draws on Gimli's lips as Mobeorn recounts the battle, specially at this "Haper" and his attack. "A valiant man, to be sure", he says, "for even without a blade he still attacked his foe. Yet... I wonder how many cronies this Grishnakh has with him, for you have said you killed ten of them, before getting to the scum", he adds.
"It was the two of you alone tha-.. " Ranol trails off as Gimli speaks, allowing the dwarf lord to say his piece. The huskarl looks over at the harper, studying him quietly, a calculating expression on his face. After what Frarin and Thari said, he's starting to agree that there's more to the man than song and wandering. "He had two with him that I saw when I encountered him, lord Gimli."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] A shake of the large Beorning man's head, wry smile on his lips. "No, a jest. He has a sword and a bow and he was quite adept with it. And courageous, going after this orc leader and not withdrawing though he suffered grave wounds. I wonder at who he is, in fact, and why he would risk harm so." Mobeorn shrugs again, but this time more carefully. "What precisely did Frarin and Thari say? And in total, I counted an unlucky 13 orcs...but where there is one, there are hundreds, as they say."
[Gimli(#30149)] "Truly do you speak, Master Moboern", Gimli replies, nodding earnestly. "I wish this to be a roving band of orcs, yet we cannot discount that there might be many more than those we have seen as of yet", he adds, a shis brow furrows. "I deem that only if the Beornings and us join forces, we may be able to dislodge them from the road. They seek to estrange the East from the West, and have the Beornings between the hammer and the anvil... between the goblins of the Mountains and these orcs in the woods. We cannot allow that to happen".
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "Beornings and orcs..." Mobeorn smiles. "Yes, I think perhaps so. Thranduil's folk, too, I'd imagine, but they seem to be deeper in the woods than ever. Perhaps the elves of the sorceress to our south...Elladan could enlist their help?"
Ranol listens attentively, considering the situation. "It's a shame that we cannot send word to our kin in the mountain.." The dwarven numbers are so few now.
[Gimli(#30149)] "Thranduil's folk are far east, near the eastern edge of Mirkwood", Gimli says, "and although it'd be good to have the Elvenking and his own helping us, I know not how to reach him with a plea for help". The dwarf-lord curls one more time the tip of his beard pensively, as he adds, "As for this sorceress... I know not of her, yet your words signal caution. Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, my father used to tell me, for they are quick to anger and you never know what to expect of them. Even if the wizard Gandalf turned out to be a quite good fellow".
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Another grin from the Beorning. "I won't even go in their lands, except that some that the Laird trust also trust this sorceress. But better that we not meddle, as you say," Mobeorn admits. "The Beornings are not so few in numbers that we have to plead to our neighbors for help."
"You said that you were able to hurt him, Mobeorn.. How injured would you say Grishnakh was?" Ranol asks, the huskarl still harboring that look of intent concentration as he chews over the situation. "Maybe we can lure them into an ambush of our own.."
[Gimli(#30149)] "It'd be difficult, Huskarl, for we know not exactly where their lair lies", Gimli replies, "and even then, this Grishnakh you speak of seems difficult to lure into a trap, being so wily... after the fashion of his kind", he adds. "Yet, as master Mobeorn says, I think we can win through if we get together... provided that we don't meet an overwhelming quantity of orcs, that is", he adds.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Mobeorn's face darkens. "There was blood, master dwarf. And much of it, some his, much mine. I didn't stop in the dark to see how bad off he was when it was clear that the harper wouldn't survive another blow and my own strength was failing. And you can bet that just as we are recoupoing, so is this foul goblin."
Ranol nods at their words, "But he is arrogant and proud as well. He expects us to come for him and is waiting for it. He knows we will strike back. He spoke to me of as much as I was bleeding upon the ground." The dwarf pauses, sorting his thoughts out. "He will be watching for when our caravan begins to move, expecting to see us gear up to go after him. Somehow we should be able to turn that to our advantage."
[Gimli(#30149)] "That bears consideration, indeed", Gimli agrees, nodding to Ranol. "So Braldor has told me also. This orc wants something... and badly. Be it our blood, or something else. But all this taunting has to be for a reason. Either he feels overly confident because of numbers", he adds, as his gaze goes from Ranol to Mobeorn, "or he has something he thinks will give him victory... or else he's just addled, and wishes for his own death".
