Elendor
Heavy hands and words
Frarin and Rhifaroth meet in the Chetwood and are soon joined by Muirgheal and Ranol, but the conversation is far from friendly
Sort Date: no date set
Location: East Road - Edge of the Chetwood
Game Date: Day 20 of April 3044.
IC Time: Twilight
Weather: Clear, warm
Description:
East Road - Edge of the Chetwood
The ground is flat and lightly forested all about you, except for Bree Hill which stands just down the road to the west. From here you can barely see the houses which dot the side of the hill, giving it an almost scarred look. There is little traffic along the East road at the moment, although usually it is a bustling throughfare. The moment of peace allows you to enjoy the serenity of the Chetwood. Just off the road to the north, hidden partially in the shadows of the trees, lies a wooden building which would appear no longer so very abandoned, though it is still very old. Signs of recent work abound: branches have been trimmed away so that the Inn can be easily approached, the porch has new boards mending gaps, the windows are clean. Most telling of all is the light that shines through the window night and day.
Contents:
Dwarven Camp
Gildor
Imladris Travel Camp
Rhifaroth
Obvious exits:
Decrepit Wooden Building, West, and Southeast
[Frarin] It is dark now, and darker still in the forested Chetwood, but the sky still bears a hint of grey light above the treetops. Beneath them, however, the world is a black and still place. Some distance away there is a small camp of dwarves, and though the savory smells of good food and pipes comes from it, they are fairly quiet.
Just out of hearing distance of the camp wanders one of the dwarves, this one bearing a lantern and clad in a light cloak. Frarin walks with his usual limping gait, coming through the trees with his small lantern held in one hand and a few good logs of wood in another. He is dressed for travel, complete with mail hauberk and war hammer, but he hums quietly to himself as he goes along, light held aloof in search of more firewood.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
It was one of the elves, ever sensitive to sound and scent far more than a man might pick up, that noticed the dwarven camp some distance up the road. As has become their custom on this trip, while the others set up camp for the evening, one or two of the elves in the party scout out ahead and around to be certain of what is in the area and how the road ahead lays. Having returned to their own group and it being early enough that the humans had not yet settled to sleep, word was passed at what was found.
And so it is that Rhifaroth cautiously leaves their own small, hidden encampment to see if he knows any of this dwarven party. And there he sees a lit lantern bobbling about slowly along the edge of the wood.
Careful, the Dunadan eases closer and then finally stops as he observes the other for a few moments in silence. Something about the other seems ... familiar. That limping gait. Softly the baritone voice asks in the night just loud enough to carry faintly, "Be that friend who wanders here, perhaps on his way to his distant home?"
[Frarin] The movement of the lantern comes to a halt, swaying on its hook as the hand that holds it swings back and forth in the darkness to place the location of the voice. There is a wariness in the motion, but the rumbling voice that calls back in the night is keen, suggesting a friendliness beneath the suspicion. "Be that friend, who wanders without home?" Frarin's browned face and straggly beard show a pale yellow as the lantern is held near to his head.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
A soft chuckle in reply. Then quietly, the tall man comes closer, showing himself on the edge of the lantern light. Seeker, or Rhifaroth as some yet remember him, smiles a little in his scar seamed and tattooed face, "Perhaps I make my home where ever my feet take me, friend."
The humor though fades and the voice adds softly, "Do your folk yet intend to make repairs to the Last Bridge?" and then the archer adds before Frarin might give reply, "Is Thari well?"
[Frarin] "Perhaps indeed," Frarin answers, looking towards Seeker as the man steps into the light. A small smile etches itself into the dwarf's cheeks. "Always appearing uncalled for, it seems, and in the most unexpected places." He nods, likewise growing serious with Seeker's questions. "We do. We departed Bree as soon as Thari could ride, for we will need time to repair the bridge, but did not wish to be delayed so long as to keep us from crossing the High Pass before fall."
Frarin frowns somewhat, but gives a little nod to the last question. "He is better. Healing. Well enough to ride, at least. And you, my friend? How have you been?"
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Seeker's gaze slips to watch the darkness around them, not looking too closely at the lantern light which ruins his night vision. A step further back into the darkness and there is the faint sound of the man settling to lean against a tree nearby, his dark silouette faintly visible in the darkness.
"I am well enough. The road before you is quiet. But, Ollie is still in residence - and I fear that I shall not be able to assist you there, now. There are others who perhaps can."
Muirgheal has arrived.
