Belenos and Lihan Taifun
Eilif raises her eyes to the sky as she walks looking for some hope of clouds, but the sun shines as bright and unremittingly as it has done throughout the day. By now at least, with it rapidly slipping below the treetops, the air was cooling rapidly and for this she was grateful. The steepness of the road of earlier in the day seems to be leveling out as it follows a wide valley.
This day that had dawned so clear and bright, buoying the spirits of the little party of travelers as they set out from their ancestral home, has stayed clear and bright, bringing with it a warmth that reminds the little band that Summer will soon follow Spring. Adding to this, at times the valley winds had brought a waft of sultry warm air from the lowlands by the coast, a reminder of what lay ahead of them. To Eilif it is one more reminder of what she is leaving behind. A reminder too, of how foolish she has been to set out on this journey wearing armor, even armor as relatively light as hers.
Trudging down a road that has suffered through the Winter storms, and, at times, had seemed almost a quagmire from the Spring rains, has been a very different thing to her days spent in the cool stone depths of Gamilfûn. There, other than when working her forge or seeking her bed, it had been rare indeed for any to see Eilif wearing anything but her armour. It is her Badge of Office, almost. Not one for domestic life, her attire proclaims to all her ambitions in life. She is an Armorer, a Weaponsmith. It is who she is. She feels secure wearing it, safe, protected. That morning it had seemed a natural choice to her when confronted with the reality of leaving her home, her beloved mountains and her parents, both entombed deep within those mountains. She had need to feel protected.
That need had seemed much less urgent in the middle of the day as sweat itched her skin beneath the chainmail and prickled annoyingly under the heavy bandages on her arm. The pauldrons had weighed heavily on her shoulders, the strap of her satchel and bedroll had added to the weight and her heavy armoured boots had seemed to become heavier and heavier with each step she took. "A few days away from the forge and you have become soft," she mutters to herself. She glances down at her arm where she carries it tucked on top of her satchel, for it aches abominably if she leaves it swing by her side for too long. How long will it be until she is back at a forge again, she wonders.
Eilif clicks her tongue in annoyance. Enough of this! If the future seems uncertain for her, how much more so must it seem for the little mother who walks a short way ahead of her. The very nature of all the Khazad means they detest everything that has happened to this small group in recent times. Change, upheaval, being uprooted from their ancient home, it galls them all, she knew. But how much more has this one walking stoically ahead of her endured? She hurries her steps to catch up until she is striding next to her.
Eilif glances at the forests as she walks next to Aztryd. This high mountain air seems to suit the trees that grow here for the forest is dense and dark. She nods towards the trees as she hefts her satchel strap to settle it a little better on her shoulder, "I hope our hunters have luck today. This area does not seem as badly affected by the dragon as closer to ho.." No! She chastises herself. Home no more. Remember that! ".. to Gamilfûn. Perhaps we shall all seek our beds with full bellies tonight."
Aztryd stomps down the road, mile after mile. In the heat of the day, Nizl had squirmed restlessly, fussing at being confined to mama's pack. Now the little one is quieter, bored perhaps or sleepy. As long as Nizl is quiet, Aztryd is content, steadily pacing off the miles of today's journey. Already Gamilfun is beginning to seem like a dream -- or a nightmare -- an unreal interlude in her travels.
Now she notices Eilif moving up to walk beside her, matching her pace. "Yes," she agrees. "This area looks undisturbed. There should be good hunting here." She peers nearsightedly toward the trees. "A fat roast deer would be most welcome." A good meal would be most welcome indeed. But she won't get her hopes up until one of the hunters shows up with that deer.
