After a long sleep

Second Floor Hallway: North Wing
A hardwood floor stretches out beneath the feet, from the east end of the hallway where lie two sets of stairs - one going up to the third floor and another down to the second - to the west end of the hallway where it meets up with another hall heading south. White walls stretch up to meet a ceiling with exposed wooden beams. Meandering the length of the hallway from one end to the next reveals several rooms which have been reserved for guests of the Inn. Sconces set into the wall at both ends and the middle of the hallway have been lit to allow passersby plenty of illumination during the night.
Contents:
Thari
Obvious exits:
Connecting Hallway, Downstairs, and Upstairs


[Thari(#31038)] The evening has descended. Downstairs from the common room can be heard the low rumbling of conversation, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter. Beneath that, and from within the rooms, the steady drumming of rain is heard.

One of the doorways opens, and Thari emerges. The flickering yellow light of the sconces picks lines of gold from her hair and beard, both of which are combed, clean now, but left unbraided. Her bandages are changed as well, but she is still wearing her crumpled, torn, travel-stained clothes.

The dwarves have allowed her to sleep, a day and a half she was gone without waking, though surely someone did check in on her. She leans against the hallway wall, blinking at the shadows in the corners.

[Frarin] The creak of floorboards on the staircase below alerts of someone approaching and before long the gentle glow of a single candle turns the walls of the stairway to a warm, golden brown. Suddenly a sweet smell fills the air of the second floor corridor, sweet and tangy, and somehow long forgotten in the month of worries that had plagued the dwarves. For indeed it is pipesmoke, Old Toby if its distinctive scent is any tell.

Soon wisps of blue-grey smoke are drifting up the staircase until at last Frarin comes into view. He bears a small brass candleholder in which is wedged a stubby yellow candle. A long pipe protrudes from his mouth and it is from here that the sweet smoke issues. His travelling cloak is gone and, though he wears still his weary red tunic, the weight of his usual chain mail hauberk does not now burden him. About his head is still wrapped a bandage, clean and white now, but his left hand is unwrapped, a jagged scar to be seen. Walking with head downcast, he watches the stairs as he ascends them, until at last he glances up.

"Oh," is all Frarin says, starting as he sees Thari and coming to a surprised stop only a step from the top of the stairs.

Thari's head turns to watch the stairs as the creaking nears. Her breath deepens for the scent on the air, and then the silver-merchant appears. She smiles at him, her eyes clear and pleased. "Good Master Frarin."

Hand on the wall, she gives a very brief bow and does not topple. "We are in Bree." It is a statement, but underneath, there is a slight question, as if she isn't sure.

[Frarin] The startled look fades from Frarin's face as Thari greets him and he nods to her without a smile, though the harsh lines of his face are relaxed. "Good evening, Thari," says the silver merchant quietly, finishing his ascent. He nods again at her questioning statement, removing the long pipe from his lips before answering. "Aye, we are in Bree. We have been here now almost two days, you have slept nearly the entire time. Do you remember our arrival? Are you feeling any better?"

[Combat Function Library(#15)] Thari tends to the injuries on its own person.

[Thari(#31038)] "Two days!" Thari repeats this in astonishment, leaning back against the wall. "Why..." She glances away briefly. "Why shouldn't I remember our arrival?" Her eyes go back to Frarin again and her shoulders slump slightly. "I have been acting oddly, haven't I?" she asks with a lowered voice.

[Frarin] "You said that your memory had been hazy," Frarin rumbles softly. "I was - well, you have been asleep for nearly a day and half, I knew not what dreams might have troubled your sleep." He takes a step forward as her shoulders slump and a hint of a smile works its way into his cheeks. "You are acting much better now, do not worry. It was thought best to leave you to your sleep until you awoke, there are plenty of others in our company to carry out what tasks were needed." He does not elaborate on either what these so called 'tasks' are or who thought it best to leave Thari asleep, he takes only a pull on his pipe. "But you are feeling better, I trust? It shows in your face. Are you still dizzy?"

[Thari(#31038)] "Hardly dizzy at all," Thari asserts. She studies Frarin in silence for a moment, holding her self still. "It's true-- I must have told you. I remember you coming to me in the battle, then almost nothing afterwards. But you must have been some great help to me, Forli's son, because you were in my dreams as I slept. I thank you, that I did not die. My family will not forget, even if my own memories are slippery right now."