[Frarin] "Good good," Frarin nods when Seeker speaks of the road ahead. "We have had no trouble since leaving Bree. Ollie? That is the troll at the Last Bridge, yes? Yes, we shall have to deal with him...But perhaps he can be distracted. We shall see." He glances first towards the west, then waves the lantern in that direction. "Are you returning to Bree, then?"
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Though he can no longer be seen clearly, the man's voice answers - still kept low and soft in the night, "Aye, Ollie can be distracted ... with meat, and salt. Especially mutton, he is fond of. And it can be obtained at a village a bit further east along the road. But you could only lure it out at night that way. During the day hours Ollie dwells underneath the eastern half of the span."
The archer grows quiet for a moment, listening to the sounds of the night. This close to the marsh there is a riot of sound coming from that direction - frogs, night birds, insects, all caught up in the extasy that is spring.
"Eventually back to Bree, yes." a second, if shorter pause, "What did you folk decide to do with Cordelia? And what news of her, if you know?" The question is asked in the same, quiet tone, without the harshness the topic had previous generated at their parting.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] "Rhifaroth?" A voice calls out in the darkness. Footsteps, then, coming closer, and there's Muirgheal, the man's wife, drawn like a moth to the lantern light on the road. The golden-haired lady looks surprised at Rhifaroth's company, and she takes a step behind her husband. There are elves at her back, also they would not leave her completely unattended even for this short venture.
Ranol has arrived.
[Frarin] Frarin nods at Seeker's suggestion, absently tugging at his beard as the practicalities the bridge's repair are considered for a brief moment. But then the silversmith is nodding again, pushing such plans aside for a moment. It is the man's mention of Cordelia that brings a serious look to the dwarf's face, though it is merely serious, without wariness or defensiveness or even grimness.
"She is fine," Frarin asserts first and looks set to continue when an unfamiliar voice comes from the darkness behind Seeker. The dwarf noticeably tenses, clearly having expected Rhifaroth to be alone as he often is, but the appearance of a women with golden hair seems to assure Frarin. But he saves any greeting of the woman, and the elves who follow her, until after Rhifaroth's questions are questions. Frowning but without hesitation, Frarin says, "We parted on moderate terms and she accepted her punishment. Ten lashes."
Ranol walks in from.. dealing with.. clan-karl business. The dwarf is armed, as usual, but walking with a light step. He has one hand resting easily on the pommel of the short broadsword at his side, and the other hangs loose. When he sees Frarin and Seeker he greets them both with a nod. "Hello."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
The archer leaning against a tree in the darkness just beyound Frarin's lantern light turns his head at the sound of a familiar feminine voice speaking his name. A slight frown, but he puts out his hand to becon the woman closer - to make her welcome. There is no verbal welcome for slim blonde woman as the Dunadan's attention returns to the dwarf rather abruptly.
"Lashes?" Seeker sounds ... surprised. Tensing with a hint of sudden anger, the man keeps his voice low with a bit of effort, "Did I not specifically ask you to choose almost any other punishment for her?"
[Muirgheal(#32535)] Muirgheal, not exactly sure whom Rhifaroth is speaking of, at least always knows when her husband is angry. She comes to stand beside him, but she keeps a little bit of distance. She watches the two dwarves- presumably, at whom his anger is directed- with some curiosity in her dark eyes. Slender fingers play with the jewel in the hilt of her sword idly.
[Frarin] "Ranol," greets Frarin, lightly setting aside his armfull of wood now that a group is gathering. But the clan-karl recieves only a momentary greeting, for the surprise in Seeker's voice does not go unnoticed by the silversmith, though the man's tensing might, given the darkness surrounding. Frarin's frown deepens at Seeker's question, but he nods seriously, hands meeting behind his back.
"You did," he rumbles low, eyes flicking to the woman only once before staying upon Seeker. "And we considered it, and made our decision as fairly as we could. In the end, it was judged that anything less would have been a slap on the wrist."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Angry indeed, though Seeker keeps tight reign upon it, keeping his voice low and level, "Would your folk then do the same to a girl child of one of your own people, Frarin? One who did no actual harm by her own hands in this deed? Who was forced to it by others who did the actual harm - whom you, I, and others have already punished? How very ... heavy handed, -friend-. So very like those who serve Him in your choice."
[Muirgheal(#32535)] "They told us of Dwarven brutality in Dunland, when I was a but child...but I thought those were only tales." Though her voice is very mild and sweet as honey, Muirgheal looks a little menacing when she smiles at the dwarves. A little...feral, like a creature from the dark woods behind her. That's all the input Rhifaroth's wife has for this conversation, so far.
