Parting

                              Breelands Weather                              
The midday summer air is very hot and dry around you. The day sky is clear with only slight wisps of clouds overhead.

Infirmary
The Infirmary is an area of clean floorboards and white walls. Not a speck of dust or dirt can be found here. Three beds are available for patient's use, each one with a small trunk at its foot for the patient's personal items and a place where a medical chart can be hung. Between the three beds, two curtains have been hung on poles creating a sense of privacy for each invalid, yet allowing the healer's an easy view in. A cabinet with bottles, pouches and scrolls can be seen toward the back of the room. A small chair rests beside it. A set of wooden shelves holds a wash basin, towels and extra blankets. The single window in the infirmary looks out over the front rose garden.
Contents:
Thari
Obvious exits:
Curtain to Main Room

[Frarin] With the sun at its zenith, Bree is practically sweltering this hour. Moisture is teased out of the skin and lips, driving the town indoors for a cool, refreshing pint of beer and some protection from the shade. At the Healing House, the cover offers only so much relief, for the heat of the midday creeps and stagnates the indoor air. The infirmary window is thrown open and its curtains flutter very slightly, but for the most part, there is little to nothing of a breeze to relieve the hot room.

This is most unfortunate, for the infirmary is more crowded today than it has likely been in a good while. With most of the survivors of the battle now returned to Bree, wounded are being treated both within the infirmary and in the main room beyond the curtain. The worst patients have been set up on temporary cots in this room and most now slumber, though the sounds of those being treated in the main room still muffle through the thin curtain.

Frarin lies much as he has for the past few days, with his left shoulder, arm and chest heavily bandaged and his left leg held up in a sling. Across his lap is a small leather bag, very worn, but currently ignored, for the silver merchant sleeps at the moment. He looks not to have moved at all since his first awakening three days earlier, save that his right hand rests now over his chest, rising and falling with every shallow breath.

[Thari(#31038)]

Thari has managed to not interact with Frarin for the last couple of days by managing to fall asleep just when he is coming awake. This unfortunately leaves her concious at times such as now, in the sweating heat of the day, with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling and mull on her pains and swelter. That's what she is doing right now, at least until she tilts her head to instead stare out the window. Her breathing is light and careful, and her right hand worries at the hem of the sheet.

[Frarin] The lightest of breezes comes through the open window, swaying the curtains and softly brushing across the faces of the sleeping to tease them. Tease Frarin it does, and into wakefulness it would seem. The ends of his mustache flutter ever so slightly and he breathes deep, drawing a grimace in his sleep. The grimace in turn bids instinct move his right hand to gently hold the lower ribs of his left side, and as he does so, his eyes slowly come to life.

Blinking groggily, he clears the sleep from his throat and opens his mouth several times. Out of habit, the silver merchant's head rolls to his right to check on Thari, whom he notes is awake as well and staring out the window. "Awake at last," he murmurs, voice croaking as it works itself up out of slumber. "You have been asleep whenever I am awake for the past few days, it seems. Though, I have not often been awake, I think."

[Thari(#31038)]

Thari swallows and does not turn her head to look at him, still staring out the window. "I've been sleeping quite a bit too," she says, voice rough as if she has not spoken since awaking either. She finally shifts and glances at him, fine ruddy brown hairs sticking to her pillow. "Do you need a--? Oh blast, I couldn't get you a drink if you wanted one."

Rhifaroth arrives from the main room.
From Healing House - Main Room, Rhifaroth has left.
Rhifaroth has arrived.

[Frarin] Frarin smiles thinly at the bedridden healer and glances to the window himself. "Do not trouble yourself, Thari. I am all right for the time. Just you rest yourself." Beyond the window the roses in the Healing House's garden lend a lively colour to the hot room, even if they have wilted slightly from the heat and dry air. Frarin frowns at them.

"A shame," he muses, still speaking softly. "We will have missed the last of the faire. They had ale tasting." Compared to his worries of the last few months, such comments seem almost trivial, especially for Frarin. But the silver merchant seems more content now to accept his prescribed rest, now that the constant looming threat is no more. "Still, we might enjoy a pint at the Pony before we go, mm?" The last is directed Thari, as if Frarin senses the healer's frustration. It is, after all, an emotion only too well known to him.