"What if he is trying to draw our kin and the Beornings away from the village? There may be more afoot than one commander with a deep thirst for blood.." Ranol speaks thoughtfully, trying to imagine what Grishnakh may be after. "What if he seeks to distract us?"
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
The Harper has remained unconscious for hours as night have given way to morning, the sun well up now. Someone has brought in his bow and leaned it against the wall. The man's scabbarded long sword has been cleaned and propped there too, though his leather armour, belt, and boots are ... discreetly hidden away where they will not alarm folk.
Beneath the man's cot, the rest of his things are set neatly - small pack, a little water skin he was carrying, his leather harpcase partly obscured by Lith's cloak, which has been folded and laid over to conceal the leather goods, likely enough.
Lying abed, the long, lean man stirs a little, turning his head slightly. His eyes remain closed, yet.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Mobeorn has fallen silent to drink the mug of hot herbal broth the younger healer brought to him--apparently the drink is soothing, despite the beijabar's initial reaction to it. He turns now, as the harper stirs. "You awake, Lith?" the Beorning asks--never one for subtletry.
[Halla(#30997)] The door opens, bringing with it the faint scent of hay and a new arrival: the forester Halla, a small satchel slung over one shoulder. She enters with jaunty stride of the hale and hearty, squinting along the rows of cots as though seeking one particular occupant - and stops dead, staring at the bed by the window where Mobeorn is propped. Her grey-green eyes are wide, her mouth parted slightly as though in shock.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Breathing a little rougher, the semi-conscious man that Mobeorn addresses starts to cough, painfully. He chokes and turns his head to spat something out, then lies still for a moment, sucking breath.
You don't want to look too closely at the floor, at what he spat up from his lung.
Finding breath easier, sharp pain easing, Lith swallows and opens his eyes, looking up at the ceiling.
Ranol notes that Lith is awakening, but his gaze is drawn to the door as someone new arrives. Does the dwarf recognize his rescuer? He was in considerable shock at the time and his memory is a bit hazy. She looks familiar, and he sits, blinking, as he tries to recall why he recognizes her.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "Ah..you -are- awake," Mobeorn notes, sounding almost cheerful--must be whatever the healers put into the mug he's drinking. "Alive at least, too. And not muttering about your lady love anymore, either." The Beorning man, in fact, seems quite happy to be alive this morning, and he shows it witha rare grin--and an even rarer wink--to Halla. "Lassie, there's no need to stare. Just got a bit scratched up. We'll be patched up in no time at all,' he tells the woman.
[Halla(#30997)] Halla clears her throat. "Now /that/ must have been some fight," she remarks admiringly. "Don't tell me, that chattering jay there," her sarcastic gaze rests on the coughing Lith for a moment, "drank too much mead and challenged you to single combat?" One brow arches in hopeful query. As she awaits explanation her gaze flickers to the dwarves. Noting Ranol's glance, she offers him a slight nod.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Lith swallows again, some foul, slimy taste in his mouth. Some of it's blood, but Elladan had wiped his face mostly clean, at least. Turning his head to try and see who else is in here, the Harper smiles thinly, voice a little weak, "My lady love? Who wou- " but he hesitates, loosing his smile, "My harp!"
Suddenly alarmed, the injured man shifts his arms as though he would try to sit up and look around, "Where is my harp?"
Ranol grows more quiet than he was previously, watching all this interaction with silent interest. The dwarf is looking much improved since the last time Halla saw him, though it has been almost three weeks. When Halla looks his way he still seems uncertain, that searching expression on his face. He nods politely all the same.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Both of the healers--older and younger--now rush to Lithuigelir's bedside, the older woman emerging from the back room at the sound of the harper's voice. "Lie down! Be still!" Gentle hands urge the man back into the cot. "Your harp is safe, under the bed!"
Watching from where he sits in his own bed, Mobeor's smile fades slightly. "You're in the village of Beorning in the lands of Grimbeorn, son of Beorn. Do you think for a moment that my kin and our people would let someone steal your harp while we tend your wounds?" he asks the man. He pauses to finish whatever drink was in his mug and set it aside on the table near his bed. Then he leans back on his pillows. "No, Halla...I think he drank too much and offered to come scout for orcs with me."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
The Beorning woman need not worry - sharp, dizzying pain makes the harper light headed. Lith falls back, gasping for breath, shifting his left hand to his bandaged chest and fighting to retain consciousness. A few moments pass, easing breathing and pain, clearing his head slowly. Words sink in.
