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Bêthberry · 11-17-2002, 09:10 AM

The hot bath had been an indulgence, but a needful one. The warm waters had taken the dirt out of Bethberry's nails, the moss out of her hair, and, more importantly, the chill out of her bones. There was no sense beginning the journey ill, sick, or ailing.

Yet Bethberry scrambled to pack and organize this new batch of herbs in her satchel, pay her bill with the Innkeeper, and begin her accepted role on the journey. She had wished Dagnir had not been so set on Andreth having a chaperon, but she knew fathers and their solicitude for daughters. Hadn't she herself fought that argument many years ago? She chuckled to herself, wondering if Andreth had made that connection yet.

Throwing her bed roll over her shoulder, lugging her bag, and hefting her precious satchel of herbs and salves under her arm, Bethberry made her way through the Great Hall to the bustling group outside. She spied a shy looking hobbit and, a little ways in front of her, the young women who could only be Andreth.

"Well," thought Bethberry to herself, "if ever we need someone to mark a spot, Andreth would be the likely one, her flaming red hair easily visible at great distance." She positioned her self and began her somewhat unusual approach to the recalcitrant young woman.

Her bags provided a ready prompt as their weight caused her to shuffle them around and wobble ungainly. On cue, Bethberry tripped and fell against Andreth, her bedroll unrolling and her satchel partially spilling open, revealing a tantalizing small bag of chocolates and sweets, the two of them then tumbling into the young hobbit.

'Twas an entrance designed to break the ice if not a limb or two.

[ November 17, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

11-17-2002, 09:10 AM	#29
Bêthberry Cryptic Aura Join Date: May 2002 Posts: 5,977	The hot bath had been an indulgence, but a needful one. The warm waters had taken the dirt out of Bethberry's nails, the moss out of her hair, and, more importantly, the chill out of her bones. There was no sense beginning the journey ill, sick, or ailing. Yet Bethberry scrambled to pack and organize this new batch of herbs in her satchel, pay her bill with the Innkeeper, and begin her accepted role on the journey. She had wished Dagnir had not been so set on Andreth having a chaperon, but she knew fathers and their solicitude for daughters. Hadn't she herself fought that argument many years ago? She chuckled to herself, wondering if Andreth had made that connection yet. Throwing her bed roll over her shoulder, lugging her bag, and hefting her precious satchel of herbs and salves under her arm, Bethberry made her way through the Great Hall to the bustling group outside. She spied a shy looking hobbit and, a little ways in front of her, the young women who could only be Andreth. "Well," thought Bethberry to herself, "if ever we need someone to mark a spot, Andreth would be the likely one, her flaming red hair easily visible at great distance." She positioned her self and began her somewhat unusual approach to the recalcitrant young woman. Her bags provided a ready prompt as their weight caused her to shuffle them around and wobble ungainly. On cue, Bethberry tripped and fell against Andreth, her bedroll unrolling and her satchel partially spilling open, revealing a tantalizing small bag of chocolates and sweets, the two of them then tumbling into the young hobbit. 'Twas an entrance designed to break the ice if not a limb or two. [ November 17, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ] __________________ I’ll sing his roots off. I’ll sing a wind up and blow leaf and branch away.