Eilif has to nod reluctantly to this. She has not been able to stomach meat since the first attack on Gamilfûn but with the fresh air and after this long day's journey, her stomach seems to be seriously interested in the thought of some roast venison. A shiver runs through her as a late afternoon breeze rustles the leaves of the trees and whiffles its way across the road, chilling her, for the doublet she wears under the chainmail is still perspiration-dampened from the earlier warmth of the day. At her forge, or in the training hall she could work up a good honest sweat and not suffer for it. Here, she glances around her at all the openness, here they were vulnerable to even the vagueries of the wind. She walks along silently pondering their situation. "What is this Olwe like?" she blurts out, not even realizing the words were forming. "How do you know we can trust him?" She bites down hard on her lip to still any further questions, lest they betray her fears, and she would rather die than have a stranger know she was fearful.
Aztryd looks sharply over at Eilif a moment, then walks on in silence a bit. "That is a good question," she finally says. "I was there, alone, helpless as a snail out of its shell, and little Nizl even more helpless ... and I was treated with the greatest kindness. Not what anyone would expect from strangers at all. Least of all from elves. But I think these must be completely unrelated to the elves we know. The king is courteous, and brave enough. He faced down that dr... that great beast attacking, and it came near enough to eating him, if the Great One had not intervened. And he seemed kindly enough. But then, there are hardly any people there. Any elves, I mean. We may outnumber them, as few as we are." Aztryd shivers a bit, as even the heat of her own walking is blown away by the cooling breeze.
Eilif carefully eyes Aztryd as she listens to her reply. From her build it's apparent she is used to eating well and often. She thinks about what she knows of the other female. As an Elder's wife she would not have known hardship and deprivation such as they are all experiencing at the moment, although Eilif suspects a violent husband would have been hardship enough. Still, hardship is more easily faced on a full belly and well rested from a soft bed. Is it any wonder perhaps then that this one would look favorably on one who provided those things for her after she had turned her back on husband? She sighs to herself as all her initial doubts about Aztryd's judgment and character surface again.
Eilif watches the cart ahead thoughtfully as she considers Aztryd's words. That pony will need a good rubbing down tonight once they reach the first way station of their journey. It is mired to it's belly with mud from the road, yet the valiant creature has never shirked once at all today. She resolves to check its feet carefully after it is unharnessed. The last thing they need is for it to throw a shoe half way down the mountain. Realizing she is only avoiding facing the matter of Olwe, she turns her attention back to Aztryd. "So he is brave, yet needed rescuing. He is courteous and a king, yet there are few elves there for him to rule over, it seems. He takes in strangers, even destitute ones. He seems a rare paragon, especially among elves, Yet he has no people to call his own, you say. Quite a mysterious elf, yet he holds our future in his hands."
"Needed rescuing, you say. Well, not everyone has Nasi to shoot their dragons for them," she adds wryly. "Perhaps he will be grateful for some good dwarf warriors." After a few more paces, she continues more seriously. "Aye, it is all mysterious. But what would you have us do? Walk to the Iron Hills? And even with kindness of the elves, what will become of us? You can make them swords, for which I don't doubt they will pay well enough, but Nizl and I ..." Her words trail off, in confused thought.
Eilif frowns at the other's words, and she kicks at a clod of half dried mud on the road in front of her. It is true, all of it. They have nowhere else to go, but that does not mean the idea is any more palatable because of that. The word 'desperate' does not sit well with her, but desperate they are, all of them, not just this little runaway wife with her babe. She looks again at her arm, grimacing and her voice is low as she replies, "There is no certainty I will ever make a sword again, not.. not with this. Oh, if it heals straight and strong, I might, but I have seen many injured thusly that wither and become useless. Nor would any want a crippled and disfigured wife." She keeps her eyes determinedly on the road ahead, determined that the other not see the self-loathing that she is sure is there to be read as plain the the road before them.
She sighs heavily. "No matter which way it is turned, we have no choice. Our future lies in the hands of a stranger and an elf at that." Whatever else she was going to say is cut off as Eilif notices that ahead of the them, despite the long day's journey, the pony is picking up pace, and she gives silent thanks to the Maker. It can only mean one thing; it can smell the water and stables at the way station. There is still much to do before any of them can seek their bed for the night. No doubt they will have to evict what vermin have claimed the way station as theirs during the winter before it can be made habitable. The cart will need to be partially unpacked for they would need their bedding and food supplies. The pony will need tending to as will the wounded. The well will have to be checked and water lifted and the Seven Father's willing, the hunters will be there waiting with meat that will need roasting. The tasks of settling in for the night would be a welcome distraction from her thoughts of her future in elven hands. She nods with her chin towards the excited pony. "It would seem we have reached safe haven at last, at least for this night."
