On the mend

Shepherding Village

This is the home of a small, proud, and independent people who live primarily by herding sheep in the open lands south of the Great East Road. Once driven from this region by troll depredations, they have returned and appear to be prospering, perhaps because they can also profit by trade on the Great East Road.

Or rather.... we should say it /was/ the home of these people. The many sturdy houses and smaller huts clustered on a hill here have mostly been burned. Some are yet standing, more are nothing more than charred timbers. Once, they were safely ensconced behind a deep ditch and wall. The ditch is filled with the ashy ghosts of thorn bushes ... and the gate hangs crookedly, black as charcoal.

But a stone wall is being built by a group of industrious dwarves, and many of the buildings that were still standing have been repaired. The village is now a mixture of the charred, skeletons of houses, and shiny new ones.

A long, low, smoke-stained building, sprawling along the hillside below the caravanserai, appears to the south. Its thatched roof has miraculously escaped burning - though there are black patches across it. Thick lead-paned windows are dark. A group of industrious men and dwarves and a few elves are camped in the open area.

Obvious exits:

Gathering House, Caravanserai, and Great East Road

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| Yfelwydan Time (YST) |

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** Real time is: Thu Apr 22 14:49:14 2010, GMT -8 **

Elendor time is: Dusk on a Rainy Mersday, Day 29 of September 3049.

Note: It\'s daytime out, so do not leave the cover of trees!

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[Ollie(#15066)] A night and a day have gone by since they brought Nurenhir to this small hut - the owners strangely, were glad to vacate it, spending their night in the Gathering House (now that it doesn\'t stink!). Gidon has been out, helping with the construction and other various tasks, though he poked his head in now and then to see how the elf was. But now he is back, having brought his supper (another bowl of the ubiquitous stew) with him. His dog, the hound puppy, follows close at the boy\'s heels.

[Nurenhir(#14756)]

Nurenhir is still lying on the makeshift bracken-bed, wrapped tightly in a dark cloak. The elf raises his head as the boy comes in, and smiles a little. \"Is everything well?\" he asks softly. He himself looks a little better -- the damp is gone, for one, though his gaze is still dark and tired.

A grey-cloaked form trudging through the rain resolves itself into the figure of Brev, pack once again at his shoulder. Work on the village has continued, of course, and carpentry as much in demand as ever the fact that he\'s not been back at the hut since sun-up is understandable, surely?

Be that as it may, he is approaching now, frowning at the little building. As he enters, he almost falls over the gangling pup, and mutters something under his breath that is not spoken in Common but doesn\'t have the ring of an endearment. His gaze automatically jerks up. \"Gidon!\" A brief grin. Then, low-voiced and in his native Dunael, he adds, \"How\'s he been?\"

At the sound of the Elven voice he peers through the dimness of the hut. \"Still breathing, eh?\"

[Ollie(#15066)] Gidon nods, then hesitates. Then he holds out the bowl of stew. \"Here. Brung it for you...\" He doesn\'t look at Nurenhir, and greets Brev with a smile that is wider than normal. In slow careful Dunael, he says, \"Good. I think.\"

[Nurenhir(#14756)]

\"Thank you,\" says Nurenhir gratefully. He reaches forward, though his elbow suddenly jerks and he leans back, cradling the bowl in both hands. Shamefacedly, he wipes a little bit of stew from his arm.

Brev flashes Gidon another of those brief grins, likely in approval at the boy\'s use of Dunael. \"Look in fine form yourself,\" he informs the youth.

Then it\'s time to turn his attention back to Nurenhir. \"It\'s allowed to ask for help, you know,\" he informs the Elf, not slow to note the spilled stew. \"Gidon, can you-\" The words break off mid-sentence. \"No, I\'ll hold the bowl for him. You keep yon little scavenger out of his way.\" A jerk of his head indicates the pup.

He drops his pack to the floor with a thud then crouches down beside the Elf, reaching for the bowl. He does not quite look at the other - now that the Firstborn seems to be on the mend, the old barriers are going up again. \"I can - uh, look at the side, after? Or would you rather I didn\'t?\"

[Ollie(#15066)] \"He won\'t,\" Gidon protests. Again. \"See, look!\" He turns and says, \"Down!\" The puppy, who has been watching the bowl with single-minded concentration gives the boy a reproachful look, but obediently lies down, putting his head on his paws. \"Good boy,\" Gidon says, and the dog\'s tail thumps.