The man lays quietly, listening to the others, likely as not trying to remember what had happened the night before.
[Halla(#30997)] At Lith's query Halla snorts. "You've barely kept your life and you're fretting over some damn harp? I can see it - I think," she offers helpfully, surveying the space beneath the man's cot from her higher vantage point. She doesn't offer to get said harp - there's that gob of discoloured mucus in the way, after all. Let the healers do the dirty work.
At Mobeorn's answer, the woman's features twist. "/More/ goblin scum? Must be something afoot - I brought in one injured stray the other week ..." her gaze flicks again to Ranol. "You're mending, fellow?" she asks him gruffly.
Oh, and then it all clicks. Halla... injured stray.. The familiarity is replaced with a clearer recognition and Ranol's eyes widen. "You are the one. Please.. allow me to offer my thanks for your aid, woman of Beorn." The dwarf speaks, his soft voice rumbly but genuine in it's sincerity.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "The one?" Mobeorn's large head tilts in confusion--but then these dwarves have strange ways about them, so he dismisses it with a grunt. "Same fiend that attacked the dwarf here, we think. Orc that can walk in sunlight. Claims thathe controls the road through Mirkwood now."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] The older healer looks with disdain at the gob of blood on the floor--and then muttering something about the manners of wandering vagabonds, she makes the younger one clean it up.
[Gimli(#30149)] At this, Gimli's gaze goes to Mobeorn, and he breaks his silence. "He does claim that... yet not for much longer, I deed,", he says, as he looks at the Skinchanger. "If I know the Men of Beorn, soon they will dislodge them from their hold in Mirkwood, as they have done many times at the High Pass".
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
He does not care that the woman, Halla, chastizes and mocks him for his concern for his harp. Lith's face looks pained, tenor voice low, "Please... someone get it for me." The man swallows and gets his breath, "It is dear to me." Pale eys close, weak, "I do ... not wish it ... fouled by the orcs."
Ugh, but such is the life of a young woman having to clean up after others. Be they injured or merely infant children that make messes out each end. Mirraya does as she is bid, wiping up the clotty mess with a wet cloth, which she does to rinse. She does not, however, make to lay a hand to the leather harpcase beneath the man's cot.
[Halla(#30997)] "Eh?" It seems that Ranol has a power shared by neither bloodied beijabar nor silver-tongued harper. For a moment the woman looks quite disconcerted. She recovers quickly, though, answering with a snort, "Nothing to thank me for. Leaving you there to bleed like a pig would only've drawn trouble to the Village." Her alto voice is gruff.
Mobeorn's information only serves to shock the woman further. "But ... goblins /don't/ walk in daylight," she protests, clearly appalled. It's debatable whether she even hears Lith's request at that point.
Ranol takes her gruff manner in stride and only nods. "Of course, but I thank you all same." He knew that someone had come to his aid out on the road, but his memory had been unable to produce a name. Now that he's had a chance to thank the woman properly he feels the weight of a small obligation lifted.
The huskarl looks back to the other dwarf, "Lord Gimli.. do you think it possible that this Grishnakh's purpose for allowing me to live was a deliberate plan to pull a force away from the village? Out in the daylight.. bold attacks on travelers and scouts. It could be that we are playing right into his hand and focusing all of our attention on him instead of elsewhere?"
[Gimli(#30149)] "Tis hard to tell, Huskarl", replies Gimli, as he stands from his chair, "yet possible. My guess is that scouts ought to be sent west and north and south, to check the lands beyond, and see if thre's any sign of trouble there. If not, then we shall concentrate on the east... and get this Grishnakh out of our way", he adds, and then he turns and bows low to all present, in true dwarven fashion. "I have taken planty of your time, and I shall leave before the healers chase me away, so you can rest. I bid you all fare well, until we meet again". And with that Gimli leaves, closing the door firmly behind him as he leaves the healer's house.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "I've scouted," Mobeorn notes, sounding a bit weary. "There's no sign of them in the mountains--not more than usual. No sign of unusual activity south of us.That leaves the forest. The Laird will send out further scouts, if he didn't already last night, and we'll hear from them soon."
He glances to the injured harper, frowning. "And yet you risked all, taking your harp into battle with you against the orcs. Why not leave it in the safety of the Laird's hall? No orcs will claim it here in teh vilalge, I assure you--none have ever or ever will dare to enter into Grimbeorn's lands."