Ranol realizes that more meet with Frarin in the growing shadows, and when he understands the topic of conversation the clan-karl moves to stand quietly next to his kin. His blue eyes watch Rhifaroth as he speaks and his thick black brows narrow at the ranger's accusation. "Cordelia heard the stated punishment and willingly agreed to it. She did not oppose the decision that was made." He states quietly, joining the conversation without invitation.
[Frarin] Tight though Seeker's anger may be reined, his words nonetheless say enough for Frarin to understand just the depth of the man's sudden anger. The silversmith's hands unclasp suddenly, balling into defensive fists, though he does not shout. His voice is as low and level as Seeker's, though his eyes narrow in the lantern light. "Such an accusation? You would make such an accusation? Compare our decision to His?" He sounds almost disbelieving, brushing off Seeker's personal reference to himself without a pause.
Frarin shakes his head with a snort. "How was she already punished by the dwarves? She had answered for her crimes, but not to us, and that was not an end that my company could accept. And her crime was grave indeed in my eyes, to have handed Thari to his captors? You think that not harm by her own hand? The same hand that tipped poison into Thari's pipeweed?"
Lips press tight at the woman's comment behind Seeker, but Frarin's voice remains just as forcibly steady as before. "Dwarves do not commit such crimes, and yet we accept such punishment when it is just. Cordelia herself said it was the way of her own people."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Cold, cold is Seeker's anger. But still he does not blow. The man merely nods, "I did not suggest that your folk not punish her, Frarin. But in your own words you choose the punishment of her own people, His people perhaps. If you only lashed her without bleeding and scarring her, I will perhaps forgive you - I understand your anger. But having seen Tom's own body, beaten to a pulp, I should think that was more than enough to vent your anger. Folk of good heart should never stoop so low. And especially not twice in the same matter. Using their own tactics may be justic to you but it's still the same crimes with new faces."
The Dunadan makes a dismissive gesture, "Go home, Frarin. And take your cursed treasure and loose tongues that started all of this, and brought it upon yourselves, far from here. I wish you well, nonetheless."
Seeker does not wait for a reply. He lightly, but firmly takes the blonde woman's arm without introducing her, and gestures for Muirgheal to head back down the road with him and into the deeper darkness.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] Muirgheal looks a little surprised that they are heading back to camp so soon perhaps she thought that this conflict was going to come to blows. She would have enjoyed a chance to draw her sword, having been parted from it for so long in the Valley. Ah, well. Her husband has taken her arm and is leading her away, and she follows without protest. "Just as well our children might be awake and hungry.." her voice trails off into the dark.
Ranol clenches his teeth tightly at the judging words, and can't stop himself from speaking up. "If you must accuse and direct your anger, Rhifaroth, direct it upon me. Frarin had no hand in the woman's punishment. He neither made the decision nor delivered the lashes. You are quick to accuse without gathering the information, I feel." Normally the clan-karl is so soft-spoken and quiet, but his own anger has been kindled by the ranger. "I was the one that delivered the justice upon Cordelia."
[Frarin] Red flushes Frarin's face and his knuckles whiten as they clench at his side. The mention of Tom especially seems to fuel the dwarf's temper, his jaw tightening with a sharp intake of breath. "You would dare to suggest this was my own personal vendetta? Dare to compare anger of the moment to carefully considered punishment? Do you think that I /enjoyed/ watching a young woman beaten and marked? Truly is your opinion of me so low, /friend/? I did not, nor did I enjoy seeing Thari's bruised and bleeding face, or broken limbs, or shorn beard and hair - a direct result of Cordelia's associations."
These words are growled at Seeker's back, but Frarin pauses to shake his head at Ranol. "Nay, cousin, you are no more guilty than I, for it was a just deed." An accusatory finger is jabbed at the darkness in the direction of Seeker. "His own people, say you? You speak in riddles, Seeker, yet expect others to abide by your own knowledge and customs. We do depart, and not because of the trouble brought upon us by ourselves. We depart because we came into this country to help others and are now leaving it, as I would have you remember! Be gone then, if you would sacrifice a friendship for the sake of such a woman."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
The man and woman disappear into the darkness. A man tired from much hard traveling of late, with many pressing concerns weighing upon him, burdened with anger, disapointment, and painful memories, is in no mood to bicker onin the night. Seeker may indeed lack some details - or not, but if the dwarves depart and never return, will it really matter if their friendship is lost? Or perhaps time will mend some of the rift between them.