[Frarin] "You were a great help to yourself, Thari," says Frarin without emotion. "I came to you only towards the end of the battle, after you had held your own for some time. Your dreams have been troubled of late, you say this yourself, do not allow your slippery memories to deceive you." His words are not harsh, but firm, with a finality of tone that warns against further argument. Whatever are the silver merchant's thought, payment of a life debt does not seem to be one of them.

His dark eyes regard Thari for a moment after he speaks and a moment later the hardness leaves them. "Forgive me, I meant not to seem harsh. But you should not underestimate yourself. You faired very well under the circumstances. And already you are healing. You will need all the strength you can, for our foes will be very near by now."

[Thari(#31038)] "I meant not in just the battle, Frarin. I meant afterwards as well, for I-- well, nevermind." Thari at last pushes away from the wall and walks toward him. "Here, I should be of what help I can before the enemy is upon us. Let me see to your head." Her left hand reaches for the bandage, her right hanging limply still.

[Frarin] Frarin does not follow up Thari's comment. His eyes are cast downward, an almost stubborn frown falling upon his face as his fellow merchant attempts to explain her meaning. The bowl of his pipe is nestled into the long strands of his brown beard as he looks down and clasps his hands together behind him. As Thari leaves off the subject of Frarin's aid, however, the silver merchant looks up again. He does not attempt to struggle as Thari's hand goes to the bandage about his head, though he slouches so as to lower himself more to the shorter dwarf's height.

As he slumps, however, his eyes pass over the healer's limp right arm. "What is wrong with your arm?" he asks as Thari tends to his bandage. "I had hardly thought of it when your mind was so nonsensical for a time."

[Thari(#31038)] "It was badly hurt and ought to have been in a sling. When I awoke today there was no sling in my room. Did anyone put it in one as we travelled? Why was it taken off?" Thari states all of this briskly while pulling back Frarin's bandage. "Why, Frarin, you're hardly hurt at all! That bruise looks painful, but you do not need a bandage anymore." She tugs it away from his head. "Is there some reason you're wearing it? Have you no other wounds?"

[Frarin] Something of regret comes over Frarin, a worried coming together of the brows and a twitch at the corner of his mouth, as Thari refers to her arm. "No, it has not been in a sling at all. I did not know it needed it. I am a merchant, not a healer." Strangely, he does not seem to take notice of the insight this gives into his role in Thari's care after the battle, an oddity perhaps explained away by Thari's quick questions. Like a beardling he stands there, puffing on his pipe, as she works away.

"I have not needed the bandage for a week at least," he says, speaking around the stem of his pipe. "I wore it first to stop the bleeding where my chain mail dug into the flesh, then to stop the spread of the bruise. But by the time that was no longer necessary, I was too weary to change the bandage myself. And with our arrival in Bree, I have kept the bandage on so as not to scare these people more than need be." He glances down the stairway behind him. "I have given some thought to the reluctance of these Breefolk to believe us, however. Perhaps it would be better to keep the bandage off, then mayhap someone will cease to humour us and act."

[Thari(#31038)] "Yes. I think that's a good idea." Thari's lips thin as she studies the bruise. The bandage is removed entirely and kept at her side. "I'm amazed you weren't funny in the head like me. I'm glad I'm getting better. I've known a dwarf who didn't recover." Her eyes flick to his. "I am getting better, aren't I? Oh, dear me, you did say I was."

Thari steps back with a bit of a sigh and glances away to her room. She frowns. "I'll need help putting on a sling. I can tie the bandage on my shoulder, but asking em to tie something behind my neck is a bit much. It'll tangle in my hair too where I couldn't braid it."