"As for orcs in daylight..." the Beorning man continues to Halla, "this is a new evil set upon us, apparently. The Spider does its work."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Ah, alas, the injured Harper has lapsed out of consciousness. It matters not if anyone takes pity upon the man to fetch forth his instrument, for he's really in no condition to hold it anyway. Lith lies quietly, resting, and either unaware of the conversation of the others, or listening without further comment.
[Halla(#30997)] Halla listens to the conversation between the Dwarves and her own countryman. "I know the forest," she offers to Mobeorn almost diffidently. "If there's a need for an extra axe ..." She pats the one hung at her belt, and her features twist from a scowl to an almost feral grin.
The rest of Mobeorn's words seem to have penetrated too, for without really looking she tosses toward Lith himself, "What is it with that wretched harp? Got treasure hidden inside? Perhaps if you wrapped it in something other than a rotten carcass it might be safer." Perhaps it's for the best if the injured man is in no state to hear her.
"You know your lands best.. " Ranol says with a nod as Mobeorn outlines the scouting he's done. "Perhaps we are meant to meet this one head-on. I only hope my wounds repair quickly enough that I can face him again myself." His gaze strays to Halla and then on to Lith. "He is quite skilled a musician." The dwarf comments in idle thought.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "As your laird said, though, the Beornings are not about to sit back and let the orcs control anything in or near their lands. Even our women will take up axe and shield," Mobeorn grins to Halla.
The shapeshifter's nose twists a bit as he spots the leather harp case under the man's bed, Halla's words making him look that way. "Foul thing, that...but then the man wears leather too, as many who are outsiders do....the Laird's view is taht as long as they are fighting orcs and not hunting on our lands, we're to tolerate it. Don't know why a man would care so much for a harp that he takes it into battle..then frets over it as if it's a child."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Someone has heard Mobeorn's grumblings, for the older Beorning woman who's name has not been mentioned yet, comes back into the infirmary from outside. She looks over the occupents of the chamber, nods her head politely to Halla with a warm smile, then walks directly over towards the cot that Mobeorn occupies. She sets a tall wooden up down on the chair closest and works her hands to open what is obviously a bottle of mead.
Setting the bottle aside, she picks up the cup and takes the chair herself, holding the mug cup out to the Beijabar, "Sip it."
[Halla(#30997)] "He is?" Halla, on hearing Ranol's comment about Lith, raises an eyebrow. "Haven't heard him sing. Heard him talk - that was bad enough." She rolls her eyes.
Looking back to Mobeorn, she protests, "Even? This axe'll hew goblin heads at a speed to match the menfolk any day." There is a gleam in her eyes that might almost be challenge. She pauses to nod to the healer, then, returning to the topic of the harp as some injured beast might probe a wound, she, "Oh, I tolerate it, doesn't mean I have to /like/ it."
"Yes.. I'm certain we will defeat this orc. I only worry that don't miss any other threats while we plot his demise." Ranol says in a somewhat placating tone. He grows quiet, as seems to be his manner, reaching for the block of wood that he was carving at earlier.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] The beijabar grins, needing no encouragement to take this 'medicine.' "Thought it thins the blood," he says under his breath--but only after cup and mead are safe in hand. Still, the healers here -must- know the taste for honey that the kin of Beorn have, after all.
Content now, Mobeorn settles back against the pillows behind him once more, though his eyelids droop some and his energy seems to suddenly wane. "Beware what you promise, lass...it could cost you your life with this orc..."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
The Beorning woman gives Mobeorn a scathing, but nonetheless adoring, motherly look, "You aren't bleeding now. Hush up or I shall bring you no more." She stands and -takes- the bottle with her into the other room. There are lanterns from last night to be refilled, after all. And more bandages to be prepared, and poultrices...
[Halla(#30997)] It is now midmorning, and outside the sun is high in the sky, warming the grasses. Here in the infirmary are both wounded and hale - Mobeorn occupies a bed by the window, the harper Lithuigelir unconscious in the next cot. Both are heavily bandaged, as is the dwarf Ranol - though the latter, at least, seems to be mending.
