Elendor
Spar gone astray
Ranol and Frarin spar, but an accident brings healers Thari and Eirdis to the rescue.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Amon Sul
Game Date: Day 28 of April 3044
IC Time: Early afternoon
Weather: Clear
Description:
Amon Sul
The short, windswept grass tenaciously clings to the top of Amon Sul here, poking up around the ruins of what appears to have once been a great tower. All that is left of it now is a wide ring of eroded foundation stones and a fair number of loose stones scattered about the hilltop. The top of Amon Sul appears peaceful and serene. In all directions below spreads Eriador, this hill offering a spectacular and wide reaching view of the land.
Contents:
Ranol
Dwarven Camp
Obvious exits:
South leads to Weathertop - Southern Base.
North leads to Weathertop - Northern Base.
[Frarin] The dwarves have lingered at Weathertop, having arrived the previous morning and now extending their stay there into the present afternoon. The last vestige of civilisation before the long trek and dangerous trek across the barren lands of Eriador, and then to whatever awaits them at the Last Bridge. So they have rested up, especially to give Thari the strength she needs, and will likely leave on the morrow. But for now the good weather is enjoyed. A small breeze blows up here atop the old watch tower, but it is nothing in comparison to the winds of the plains. Various dwarves doze and make minour repairs.
Frarin sits near his bedroll and fire, though the fire is only smouldering at the moment. He holds several very thin strips of leather between his lips, his attention given over to a knee-length chain mail hauberk that is spread across his lap. The hauberk is sturdy, but clearly damaged, several areas missing multiple rings and leaving gaping holes in the armour. At his side are a few square patches of leather as well, small but very thick and with holes cut around the edges.
Ranol wanders up to Frarin's camp, a cheerful smile on his face. He's in a good mood today, eager to be heading closer towards home again, despite how far away it is. Behind him are the troubles of Bree. "Care for some sparring, cousin?" He asks, always willing to learn a thing or two from the older, more experienced dwarf. Ranol puts the same time and dedication into his weapon training that he does into everything else he devotes himself to, but finding time to practice has gotten difficult now that they're on the road again.
[Frarin] Frarin glances up at Ranol's approach, lifting his brows and nodding in greeting, what with his mouth holding the very thin strips leather. He nods again to indicate he will reply in a moment, but looks down to his hauberk again. One of the squares of leather is covering one of the smaller holes and Frarin has begin threading one of the strips of leather through the square and several of the iron rings of the armour - an attempt at providing some modest replacement of protection.
Soon the square is in place, however, at least enough for Frarin to set the chain mail aside and stand. "Sparring?" he repeats, stretching as if having sat for a time. "I suppose you do not have much of a chance to practice when we are on the road like this, at least unless it is real." He shakes his head. "Which we will probably encounter before long anyhow. Aye, I could do with some practice as well. You use the short broadsword, am I correct?"
[Ranol(#26812)] The clan-karl waits patiently, turning his eyes to the landscape around them until Frarin is finished. "Yes.." Ranol pats the sheathed blade at his side. He is an oddity, and definitely doesn't follow all conventions. His hair is cropped short, his choice of weapon is different than most. The dwarf doesn't do it to be different, he simply goes with whatever is most comfortable to him.
[Frarin] Frarin nods at the clan-karl, silent drawing forth his heavy blue war hammer from his belt and running a hand over the head and spike. He glances around him, then takes up several of the squares of leather intended for his hauberk's repair, tying them around the mallet of the weapon to soften the blow for sparring. "There we are," he says, apparently satisfied. He steps away from his fire and camp, coming more towards the centre of the old tower where it is more open. "Ready?'
Ranol pulls a heavy scarf from under his cloak and draws his blade. He deftly wraps it around the sword snugly, taking that extra precaution despite his confidence that he can safely spar. The last thing he wants is to accidently skewer Frarin. Thari would never forgive him. "Aye.. ready." He responds with a small grin, once the preparations are complete.
[Frarin] Frarin stands at ease as Ranol too prepares his weapon for sparring, but once the clan-karl is readied, Frarin takes up his usual fighting position. Feet are placed well apart, one slightly behind the other, right hand cripping the middle of his war hammer's haft, left hand at the base. He waist then, shifting deftly from foot to foot as he allows Ranol to ready himself as well, and offers the guard the first attack.
COMBAT - Wielded: The Old Lord
[Combat(#13388)] Ranol wields Short Broadsword.
Ranol takes up a basic fighting stance as well. He's strong, but agile. The lighter weapon allows for more maneuvering which suits his style well. The guard isn't overly tough when compared to his kin, but he keeps himself in reasonably good shape. He moves in carefully, making a simple jab at Frarin's midsection as he begins testing the more seasoned dwarf's defense.
Ranol attacks you with his Short Broadsword!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 10 hp's by Ranol's attack...
...you have 87 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Frarin] The clan-karl is indeed agile on his feet, and his blade is light enough to snake in an attack with unexpected speed. Frarin is quick also, but his hammer is heavy and coming from a stationary position rather than with the swinging momentum he usually keeps up in the heat of battle. In slips the short sword and the silversmith makes an attempt to dodge rather than bring his war hammer down quick enough, but his dodge takes him to his right and forward slightly, intended to simultaneously avoid Ranol's attack and bring him around to the guard's exposed left side.
The short broadsword is quick, however, quicker than Frarin, and what might have been a light cut is worsened by the merchant's forward movement. The blade, though wrapped, sinks fully a few inches into Frarin's unarmoured left hip, just above his belt, tearing shirt and flesh. He gives a grunt of surprise as blood quickly stained the material. But despite the successful strike, Frarin is at least where he wants to be. Without a pause, Frarin's hammer swings round towards Ranol's left hip.
You blindly attack Ranol with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Your attack against Ranol mildly wounds him!
Ranol doesn't have his shield, occasionally choosing to fight without it for extra practice if the situation ever arose in battle. Frarin nails him in the hip, but the guard is too distracted by his blunder to react appropriately, and only grimaces as he staggers a step. He's usually focused and so careful when sparring that the sight of the blood sends a sudden panic through him. "Frarin! Oh .. blast it! I'm sorry! I thought you were ready!" He exclaims, moving forward to aid the dwarf who must not be aware of the blood soaking into his tunic, his sword dropping to the ground.
[Frarin] Frarin backs away as Ranol gives up the spar to aid him, his limp now slightly exaggerated. But the silversmith seems to have no intention of letting Ranol near him. Once his war hammer glances off the clan-karl's hip, Frarin retracts it and presses his left elbow to the fresh wound at his side. His teeth are clenched and he gives another quiet grunt, but he waves Ranol away.
