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Bêthberry · 05-06-2004, 07:53 AM

Bethberry had nodded and clapped in time to the music as Hearpwine had danced with Mae and then she had had been deep in conversation with Osric when Aylwen's friends had begun to play. She had been readied, in part, for his story by Oin's effort to honour his people's contribution. She could see why Ruthven enjoyed this dwarf's company.

And then Osric's story had set her nerves aflame, for she had tred some of the game ground he had, not as fighter but as a healer. She had walked the battle site after the noise and fury and battle, amongst the moaning and crying and twitching bodies, holding hands with those who she could not help until they had passed beyond the circles of this world. Others she had seen removed from the filth and stench and bloody earth of the battlefield to the slow torment of the invalid's bed. Her hands, her aprons, her leggings and shoes had been stained as red as the angriest clouds at sunset after Helm's Deep and for many days. Many of those who had not died in battle succumbed in the after days to blood loss, fever, the swelling and pain of putrefaction. Some, some few, she had been able to help, like Osric, not to repair the damage of wound but to limit its effect. Yes, she understood very well the stiffness in his leg.

The close of Eadman's song brought her back to thoughts of the Inn, now so ably run by Aylwen. She looked around and noticed for the first time Taliesin and Strenge deep in conversation with one whose face was not known to her, an itinerant trader it seemed. A seller of wares, here in the Horse! She excused herself from Kransha's company, promising to return, and hastened over to the pedlar. His table was strewn with books, books the like of which was rarely seen in Edoras.

"We are crowded tonight, traveller, and there are many who would appreciate the rest of table and chair which your books cannot appreciate. How came you here to ply your trade in the Mead Hall? " Her words and her look were not unfriendly but not by any means were they soft. This trader would have some fast talking to do.

05-06-2004, 07:53 AM	#110
Bêthberry Cryptic Aura Join Date: May 2002 Posts: 5,978	Bethberry had nodded and clapped in time to the music as Hearpwine had danced with Mae and then she had had been deep in conversation with Osric when Aylwen's friends had begun to play. She had been readied, in part, for his story by Oin's effort to honour his people's contribution. She could see why Ruthven enjoyed this dwarf's company. And then Osric's story had set her nerves aflame, for she had tred some of the game ground he had, not as fighter but as a healer. She had walked the battle site after the noise and fury and battle, amongst the moaning and crying and twitching bodies, holding hands with those who she could not help until they had passed beyond the circles of this world. Others she had seen removed from the filth and stench and bloody earth of the battlefield to the slow torment of the invalid's bed. Her hands, her aprons, her leggings and shoes had been stained as red as the angriest clouds at sunset after Helm's Deep and for many days. Many of those who had not died in battle succumbed in the after days to blood loss, fever, the swelling and pain of putrefaction. Some, some few, she had been able to help, like Osric, not to repair the damage of wound but to limit its effect. Yes, she understood very well the stiffness in his leg. The close of Eadman's song brought her back to thoughts of the Inn, now so ably run by Aylwen. She looked around and noticed for the first time Taliesin and Strenge deep in conversation with one whose face was not known to her, an itinerant trader it seemed. A seller of wares, here in the Horse! She excused herself from Kransha's company, promising to return, and hastened over to the pedlar. His table was strewn with books, books the like of which was rarely seen in Edoras. "We are crowded tonight, traveller, and there are many who would appreciate the rest of table and chair which your books cannot appreciate. How came you here to ply your trade in the Mead Hall? " Her words and her look were not unfriendly but not by any means were they soft. This trader would have some fast talking to do. __________________ I’ll sing his roots off. I’ll sing a wind up and blow leaf and branch away. Last edited by Bêthberry; 05-06-2004 at 08:13 AM.