"This orc?" Halla raises an eyebrow. "I don't promise to slay your day-walker, but I've swung an axe before. If the price for cleaning our land of goblin filth is to walk the Bear's mead-hall, so be it." Her piece said, she moves instead nearer to Ranol, her sharp gaze falling on the object before him. "You carve?" There is a light in her eye.A
[Halla(#30997)] Halla, by contrast to those she discourses with, is in the prime of health.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] The beijabar looks hurt--deeply hurt, at least for a fraction of a second--as the healer takes the mead bottle with her. "At least bring me some bread and honey!" he calls after the woman, hope in his voice. "I need it to heal!" A likely story, but worth a shot.
"Aye.." Ranol answers as Halla approaches. The wood in his hand is still in it's infancy, little more than an unrecognizable shape thus far. "It is a hobby of mine."
[Halla(#30997)] Halla squints at the object Ranol holds. "I - ah, do a little," she admits. "Now and then. What's this one to be?" She tilts her head better to see the grain of the wood. With her attention thus caught, she almost forgets to be surly.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
The woman sticks her head out from the back, a cask of lantern oil in her hands, "I'll bring you something to eat soon enough, Mobeorn. Stop your grumbling!" But though she is trying to be stern, the woman can't help but laugh, too.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
All these voices bantering back and forth rouses the Dunadan once more. Lith opens his pale eyes and turns his head once more, looking around a little. But he says nothing, does not try to move.
[Valdi(#22570)]
The door to the infirmary opens and closes, creating a briefly cool breeze as the air flows outside before a healer shuts it again with his foot. His arms are full of a few branches with vines growing on them, which he holds crossed in front of him. Valdi looks around and then shakes his head in dismay. "More variety in here than Dale," he comments, nodding to the beijabar and Halla before he heads into the back, laughing faintly as the woman he passes makes her bit known.
"You do? Maybe when I am free of this bed, I could see some of your work.." Ranol says, smiling now. He's always fond of those that share a hobby with him. He looks down at the wood, running his free hand through his short-cropped black hair. "I think I would prefer not to say, just yet.. What types of carvings do you do?"
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "Valdi!" Mobeorn calls loudly as the healer enters. The shapeshifter isn't seen much in the village--at least not until recently--but he knows this man's name somehow. Likely throug the Laird. "She only gave me a taste of mead. How is a man supposed to live if not without mead and honey?"
[Halla(#30997)] Halla turns at the sound of a new, albeit reassuringly Beorning, voice. "Oh aye. All we need is a pointy-eared tree-dweller to complete the menagerie," she answers him lightly before returning her attention to Ranol.
"This and that," she answers the dwarf with a diffident shrug. "Playthings for my brother's brood, mostly." She hesitates, then plunges a hand into her satchel, scowling. "Didn't know you carved. I .. uh, thought this might pass the time." She deposits something in front of him, a mass of interlocking carved wooden rods that form a rough cube shape - some kind of puzzle, by the looks of it. "Though I guess you won't lack for company," she adds acidly. "When yon word-spinner recovers you'll be craving solitude." When, not if - she grants the harper that much.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Ha! The harper in question is awake again, if being very quiet. Grey eyes watch that woman, Halla, over by Ranol and he might even be amused. But the man says nothing, conserving his stregnth - what there is of it.
The woman, Lailath, comes back into the main room and gives Mobeorn a grough, 'Don't you dare sass me' look before she heads for the door, "I said to SIP IT not guzzle it, you brute." She winks and steps out, "I'll bring lunch, shortly."
"Halla.. yes?" Ranol asks to confirm her name, then smirks at her mention of elves. "There was an elf here last night, actually.." He says with wry grin. When she pulls out the wooden puzzle his brows lift even as he chuckles at her comment of the harpist. The piece of wood is set aside and he picks up the puzzle with keen interest. "Interesting.. You did this yourself?"
[Valdi(#22570)]
"No mead? No honey?" The shout from the other room sounds scandalized, and in a moment he then walks back into the other room, a plate with bread and honey and a bowl of mead. "He can have my lunch," he says to Lailath before turning to Mobeorn. "Here, but keep it down," he urges, and then nods as he sees one of the men awake. "Much to my regret, this ain't a meadhall."
[Halla(#30997)] Halla grunts in answer to the dwarf's question, and ducks her head in an awkward fashion that might be construed as a 'yes'. "There was?" she queries. "Now I've heard it all. Let me guess - /he/ wants in on the hunting too. Hmmph."