In any event, the only reply to Frarin and Ranol is the sound of the Marsh so close. Frogs, night birds, and many insects who don't seem to care one way or another. Nonetheless, Frarin's parting shout about having helped out in a time of need though, that will not be forgotten or dismissed.
Ranol glares into the darkness for a long time, his own hands tightly clenched. Finally after the silence stretches, the dwarf speaks softly. "I don't appreciate the things that man says. He belittles the harm done upon Thari." The clan-karl watches Frarin out of the corner of his eye.
Rhifaroth has disconnected.
Muirgheal has disconnected.
[Frarin] There is still a growl in the back of Frarin's throat as only the sounds of the night greet his reply to Seeker and his free hand clenches and unclenches, the lantern fair swinging as he attempts to hold it over his head. But the pale yellow glow does little to pierce the darkness. Seeker, and whoever the woman was - his wife perhaps? - are gone. Short, heavy breaths are sucked in and out, a muscle twitching under Frarin's right eye.
Only Ranol's voice seems to snap Frarin out of his anger, left so abruptly hanging. The silversmith jerks, head snapping slightly to look at the clan-karl, then Frarin lips part and close again. He sucks in a shaky breath. "I...did not...he was angrier than I expected," he says gruffly. But it seems Frarin will still say nothing bad of the departed man.
[Ranol(#26812)] "Speak your mind cousin. His words were cold and cruel. He had no right to say such things, angry or not." Ranol reaches for the lantern, a silent offer to hold the tool for the merchant. The clan-karl is angry as well, but most of Rhifaroth's ire was aimed at Frarin. Unfairly, in Ranol's opinion. "Better to speak here then let your anger carry with you to Thari's side.." The last is said in a softer tone, a small suggestion.
[Frarin] Frarin relinquishes his grip on the lantern without protest, but now that his temper has not outlet, the silver merchant seems more stunned than anything. He spends another minute or so absently running a hand through his hair as Ranol urges him to speak his thoughts aloud. "No...no, he did not," he rumbles, absently staring at the ground a few feet away. But still he says nothing more.
Stooping, Frarin begins to gather his dropped firewood with a grim expression. "Thari would know my anger anyhow," he mutters, even if that does not make complete sense. Frarin seems almost disoriented. "But she does not need to know the extent of Seeker's anger. It would do no good for her to hear the accusations he threw against...me."
[Ranol(#26812)] "No.. But it does no good for you to hold it in when I have shared in what was said. Please.. I will speak not to anyone, Frarin." Ranol keeps his words soft, his manner patient. The light is held steady at his side and the clan-karl has a concerned frown on his face.
[Frarin] Frarin straightens suddenly, a few faggots of wood cradles in the crook of one hand. "I have just had a man I considered a friend, who has saved my life twice, and who I have defended to my wife-to-be, compare me - personally - to the greatest enemy of all." It is a statement, blunt and serious, but tinged with the merchant's lingering anger and also a sense of betrayal as well. "I do not /know/ what to say to that, Ranol, I will be honest. I...do not know."
Shaking his head with a stiff-upper-lip sort of expression, Frarin stoops to gather the rest of his wood.
[Ranol(#26812)] With Rhifaroth gone, Ranol is unable to hold onto the anger he felt towards the man earlier. Now he is only concerned for Frarin. "It was a hateful thing to say. You must not take it to heart. The man spoke rashly without consideration, his words only meant to force his anger upon you." He fingers the pommel of the sword at his side, an idle gesture.
[Frarin] "He knew not of what he spoke," Frarin growls, seemingly at once agreeing with Ranol and annoyed at his concern. The last of the wood is swept up without delay. "He...knew not. Come on, I'm going back," he says gruffly, with the sort of tone that implies Ranol is welcome to accompany him, despite Frarin's snappish attitude moments before. "Please do not speak to Thari of this meeting. I will do so myself."
[Ranol(#26812)] "I won't. I pray we do not run into that man again. I have no desire to speak with him further." Ranol offers his opinions as he holds the lantern up and moves to walk with Frarin. That expression of concern is still on the clan-karl's face, but he's willing to grow silent if Frarin wants some peace to think.
[Frarin] "Hm," Frarin grunts in return to Ranol's opinion, but either he does not wish to give his own opinion or he does not know it himself, for he is silent otherwise. The silversmith's solemn, brooding attitude is returned in full force and he leads the way with a grim, stony expression. A sidelong glance is given Ranol, something of gratitude there, but Frarin, it seems, is still to stubborn to share his thoughts in full.