"I was ready, cousin," he says gruffly, not dropping his hammer from its readied position as if warding away Ranol's aid were as important as warding away a new attack. "And you were quicker, do not apologise for that. Pick up your sword again, I am fine." The stain spreads, deepening the colour around Frarin's green tunic.
[Ranol(#26812)] "You're -not-!" Ranol protests, horror in his tone for the accident. "It's bad, Frarin. You should get it bound!" The guard glances around to see if any of their kin are near, but they're alone atop the rise. Ranol reaches to pick up his sword, but doesn't raise it to continue the spar.
[Frarin] "Oh for Durin's sake, Ranol," Frarin grumbles with another grunt, still not letting the guard near him. "You're as bad as Thari. I will bind it when we are finished, I have had far worse." His elbow is kept pressed to the wound and the blood at least seems to be thickening some already, for the stain stops spreading, even if it remains wet. The silversmith motions impatiently towards Ranol's dropped sword again. "And there will be times in the heat of battle when you may occasionally strike one of your own without intending to. You cannot let it distract you so."
Ranol tenses under Frarin's criticizing words. The dwarf is still his elder by quite a bit and he takes his instruction seriously. The sword is brought up again as he concedes to continue the spar, but his blue eyes still flicker to the bloody stain with concern. The guard rubs his side, the hit from the hammer aching now that some time has passed, but he steps towards Frarin and makes a more cautious side-swipe at the silver merchant. He's very careful to swing with the flat of his blade now.
Ranol attacks you with his Short Broadsword!...
...and you parry his attack with your War Hammer!
[Frarin] Frarin gives a gruff nod once his orders are obeyed, his elbow coming away from the gash at his side now that they are preparing to fight again. The material at the elbow is likewise freshly stained, but aside from another breathed grunt, the silversmith makes no indication that the stab wound inhibits him. Indeed, once Ranol does renew his attack, Frarin bats away the cautious strike with a clang, his hammer swinging up under the short broadsword and shoving it away.
"You're still distracted, Ranol," Frarin rebukes, sensing the guard's continued hesitancy. He brings his hammer back and aims the very top of it, where the haft ends with smooth metal to split into mallet and spike, at Ranol's chest in a punching sort of motion, to force the guard back a step or two.
You blindly attack Ranol with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Your attack against Ranol mildly wounds him!
Ranol takes the thrust full in the chest and staggers back a step, but quickly regains his balance. He scowls at Frarin's words, not appreciating being reprimanded for showing concern, but he forces himself to focus on the spar completely. If he can best the merchant, he can insist that he see to the injury.
Ranol adjusts his stance, keeping his unprotected left side farthest from his opponent. He sets his jaw and approaches with a grim determination, swinging the flat of the blade lightly down at Frarin's shoulder, intending to keep his attacks short and precise so that he can easily pull back to the defensive again.
Ranol attacks you with his Short Broadsword!...
...and he misses!
[Frarin] Frarin's hammer is already raised and it stays up when Ranol is forced back. With the next attack, Frarin brings back the weapon to defend his shoulder from the guard's downward swipe, but he steps to his right as well, clearing favouring his good right leg over his left. This carries him out of harms way, so that hammer and broadsword do not even meet.
With his hammer so raised to protect his shoulder, it is the work of a moment for Frarin to bring it down again, aiming a glancing blow at Ranol's uninjured hip.
You blindly attack Ranol with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Ranol dodges your attack.
Ranol deftly pulls back again as soon as he feels his sword flow through open air, and just barely avoids the blow from the hammer. He wastes no time pressing in with another attack, his thick black brows tightened in focus. The sword snakes in for a jab again, but he's careful to keep the strike light, lest he risk injuring Frarin again.
Ranol attacks you with his Short Broadsword!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 1 hp's by Ranol's attack...
...you have 86 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Frarin] Frarin's hammer meets thin air as he swings downward and, despite the wound at his side and the focus in his face, he gives a very brief passing smile to himself. The clan-karl is quick though, quick to recover and quick to attack again. His broadsword snakes past Frarin's war hammer, catching the merchant on the left forearm as his weapon's momentum carries downward. It lightly tears the material of his tunic and draws a strip of blood, but is little more than a cut.
He skips away to his right with it, though his limp grows more exaggerated still, suggesting he is beginning to tire with blood loss. But the stubborn old merchant does not seem resigned to end the spar just yet. His hammer swoops up once more, this time aimed at Ranol's thigh.
You blindly attack Ranol with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Ranol parries your attack with his Short Broadsword!
Ranol is breathing heavier now, but he's spry and as that war hammer cuts through the air towards him, he hastily stabs his blade in front of it to deflect the attack away. The clan-karl wastes no time taking advantage of the percieved tiredness in his opponent. He rushes in to press another attack on the dwarf, gripping the haft of his sword with two hands now and tries to shove Frarin back with the flat of the blade, hoping to push him off-balance.
Ranol attacks you with his Short Broadsword!...
...and he misses!
Thari has connected.
[Frarin] The guard's blade does not strike Frarin, but it does still force him back a step, the quick rush causing him to bring his hammer back up quick and step back to get a clear swing. But he leans slightly to the left as if his hip is hurting more now and the material there is still damp with the stain. He steps back again, this time of his own accord rather than being forced, and holds up a hand. "Enough," he says, grunting.
Ranol immediately forestalls his next attack, drawing back. The look of focus melts away as concern washes in again. He pulls the tied cloth from his sword, wiping it clean in the process and shoves the blade into it's scabbard. The strip, also stained, is offered to Frarin. "Use this to wrap it?"
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari rounds a wall nearby. She has abandoned her crutch for now and is leaning against the ruins instead. She looks down as if concentrating but not pained, weight given on her bad leg. Palms to the old wall, she looks up and over at the pair. There is a pause. "Wrap what?" she asks without a greeting, tone already level and forced calm.
Eirdis has arrived.
[Frarin] Frarin drops his hammer so that the mallet rests beside him and the haft leans up against his good side. From a tunic pocket he pulls a handkerchief and wads it up, accepting Ranol's proferred wrap without a word. The rip in the silversmith's tunic is pulled aside, revealing the bloody gash beneath. Frarin dabs his wadded kerchief at the wound briefly, then presses it to it.
