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Nerindel · 08-09-2009, 10:44 AM

Iomhair

Ma’am! Iomhair thought indignantly do I really look old enough to be called ma’am! she frowned as his gaze drifted to the book in her hand. And although she had not meant to, having nothing at all to hide, she did pull it closer to herself when he enquired as to its content. Gripping it tighter still as the larger of the two men stepped forward demanding in a surprisingly thick southern accent if it was a map. Iomhair was stunned it seemed they really did take her for a spy; well at least the big one seemed too.

But her astonishment soon melted away as the first guard calmed his friend and introduced them both in a more proper manner. That he addressed her as a lady brought the smile again to her lips.

"Who are you and whence did you come from? Your raiment’s and belongings speak of an education that I would guess you have not found around here." The one called Lithor enquired.

“Why master Lithor surely you do not mean to imply that the good people of Rohan are uneducated or is it simply you believe that only the wealthy can afford such privilege?” she quipped; a twinkle lighting her brown eyes as Lithor seemed suitably taken aback.

“Then I fear Master’s I may yet disappoint!” she laughed lightly, “My Name is Iomhair Fearghal of Dale, Esgaroth to be more precise. My Father is a cloth merchant and my mother a seamstress and a very good one at that!” she grinned fixing a lapel and brushing at her skirts lightly.

“I assure you I am no spy! But I am a scribe or a documenter of life if you will and I have come here to offer my services to Lord Edowine of Scarburg.” She continued very matter of fact.

She held out her book to Balvir in the hopes that he may take her word for truth and be done with this interrogation so that they could join the others before the chase was done and that she would not have to settle for a second-hand account. Her gaze drifted momentarily to the stables where the last riders were making their way out into the fading evening light.

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Balvir

Balvir took the offered book and carefully flicked through the pages. That the young woman was from Dale and not somewhere further south had set his mind somewhat at rest, but that her father was a merchant again raised those heckles of doubt, to Balvir merchants were all just as bad as each other but none so much as Cild of Gondor so Balvir decided not to let her father’s occupation and that he may or may not have had dealing in Minas Tirth cloud his judgement; at least for the present.

The young woman seemed genuine in her assent, if a little eager to join in the festivities and that she had managed to leave Lithor lost for words, a feat he was beginning to think impossible brought at least some amusement.

He looked again from the delicately scribed words to the young woman before them. He had initially agreed with his companions assessment but having listened to her speak he now thought there was something a little unpolished in her manner, she had that quick change in temperament that he suspected often got her into trouble and that perhaps she even used to get out of such trouble.

Yes he thought she would bear some watching. But Time was pressing and he suspected Lithor would be just as eager as their new arrival to press on with the festivities. If she was a spy it would discovered in time but at present he saw no threat to Lord Edowine from this young woman, so he nodded his satisfaction and returned the book to Miss Iomhair Fearghal of Dale.

“My Apologises Miss Fearghal, Our Lord Edowine is new to these lands and unfortunately not all are as happy as we with King Eomer's new appointment, so I hope you can understand and forgive our caution this night.”

The young woman nodded her understanding as she took the book from his hands. “If it helps I do have papers of recommendation.” Balvir grinned as Iomhair pointed back towards an old brown trunk on the worn path leading away from the burg. Something told him that she had deliberately left the knowledge of such papers as a last resort.

“No, I think such matters can wait for morning I daresay you are as eager as my companion here to join in the festivities I will see that your trunk is taken off the road and a tent is made ready for your use.”

“Then you shall not be joining us?” the young woman asked in surprise.

“Oh no...!” Lithor laughed, “Master Balvir much prefers his own company and has volunteered to remain on watch here till we return and I suspect long after eh Balvir!” he jibbed lightly.

“Then we shall feast heartily and dance merrily without fear, for Master Balvir guards the Scarburg and all those within!” Iomhair recited with a smile that most would find disarming. But Balvir merely laughed reaffirming his belief that she would have to be watched... especially around the young men of the burg.

“You are too kind in your praise Miss Fearghal, But Lithor is correct it is my charge this night to guard the camp, so I will bid you good hunting and shall take my leave leaving you to the care of my good companion here. Good night.” And with that Balvir turned and walked towards the road where Iomhair’s trunk still sat.

After finding a free tent for the young woman’s heavy trunk, he did a once round the camp before finding Frodide’s who would no doubt welcome a pair of strong hands to help set out tables for the feast to come.