Hearing Valdi's conversation across the room, she calls out with a chuckle, "Pity. I was fancying a mug."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Spoiled brat of a beijabar, getting his way like a bear insisting on sticking his hand into a beehive to get out the honey--persistent, no matter how many stings he gets on his tough hide. He smiles, content again, as Valdi brings him honey AND mead, then winks as the young healer woman leaves. "I heal better witha full belly," he notes.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
It's just as well that Lailath held her tongue and just let the door shut behind herself, rolling her eyes. She's got better things to do anyway. Silly men.
Ranol shrugs. "I'm not sure.. It was very late, I don't recall. Perhaps he means to join the hunt." He continues to look at the puzzle, slowly turning it in study as if to find the solution before ever attempting to move a piece. "This is intriguing.."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
For his part, the other injured man doesn't look the least bit interested in food. Lith was hurt worse than Mobeorn and is slower to bounce back. Ineed, if it had not been for Elladan's efforts, the guest might not have made it though the morning.
Since his 'silver' tongue isn't highly appriciated here, Lith makes no effort to say anything. His pale eyes roam slowly over the room and those here, lingering upon the newest arrival he does not know.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Mobeorn takes only one swipe of the honey with his finger, licking it off, before his injuries seem to get to him. His eyes close, and he falls asleep.
[Valdi(#22570)]
"Right you do. I hope, too, you appreciate that you'll only ever fall asleep after this meal on your own accord." When the beijabar promptly falls asleep, he shrugs. Then Valdi looks over to Halla and fights back a grin, "I'll be your barmaid any day." Then a wink as he turns to the nearby injured man. "Well, so long as you're awake. I'm Valdi. Who're you?"
[Halla(#30997)] "Mmm." Halla's scowl falls away as she, like the dwarf, focusses on the puzzle. "It comes apart easy enough - the trick's to get it back together again. That's the biggest one I've done. Have to admit, it took me a /long/ while to figure out the shapes." But then, she's not really known for intelligence.
At Valdi's words an eyebrow quirks and she queries with a wink, "Oh? Where's my mug then?"
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Valdi's introduction elicits a faint smile from the prone man, "Name's Lith... " he moves his elft hand a little, "Forgive me ... not getting up, for a proper introduction." A glance towards Halla though, expecting maybe a sarcastic comment from the woman.
Ranol lifts his thick hand to cover a yawn, all the morning's excitement looking to be wearing the dwarf out as well. He's still a long way from recovered, despite the improvement from the elf's healing touch. "I shall see how I do, if you do not mind me borrowing it for a time? I promise that I won't run off with it.." The huskarl grins.
[Halla(#30997)] Halla, amazingly, forbears from commenting on the harper's words. Perhaps because Ranol speaks just after. She shakes her head, then states curtly, "Keep it. It's a gift." Her head ducks down at those words, just for an instant, but a moment later she's back to her usual prickly self. "Day's wasting," she states gruffly. "If I'm to hunt orcs, better get some practise in. See you about." She lifts her hand in a sketchy wave and turns to go. "Oh, and hold that mead," she instructs Valdi as she passes - and now she is grinning.
[Valdi(#22570)]
"Oh, go to the Mad Dog and tell them I sent you, if you want a mug. I serve my mead in bowls." Valdi counters to the passing Halle, shooing her away with his hand. Then turning to the quiet ward, he shoos something away a second time. "I don't stand on propriety, so you can lie down on it, Lith," the healer replies. "Need anything? Medicine? Mead? Conversation?"
Ranol creases his brow in confusion, surprised that she's giving him something when he's the one that's indebted to her. He smiles lightly and answers, "Thank you, Halla. I hope you'll come by again when I'm feeling better." Preferably before everyone rushes off to get themselves killed by orcs. "I feel I owe you a great deal for your kindness."
[Halla(#30997)] It's debatable whether Halla hears Ranol's final sentence - if she did, it would doubtless have brought on another of those snorts. As it is she slips quietly out of the door. Once she's outside, a faint off-key whistling can be heard as she goes on her way.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
There is a little bit of a smile for Valdi's comment about standing and lying. For a few breaths though, it looks like the man wishes for nothing except, perhaps rest. But then Lith remembers something he had asked for but that the others had mocked, "I ..." A hesitation, glancing over the infirmary, "I wanted my harp." But it is no where to be seen - from his vantage.
Because the leather harpcase lies beneath his cot where the man can not see it, next to his small pack, partly covered over by a thin, grey cloak that has been folded over to partly conceal the ... leather case.