[Thari(#31038)]

Thari briefly studies Frarin's face, but it's a thorough glance as if taking accounting of something, and then she turns away to look out the window again. "I'd forgotten that they have a faire going on. At least we'd preserved their merrymaking, aye? I could use a pint right now, never mind waiting until we're healed. I wonder if these Bree healers will give me one."

[Rhifaroth(#27282)] 
    As Thari looks out the window, a man can be seen to walk up to the Houses. He is a familiar, tall man with grey cloak thrown back from his shoulders, but cowled hood pulled up to cover his head. Almost at once, he is gone from view, having entered into the building.

The silver merchant's eyes flick back from the window as Thari looks to him, but her glance is gone then. He frowns again and begins to look to the window again when her words seem to remind him of something. "That reminds me actually," he says, glancing at the leather bag across his lap and thus missing the approach of the man. Frarin's good hand flips back the opening of the bag and rummages inside for a moment. When it emerges again it holds a flask with a silver top.

"Aha," he says with another thin smile and a glance at Thari. "The last of Thane Ovor's precious ale. I've had no mind to remember it. Here, finish it off, there's naught but a few sips left." He extends his right arm to hold the flask out to Thari, but shakes his head as if reminding himself of her injured left arm. He flicks his wrist to toss the flask, wincing at the movement, but it lands safely at Thari's side on the bed.

[Thari(#31038)]

Thari does, in fact, spot Rhifaroth and watches him as he passes the window. A small thump on the bedside at last the dwarven healer is forced to glance away, first at Frarin, second at the flask. "That's too generous of you, my friend." She takes up the flask and uscrews it carefully with the thumb of the right hand. Just as carefully the opening is tipped to Thari's mouth and slow swallows are taken. Grey eyes shut during this.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)] 
    Dimly, it might be heard that someone has arrived from outside. There aren't any obvious boot steps but there is a voice, somewhat disturbed, that says something about being armed in the Houses of Healing - and then a man's low reply.

    Whatever might have come of that, Rhifaroth brushes the curtain aside and steps into the room, ignoring the vaguely alarmed healer who tags along a few steps behind him. The man wears his blade as before, and the long bow, but now has a full quiver and a small but full pack. He also carries a water skin - he is apparently ready to travel.

    Grey eyes skim the room even though he knows perfectly well where the Dwarves are ... all the same, the man checks the room carefully before he enters into it. His hood still up, shadowing about half of his face, Rhifaroth steps over towards the two cots that Thari and Frarin occupy. His low voice greets them, softly, "Thari... Frarin, I see you are both improved."

[Frarin] Nodding at Thari, Frarin settles back into his pillow, eyes going to the ceiling. "I wouldn't mind a good long stay over at the Longbeard. Durin, it's been years now." He seems content at the musing, but something brings his glance back to the healer and again he frowns, but as he opens his mouth to say something, a disturbance beyond the curtain draws his attention. The silver merchant rolls his head back to the left and dark brows rise with Rhifaroth's entrance.

"Ah, the Stranger makes no stranger of himself," says Frarin, voice still grumbling at a low level but raised slightly to carry to the man. The dwarf looks pleased to see this newest arrival, but his dark gaze takes in the man's attire in one sweep. For the moment, he makes no mention of it though.

[Thari(#31038)]

The flask is lowered and Thari attempts to screw the cap back on with a thumb. "Rhiffarth! Frarin, did you know that Rhiffarth here was the one who put us on the pony? Don't know how far I got us before I passed out. Oh, blast--" The cap flies off of the flask and skitters across the wood floors. Thari leans over to see where it goes until the motion is halted with a gasp of pain.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)] 
    Smoothly, the tall man bends and retrieves the flask's cap, then takes a step or two back to offer it to Thari. His own movement indicates that his left leg still gives him some trouble, though more with stiffness than limping so much, now. Amusement is in his eyes as he gives the small item back to the Healer Dwarf.

    "I've been dragged a few times from battles these past months, Thari. Make nothing of it."

    To Frarin he smiles a little and then it's gone, "Fleatingly, only friend. I am on my way out of town and thought only to stop by for a moment to wish you both well." The man glances from one to the other, no humor now, "I go back north, to seek the trail. We need be certain none shall linger this far west."