08-09-2009, 10:44 AM	#480
Nerindel Spirited Weaver of Fates Join Date: Apr 2003 Location: In an endless sea of dreams! Posts: 827	Iomhair Ma’am! Iomhair thought indignantly do I really look old enough to be called ma’am! she frowned as his gaze drifted to the book in her hand. And although she had not meant to, having nothing at all to hide, she did pull it closer to herself when he enquired as to its content. Gripping it tighter still as the larger of the two men stepped forward demanding in a surprisingly thick southern accent if it was a map. Iomhair was stunned it seemed they really did take her for a spy; well at least the big one seemed too. But her astonishment soon melted away as the first guard calmed his friend and introduced them both in a more proper manner. That he addressed her as a lady brought the smile again to her lips. "Who are you and whence did you come from? Your raiment’s and belongings speak of an education that I would guess you have not found around here." The one called Lithor enquired. “Why master Lithor surely you do not mean to imply that the good people of Rohan are uneducated or is it simply you believe that only the wealthy can afford such privilege?” she quipped; a twinkle lighting her brown eyes as Lithor seemed suitably taken aback. “Then I fear Master’s I may yet disappoint!” she laughed lightly, “My Name is Iomhair Fearghal of Dale, Esgaroth to be more precise. My Father is a cloth merchant and my mother a seamstress and a very good one at that!” she grinned fixing a lapel and brushing at her skirts lightly. “I assure you I am no spy! But I am a scribe or a documenter of life if you will and I have come here to offer my services to Lord Edowine of Scarburg.” She continued very matter of fact. She held out her book to Balvir in the hopes that he may take her word for truth and be done with this interrogation so that they could join the others before the chase was done and that she would not have to settle for a second-hand account. Her gaze drifted momentarily to the stables where the last riders were making their way out into the fading evening light. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Balvir Balvir took the offered book and carefully flicked through the pages. That the young woman was from Dale and not somewhere further south had set his mind somewhat at rest, but that her father was a merchant again raised those heckles of doubt, to Balvir merchants were all just as bad as each other but none so much as Cild of Gondor so Balvir decided not to let her father’s occupation and that he may or may not have had dealing in Minas Tirth cloud his judgement; at least for the present. The young woman seemed genuine in her assent, if a little eager to join in the festivities and that she had managed to leave Lithor lost for words, a feat he was beginning to think impossible brought at least some amusement. He looked again from the delicately scribed words to the young woman before them. He had initially agreed with his companions assessment but having listened to her speak he now thought there was something a little unpolished in her manner, she had that quick change in temperament that he suspected often got her into trouble and that perhaps she even used to get out of such trouble. Yes he thought she would bear some watching. But Time was pressing and he suspected Lithor would be just as eager as their new arrival to press on with the festivities. If she was a spy it would discovered in time but at present he saw no threat to Lord Edowine from this young woman, so he nodded his satisfaction and returned the book to Miss Iomhair Fearghal of Dale. “My Apologises Miss Fearghal, Our Lord Edowine is new to these lands and unfortunately not all are as happy as we with King Eomer's new appointment, so I hope you can understand and forgive our caution this night.” The young woman nodded her understanding as she took the book from his hands. “If it helps I do have papers of recommendation.” Balvir grinned as Iomhair pointed back towards an old brown trunk on the worn path leading away from the burg. Something told him that she had deliberately left the knowledge of such papers as a last resort. “No, I think such matters can wait for morning I daresay you are as eager as my companion here to join in the festivities I will see that your trunk is taken off the road and a tent is made ready for your use.” “Then you shall not be joining us?” the young woman asked in surprise. “Oh no...!” Lithor laughed, “Master Balvir much prefers his own company and has volunteered to remain on watch here till we return and I suspect long after eh Balvir!” he jibbed lightly. “Then we shall feast heartily and dance merrily without fear, for Master Balvir guards the Scarburg and all those within!” Iomhair recited with a smile that most would find disarming. But Balvir merely laughed reaffirming his belief that she would have to be watched... especially around the young men of the burg. “You are too kind in your praise Miss Fearghal, But Lithor is correct it is my charge this night to guard the camp, so I will bid you good hunting and shall take my leave leaving you to the care of my good companion here. Good night.” And with that Balvir turned and walked towards the road where Iomhair’s trunk still sat. After finding a free tent for the young woman’s heavy trunk, he did a once round the camp before finding Frodide’s who would no doubt welcome a pair of strong hands to help set out tables for the feast to come.