[Child of the 7th Age]

After finishing breakfast, Andreth glanced over in the direction of Noldor who sat by himself at the edge of the campsite. That morning, when she'd arisen at the first hint of dawn, something unusual had caught her eye. She'd seen Bethberry kneeling down tending to the Elf's wound. Andreth could have sworn that Nardol had replied 'thank you' in return. She'd been surprised to hear even that hint of courtesy.

She fumbled through Whinney's saddebags and pulled out an embroidered canvas and several skeins of thread. The piece was festooned with many colors--gold and silver, sky blue and yellow, forest green and vermillion--heavily worked in a variety of stitches. The canvas attested to the girl's skill with the needle and her budding eye as an artist. Bird might see this as folly or silliness, but to Andreth it was a labor of love.

It shouldn't be long until the others finished their breakfast and they'd be ready to leave the campsite. As she often did in such spare moments, Andreth pulled out her stitchery and began to sew. She called out a shy good morning to the Elf, who had risen awkwardly to tend his mount. He seemed to be limping heavily.

"Does your leg feel any better?" Andreth asked. "My brother is training to be a healer, and he's often commented on Bethberry's skill. Perhaps, you'll choose to ride with us today to take advantage of Bethberry's knowledge and compassion?" Andreth put her nose down again to her handwork, wondering if she'd get an answer, and just how civil it would be.

[ December 18, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]