East Road - Edge of the Chetwood
The ground is flat and lightly forested all about you, except for Bree Hill which stands just down the road to the west. From here you can barely see the houses which dot the side of the hill, giving it an almost scarred look. There is little traffic along the East road at the moment, although usually it is a bustling throughfare. The moment of peace allows you to enjoy the serenity of the Chetwood. Just off the road to the north, hidden partially in the shadows of the trees, lies a wooden building which would appear no longer so very abandoned, though it is still very old. Signs of recent work abound: branches have been trimmed away so that the Inn can be easily approached, the porch has new boards mending gaps, the windows are clean. Most telling of all is the light that shines through the window night and day.
Contents:
Dwarven Camp
Gildor
Imladris Travel Camp
Rhifaroth
Obvious exits:
Decrepit Wooden Building, West, and Southeast
[Frarin] It is dark now, and darker still in the forested Chetwood, but the sky still bears a hint of grey light above the treetops. Beneath them, however, the world is a black and still place. Some distance away there is a small camp of dwarves, and though the savory smells of good food and pipes comes from it, they are fairly quiet.
Just out of hearing distance of the camp wanders one of the dwarves, this one bearing a lantern and clad in a light cloak. Frarin walks with his usual limping gait, coming through the trees with his small lantern held in one hand and a few good logs of wood in another. He is dressed for travel, complete with mail hauberk and war hammer, but he hums quietly to himself as he goes along, light held aloof in search of more firewood.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
It was one of the elves, ever sensitive to sound and scent far more than a man might pick up, that noticed the dwarven camp some distance up the road. As has become their custom on this trip, while the others set up camp for the evening, one or two of the elves in the party scout out ahead and around to be certain of what is in the area and how the road ahead lays. Having returned to their own group and it being early enough that the humans had not yet settled to sleep, word was passed at what was found.
And so it is that Rhifaroth cautiously leaves their own small, hidden encampment to see if he knows any of this dwarven party. And there he sees a lit lantern bobbling about slowly along the edge of the wood.
Careful, the Dunadan eases closer and then finally stops as he observes the other for a few moments in silence. Something about the other seems ... familiar. That limping gait. Softly the baritone voice asks in the night just loud enough to carry faintly, "Be that friend who wanders here, perhaps on his way to his distant home?"
[Frarin] The movement of the lantern comes to a halt, swaying on its hook as the hand that holds it swings back and forth in the darkness to place the location of the voice. There is a wariness in the motion, but the rumbling voice that calls back in the night is keen, suggesting a friendliness beneath the suspicion. "Be that friend, who wanders without home?" Frarin's browned face and straggly beard show a pale yellow as the lantern is held near to his head.
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
A soft chuckle in reply. Then quietly, the tall man comes closer, showing himself on the edge of the lantern light. Seeker, or Rhifaroth as some yet remember him, smiles a little in his scar seamed and tattooed face, "Perhaps I make my home where ever my feet take me, friend."
The humor though fades and the voice adds softly, "Do your folk yet intend to make repairs to the Last Bridge?" and then the archer adds before Frarin might give reply, "Is Thari well?"
[Frarin] "Perhaps indeed," Frarin answers, looking towards Seeker as the man steps into the light. A small smile etches itself into the dwarf's cheeks. "Always appearing uncalled for, it seems, and in the most unexpected places." He nods, likewise growing serious with Seeker's questions. "We do. We departed Bree as soon as Thari could ride, for we will need time to repair the bridge, but did not wish to be delayed so long as to keep us from crossing the High Pass before fall."
Frarin frowns somewhat, but gives a little nod to the last question. "He is better. Healing. Well enough to ride, at least. And you, my friend? How have you been?"
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Seeker's gaze slips to watch the darkness around them, not looking too closely at the lantern light which ruins his night vision. A step further back into the darkness and there is the faint sound of the man settling to lean against a tree nearby, his dark silouette faintly visible in the darkness.
"I am well enough. The road before you is quiet. But, Ollie is still in residence - and I fear that I shall not be able to assist you there, now. There are others who perhaps can."
Muirgheal has arrived.
[Frarin] "Good good," Frarin nods when Seeker speaks of the road ahead. "We have had no trouble since leaving Bree. Ollie? That is the troll at the Last Bridge, yes? Yes, we shall have to deal with him...But perhaps he can be distracted. We shall see." He glances first towards the west, then waves the lantern in that direction. "Are you returning to Bree, then?"
