Fairgrounds
A lone rider leaves Hador's, now Galdor's house and leads his light brown mare toward the marketplace. The figure in saddle is well known to some, one controversed and proud lord of the Edain named Elagil. He halts and watches one green clad man aiming at the archery target. Silent he stays, letting his horse grazs while Baradil shoots.
With the arrow set to knock, the scout lets his left hand draw back the bowstring,
as he drinks a deep draught of air in, holding it as he holds his bowstring.
His left eye squints to shut and the man shuffles his feet. With a hiss of breath
and arrow alike; the arrow speeds off across the three score of paces, towards
the target and it leaves well enough and flies handsomely. The shoulders of
the scout loosen not, as he eyes its swift course.
Baradil launches an arrow at Archery Target...hitting and badly wounding it!
Elagil watches the arrow flies and leans his both hands on the pommel of his saddle to see better which mark did the arrow find. Not an archer himself, Elagil can yet appreciate the skill of this bowman, wondering if one arrow can get further nearer the centre without getting away from it.
"You did this on purpose right?" he says and now the man fired, moves his horse closer to the scout. He seems perhaps to let another comment about archery slip when his glance catches a figure not seen since the last time. When was it, years ago, he visited the smithy. "Hola sir Almar !"
Almar nods slowly before speaking up, "Good shot, I'd warrant you're a much better shot that I am. I have a nice bow, but that does not make up much for my lack of skill with it." He turns to see Elagil and greets the man, "Hail Elagil, it is good to see you once again. You seem to be doing well for yourself now."
Rahner approaches the fairgrounds, some twoscore yards behind Almar, and chooses a spot where he can watch both the proceedings and the spectators, a long way closer to the latter, however. He nods in greeting.
The scout watches his arrow hit and even from the distance he sees the satisfying puff of straw as the dummy is pierced again. Yet even as he leans to glace at his shot a voice causes him to wheel about; turning upon his heal. The man straightens to see horse and Rider. "Well of course M'Lord Elagil. Galdor's scouts are famed to be able to shoot their bows, I am no Dunnelor, but I learn. I remember when he won against even Elven archers in the caved land." He goes to further recount the tale, a warm smile of slight embarrassment crossing his face, yet Elagil speaks again, heralding a man. Turning again, and leaning upon his longbow he smiles to Almar. "Well met M'Lord." And a curt wave he offers the man. Another man he sites, but his eyes do not linger upon him, rather running back to glance over Almar.
"I remember better your superb set of swords" Elagil smiles as the smith comments about their weapons quality. "I am well indeed, thanks" Elagil's says and wipes his mouth and cheeks quickly unsure some red could have lingered there. "Did you meet our archer emeritus ? He steps closer of Dunnelor each day."
Almar nods and seems a bit sad for a moment, "Yes, the swords were a gift beyond what I deserve, but I try to be worthy of them." Shaking his head he looks back to the bowman, "No, I have not had the honor of meeting the fine archer. I also missed Dunnelor's triumph in Nargothrond sadly. I have not seen him in years." He offers Baradil his calloused hand, "I am Almar, smith for now, and guardsman when I need to be, though it has been a long time since I have been that too."
"Baradil" Elagil precises, reminding as both shakes hand he forgot to say the scout name. He watches longly the smith and doesnt say more word about Nargothrond or swords. "I havent seen him long since the end of the war, he is ever there or there" Elagil says and smiles, his hand waving toward plains and sky.
The scout leans upon the yew body of his bow holding it in his left hand as a staff. His hand grasps Almar's and shakes it firmly. "Well met friend. I might have need for you? Any good with leather armour?" He chuckles and smiles as if to dismiss his won question. "It was good to watch Dunnelor, yet I shot a bow rather unhandsomly at the same event. The scout laughs as Elagil introduces him, "Aye, Baradil I am, and a scout of Galdor's."
Elagil flatters the neck of his mare, of his new horse for those who knew the old one he had. "But we were talking of your shot Baradil.. Could you duplicate this feat ?"
Almar grins a bit, "Good to know you Baradil. I am better with metalwork, but I can make a fair hauberk of leather." He nods to Elagil about Dunnelor, "He was never one to keep to any place other than the woods. That is why he loved Dorthorian so much, but alas I doubt he roams there anymore. Maybe he will come back sometime and I will meet him again." He glances back to Baradil to see his responce to the challenge of a second shot.
The scout looks to the pair and he grins broadly. His voice rises hoarse and
shrill with feinged panic, "Well you know how to put a fellow under the
cosh don't you. I shall certainly try." His head cranes and he looks to
Almar with a soft chuckle, "We shall see how I fare friend. But I shall
bare you in mind, for my armour is still rent from an orc axe. And as to that
land of Pines, sadness only seems to remain of it. Why I et a young lass sundered
from home and family, orphaned to eba healer in our land." He shakes his
head softly even as his hand reaches for a second arrow. With a deep sigh he
speaks again, "Sad times." Swiftly he knocks it to string and then
takes his aim, labouring not so with the niceties of shuffling for stance, yet
his breath and string are held and realesed in the same hiss. Again the flight
of the arrow is true.