But before he can begin to wrap the cloth around himself and bind the wound, the forcibly calm voice of Thari comes from behind him. Frarin pivots on his good leg, his left noticeably limping, a stain the size of a small plate darkening the green material of his tunic just above the belt. Frarin hesitates for a moment. "Ah, just a sparring wound. We've been practising. How are you?" As with every attempt of his to sound casual when speaking less than truthfully to Thari, Frarin fails miserably.
Ranol actually groans softly when he hears Thari's voice. The situation just went from bad to worse. "I'm sorry, Frarin. I am." He rumbles softly, as he runs his hand through his hair, uncertain for a moment of what to do. The dwarf then moves to go offer Thari some aid so that she can get to Frarin's side more quickly. The clan-karl looks miserable, the guilt obvious on his face.
Eirdis watches the sparring and winces when Frarin is injured, then shivers a little as Thari approaches Frarin. She rises from her spot nearby and walks nearer. "May I be of any help, Thari? I realize I've had no formal training, but I do tend to have a natural knack for identifying herbs, and suchlike." She offers a small smile to Ranol, her eyes softening slightly when she glances at him. She returns her gaze to Thari, anxious for an answer.
[Thari(#31038)]
"Frarin Forli's son," Thari begins in a rather stern voice, "if you think you can slip by without letting me-- Ohh, thank you, Ranol." Her voice becomes rather kinder when speaking to her cousin, even though it looks as if he is the cause of the wound. She takes his arm and begins limping toward Frarin. "As if I wouldn't have noticed you'd been hurt," she scoffs.
Her face, however, brightens at Eirdis's offer. "Yes, please, my lass! I've a skin of strong elven wine in my things and a roll of /clean/ bandages--" here she gives Frarin a look. "Would you mind fetching them for me?"
Eirdis nods and trundles off at a quick pace to do Thari's bidding, returning in a mere instant with the wine skin and bandages. She hands Thari the items and offers a few leaves of some kind of plant, known to clot the bleeding of a wound. She simply figured Frarin would need the herb, and brought it out of something she liked to call 'healer's sense'.
[Frarin] Frarin sighs, his attempt at casualness in vain again. He presses his kerchief to the wound again, dabbing up some of the blood again, but does not fight Thari as the healer moves in for a look, nor snap grumpily at Eirdis' offer of aid. "It's nothing," he grumbles, pulling back his kerchief to allow Thari a look. "I just moved the wrong way, that's all." And yet, 'that's all' appears to be a good sized gash, as long as the broadsword is wide and a few inches deep, the blood already thickening as if it has been a few minutes since the wound was delivered. Frarin pulls his tunic free of the belt at his hip, holding it up rather than protesting Thari's aid.
Ranol grows quiet, guiding her to Frarin's side and then stepping back. He lets Frarin handle the explanation, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances at the deep wound. There's still guilt on his face, clearly showing that he was responsible for the injury, as if the wound weren't evidence enough.
[Thari(#31038)]
Yet Thari gives no indication whatsoever that she blames her cousin or is angry with him. "Thank you," she says to Ranol when he has taken her to Frarin. "Lie down," she instructs the silversmith in a sterner voice. "You're going to need stitches."
"Thank you!" she says again-- this time to Eirdis. It appears that everyone is spoken to more gently than the tone Frarin is to receive. She takes the bandages and the wineskin in one hand, along with the leaves. "Oh! You have been reading then! I've been of a mind to teach you a thing or two. If I'm killed there will be no one left to see to the lads except you, lass."
The healer-merchant lowers herself to her knee. "I'm giving you extra stitches," she tells Frarin now, "To make up for that time with the shovel. One of these days you're going to get your leg half cut off and you'll dab at it with a dirty kerchief and next thing you'll know you'll have a festering wound and I'll just have to say that I /told/ you, my dear."
[Eirdis(#23386)] The younger of the two lasses blinks and tugs a bit on her beard self-conciously at Thari's words, kicking a bit of turf with a boot. "Well, aye, I have..." She blinks and looks up when Thari speaks of her death, her face becoming rather red indeed. "You're speaking nonsense, cousin! I, for one, and I believe our other two brethren, would easily lay down our lives for you." She coughs a bit and clears her throat, surprised at herself. "Ah... I mean.. Erebor wouldn't be the same without you, Thari." She glances back at Ranol and blushes a bit, still held by those piercing blue eyes of his.
[Frarin] "What? It's not dirty!" Frarin protests, holding up the bloodied kerchief for proof. The futility of this, however, takes very little time to hit him and he tosses the little wad of cloth aside. Leaning on his hammer, he lowers himself to a stone, stubbornly defying Thari by sitting instead of lying down in front of everyone. His broad black belt is unbuckled and set to the side, and the bottom buttons of his thigh-length tunic undone to allow unrestricted access to the wound. There is a thinner white shirt under that he lifts up.
"I'm fine," he grumbles again, more to himself. "I've had worse, don't know what all the fuss is about." He glances up at Ranol and his lips press together unhappily at the sight of the clan-karl's guilty expression. "Oh stop," Frarin continues his grumbling. "You're acting like this is your fault. It would have been nothing more than a cut if I hadn't moved forward. So just stop."
[Ranol(#26812)] As Thari lays into Frarin, it only makes the guard feel worse, and his feelings are obvious on his face. He gives the merchant another meaningful, apologetic look, but there's little more that he can do to rectify the situation. Frarin snaps at him to stop, and the guard does indeed turn away, but doesn't seem to completely agree with the assessment of whose fault it was. "I should have been more careful." He mutters. He also should have insisted Frarin seek aid immediately, though Thari's reaction gives him a theory as to why the merchant demanded they finish the spar first.
[Thari(#31038)]
"You're going to wish you had lied down," Thari says. She seems to almost be enjoying this. The wine is poured into a rag and this is used to quickly wash Frarin's wound. "The stronger spirits you use the better, Eirdis. I don't know why it works but it does. And if you use elven wine in front of an elf you might make it cry, which is even better in my mind."
Wine runs down Frarin's side and joins the blood in dirtying his trousers. Her eyes are rather steady on his wound and she has a fixed look of concentration. The bandages are unrolled a little and out is taken a small roll of blue cloth, and from there a needle already threaded with green.
She pulls together the edges of the wound and quickly makes the first stitch. "Cut the thread between stitches," she instructs Eirdis next. "Otherwise they'll tear." Thari is practiced at this, it seems, for she is quick as she stitches Frarin's wound. For all of her stern speech she is taking frequent worried glances up toward the silversmith's face as she kneels beside him.