[Nurenhir(#14756)]

The elf hands over the bowl after a hesitation, and unwinds the cloak even more reluctantly. \"There was no one who would sing it shut,\" Nurenhir tells Brev with a smile, though perhaps recognizing the man\'s caution, does not lift his eyes to him.

Brev doesn\'t see - he isn\'t looking - but he chuckles at Gidon. \"Training him, eh? What\'s he to be called? Sure I could come up with a few suggestions ...\" For a moment the twitching at the corners of his mouth becomes a full-blown smirk.

That fades at the talk of \'singing\'. Now it is his turn to twitch, though the contents of the bowl are not spilled. \"Broth first,\" he says briskly and a little hoarsely, tilting the bowl so that Nurenhir can sip at the contents without having to lift an arm above the injured side. \"Time enough for the other later. Not that I\'m singing for you, mind.\"

[Ollie(#15066)] Gidon\'s return grin is part triumph, partly smug. \"I dunno,\" he says, looking critically at his dog. \"I ain\'t thought yet...\" But ponderings on the names of puppies takes second place to wonder at Nurenhir\'s words. \"You.. you can do that?\" he asks, awed, and a little afraid.

[Nurenhir(#14756)]

\"I cannot do it,\" answers Nurenhir with a reassuring laugh, and does his best to sit up. \"But there are others ...\" He raises one hand to support the bowl, so that Brev need not hold it up, although his grip is still shaky.

[Ollie(#15066)] Gidon reaches forward for the bowl, or to help the elf sit up.

Brev turns his head fractionally in the direction of the dog, although most of his attention remains with the bowl - and the elf. How about - and here he offers a flippant word in Dunael. \"Think that\'s .. uh, cur.\" He nods silently as Gidon moves to support the Elf.

\"Others,\" he repeats to Nurenhir. \"Like .. him? The dark one, the Lordly one.\" His jaw tightens.

[Nurenhir(#14756)]

\"Him?\" Nurenhir tilts his head, considering the stew for a moment. \"He might. Although he appears much more inclined to ... killing things. And that which takes life away is opposed to that which restores it.\"

[Ollie(#15066)] Gidon bristles a little. \"He\'s not a cur,\" he says hotly, then subsides, grinning a little sheepishly. \"Maybe Hunter?\" he suggests, having left of some of the more extravagant names that had come to his mind.

What the elf says draws his attention back. \"Why can\'t you?\" he asks.

Killing things? A muscle starts to jump in Brev\'s cheek, and he swallows but says nothing. \"Finished with that bowl?\" he asks instead, noting Nurenhir\'s glance at the stew. \"I can set it aside for now ...\"

To Gidon he offers a shrug. \"Hunter? Sure, if you want. Thought you didn\'t like names too many folk might answer to.\" And there flits a faint shadow of his former grin.

[Nurenhir(#14756)]

\"I\'ll do it,\" Nurenhir insists. The bowl tilts dangerously to the side ere it is set down with a clatter. Then the elf stares down at his hands, \"Life is a difficult thing to give. I am but a lampwright, that may kindle what seems to live into things of metal and wood, but cannot soothe the wounds of my kin -- or of others.\"

[Ollie(#15066)] Gidon reaches a hand to catch the bowl, but it isn\'t needed. The puppy perks its ears at the clatter, lifting its head eagerly, but - at a glance from the Bree lad - settling back sadly. \"How.. how do you /give/ life?\" Gidon asks. \"I din\'t know anybody could do that..\"

He looks over at Brev and smiles a little. \"Guess not. Think of summat else.\"

Brev watches the bowl descend, and shuffles back so that he can pull his pack over. His hands are busy with the buckles, so that he does not look round at Nurenhir\'s speech, but a brow quirks. \"Death can be given with a single stroke of the knife. Why should life be any different?\" Then he snorts. \"I\'m not offering either. Just to check how the cut\'s doing, and give you some of your own choice of remedy. Herbs, that is,\" he adds, in case that needs clarification. \"Right then.\" He reaches brusquely to unwind the bandaging.

To Gidon no further words are spoken, though there is an uneasy stiffening of his shoulders at the lad\'s question.

[Nurenhir(#14756)]

\"I do not know,\" says the elf, his eyes lowered to the bracken. \"You will have to ask another.\" Shifting slightly, he pulls out a stem of dried heather, from where it has been poking him insufferably through the cloak, and moves his arm gingerly away as the bandage is unwound.

[Ollie(#15066)] Ask another. Gidon\'s shoulders slump a little. Like he\'s going to go around asking random elves questions! But he says no more about it, only gesturing to the bowl. \"Should I get more?\"

HEALING: Nurenhir has no critical wounds and you\'d categorize his condition as marginal.

