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Undómë · 05-30-2006, 03:08 PM

The atmosphere about the little camp was subdued. Try as it might, the late autumn’s sunlight could not drive away the pall of apprehension that clung to the company. An unvoiced question added further concern to the already apprehensive group. What would happen if the two wounded men could not ride soon. Would the group break apart, with some going on to Edoras and some staying behind? Or would the whole company stay together until all could travel on?

Brand seemed to be doing better. But he had seemed so before and then worsened to a perilous level. Meghan sat by his side for the greater part of the day, and only at the urging of the Elven healer took some rest.

A close eye, too, was being kept of Sythric. His wound was well-dressed and had seemingly slowed in its tendency to bleed. But Nevtaliel had said that despite her arts, the poison from the Easterling’s weapon must run its course. And that their only hope was that he was strong enough to fight its effects.

Meghan had offered her small pouch of dried meat to Fion and Incana who were making a kettle of soup for the midday and evening meal. Others of the companions had offered up some of their own provisions and a savory broth had been made with bits of meats and some edible tubers which others of the group had been able to find. The soup grew more enticing as the day went on and more bits of meat and vegetables were added to it.

In the early evening, Meghan woke from the much needed nap she had taken. Not meaning to of course . . . she had only thought to close her eyes for a few moments. She woke with a start, the air having grown a little colder as the sun progressed in its downward arc. Sitting up, she stretched her back, trying to work the kinks from it.

Fion sat beside Brand, and nodded at her as she looked his way. He flicked his eyes toward the sleeping figure and then pointed to the empty bowl lying near him. Meghan shivered, a small sliver of excitement racing up her spine at the thought that Brand must be getting better, as he had eaten some of the soup.

She looked over to where Sythric lay. ‘How does he fare? Has he been awake at all?’ she asked one of the companions who sat near the older man.

05-30-2006, 03:08 PM	#417
Undómë Shade of Carn Dûm Join Date: Mar 2005 Posts: 400	The atmosphere about the little camp was subdued. Try as it might, the late autumn’s sunlight could not drive away the pall of apprehension that clung to the company. An unvoiced question added further concern to the already apprehensive group. What would happen if the two wounded men could not ride soon. Would the group break apart, with some going on to Edoras and some staying behind? Or would the whole company stay together until all could travel on? Brand seemed to be doing better. But he had seemed so before and then worsened to a perilous level. Meghan sat by his side for the greater part of the day, and only at the urging of the Elven healer took some rest. A close eye, too, was being kept of Sythric. His wound was well-dressed and had seemingly slowed in its tendency to bleed. But Nevtaliel had said that despite her arts, the poison from the Easterling’s weapon must run its course. And that their only hope was that he was strong enough to fight its effects. Meghan had offered her small pouch of dried meat to Fion and Incana who were making a kettle of soup for the midday and evening meal. Others of the companions had offered up some of their own provisions and a savory broth had been made with bits of meats and some edible tubers which others of the group had been able to find. The soup grew more enticing as the day went on and more bits of meat and vegetables were added to it. In the early evening, Meghan woke from the much needed nap she had taken. Not meaning to of course . . . she had only thought to close her eyes for a few moments. She woke with a start, the air having grown a little colder as the sun progressed in its downward arc. Sitting up, she stretched her back, trying to work the kinks from it. Fion sat beside Brand, and nodded at her as she looked his way. He flicked his eyes toward the sleeping figure and then pointed to the empty bowl lying near him. Meghan shivered, a small sliver of excitement racing up her spine at the thought that Brand must be getting better, as he had eaten some of the soup. She looked over to where Sythric lay. ‘How does he fare? Has he been awake at all?’ she asked one of the companions who sat near the older man. Last edited by Undómë; 05-31-2006 at 03:39 AM.