When it is done, she rubs the leaves of Eirdis's herb between her palms and lays it against the line of the cut, holding it there as she presses the bandage against him. Her arms go round Frarin as she winds the bandage around his abdomen, her brow touching his ribcage once.
[Combat Function Library(#15)] Thari tends to the injuries on Frarin.
HEALING: Thari attempts to treat your wounds...
Eirdis does as told, watching carefully and working quickly and quietly, so as not to disturb Thari. She makes detailed mental notes and vows to herself to write everything down in her book, especially what Thari said about the elven wine and how to make an elf cry. She blinks and stands, offering to help Thari to her feet once she finishes. "Thank you for the instruction, cousin," she smiles a bit and adds to Frarin, "Although I do wish the circumstances were... Well, theorectical instead of practical."
Ranol begins to relax as it appears Frarin will be okay. He still feels remorse, but now that the situation is under control he lets some of the guilt go. He has his left hand pressed against his side now, really feeling that bash that Frarin got in with the hammer. "I better go check in with Thane Braldor, see if there's any work to be done." He flicks a glance to Thari, but it's vague at best, and then the clan-karl is retreating from the area.
[Frarin] Frarin says nothing as Thari prepares to pour the alcohol on the gash, but once the wine touches the torn tissue, the merchant's teeth clench and he sucks in a breath through his nose, a grunt in the back of his throat. The application of the disinfectant seems more painful than the wound itself, but Frarin resiliently says nothing. He watches Thari's needlework with the same silent, jaw-tightened expression, but this seems to affect him less than the wine.
The unknown herb also seems to bring a barb of pain, for Frarin sucks in a breath at its contact as well. Peering at Thari, he grumbles, "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
Eirdis blinks and watches Ranol leave, a frown marring her face. She blinks and decides to corner him later. Looking back at Thari and Frarin as the healer works. "Shall I go, cousins? Would you prefer some time to yourselves?" She chews her lower lip a bit, blinking.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari tenses whenever Frarin does, but she works quickly. "Of course I'm not enjoying it," she grumbles at the injured dwarf. She slides her hand over his waist to ensure that the bandage is snug, then ties the knot securely over the wound. "Try not to rip your stitches, dear."
Her head lifts and she looks over at Eirdis. "Hmm?" she asks the other woman. "You're going to go looking for Ranol?"
[Frarin] "Oh yes you are," Frarin grumbles, though there is a tease in his tone despite the pain. "Sweet revenge at my not having mentioned the shovel business. Mmhmm, go ahead, tighten that knot up a bit more, my dear." But he is smiling despite the sarcastic grumbling and looks up to Eirdis, lightly brushing off her offer. "Oh do not worry, cousin Eirdis. You leave me alone with this one and she's like as not to chop of my leg or something else drastic in her revenge."
Eirdis blinks a bit at Frarin and smiles a bit. "N-not entirely what I meant, but.. Ehm.." She blushes deeply and clears her throat the inside of her eyelids still burning with the piercing blue stare of the other man. "Need anything else, cousin Thari?"
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari's hand is gentle as it is laid atop of the knot. "A bit of pressure on the wound is good to stop the bleeding," she says seriously, but a moment later her short moustache parts in a smile. "My vengeance was all in giving you ten more stitches than you needed."
She reaches for Frarin's forearm, making as if to stand. "No, Eirdis, I don't need anything. I thank you for your help."
[Frarin] "Yes, thank you for that, by the way," Frarin continues grumbling teasingly, taking a last look at the stitches before pulling down his white shirt and green tunic and buttoning the garment up again. He supports Thari as she seeks to rise, even despite the small cut on his forearm also earned from the spar, but the silver merchant gives Eirdis a frown as he himself rises. "We do not need to be alone to enjoy each other's company, cousin. But thank you anyhow, and for your help."
Eirdis nods and offers to help Thari up, but is not fast enough in vocalizing her intent, and Frarin helps the other woman to her feet. She notices Frarin's frown and blinks a little, disturbed, wondering if the other two dwarves noticed her looking after Ranol, and subsequent distraction.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari's fingers stray to near Frarin's cut on his forearm. She is looking at it, then dismisses it to look at his face-- apparently she is able to not worry about small cuts on his body. "Yes.." She looks away from Frarin to look at Eirdis and asks suspiciously, "Why do you think we need to be alone so much?"
[Frarin] "Oh Thari, relax," Frarin rumbles, testing the bandage at his hip. His tone is distracted but mildly scolding. But he turns a questioning glance on Eirdis, while still seemingly speaking to Thari. "I trust that our cousins know well enough by now that our honour is intact and will remain until all along the journey home."
Eirdis turns her gaze to Frarin, green eyes flashing, her whole demeanour changing instantly. "I never said anything of the sort, cousin Frarin, and you know it! I wasn't implying---" She shivers a bit, quickly darting a glance in the general direction that Ranol had gone off to. "I beg your pardon, cousins..." She sighs and shurgs, blushing a bit as she asks, "Ever thought someone was absolutely wonderful, but they never noticed you?" She blinks, wide-eyed, realizing she's probably already said too much.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari holds on to Frarin's elbow and tests weight again on her injured leg. It seems to be holding her better lately. After Eirdis speaks, however, the healer's eyes go wide and to the other lady. There is a pause, then a crooked half-smile. "Yes," she answers.
[Frarin] "Oh hush you," Frarin jokingly says, glancing sidelong at Thari with a half-smile of his own. Looking slightly more seriously to Eirdis, the silversmith says quietly, "But I doubt if Ranol is the sort to marry, cousin, I should be wary. He is kind, but at ease with himself as he is. Take note of that. Now, I still havr this hauberk to mend and now I've got to do it with stitch, so help me."
Eirdis blinks some more and kicks at the ground awkwardly, looking anywhere but at Thari, Frarin and where Ranol went. "Never said nothin' 'bout marriage, now, did I?" She wrinkles her nose and shrugs. "Just thought it'd be nice to have someone I enjoyed... Spendin' time with... You know, notice that I appreciate them..."
[Thari(#31038)]
"I think perhaps you ought to be telling Ranol that, Eirdis," Thari says in her practical tone. Frarin starts pulling her away and she bows her head as if in farewell to the other woman. "He may have misunderstood you. He is a good lad, but sometimes lads must be told things bluntly to understand." At this she gives a look up to the dwarf beside her. She smiles in a kindly way to Eirdis and the pair walk off, slowly and mindful of Thari's leg.