[Valdi(#22570)]
"Your harp? Did they go hide it? I'll have to have a talk with a master healer about that," Valdi huffs, and looking downward spots the small pack. He kneels down to look beneath there. Then he pushes the small pack a little aside. "Ah," the healer says, a small frown appearing in his forehead. "I see. Smart man." Then starts clambering under the bed, muttering an oath under his breath for touching what he dare not think about, and pulls the harp out roughly but whole while leaving the case beneath there. He kicks it further in the shadows. "Here," he offers. "Do you sing?"
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Oh yes, that is what the man wanted. The old grey wood decorated with a shallow relif carving of waves crashing upon rocks and sea birds, strings and pins gleaming silvery with use. Lith takes the small harp and smiles, "My thanks, sir."
Alas, the injured man is too weak yet to sit up or handle the instrument, so it just comes to rest on the cot by his side. A sigh of relief though, and the dark haired man nods, "My profession."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Nevermind the quiver of long arrows hanging on the bed post, the long yew bow propped against the wall, and the old, scabbarded long sword keepnig it company - other of the man's things, no doubt.
[Valdi(#22570)]
Valdi shakes his head in disbelief, but there's the hint of approval as he speaks. "Far to carry that harp with all those other implements. I appreciate a good song though, or a better story, and you'll find that many around here do. If you can keep the case out of sight, I'd enjoy hearing you when you get better, afore you move on."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Pale eyes watch the other man and Lith is slow to respond, but he nods his head faintly again, "They let me .. sing and play... at the tavern, for my bread." More of that faint smile, but then it fades a little, "I mean no offense. That I carry leather goods."
[Valdi(#22570)]
"I know," Valdi says with a slight smile to return his. "It's something we don't approve of. You do good not to keep it displayed with a beijabar sleeping next to you." He shrugs toward Mobeorn. "But you don't know any better, where you come from. So long as you kill no animal but wargs in this valley, I'll make no more mention of it."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
The injured harper glances past Valdi towards Mobeorn who is not far from him. The barest flicker of a chuckle, "I know enough ... not to hunt here, in your Laird's lands." The man does not seem worried, "Except for orcs." But then Lith frowns, "Doubt I'll do much of that either ... for a while." His low tenor voice is a little weak, but otherwise clearly spoken.
"Some one ran off," another glance at his things, long bow, etc, "with my armour and boots anyway." Then his gaze returns to Valdi, "Unless they too are beanth the cot?" But they are not.
[Valdi(#22570)]
"No." Valdi doesn't have to look, having just seen under there. "Well, sometimes people get silly about such things." He talks as if he has a few culprits in mind. "Forget you're guests. They're probably long gone. The boots, I mean," he explains mostly to himself. Then he ahems. "We can get you new boots. And wooden armor, maybe. They're much more comfortable, anyway. At least, they look more comfortable," he backtracks, winking. "Looks like you'd get way too hot, wearing that armor."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
Hrm. Not to happy about that news, is the Dunadan. But he keeps his mouth shut. He is indeed the guest here, not one of these folk. He licks his lips and tries to let it go - worry about that later, "I shall definitely need some boots, at least." And he tries not to frown, "I had meant only ... to pass through.
[Valdi(#22570)]
"Aye, aye." Valdi looks guiltily to the back though, just as his stomach rumbles. "I've taken a long hike all night and this morning from the edge of Mirkwood. So I'm going to scrounge up some lunch for myself. But after, I'm going to ask a few questions around, alright? Just to find out."
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
There is no comment about his own, recent trek back from Mirkwood last night, with Mobeorn. Lith nods his head but looks rather tired and in need of rest, himself, "Thank you. Valdi, wasn't it?"
Drawing a bit of a deeper breath causes the dark haired man to wince with pain. "Think ... maybe I'll doze just a bit." But he doesn't ask after any food himself.
[Valdi(#22570)]
"Alright. And Valdi's my name." He gets up from where he was kneeling and brushes himself off. Then he peeks in the back room and then in a few quick strides goes out the front door.
[Lithuigelir(#27282)]
The old grey harp is drawn close, clasped between his right arm and his side. The harper closes his eyes and tries to rest, like the others are doing. The day is already warming up now that it's past mid summer. It will be dreadfully hot by late afternoon. Best to sleep...
Players: Gimli, Ranol, Mobeorn, Lithuigelir, Halla, Valdi