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Though he can no longer be seen clearly, the man's voice answers - still kept low and soft in the night, "Aye, Ollie can be distracted ... with meat, and salt. Especially mutton, he is fond of. And it can be obtained at a village a bit further east along the road. But you could only lure it out at night that way. During the day hours Ollie dwells underneath the eastern half of the span."
The archer grows quiet for a moment, listening to the sounds of the night. This close to the marsh there is a riot of sound coming from that direction - frogs, night birds, insects, all caught up in the extasy that is spring.
"Eventually back to Bree, yes." a second, if shorter pause, "What did you folk decide to do with Cordelia? And what news of her, if you know?" The question is asked in the same, quiet tone, without the harshness the topic had previous generated at their parting.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] "Rhifaroth?" A voice calls out in the darkness. Footsteps, then, coming closer, and there's Muirgheal, the man's wife, drawn like a moth to the lantern light on the road. The golden-haired lady looks surprised at Rhifaroth's company, and she takes a step behind her husband. There are elves at her back, also they would not leave her completely unattended even for this short venture.
Ranol has arrived.
[Frarin] Frarin nods at Seeker's suggestion, absently tugging at his beard as the practicalities the bridge's repair are considered for a brief moment. But then the silversmith is nodding again, pushing such plans aside for a moment. It is the man's mention of Cordelia that brings a serious look to the dwarf's face, though it is merely serious, without wariness or defensiveness or even grimness.
"She is fine," Frarin asserts first and looks set to continue when an unfamiliar voice comes from the darkness behind Seeker. The dwarf noticeably tenses, clearly having expected Rhifaroth to be alone as he often is, but the appearance of a women with golden hair seems to assure Frarin. But he saves any greeting of the woman, and the elves who follow her, until after Rhifaroth's questions are questions. Frowning but without hesitation, Frarin says, "We parted on moderate terms and she accepted her punishment. Ten lashes."
Ranol walks in from.. dealing with.. clan-karl business. The dwarf is armed, as usual, but walking with a light step. He has one hand resting easily on the pommel of the short broadsword at his side, and the other hangs loose. When he sees Frarin and Seeker he greets them both with a nod. "Hello."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
The archer leaning against a tree in the darkness just beyound Frarin's lantern light turns his head at the sound of a familiar feminine voice speaking his name. A slight frown, but he puts out his hand to becon the woman closer - to make her welcome. There is no verbal welcome for slim blonde woman as the Dunadan's attention returns to the dwarf rather abruptly.
"Lashes?" Seeker sounds ... surprised. Tensing with a hint of sudden anger, the man keeps his voice low with a bit of effort, "Did I not specifically ask you to choose almost any other punishment for her?"
[Muirgheal(#32535)] Muirgheal, not exactly sure whom Rhifaroth is speaking of, at least always knows when her husband is angry. She comes to stand beside him, but she keeps a little bit of distance. She watches the two dwarves- presumably, at whom his anger is directed- with some curiosity in her dark eyes. Slender fingers play with the jewel in the hilt of her sword idly.
[Frarin] "Ranol," greets Frarin, lightly setting aside his armfull of wood now that a group is gathering. But the clan-karl recieves only a momentary greeting, for the surprise in Seeker's voice does not go unnoticed by the silversmith, though the man's tensing might, given the darkness surrounding. Frarin's frown deepens at Seeker's question, but he nods seriously, hands meeting behind his back.
"You did," he rumbles low, eyes flicking to the woman only once before staying upon Seeker. "And we considered it, and made our decision as fairly as we could. In the end, it was judged that anything less would have been a slap on the wrist."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Angry indeed, though Seeker keeps tight reign upon it, keeping his voice low and level, "Would your folk then do the same to a girl child of one of your own people, Frarin? One who did no actual harm by her own hands in this deed? Who was forced to it by others who did the actual harm - whom you, I, and others have already punished? How very ... heavy handed, -friend-. So very like those who serve Him in your choice."
[Muirgheal(#32535)] "They told us of Dwarven brutality in Dunland, when I was a but child...but I thought those were only tales." Though her voice is very mild and sweet as honey, Muirgheal looks a little menacing when she smiles at the dwarves. A little...feral, like a creature from the dark woods behind her. That's all the input Rhifaroth's wife has for this conversation, so far.