Amon Sul
The short, windswept grass tenaciously clings to the top of Amon Sul here, poking up around the ruins of what appears to have once been a great tower. All that is left of it now is a wide ring of eroded foundation stones and a fair number of loose stones scattered about the hilltop. The top of Amon Sul appears peaceful and serene. In all directions below spreads Eriador, this hill offering a spectacular and wide reaching view of the land.
Contents:
Ranol
Dwarven Camp
Obvious exits:
South leads to Weathertop - Southern Base.
North leads to Weathertop - Northern Base.
[Frarin] The dwarves have lingered at Weathertop, having arrived the previous morning and now extending their stay there into the present afternoon. The last vestige of civilisation before the long trek and dangerous trek across the barren lands of Eriador, and then to whatever awaits them at the Last Bridge. So they have rested up, especially to give Thari the strength she needs, and will likely leave on the morrow. But for now the good weather is enjoyed. A small breeze blows up here atop the old watch tower, but it is nothing in comparison to the winds of the plains. Various dwarves doze and make minour repairs.
Frarin sits near his bedroll and fire, though the fire is only smouldering at the moment. He holds several very thin strips of leather between his lips, his attention given over to a knee-length chain mail hauberk that is spread across his lap. The hauberk is sturdy, but clearly damaged, several areas missing multiple rings and leaving gaping holes in the armour. At his side are a few square patches of leather as well, small but very thick and with holes cut around the edges.
Ranol wanders up to Frarin's camp, a cheerful smile on his face. He's in a good mood today, eager to be heading closer towards home again, despite how far away it is. Behind him are the troubles of Bree. "Care for some sparring, cousin?" He asks, always willing to learn a thing or two from the older, more experienced dwarf. Ranol puts the same time and dedication into his weapon training that he does into everything else he devotes himself to, but finding time to practice has gotten difficult now that they're on the road again.
[Frarin] Frarin glances up at Ranol's approach, lifting his brows and nodding in greeting, what with his mouth holding the very thin strips leather. He nods again to indicate he will reply in a moment, but looks down to his hauberk again. One of the squares of leather is covering one of the smaller holes and Frarin has begin threading one of the strips of leather through the square and several of the iron rings of the armour - an attempt at providing some modest replacement of protection.
Soon the square is in place, however, at least enough for Frarin to set the chain mail aside and stand. "Sparring?" he repeats, stretching as if having sat for a time. "I suppose you do not have much of a chance to practice when we are on the road like this, at least unless it is real." He shakes his head. "Which we will probably encounter before long anyhow. Aye, I could do with some practice as well. You use the short broadsword, am I correct?"
[Ranol(#26812)] The clan-karl waits patiently, turning his eyes to the landscape around them until Frarin is finished. "Yes.." Ranol pats the sheathed blade at his side. He is an oddity, and definitely doesn't follow all conventions. His hair is cropped short, his choice of weapon is different than most. The dwarf doesn't do it to be different, he simply goes with whatever is most comfortable to him.
[Frarin] Frarin nods at the clan-karl, silent drawing forth his heavy blue war hammer from his belt and running a hand over the head and spike. He glances around him, then takes up several of the squares of leather intended for his hauberk's repair, tying them around the mallet of the weapon to soften the blow for sparring. "There we are," he says, apparently satisfied. He steps away from his fire and camp, coming more towards the centre of the old tower where it is more open. "Ready?'
Ranol pulls a heavy scarf from under his cloak and draws his blade. He deftly wraps it around the sword snugly, taking that extra precaution despite his confidence that he can safely spar. The last thing he wants is to accidently skewer Frarin. Thari would never forgive him. "Aye.. ready." He responds with a small grin, once the preparations are complete.
[Frarin] Frarin stands at ease as Ranol too prepares his weapon for sparring, but once the clan-karl is readied, Frarin takes up his usual fighting position. Feet are placed well apart, one slightly behind the other, right hand cripping the middle of his war hammer's haft, left hand at the base. He waist then, shifting deftly from foot to foot as he allows Ranol to ready himself as well, and offers the guard the first attack.
COMBAT - Wielded: The Old Lord
[Combat(#13388)] Ranol wields Short Broadsword.
Ranol takes up a basic fighting stance as well. He's strong, but agile. The lighter weapon allows for more maneuvering which suits his style well. The guard isn't overly tough when compared to his kin, but he keeps himself in reasonably good shape. He moves in carefully, making a simple jab at Frarin's midsection as he begins testing the more seasoned dwarf's defense.
Ranol attacks you with his Short Broadsword!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 10 hp's by Ranol's attack...
...you have 87 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Frarin] The clan-karl is indeed agile on his feet, and his blade is light enough to snake in an attack with unexpected speed. Frarin is quick also, but his hammer is heavy and coming from a stationary position rather than with the swinging momentum he usually keeps up in the heat of battle. In slips the short sword and the silversmith makes an attempt to dodge rather than bring his war hammer down quick enough, but his dodge takes him to his right and forward slightly, intended to simultaneously avoid Ranol's attack and bring him around to the guard's exposed left side.
The short broadsword is quick, however, quicker than Frarin, and what might have been a light cut is worsened by the merchant's forward movement. The blade, though wrapped, sinks fully a few inches into Frarin's unarmoured left hip, just above his belt, tearing shirt and flesh. He gives a grunt of surprise as blood quickly stained the material. But despite the successful strike, Frarin is at least where he wants to be. Without a pause, Frarin's hammer swings round towards Ranol's left hip.
You blindly attack Ranol with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Your attack against Ranol mildly wounds him!
Ranol doesn't have his shield, occasionally choosing to fight without it for extra practice if the situation ever arose in battle. Frarin nails him in the hip, but the guard is too distracted by his blunder to react appropriately, and only grimaces as he staggers a step. He's usually focused and so careful when sparring that the sight of the blood sends a sudden panic through him. "Frarin! Oh .. blast it! I'm sorry! I thought you were ready!" He exclaims, moving forward to aid the dwarf who must not be aware of the blood soaking into his tunic, his sword dropping to the ground.
[Frarin] Frarin backs away as Ranol gives up the spar to aid him, his limp now slightly exaggerated. But the silversmith seems to have no intention of letting Ranol near him. Once his war hammer glances off the clan-karl's hip, Frarin retracts it and presses his left elbow to the fresh wound at his side. His teeth are clenched and he gives another quiet grunt, but he waves Ranol away.