[Frarin] "I have a mind also," Frarin continues as Thari removes the bandage entirely, "towards providing an incentive to the townsfolk to build defenses. An economic incentive, since they seem to care little for our own explanation." He pauses, gently running a finger over the blotchy bruise on his face. The movement brings a cringe to the merchant's eyes, but otherwise he is still. "I am lucky. It was a mallet from one of the warg riders, but upon the strong cheekbone and as I was twisting away." Again something akin to a smile flickers across his face, manifesting itself most strongly in his eyes, which for all their dark, sober grimness, twinkle also ever so slightly with a hidden warmth. "Yes, Thari, you are getting better. Two weeks ago you were still babbling like a young beardling, and two days ago you could hardly stand without unbalancing. Now you can both speak and stand without much difficulty. You are getting better, have no fear."

The silver merchant shifts and comes around to Thari's back. "Here, give me the bandage. It is clean, changed only a few hours ago and used only to cover, rather than to heal."

Thari straightens her posture a bit as Frarin comes behind her. She offers up the bandage behind her. "What economic incentive?" she asks. "Do you mean to hire them and pay them? That's a good idea. Now, I wonder where my purse is? I didn't see it in my room..." her voice trails off in thought.

[Frarin] "Indeed, that was my thought," says Frarin, taking up the ends of the bandage and tucking them under Thari's unbraided hair. "Whether they believe us or not, their woodcutters would find it hard to refuse us if we buy wood for stakes. And there are always strong young lads in need of a job. There are enough merchants in our company to be able to provide the coin that would be needed for such an incentive. Hopefully they will simply believe us, but we cannot continue to wait for that possibility. The orcs could be a week away or a day, we have no scouts to tell us. But if we propose building Bree's defenses at our own expense, the Breefolk will have nothing to lose and everything to gain."

He finishes tying the knot behind Thari's neck and comes around to her front again. "There we are, is that suitable? What's this about a purse? I saw no purse on your person after the battle. Did you keep it on your pony, perhaps?"

Thari holds her right wrist with her left hand and pulls it up to bend the elbow. Her body tightens as she does this, her breathing stopped with a gasp, and does not start until a heartbeat or two after the motion is completed. "The only trouble is, who would want to pay other people to keep them from dying? Why aren't the Breefolk marching out? Why must we pay them?" She bows her head as the knot is tied, then steps away and releases her hand. "Yes, I think that'll do. Hmm... I did keep my purse on Ruby." Her eyes widen. "My Ruby! She died!"

[Frarin] "You forget," Frarin states, voice taking on once more the grim, calculating undertone, "that we are in as great a danger as the people of Bree now. Their fate is ours. We would pay as much for our own chance of survival as theirs. I do not favour the situation anymore than you, Thari. I would have Bree emptied of women and children and have the men and able lads march to meet the approaching host where they may badger the orcs for some time to come! But that will not happen, this town is not so easily roused. There is perhaps some hope in that elf, whatever his purpose was here, but otherwise we are entirely alone. If the dwarves do not act, no one will."

He looks taken aback at Thari's sudden realisation. "Ruby? She was your pony?" Perhaps he would express some sort of sympathy, but something in his nature seems to forbid that, for the moment.

[Thari(#31038)] "Yes, she died, and a good little beast she was, too-- a gift from my dear father." Thari seems more regretful than grieved. She shakes her head a little, then winces. "My purse was on her, too. Damn!"

A sigh. "Well, anyway, yes, you're right in that. I'll wager, however, that Bree will muster once the orcs start killing."

[Frarin] The silver merchant regards Thari as she speaks, the same unmoving expression painted upon his face. "I'm sorry for the loss," he says after some thought, "but we were lucky to escape with our lives. As for your purse, there are plenty in our company who will see you provided for. And if we are unsuccessful, there may be no need for purses at all in the future."

Moving suddenly, Frarin gestures towards the stairs, just as he spouts off a hazy blue smoke ring. "Come, would you like something to eat? You have not eaten in days, you must be famished. Whatever Bree does when the orcs appear is yet to be seen. Perhaps this town's famous mayor that I have heard so much of and seen so little will have a leveler head than the others, but otherwise we must see to our own arrangements. And the first of those is to regain strength. To supper?"

Thari smiles and moves toward the stairs. "Yes," she says. "That's a good idea. Supper and then I'd like to see if my pipe is found somewhere, as your own smoke has quite put me in the mind for one!" Her steps are careful and slow, but markedly less so than before. Left hand on the wall, she descends, her hair capturing his smoke-ring before releasing it.