[Frarin] "Oh?" says the silver merchant, clearly unaware of Rhifaroth's rendered aid, if indeed he remembers much of the battle at all. "I did not," he continues, looking from Thari to the man. "I did not know you were there at all. Well then." Frowning in thought, Frarin gives a shallow sigh and motions with his right hand. "Then you have once again aided my departure from battle when I was unable. And Thari's also now. I do not know how to thank you, Rhifaroth," Frarin says solemnly, tongue shaping the strange name with a touch more precision that its previous use.

The silver merchant nods to the man as he explains his coming departure from Bree. But, though Frarin remains solemn, there is not quite the same seriousness in his tone as in Rhifaroth's. "That is good. We should be sure they are gone, especially with the Last Bridge broken. But I am grateful you stopped here before taking your leave. There is always the fear that those once hears nothing of have perished. When do you think you shall return? Thari and I, alas, will not likely leave our beds for a month at least, likely more. Will you winter in Bree?"

[Thari(#31038)]
"Thank you there, Rhiffarth," Thari says as the cap is returned. The healer gives a sharp glance aside at Frarin and fingers jerk on the bedsheet. "The Last Bridge is broken? I think I heard something about that. The ponies won't like that very much.

[Thari(#31038)->Frarin] Thari's fingers quickly spell out the message, "I think you're saying his name wrong." She didn't check to see if Frarin is looking at her when she does this, however.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)] 
    The anxious healer woman has departed, but reluctantly, and not until she was certain that this strange man wasn't going to cause any trouble with the injured. Still, she lingers a bit outside of the curtain, trying to keep watch without being too obvious, distrusting the grey clad men in general.

    Rhifaroth smiles thinly at Frarin, "You and Mithrandir, were not alone that night. There were a few of us among the ruins, as well." Of those ruins however, he says nothing more, nor of the fight that night. "There is no need of thanks. If anything, it is I and the others who owe you and your folk our thanks, for helping here. Else we would surely have been too few."

    To Frarin's last question, the man glances out the window and there is a moment before he answers, "I shall not see your departure." Grey eyes flicking back to each of them in turn, he smiles a little and adds, "Likely I will go east, over the mountains before I ere I ever return here."

[Frarin] "No indeed," Frarin says quietly in reply to Thari. "We might see about sending some of the company to see about repairing it. There are no stonemasons among us, but sons of stonemasons perhaps. And enough knowledge betwixt us to suffice in at least a temporary repair. We will need it if we intend to return home."

Frarin says nothing in return to Rhifaroth's own gratitude, but at the man's last comment, the silver merchant's frown slips back into place. His eyes fall for a moment, focusing absently on his slung up leg as if in thought. The fingers of his unharmed right hand drum on the bedsheets beside him, but his gaze grows shadowed, even in the midday light that stream in through the open window.

"I am sorry to hear that," says Frarin at last, glancing back at Rhifaroth. "It may be long before our paths cross again, if ever. Still, no rest for the weary, mm?"

[Thari(#31038)]

"Would probably be a good thing for the lads to go out while we are healing up," Thari says thoughtfully. "Though, on the other hand, I'd hate to split our company up. They'll need the numbers." The healer's head is shaken, hair again tangling over the pillow.

"But that's neither here nor there. Rhiffarth! You must come to the Lonely Mountain sometime! Have you ever been to see us?" Thari's voice sounds almost cheerful when talking to the man.

[Arainafin(#9802)] The contrast between the clean room and the strange figure of the slightly scruffy elven maid is quite striking. She seems a bit nervous, probably unused to being in houses, at least those of men. Peeking in the door she puts on a bright smile when she notes the damaged dwarf has been repaired.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)] 
    There is a bit of that humor back in the man's tone, "I've had enough rest... and some pipeweed and ale." Rhifaroth makes a gesture over his own shoulder, "And I've had time to fletch. But travel my friend, that does not weary me half as much as staying overlong in town."

    Grey eyes slip from Frarin to Thari at her exurberance, his face still half shadowed by the cloak's cowled hood he has not lowered. The tall man hooks the thumb of his left hand into the strap of the water skin and shifts his weight a little off of his bad leg.