"I was ready, cousin," he says gruffly, not dropping his hammer from its readied position as if warding away Ranol's aid were as important as warding away a new attack. "And you were quicker, do not apologise for that. Pick up your sword again, I am fine." The stain spreads, deepening the colour around Frarin's green tunic.
[Ranol(#26812)] "You're -not-!" Ranol protests, horror in his tone for the accident. "It's bad, Frarin. You should get it bound!" The guard glances around to see if any of their kin are near, but they're alone atop the rise. Ranol reaches to pick up his sword, but doesn't raise it to continue the spar.
[Frarin] "Oh for Durin's sake, Ranol," Frarin grumbles with another grunt, still not letting the guard near him. "You're as bad as Thari. I will bind it when we are finished, I have had far worse." His elbow is kept pressed to the wound and the blood at least seems to be thickening some already, for the stain stops spreading, even if it remains wet. The silversmith motions impatiently towards Ranol's dropped sword again. "And there will be times in the heat of battle when you may occasionally strike one of your own without intending to. You cannot let it distract you so."
Ranol tenses under Frarin's criticizing words. The dwarf is still his elder by quite a bit and he takes his instruction seriously. The sword is brought up again as he concedes to continue the spar, but his blue eyes still flicker to the bloody stain with concern. The guard rubs his side, the hit from the hammer aching now that some time has passed, but he steps towards Frarin and makes a more cautious side-swipe at the silver merchant. He's very careful to swing with the flat of his blade now.
Ranol attacks you with his Short Broadsword!...
...and you parry his attack with your War Hammer!
[Frarin] Frarin gives a gruff nod once his orders are obeyed, his elbow coming away from the gash at his side now that they are preparing to fight again. The material at the elbow is likewise freshly stained, but aside from another breathed grunt, the silversmith makes no indication that the stab wound inhibits him. Indeed, once Ranol does renew his attack, Frarin bats away the cautious strike with a clang, his hammer swinging up under the short broadsword and shoving it away.
"You're still distracted, Ranol," Frarin rebukes, sensing the guard's continued hesitancy. He brings his hammer back and aims the very top of it, where the haft ends with smooth metal to split into mallet and spike, at Ranol's chest in a punching sort of motion, to force the guard back a step or two.
You blindly attack Ranol with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Your attack against Ranol mildly wounds him!
Ranol takes the thrust full in the chest and staggers back a step, but quickly regains his balance. He scowls at Frarin's words, not appreciating being reprimanded for showing concern, but he forces himself to focus on the spar completely. If he can best the merchant, he can insist that he see to the injury.
Ranol adjusts his stance, keeping his unprotected left side farthest from his opponent. He sets his jaw and approaches with a grim determination, swinging the flat of the blade lightly down at Frarin's shoulder, intending to keep his attacks short and precise so that he can easily pull back to the defensive again.
Ranol attacks you with his Short Broadsword!...
...and he misses!
[Frarin] Frarin's hammer is already raised and it stays up when Ranol is forced back. With the next attack, Frarin brings back the weapon to defend his shoulder from the guard's downward swipe, but he steps to his right as well, clearing favouring his good right leg over his left. This carries him out of harms way, so that hammer and broadsword do not even meet.
With his hammer so raised to protect his shoulder, it is the work of a moment for Frarin to bring it down again, aiming a glancing blow at Ranol's uninjured hip.
You blindly attack Ranol with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Ranol dodges your attack.
Ranol deftly pulls back again as soon as he feels his sword flow through open air, and just barely avoids the blow from the hammer. He wastes no time pressing in with another attack, his thick black brows tightened in focus. The sword snakes in for a jab again, but he's careful to keep the strike light, lest he risk injuring Frarin again.
Ranol attacks you with his Short Broadsword!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 1 hp's by Ranol's attack...
...you have 86 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
[Frarin] Frarin's hammer meets thin air as he swings downward and, despite the wound at his side and the focus in his face, he gives a very brief passing smile to himself. The clan-karl is quick though, quick to recover and quick to attack again. His broadsword snakes past Frarin's war hammer, catching the merchant on the left forearm as his weapon's momentum carries downward. It lightly tears the material of his tunic and draws a strip of blood, but is little more than a cut.
He skips away to his right with it, though his limp grows more exaggerated still, suggesting he is beginning to tire with blood loss. But the stubborn old merchant does not seem resigned to end the spar just yet. His hammer swoops up once more, this time aimed at Ranol's thigh.
You blindly attack Ranol with your War Hammer...
[Combat(#13388)->Frarin]
Ranol parries your attack with his Short Broadsword!
Ranol is breathing heavier now, but he's spry and as that war hammer cuts through the air towards him, he hastily stabs his blade in front of it to deflect the attack away. The clan-karl wastes no time taking advantage of the percieved tiredness in his opponent. He rushes in to press another attack on the dwarf, gripping the haft of his sword with two hands now and tries to shove Frarin back with the flat of the blade, hoping to push him off-balance.
Ranol attacks you with his Short Broadsword!...
...and he misses!
Thari has connected.
[Frarin] The guard's blade does not strike Frarin, but it does still force him back a step, the quick rush causing him to bring his hammer back up quick and step back to get a clear swing. But he leans slightly to the left as if his hip is hurting more now and the material there is still damp with the stain. He steps back again, this time of his own accord rather than being forced, and holds up a hand. "Enough," he says, grunting.
Ranol immediately forestalls his next attack, drawing back. The look of focus melts away as concern washes in again. He pulls the tied cloth from his sword, wiping it clean in the process and shoves the blade into it's scabbard. The strip, also stained, is offered to Frarin. "Use this to wrap it?"
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari rounds a wall nearby. She has abandoned her crutch for now and is leaning against the ruins instead. She looks down as if concentrating but not pained, weight given on her bad leg. Palms to the old wall, she looks up and over at the pair. There is a pause. "Wrap what?" she asks without a greeting, tone already level and forced calm.
Eirdis has arrived.
[Frarin] Frarin drops his hammer so that the mallet rests beside him and the haft leans up against his good side. From a tunic pocket he pulls a handkerchief and wads it up, accepting Ranol's proferred wrap without a word. The rip in the silversmith's tunic is pulled aside, revealing the bloody gash beneath. Frarin dabs his wadded kerchief at the wound briefly, then presses it to it.