> Next
This day that had dawned so clear and bright, buoying the spirits of the little party of travelers as they set out from their ancestral home, has stayed clear and bright, bringing with it a warmth that reminds the little band that Summer will soon follow Spring. Adding to this, at times the valley winds had brought a waft of sultry warm air from the lowlands by the coast, a reminder of what lay ahead of them. To Eilif it is one more reminder of what she is leaving behind. A reminder too, of how foolish she has been to set out on this journey wearing armor, even armor as relatively light as hers.
Trudging down a road that has suffered through the Winter storms, and, at times, had seemed almost a quagmire from the Spring rains, has been a very different thing to her days spent in the cool stone depths of Gamilfûn. There, other than when working her forge or seeking her bed, it had been rare indeed for any to see Eilif wearing anything but her armour. It is her Badge of Office, almost. Not one for domestic life, her attire proclaims to all her ambitions in life. She is an Armorer, a Weaponsmith. It is who she is. She feels secure wearing it, safe, protected. That morning it had seemed a natural choice to her when confronted with the reality of leaving her home, her beloved mountains and her parents, both entombed deep within those mountains. She had need to feel protected.
That need had seemed much less urgent in the middle of the day as sweat itched her skin beneath the chainmail and prickled annoyingly under the heavy bandages on her arm. The pauldrons had weighed heavily on her shoulders, the strap of her satchel and bedroll had added to the weight and her heavy armoured boots had seemed to become heavier and heavier with each step she took. "A few days away from the forge and you have become soft," she mutters to herself. She glances down at her arm where she carries it tucked on top of her satchel, for it aches abominably if she leaves it swing by her side for too long. How long will it be until she is back at a forge again, she wonders. Eilif clicks her tongue in annoyance. Enough of this! If the future seems uncertain for her, how much more so must it seem for the little mother who walks a short way ahead of her. The very nature of all the Khazad means they detest everything that has happened to this small group in recent times. Change, upheaval, being uprooted from their ancient home, it galls them all, she knew. But how much more has this one walking stoically ahead of her endured? She hurries her steps to catch up until she is striding next to her.
Eilif glances at the forests as she walks next to Aztryd. This high mountain air seems to suit the trees that grow here for the forest is dense and dark. She nods towards the trees as she hefts her satchel strap to settle it a little better on her shoulder, "I hope our hunters have luck today. This area does not seem as badly affected by the dragon as closer to ho.." No! She chastises herself. Home no more. Remember that! ".. to Gamilfûn. Perhaps we shall all seek our beds with full bellies tonight."
Aztryd stomps down the road, mile after mile. In the heat of the day, Nizl had squirmed restlessly, fussing at being confined to mama's pack. Now the little one is quieter, bored perhaps or sleepy. As long as Nizl is quiet, Aztryd is content, steadily pacing off the miles of today's journey. Already Gamilfun is beginning to seem like a dream -- or a nightmare -- an unreal interlude in her travels.
Now she notices Eilif moving up to walk beside her, matching her pace. "Yes," she agrees. "This area looks undisturbed. There should be good hunting here." She peers nearsightedly toward the trees. "A fat roast deer would be most welcome." A good meal would be most welcome indeed. But she won't get her hopes up until one of the hunters shows up with that deer.Eilif has to nod reluctantly to this. She has not been able to stomach meat since the first attack on Gamilfûn but with the fresh air and after this long day's journey, her stomach seems to be seriously interested in the thought of some roast venison. A shiver runs through her as a late afternoon breeze rustles the leaves of the trees and whiffles its way across the road, chilling her, for the doublet she wears under the chainmail is still perspiration-dampened from the earlier warmth of the day. At her forge, or in the training hall she could work up a good honest sweat and not suffer for it. Here, she glances around her at all the openness, here they were vulnerable to even the vagueries of the wind. She walks along silently pondering their situation. "What is this Olwe like?" she blurts out, not even realizing the words were forming. "How do you know we can trust him?" She bites down hard on her lip to still any further questions, lest they betray her fears, and she would rather die than have a stranger know she was fearful.