     "No, I have yet to be that far north and east, Thari." But at least the Dunadan knows roughly where it might be found. He smiles thinly, "I know not if I ever shall - perhaps, some day."

The sun sinks in the sky and falls below the horizon. Nighttime takes over.

[Frarin] "Thari is right," Frarin nods, glancing to the healer before looking back to Rhifaroth. "If ever you are near to the Lonely Mountain, you will find refuge there. It may not suit the tastes of a man, but it is very dear to us, and even my own traveller's heart does well to rest there." Falling silent for a moment, Frarin finally pulls his leather satchel towards him and again his good hand rustles through the bag. This time, when it emerges, his hand does not grasp a flask, but a small light brown cloth. It has a blood smear upon one side, but seems to hold something else within its folds.

"Twice now you have done me a great service, and now also for Thari," the silver merchant says, serious but not grim. "And you will not allow me to repay that debt, which I do not seek to challenge. But I would offer you something as a friend, if you will allow it."

What that something is, however, remains to be seen, for the strangest of sights steals Frarin's attention. The dwarf's lips part, temporarily taken off guard at the elf maid's entrance. Perhaps such a person in such a place is baffling to the injured dwarf, but even as she smiles brightly at him, he simply stares back, apparently at a loss for words.

[Thari(#31038)]
Thari's attention is drawn to the elf-maid as well, and a stern look that maid is given in silence. At last, however, grey eyes are drawn away and towards Frarin. The silver merchant's hand on the bag is studied, and then his face as he stares at the newcomer.
You paged Thari with 'You RPed in Gondor, yeah? That was one of the places I was thinking about making an alt come summer, though Rina may be recruiting me to Isengard.'.

Arainafin gives the dwarf a careful appraising stare as she backs out through the door. "Good to see you... survived. I was a little worried." She gives a small wave of hello and goodbye as she retreats.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]  
    Rhifaroth's own attention slips from what Frarin was doing, to his startled gaze ... and then quickly the man turns to see who has come, at once guarded and wary. But what he sees is someone unexpected - yet familiar.

    The strange, fey elf maid's appearance, speaking briefly, then at once slipping back out vaguely startles Rhifaroth as well. Almost he looks as though he would depart to follow her.

    But then, he remembers why he came - to say farewell. He stops and looks back to the two injured Dwarves, "You need give me nothing, Frarin. Lest it be of great import to you, I ... would travel lightly." Meaning perhaps, that he has no where to keep things but to carry them with him.

Arainafin goes back to the Main Room.
From Healing House - Main Room, Arainafin arrives from the infirmary.
Arainafin has left.

[Frarin] Frarin says not a word until the elf maid is backing out, then, brows still stitched together, he manages a quiet "Thank you" to her. But she is gone and the silver merchant blinks, as if wondering if the elf had been there at all. Most odd. He shakes his head against his pillow as Rhifaroth's words call back his attention and he takes a moment to reassemble his disturbed train of thought.

When he has, Frarin nods to Rhifaroth. "I know I need give you nothing," he grumbles, setting the cloth on the blanket. His uninjured fingers patiently unwrap the folds of the cloth, revealing a glimmer of silver. "This was meant for my nephew, to be given when I deemed his apprenticeship complete." He mentions nothing of the fact that its original purpose is now no longer necessary. From the cloth he pulls a small round of silver, no bigger than a coin, held on a thin silver chain. The round has a small dent in it as if having been struck.

"I do not know if this will be any service to you, but I would give it if you permit me. It is not much, but it bears my insignia, the seal I set to any work I create. It is not known much beyond Rhovanion, but it may be some use, if ever my acquiantance may serve to benefit you." And indeed, as Frarin holds the small medallion out to Rhifaroth, there can be seen a small letter and a punched star to its right, creating a simple 'F*' sign.

[Thari(#31038)]
Thari briefly glances at the elf maid as she departs but otherwise pays her no mind while watching Frarin. The healer's brows draw up and together. "Ah, Frarin!" says the dwarf in sympathy. Thari's head is lifted to better look at Rhifaroth. "Do take it," the man is urged. "I wish that I had a gift alike to give you, but the orcs are enjoying my own treasures."