But before he can begin to wrap the cloth around himself and bind the wound, the forcibly calm voice of Thari comes from behind him. Frarin pivots on his good leg, his left noticeably limping, a stain the size of a small plate darkening the green material of his tunic just above the belt. Frarin hesitates for a moment. "Ah, just a sparring wound. We've been practising. How are you?" As with every attempt of his to sound casual when speaking less than truthfully to Thari, Frarin fails miserably.
Ranol actually groans softly when he hears Thari's voice. The situation just went from bad to worse. "I'm sorry, Frarin. I am." He rumbles softly, as he runs his hand through his hair, uncertain for a moment of what to do. The dwarf then moves to go offer Thari some aid so that she can get to Frarin's side more quickly. The clan-karl looks miserable, the guilt obvious on his face.
Eirdis watches the sparring and winces when Frarin is injured, then shivers a little as Thari approaches Frarin. She rises from her spot nearby and walks nearer. "May I be of any help, Thari? I realize I've had no formal training, but I do tend to have a natural knack for identifying herbs, and suchlike." She offers a small smile to Ranol, her eyes softening slightly when she glances at him. She returns her gaze to Thari, anxious for an answer.
[Thari(#31038)]
"Frarin Forli's son," Thari begins in a rather stern voice, "if you think you can slip by without letting me-- Ohh, thank you, Ranol." Her voice becomes rather kinder when speaking to her cousin, even though it looks as if he is the cause of the wound. She takes his arm and begins limping toward Frarin. "As if I wouldn't have noticed you'd been hurt," she scoffs.
Her face, however, brightens at Eirdis's offer. "Yes, please, my lass! I've a skin of strong elven wine in my things and a roll of /clean/ bandages--" here she gives Frarin a look. "Would you mind fetching them for me?"
Eirdis nods and trundles off at a quick pace to do Thari's bidding, returning in a mere instant with the wine skin and bandages. She hands Thari the items and offers a few leaves of some kind of plant, known to clot the bleeding of a wound. She simply figured Frarin would need the herb, and brought it out of something she liked to call 'healer's sense'.
[Frarin] Frarin sighs, his attempt at casualness in vain again. He presses his kerchief to the wound again, dabbing up some of the blood again, but does not fight Thari as the healer moves in for a look, nor snap grumpily at Eirdis' offer of aid. "It's nothing," he grumbles, pulling back his kerchief to allow Thari a look. "I just moved the wrong way, that's all." And yet, 'that's all' appears to be a good sized gash, as long as the broadsword is wide and a few inches deep, the blood already thickening as if it has been a few minutes since the wound was delivered. Frarin pulls his tunic free of the belt at his hip, holding it up rather than protesting Thari's aid.
Ranol grows quiet, guiding her to Frarin's side and then stepping back. He lets Frarin handle the explanation, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances at the deep wound. There's still guilt on his face, clearly showing that he was responsible for the injury, as if the wound weren't evidence enough.
[Thari(#31038)]
Yet Thari gives no indication whatsoever that she blames her cousin or is angry with him. "Thank you," she says to Ranol when he has taken her to Frarin. "Lie down," she instructs the silversmith in a sterner voice. "You're going to need stitches."
"Thank you!" she says again-- this time to Eirdis. It appears that everyone is spoken to more gently than the tone Frarin is to receive. She takes the bandages and the wineskin in one hand, along with the leaves. "Oh! You have been reading then! I've been of a mind to teach you a thing or two. If I'm killed there will be no one left to see to the lads except you, lass."
The healer-merchant lowers herself to her knee. "I'm giving you extra stitches," she tells Frarin now, "To make up for that time with the shovel. One of these days you're going to get your leg half cut off and you'll dab at it with a dirty kerchief and next thing you'll know you'll have a festering wound and I'll just have to say that I /told/ you, my dear."
[Eirdis(#23386)] The younger of the two lasses blinks and tugs a bit on her beard self-conciously at Thari's words, kicking a bit of turf with a boot. "Well, aye, I have..." She blinks and looks up when Thari speaks of her death, her face becoming rather red indeed. "You're speaking nonsense, cousin! I, for one, and I believe our other two brethren, would easily lay down our lives for you." She coughs a bit and clears her throat, surprised at herself. "Ah... I mean.. Erebor wouldn't be the same without you, Thari." She glances back at Ranol and blushes a bit, still held by those piercing blue eyes of his.
[Frarin] "What? It's not dirty!" Frarin protests, holding up the bloodied kerchief for proof. The futility of this, however, takes very little time to hit him and he tosses the little wad of cloth aside. Leaning on his hammer, he lowers himself to a stone, stubbornly defying Thari by sitting instead of lying down in front of everyone. His broad black belt is unbuckled and set to the side, and the bottom buttons of his thigh-length tunic undone to allow unrestricted access to the wound. There is a thinner white shirt under that he lifts up.
"I'm fine," he grumbles again, more to himself. "I've had worse, don't know what all the fuss is about." He glances up at Ranol and his lips press together unhappily at the sight of the clan-karl's guilty expression. "Oh stop," Frarin continues his grumbling. "You're acting like this is your fault. It would have been nothing more than a cut if I hadn't moved forward. So just stop."
[Ranol(#26812)] As Thari lays into Frarin, it only makes the guard feel worse, and his feelings are obvious on his face. He gives the merchant another meaningful, apologetic look, but there's little more that he can do to rectify the situation. Frarin snaps at him to stop, and the guard does indeed turn away, but doesn't seem to completely agree with the assessment of whose fault it was. "I should have been more careful." He mutters. He also should have insisted Frarin seek aid immediately, though Thari's reaction gives him a theory as to why the merchant demanded they finish the spar first.
[Thari(#31038)]
"You're going to wish you had lied down," Thari says. She seems to almost be enjoying this. The wine is poured into a rag and this is used to quickly wash Frarin's wound. "The stronger spirits you use the better, Eirdis. I don't know why it works but it does. And if you use elven wine in front of an elf you might make it cry, which is even better in my mind."
Wine runs down Frarin's side and joins the blood in dirtying his trousers. Her eyes are rather steady on his wound and she has a fixed look of concentration. The bandages are unrolled a little and out is taken a small roll of blue cloth, and from there a needle already threaded with green.
She pulls together the edges of the wound and quickly makes the first stitch. "Cut the thread between stitches," she instructs Eirdis next. "Otherwise they'll tear." Thari is practiced at this, it seems, for she is quick as she stitches Frarin's wound. For all of her stern speech she is taking frequent worried glances up toward the silversmith's face as she kneels beside him.