Aztryd looks sharply over at Eilif a moment, then walks on in silence a bit. "That is a good question," she finally says. "I was there, alone, helpless as a snail out of its shell, and little Nizl even more helpless ... and I was treated with the greatest kindness. Not what anyone would expect from strangers at all. Least of all from elves. But I think these must be completely unrelated to the elves we know. The king is courteous, and brave enough. He faced down that dr... that great beast attacking, and it came near enough to eating him, if the Great One had not intervened. And he seemed kindly enough. But then, there are hardly any people there. Any elves, I mean. We may outnumber them, as few as we are." Aztryd shivers a bit, as even the heat of her own walking is blown away by the cooling breeze.
Eilif carefully eyes Aztryd as she listens to her reply. From her build it's apparent she is used to eating well and often. She thinks about what she knows of the other female. As an Elder's wife she would not have known hardship and deprivation such as they are all experiencing at the moment, although Eilif suspects a violent husband would have been hardship enough. Still, hardship is more easily faced on a full belly and well rested from a soft bed. Is it any wonder perhaps then that this one would look favorably on one who provided those things for her after she had turned her back on husband? She sighs to herself as all her initial doubts about Aztryd's judgment and character surface again.
Eilif watches the cart ahead thoughtfully as she considers Aztryd's words. That pony will need a good rubbing down tonight once they reach the first way station of their journey. It is mired to it's belly with mud from the road, yet the valiant creature has never shirked once at all today. She resolves to check its feet carefully after it is unharnessed. The last thing they need is for it to throw a shoe half way down the mountain. Realizing she is only avoiding facing the matter of Olwe, she turns her attention back to Aztryd. "So he is brave, yet needed rescuing. He is courteous and a king, yet there are few elves there for him to rule over, it seems. He takes in strangers, even destitute ones. He seems a rare paragon, especially among elves, Yet he has no people to call his own, you say. Quite a mysterious elf, yet he holds our future in his hands."
Eilif frowns at the other's words, and she kicks at a clod of half dried mud on the road in front of her. It is true, all of it. They have nowhere else to go, but that does not mean the idea is any more palatable because of that. The word 'desperate' does not sit well with her, but desperate they are, all of them, not just this little runaway wife with her babe. She looks again at her arm, grimacing and her voice is low as she replies, "There is no certainty I will ever make a sword again, not.. not with this. Oh, if it heals straight and strong, I might, but I have seen many injured thusly that wither and become useless. Nor would any want a crippled and disfigured wife." She keeps her eyes determinedly on the road ahead, determined that the other not see the self-loathing that she is sure is there to be read as plain the the road before them. She sighs heavily. "No matter which way it is turned, we have no choice. Our future lies in the hands of a stranger and an elf at that." Whatever else she was going to say is cut off as Eilif notices that ahead of the them, despite the long day's journey, the pony is picking up pace, and she gives silent thanks to the Maker. It can only mean one thing; it can smell the water and stables at the way station. There is still much to do before any of them can seek their bed for the night. No doubt they will have to evict what vermin have claimed the way station as theirs during the winter before it can be made habitable. The cart will need to be partially unpacked for they would need their bedding and food supplies. The pony will need tending to as will the wounded. The well will have to be checked and water lifted and the Seven Father's willing, the hunters will be there waiting with meat that will need roasting. The tasks of settling in for the night would be a welcome distraction from her thoughts of her future in elven hands. She nods with her chin towards the excited pony. "It would seem we have reached safe haven at last, at least for this night."
> Next