Ranol realizes that more meet with Frarin in the growing shadows, and when he understands the topic of conversation the clan-karl moves to stand quietly next to his kin. His blue eyes watch Rhifaroth as he speaks and his thick black brows narrow at the ranger's accusation. "Cordelia heard the stated punishment and willingly agreed to it. She did not oppose the decision that was made." He states quietly, joining the conversation without invitation.
[Frarin] Tight though Seeker's anger may be reined, his words nonetheless say enough for Frarin to understand just the depth of the man's sudden anger. The silversmith's hands unclasp suddenly, balling into defensive fists, though he does not shout. His voice is as low and level as Seeker's, though his eyes narrow in the lantern light. "Such an accusation? You would make such an accusation? Compare our decision to His?" He sounds almost disbelieving, brushing off Seeker's personal reference to himself without a pause.
Frarin shakes his head with a snort. "How was she already punished by the dwarves? She had answered for her crimes, but not to us, and that was not an end that my company could accept. And her crime was grave indeed in my eyes, to have handed Thari to his captors? You think that not harm by her own hand? The same hand that tipped poison into Thari's pipeweed?"
Lips press tight at the woman's comment behind Seeker, but Frarin's voice remains just as forcibly steady as before. "Dwarves do not commit such crimes, and yet we accept such punishment when it is just. Cordelia herself said it was the way of her own people."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
Cold, cold is Seeker's anger. But still he does not blow. The man merely nods, "I did not suggest that your folk not punish her, Frarin. But in your own words you choose the punishment of her own people, His people perhaps. If you only lashed her without bleeding and scarring her, I will perhaps forgive you - I understand your anger. But having seen Tom's own body, beaten to a pulp, I should think that was more than enough to vent your anger. Folk of good heart should never stoop so low. And especially not twice in the same matter. Using their own tactics may be justic to you but it's still the same crimes with new faces."
The Dunadan makes a dismissive gesture, "Go home, Frarin. And take your cursed treasure and loose tongues that started all of this, and brought it upon yourselves, far from here. I wish you well, nonetheless."
Seeker does not wait for a reply. He lightly, but firmly takes the blonde woman's arm without introducing her, and gestures for Muirgheal to head back down the road with him and into the deeper darkness.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] Muirgheal looks a little surprised that they are heading back to camp so soon perhaps she thought that this conflict was going to come to blows. She would have enjoyed a chance to draw her sword, having been parted from it for so long in the Valley. Ah, well. Her husband has taken her arm and is leading her away, and she follows without protest. "Just as well our children might be awake and hungry.." her voice trails off into the dark.
Ranol clenches his teeth tightly at the judging words, and can't stop himself from speaking up. "If you must accuse and direct your anger, Rhifaroth, direct it upon me. Frarin had no hand in the woman's punishment. He neither made the decision nor delivered the lashes. You are quick to accuse without gathering the information, I feel." Normally the clan-karl is so soft-spoken and quiet, but his own anger has been kindled by the ranger. "I was the one that delivered the justice upon Cordelia."
[Frarin] Red flushes Frarin's face and his knuckles whiten as they clench at his side. The mention of Tom especially seems to fuel the dwarf's temper, his jaw tightening with a sharp intake of breath. "You would dare to suggest this was my own personal vendetta? Dare to compare anger of the moment to carefully considered punishment? Do you think that I /enjoyed/ watching a young woman beaten and marked? Truly is your opinion of me so low, /friend/? I did not, nor did I enjoy seeing Thari's bruised and bleeding face, or broken limbs, or shorn beard and hair - a direct result of Cordelia's associations."
These words are growled at Seeker's back, but Frarin pauses to shake his head at Ranol. "Nay, cousin, you are no more guilty than I, for it was a just deed." An accusatory finger is jabbed at the darkness in the direction of Seeker. "His own people, say you? You speak in riddles, Seeker, yet expect others to abide by your own knowledge and customs. We do depart, and not because of the trouble brought upon us by ourselves. We depart because we came into this country to help others and are now leaving it, as I would have you remember! Be gone then, if you would sacrifice a friendship for the sake of such a woman."
[Rhifaroth(#27282)]
The man and woman disappear into the darkness. A man tired from much hard traveling of late, with many pressing concerns weighing upon him, burdened with anger, disapointment, and painful memories, is in no mood to bicker onin the night. Seeker may indeed lack some details - or not, but if the dwarves depart and never return, will it really matter if their friendship is lost? Or perhaps time will mend some of the rift between them.