When it is done, she rubs the leaves of Eirdis's herb between her palms and lays it against the line of the cut, holding it there as she presses the bandage against him. Her arms go round Frarin as she winds the bandage around his abdomen, her brow touching his ribcage once.
[Combat Function Library(#15)] Thari tends to the injuries on Frarin.
HEALING: Thari attempts to treat your wounds...
Eirdis does as told, watching carefully and working quickly and quietly, so as not to disturb Thari. She makes detailed mental notes and vows to herself to write everything down in her book, especially what Thari said about the elven wine and how to make an elf cry. She blinks and stands, offering to help Thari to her feet once she finishes. "Thank you for the instruction, cousin," she smiles a bit and adds to Frarin, "Although I do wish the circumstances were... Well, theorectical instead of practical."
Ranol begins to relax as it appears Frarin will be okay. He still feels remorse, but now that the situation is under control he lets some of the guilt go. He has his left hand pressed against his side now, really feeling that bash that Frarin got in with the hammer. "I better go check in with Thane Braldor, see if there's any work to be done." He flicks a glance to Thari, but it's vague at best, and then the clan-karl is retreating from the area.
[Frarin] Frarin says nothing as Thari prepares to pour the alcohol on the gash, but once the wine touches the torn tissue, the merchant's teeth clench and he sucks in a breath through his nose, a grunt in the back of his throat. The application of the disinfectant seems more painful than the wound itself, but Frarin resiliently says nothing. He watches Thari's needlework with the same silent, jaw-tightened expression, but this seems to affect him less than the wine.
The unknown herb also seems to bring a barb of pain, for Frarin sucks in a breath at its contact as well. Peering at Thari, he grumbles, "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
Eirdis blinks and watches Ranol leave, a frown marring her face. She blinks and decides to corner him later. Looking back at Thari and Frarin as the healer works. "Shall I go, cousins? Would you prefer some time to yourselves?" She chews her lower lip a bit, blinking.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari tenses whenever Frarin does, but she works quickly. "Of course I'm not enjoying it," she grumbles at the injured dwarf. She slides her hand over his waist to ensure that the bandage is snug, then ties the knot securely over the wound. "Try not to rip your stitches, dear."
Her head lifts and she looks over at Eirdis. "Hmm?" she asks the other woman. "You're going to go looking for Ranol?"
[Frarin] "Oh yes you are," Frarin grumbles, though there is a tease in his tone despite the pain. "Sweet revenge at my not having mentioned the shovel business. Mmhmm, go ahead, tighten that knot up a bit more, my dear." But he is smiling despite the sarcastic grumbling and looks up to Eirdis, lightly brushing off her offer. "Oh do not worry, cousin Eirdis. You leave me alone with this one and she's like as not to chop of my leg or something else drastic in her revenge."
Eirdis blinks a bit at Frarin and smiles a bit. "N-not entirely what I meant, but.. Ehm.." She blushes deeply and clears her throat the inside of her eyelids still burning with the piercing blue stare of the other man. "Need anything else, cousin Thari?"
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari's hand is gentle as it is laid atop of the knot. "A bit of pressure on the wound is good to stop the bleeding," she says seriously, but a moment later her short moustache parts in a smile. "My vengeance was all in giving you ten more stitches than you needed."
She reaches for Frarin's forearm, making as if to stand. "No, Eirdis, I don't need anything. I thank you for your help."
[Frarin] "Yes, thank you for that, by the way," Frarin continues grumbling teasingly, taking a last look at the stitches before pulling down his white shirt and green tunic and buttoning the garment up again. He supports Thari as she seeks to rise, even despite the small cut on his forearm also earned from the spar, but the silver merchant gives Eirdis a frown as he himself rises. "We do not need to be alone to enjoy each other's company, cousin. But thank you anyhow, and for your help."
Eirdis nods and offers to help Thari up, but is not fast enough in vocalizing her intent, and Frarin helps the other woman to her feet. She notices Frarin's frown and blinks a little, disturbed, wondering if the other two dwarves noticed her looking after Ranol, and subsequent distraction.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari's fingers stray to near Frarin's cut on his forearm. She is looking at it, then dismisses it to look at his face-- apparently she is able to not worry about small cuts on his body. "Yes.." She looks away from Frarin to look at Eirdis and asks suspiciously, "Why do you think we need to be alone so much?"
[Frarin] "Oh Thari, relax," Frarin rumbles, testing the bandage at his hip. His tone is distracted but mildly scolding. But he turns a questioning glance on Eirdis, while still seemingly speaking to Thari. "I trust that our cousins know well enough by now that our honour is intact and will remain until all along the journey home."
Eirdis turns her gaze to Frarin, green eyes flashing, her whole demeanour changing instantly. "I never said anything of the sort, cousin Frarin, and you know it! I wasn't implying---" She shivers a bit, quickly darting a glance in the general direction that Ranol had gone off to. "I beg your pardon, cousins..." She sighs and shurgs, blushing a bit as she asks, "Ever thought someone was absolutely wonderful, but they never noticed you?" She blinks, wide-eyed, realizing she's probably already said too much.
[Thari(#31038)]
Thari holds on to Frarin's elbow and tests weight again on her injured leg. It seems to be holding her better lately. After Eirdis speaks, however, the healer's eyes go wide and to the other lady. There is a pause, then a crooked half-smile. "Yes," she answers.
[Frarin] "Oh hush you," Frarin jokingly says, glancing sidelong at Thari with a half-smile of his own. Looking slightly more seriously to Eirdis, the silversmith says quietly, "But I doubt if Ranol is the sort to marry, cousin, I should be wary. He is kind, but at ease with himself as he is. Take note of that. Now, I still havr this hauberk to mend and now I've got to do it with stitch, so help me."
Eirdis blinks some more and kicks at the ground awkwardly, looking anywhere but at Thari, Frarin and where Ranol went. "Never said nothin' 'bout marriage, now, did I?" She wrinkles her nose and shrugs. "Just thought it'd be nice to have someone I enjoyed... Spendin' time with... You know, notice that I appreciate them..."
[Thari(#31038)]
"I think perhaps you ought to be telling Ranol that, Eirdis," Thari says in her practical tone. Frarin starts pulling her away and she bows her head as if in farewell to the other woman. "He may have misunderstood you. He is a good lad, but sometimes lads must be told things bluntly to understand." At this she gives a look up to the dwarf beside her. She smiles in a kindly way to Eirdis and the pair walk off, slowly and mindful of Thari's leg.
Players: Ranol, Frarin, Thari, Eirdis
Located in: Erebor