[Rhifaroth(#27282)] 
    Frarin's pain at the loss of his kin is not lost on the man. Rhifaroth's brow furrows faintly and his own face is grim as Frarin holds up the small silver pendant. His glaze slips to Thari as she speaks, but when he moves his hand it is not to reach for the item. Instead, that hand sweeps the hood back so that his head is bared.

    "You do me honor, Silversmith." His own voice is low, "I accept your gift, as friend." Slowly, the man puts out his right hand to the offered chain, and looks at the item that was meant for a beloved nephew. "You are the second to gift me with something meant for another, recently. I am sorry for your loss."

[Frarin] Frarin's jaw tightens and he frowns, but he shakes his head as if to brush off Rhifaroth's sympathies, for a second time. "I do not look for pity," he says, somewhat stiffly, perhaps too quickly. "But you have earned in one summer what it takes young dwarves many years to come by. You have done our people an honour. Such a gift, and the respect that accompanies it, is small.

"You are still a stranger to me, Rhifaroth," Frarin continues, speaking low as he places the pendant in the man's outstretched hand. "And I know not whither you go, but I think I can speak for our company at least--" and here Frarin glances with a nod at Thari "--in saying your service will not be forgot."

[Thari(#31038)]

Thari is watching Rhifaroth's hand and thus misses Frarin's glance. "I'll tell my Thane and my father of your aid to us. If you do come to the Lonely Mountain, you will be known and welcome and celebrated. You /must/ come," the healer urges. "My father would be quite taken with you, I believe."

Done speaking, a studying look is given sidelong to Frarin again.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)] 
    The man is ... uncomfortable with all of this attention. He accepts the pendant, then looks at it a moment, noting the craftmanship. Then his hands move to put it on over his head. He does not allow it to lay in sight though, it is carefully tucked beneath his clothing.

    Rhifaroth is quiet as he looks from one to the other of the Dwarves. His face is still grim and he is slow to make a response. It is difficult to make a response to such.

    "I thank you both. But I can not promise to come, Thari. I have ... commiments I must keep first, that will take time."

[Frarin] The silver merchant nods at the man, then places a fist gently against his chest. "Then go again with caution, my friend," he says solemnly, seeming to note Rhifaroth's discomfort. "Perhaps we shall meet again, but until then, fare well." And that is all Frarin says. Although he still frowns, the lines of his face have reassembled into the familiar hard expression, and with this serious, grim look, he nods a last time to the man of the south.

[Thari(#31038)]

"Fare you well," Thari says in a low, soft voice-- gentle almost. The healer's head is nodded toward Rhifaroth as well.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)] 
    Frarin's gesture catches the man's attention more, perhaps, even than the low rumbled words. Rhifaroth inclines his head to Frarin and lifts his own right hand to place his fist over his own heart, heels together - in smooth movement that was once habitual to the man.

    With a second inclination of his bared head to Thari, he then turns quietly to depart. His hands rise to lift his hood back up to shade his face from the bright sun without - and in a moment, he is gone through the curtain and into the day, without a word more.

[Frarin] Frarin still frowns as Rhifaroth departs the Healing House, but who knows what brooding thoughts trouble the injured silver merchant. His brows come together, but he glances to Thari and the familiar stoniness is broken by a small smile. "He is a good person, I think," he says quietly, musingly. "We have been fortunate indeed to know him, and these Rangers of the north. Though I do not greatly expect him to ever come to Erebor."

Fading into thoughtful silence for a moment more, Frarin then looks again to Thari and sighs lightly. "And now, dear Thari, I think I must sleep again. Alas, the parting of friends is more tiring than a hundred battles. And do not let your healer's mind worry over me. I shall be sure to have something to eat when I wake next." Again he smiles thinly, then nods and rolls his head back so that he looks to the ceiling. Gradually, his breathing grows long and deep once more as sleep sweeps over him.

[Thari(#31038)]

"I doubt he'll visit us as well," Thari says in a low voice. As soon as the man leaves, she is struck again by her solemn atmosphere and looks up at the ceiling while tugging at a moustache. "Sleep well, good Frarin. I might eat myself." she tells him quietly.