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Folwren · 05-11-2006, 01:57 PM

The noise of the returning group brought Athwen out of her reverie. She roused herself and stood, ready to offer herself to anyone who needed any help. The only light was that from the fire, and it leaped and danced, sending odd shadows away into the darkness. The horses came near, mere outlines in the greyness, and then they came into the firelight. The riders looked pale, the wounded ones weak and in pain. She took a step forward and then stopped. Osmod and Fion were approaching them. They would be more help than she. She would only get under foot at the moment. Better to put the finishing touches to the meal.

She was going to some saddle bags to get bowls with Dorran’s voice over took her. ‘Oh, bother! I forgot!’ he cried. She heard his hurrying footsteps behind her and as she turned to face him, bowls in hand, he was alright there by her side. ‘My fault, my fault. I was supposed to do the meal. So now I owe you two, I guess. I don’t know what you made, but it smells lovely, and I know the others are hungry.’

He put out his hands to take the bowls from her. Athwen, being preoccupied with answering him, let him take them gently away from her.

‘Nothing special. What can one do without a proper cooking place? I’ve merely used some of the water and cooked up some of the smoked boars meat we had from a few days ago and tossed in a couple vegetables that you found. . .I think it was you. . .’ She didn’t know for certain, though, because she hadn’t been there when they’d found them. ‘And some of the herbs from Leod’s garden,’ she finished. ‘I can do a bit of cooking in a pinch, I think.’

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Arry’s post

While the others saw to Sythric and Vaenosa, Brand urged Lady to a place on the opposite side of the fire. He was glad of the general hubbub of the camp – the settling of the wounded; the preparation of the evening meal. It drew attention away from him.

He sat for a moment in the saddle, catching his breath as he mustered the energy to dismount. His left arm was all but useless now; it was so swollen and very painful.

Lady stood stock still, sensing her owner needed what small assistance she could give. Brand loosed the cinch and let the saddle drop to the ground. He undid the buckle that held her bridle and she backed away as he held onto it, loosing it from her head.

‘Good girl!’ he said, patting her on the neck. He opened one of the small bags tied to the back of the saddle and gave her a handful of oats. ‘There’ll be plenty more once we reach the Golden Hall.’ She eyed him as if skeptically and made no comment save the crunch crunch of her teeth on the grain. Lady looked hopefully for another hand out, but when none was forthcoming, she wandered off a little to nibble on the dried tufts of grass about the edges of the camp.

Brand dragged his pack and bedroll near the fire. Unlike earlier when he felt hot, now he felt quite chilled. Pulling his cloak about him, he sat down carefully on one of his folded blankets and drew the other up over his shoulders, pulling it tight about him. His teeth were chattering despite the heat from the cook fire.

Someone handed him a mug of warm tea . . . and he mumbled out a word of thanks . . .

05-11-2006, 01:57 PM	#382
Folwren Messenger of Hope Join Date: Jun 2005 Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States. Posts: 5,076	The noise of the returning group brought Athwen out of her reverie. She roused herself and stood, ready to offer herself to anyone who needed any help. The only light was that from the fire, and it leaped and danced, sending odd shadows away into the darkness. The horses came near, mere outlines in the greyness, and then they came into the firelight. The riders looked pale, the wounded ones weak and in pain. She took a step forward and then stopped. Osmod and Fion were approaching them. They would be more help than she. She would only get under foot at the moment. Better to put the finishing touches to the meal. She was going to some saddle bags to get bowls with Dorran’s voice over took her. ‘Oh, bother! I forgot!’ he cried. She heard his hurrying footsteps behind her and as she turned to face him, bowls in hand, he was alright there by her side. ‘My fault, my fault. I was supposed to do the meal. So now I owe you two, I guess. I don’t know what you made, but it smells lovely, and I know the others are hungry.’ He put out his hands to take the bowls from her. Athwen, being preoccupied with answering him, let him take them gently away from her. ‘Nothing special. What can one do without a proper cooking place? I’ve merely used some of the water and cooked up some of the smoked boars meat we had from a few days ago and tossed in a couple vegetables that you found. . .I think it was you. . .’ She didn’t know for certain, though, because she hadn’t been there when they’d found them. ‘And some of the herbs from Leod’s garden,’ she finished. ‘I can do a bit of cooking in a pinch, I think.’ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Arry’s post While the others saw to Sythric and Vaenosa, Brand urged Lady to a place on the opposite side of the fire. He was glad of the general hubbub of the camp – the settling of the wounded; the preparation of the evening meal. It drew attention away from him. He sat for a moment in the saddle, catching his breath as he mustered the energy to dismount. His left arm was all but useless now; it was so swollen and very painful. Lady stood stock still, sensing her owner needed what small assistance she could give. Brand loosed the cinch and let the saddle drop to the ground. He undid the buckle that held her bridle and she backed away as he held onto it, loosing it from her head. ‘Good girl!’ he said, patting her on the neck. He opened one of the small bags tied to the back of the saddle and gave her a handful of oats. ‘There’ll be plenty more once we reach the Golden Hall.’ She eyed him as if skeptically and made no comment save the crunch crunch of her teeth on the grain. Lady looked hopefully for another hand out, but when none was forthcoming, she wandered off a little to nibble on the dried tufts of grass about the edges of the camp. Brand dragged his pack and bedroll near the fire. Unlike earlier when he felt hot, now he felt quite chilled. Pulling his cloak about him, he sat down carefully on one of his folded blankets and drew the other up over his shoulders, pulling it tight about him. His teeth were chattering despite the heat from the cook fire. Someone handed him a mug of warm tea . . . and he mumbled out a word of thanks . . . Last edited by piosenniel; 05-11-2006 at 07:25 PM.