In any event, the only reply to Frarin and Ranol is the sound of the Marsh so close. Frogs, night birds, and many insects who don't seem to care one way or another. Nonetheless, Frarin's parting shout about having helped out in a time of need though, that will not be forgotten or dismissed.
Ranol glares into the darkness for a long time, his own hands tightly clenched. Finally after the silence stretches, the dwarf speaks softly. "I don't appreciate the things that man says. He belittles the harm done upon Thari." The clan-karl watches Frarin out of the corner of his eye.
Rhifaroth has disconnected.
Muirgheal has disconnected.
[Frarin] There is still a growl in the back of Frarin's throat as only the sounds of the night greet his reply to Seeker and his free hand clenches and unclenches, the lantern fair swinging as he attempts to hold it over his head. But the pale yellow glow does little to pierce the darkness. Seeker, and whoever the woman was - his wife perhaps? - are gone. Short, heavy breaths are sucked in and out, a muscle twitching under Frarin's right eye.
Only Ranol's voice seems to snap Frarin out of his anger, left so abruptly hanging. The silversmith jerks, head snapping slightly to look at the clan-karl, then Frarin lips part and close again. He sucks in a shaky breath. "I...did not...he was angrier than I expected," he says gruffly. But it seems Frarin will still say nothing bad of the departed man.
[Ranol(#26812)] "Speak your mind cousin. His words were cold and cruel. He had no right to say such things, angry or not." Ranol reaches for the lantern, a silent offer to hold the tool for the merchant. The clan-karl is angry as well, but most of Rhifaroth's ire was aimed at Frarin. Unfairly, in Ranol's opinion. "Better to speak here then let your anger carry with you to Thari's side.." The last is said in a softer tone, a small suggestion.
[Frarin] Frarin relinquishes his grip on the lantern without protest, but now that his temper has not outlet, the silver merchant seems more stunned than anything. He spends another minute or so absently running a hand through his hair as Ranol urges him to speak his thoughts aloud. "No...no, he did not," he rumbles, absently staring at the ground a few feet away. But still he says nothing more.
Stooping, Frarin begins to gather his dropped firewood with a grim expression. "Thari would know my anger anyhow," he mutters, even if that does not make complete sense. Frarin seems almost disoriented. "But she does not need to know the extent of Seeker's anger. It would do no good for her to hear the accusations he threw against...me."
[Ranol(#26812)] "No.. But it does no good for you to hold it in when I have shared in what was said. Please.. I will speak not to anyone, Frarin." Ranol keeps his words soft, his manner patient. The light is held steady at his side and the clan-karl has a concerned frown on his face.
[Frarin] Frarin straightens suddenly, a few faggots of wood cradles in the crook of one hand. "I have just had a man I considered a friend, who has saved my life twice, and who I have defended to my wife-to-be, compare me - personally - to the greatest enemy of all." It is a statement, blunt and serious, but tinged with the merchant's lingering anger and also a sense of betrayal as well. "I do not /know/ what to say to that, Ranol, I will be honest. I...do not know."
Shaking his head with a stiff-upper-lip sort of expression, Frarin stoops to gather the rest of his wood.
[Ranol(#26812)] With Rhifaroth gone, Ranol is unable to hold onto the anger he felt towards the man earlier. Now he is only concerned for Frarin. "It was a hateful thing to say. You must not take it to heart. The man spoke rashly without consideration, his words only meant to force his anger upon you." He fingers the pommel of the sword at his side, an idle gesture.
[Frarin] "He knew not of what he spoke," Frarin growls, seemingly at once agreeing with Ranol and annoyed at his concern. The last of the wood is swept up without delay. "He...knew not. Come on, I'm going back," he says gruffly, with the sort of tone that implies Ranol is welcome to accompany him, despite Frarin's snappish attitude moments before. "Please do not speak to Thari of this meeting. I will do so myself."
[Ranol(#26812)] "I won't. I pray we do not run into that man again. I have no desire to speak with him further." Ranol offers his opinions as he holds the lantern up and moves to walk with Frarin. That expression of concern is still on the clan-karl's face, but he's willing to grow silent if Frarin wants some peace to think.
[Frarin] "Hm," Frarin grunts in return to Ranol's opinion, but either he does not wish to give his own opinion or he does not know it himself, for he is silent otherwise. The silversmith's solemn, brooding attitude is returned in full force and he leads the way with a grim, stony expression. A sidelong glance is given Ranol, something of gratitude there, but Frarin, it seems, is still to stubborn to share his thoughts in full.
Players: Frarin, Ranol, Rhifaroth, Muirgheal