Brev unwraps the bandage in silence, and squints at the wound. \"Stitches seem to be holding, at least,\" is his assessment. \"Wasn\'t planning to touch them yet. And your wits are here, not off ... wherever.\" The words trail off into awkward silence. \"Guess that\'s an improvement. Doesn\'t look to be rotting ... this hurt?\" He presses his fingers down here and there in the vicinity of the wound, careful not to touch cut or stitches.

To Gidon he tosses irritably over his shoulder, \"For Kiern\'s sake, Gidon, just stay. It\'s only flesh.\"

[Nurenhir(#14756)]

\"My wits ... were off?\" Nurenhir blinks once or twice as he is poked, shrinking away a little from the touch. \"No, it does not hurt,\" he says mildly, \"it does not appear to be festering.\"

[Ollie(#15066)] Gidon flushes and ducks his head, staring at the ground. After a minute, he asks quietly, \"Water?\"

\"Mmm.\" Brev, noting the shrinking, gives a non-committal grunt and withdraws his hand.

He shakes his head to Gidon. \"Not this time.\" He pulls a few knobbled roots and a worn-looking wooden bowl from the pack and pushes it in the youth\'s direction with his foot. \"Find some more of the bandages, will you? Don\'t touch /anything/ in the pockets. I\'ll just crush up some of these.\" The roots are peeled with a few deft flicks of his dagger and flattened with its hilt he keeps his gaze fixed on the knife rather than Nurenhir. \"You were muttering things,\" he tells the Elf. \"Figured you were in the spirit world. Know your kind do that.\" The curt speech is statement and not question.

[Nurenhir(#14756)]

\"Oh. I am sorry.\" The elf\'s gaze drops a chill flushes over his skin and he shivers, pulling the cloak back over his shoulders. \"I felt Calendis, my wife. But she is not here.\" Nurenhir smiles slightly, then looks over to Gidon and the pack, attempting to re-shuffle his attention.

[Ollie(#15066)] The boy is looking through the pack, at last pulling out another stack of folded cloths. Now he looks up curiously. \"Where\'s your wife?\" he asks, holding the bandages out to Brev.

Brev also shivers a little, at the confirmation of Elvish \'spirit-walking\'. But ... he was the one who claimed flesh was just flesh, wasn\'t he? Briskly he scoops up some of the pulp on his dagger-blade. \"This\'ll draw out the poisons from the goblin-blade. Filthy, those are.\" He turns briefly to take the bandages from Gidon, and gives a mute shake of his head, a silent appeal in his eyes. Perhaps he would rather not hear an answer?

HEALING: You administer aid to Nurenhir and think that he looks a little better.

[Nurenhir(#14756)]

The elf flinches a little, though it is not from the sight of the blade or the herbal paste applied to the cut. \"She is gone,\" Nurenhir says, eyes dark and dim. \"Gone over the Sea. I could not bear to make her stay. It was long ago, but I can still hear her laugh, at times. Calendis.\" He smiles gently, then leans back. \"Sorry.\"

[Ollie(#15066)] Too late Gidon catches Brev\'s look. Nurenhir is already answering. And the elf\'s tone, and his words, make the boy shiver unaccountably also. \"Um,\" he says, hunting for something normal to say, to break the mood. \"Are - are you hungry? I can get us more stew...\"

Brev carefully keeps his eyes on the bandage he is winding, his head down and his features inscrutable. At Gidon\'s suggestion he looks up, almost too quickly. \"Might not be a bad idea,\" he agrees. He tucks the end of the bandage in and takes a step back to survey his handiwork. \"That\'ll hold if you don\'t take on any more goblins in the next day or two,\" he states drily to Nurenhir, his gaze actually flicking up to face level, though that is a fleeting thing. \"Especially when there\'s others of us to run err-\" He breaks off with a start. \"Damn, I forgot. Got some more of that herb with the pink flowers you use. I\'ll go fetch it, eh?\"? Barely waiting an answer, he moves toward the door.

[Nurenhir(#14756)]

\"Thank you,\" Nurenhir smiles faintly, a chill gone from his gaze that was previously present, and drops his head against the weedy bed. He is staring at the ceiling.

[Ollie(#15066)] Gidon watches Brev\'s haste with a frown, then he shrugs and goes to the door. There, he pauses, looking back inside. \"Bring you some more t\'eat,\" he says, a little shyly, and leaves also. The dog , not waiting to be invited, races after him.