You launch an arrow at Archery Target...hitting and terribly wounding it!
"Even though the times may be sad, it doesn't seem to be affecting your aim." Harlow states with a chuckle, having stood aside and heard in on the conversation that the three were having. He walks over to the group, giving a small bow toward Elagil and then nodding toward Almar, "Believe I haven't met you yet.." he states to the new face, raising a brow. "Oh, forgive my rudeness. My name would be Harlow. And your's?"
Almar nods as Baradil speaks of Dorthorian, "Yes, I suppose my wife's caern has been dispoiled by now by the filthy orcs..." He glowers a bit at that thought taking a deep breath and letting it out to cool his temper. He notes Rahner in the group watching Baradil's display of archery prowess and motions for him to come up to the others. He looks back just in time to see the shot and that it is a dead on hit. "I see you have outdone your last shot, mellon."
"The eye of the orc !" Elagil exclaims himself and claps his hand twice "What a shot !" he says and turns toward the approaching Harlow "Good day Harlow. Come watch, Baradil is fit today.." he smiles and winces as Almar evokes the memory of his wife. "We tried to go there after the war Almar, there and to Rivil but we met tough opposition, yet the rumour says some men of Dorthonion still fight with lord Barahir in the uplands.. Many made for Brethil."
Rahner, having watched from a short distance, notices Almar beckoning and walks up to him. He comes to stand next to Almar, crosses his arms across his chest and watches the others curiously.
As Almar speak Baradil turns from his shot, a smirk which had flourished on his bearded face sundenly stutters and spoils, dropping to a pained look of pity, yet kindness is held therein. "I am sorry friend. Truely, yet we will have our day, the men of Dor-lomin will never fall lightly." Yet Baradils head wheels to Elagil and he chuckles softly, "Indeed, the eye of an orc, I must go and claim one soon, as tribute to lost friends." And indeed as Harlow comes on, the scout waves his hand in greeting, "Ho there Harlow! I'll have you shooting so in a week or two." He smiels and then looks to the newcomer. "Hello there man... I am Baradil, a scout, I fancy I've not known you yet."
Almar nods to Elagil, "From all accounts the place is lost to the enemy. Just as well I was not there, for I would have not given up in the defense." He glances to Rahner as he steps up before looking back to the others, "Have you all met my new apprentice? This is Rahner, new to Hadorsford, but a fair hand at smithcraft already. He is quite a help with the work that needs to be done." He in turn introduces Rahner to the others, "This is Elagil, who I remember from long times past when he first joined the service of Dor-lomin under our lord Hador." Then moving to the next man he knows, "And this is Baradil, scout and quite the archer from the look of his shooting." Then turning to the last man coming up, "And though I have not met you before, you must be Harlow, and a scout as well hearing Baradil's talk. I am Almar and this is Rahner, it is good to meet you."
Harlow nods toward Baradil, returning the smile, "I'll be waiting for it.", then looking back over toward Almar and Rahner, he gives another small bow directed toward the two. "That I am. It is good to meet you as well, Almar." he replies to Almar and then nodding toward Rahner, "Good to hear how well you're doing in the art of smithwork."
Rahner looks intently at each man in turn as they are introduced by Almar, as if trying to imprint their faces, names and any other detail mentioned in his memory. He clears his throat before speaking, and says: "Well met, sirs. It's an honour meeting you all." After this semi-formal adress, he glances quickly to Baradil, green eyes glimmering, and adds, "And maybe I could look at your armour some time. I picked up some leather-working skills from my father, which may come in useful."
Elagil's clear eyes mirrors images of time long gone and he nods to Almar. "And yet we were forced to, pushed back to Barad Eithel in dismay under the attack, defending the rear of Fingolfin like ever, we didnt yield easily.. A grim day" and the face of the young man, not so young now closes in pain. "Well meet Rahner, you have a good master, if Almar had a long beard, you could think him a dawarfsmith" he says trying to break the ice his and theri words brought. "I will see you all later, farewell" he mutters and spurs his horse forward.
Almar looks over to Elagil as he heads off, "Sorry to bring up bad times, I will have to buy you a drink to make up for it." He gets a bit of a grin then, "But as for a dwarf, even I am not that grim....take care mellon, and I will get you that drink soon." Looking to Baradil then with a pat on Rahner's back, "He might be better than I am with leather."
The scout looks to the pair of smiths and smiles. "Thank you for your kindness Rahner, I shall bring my harness to you some time in the coming day, are you in the smithy at the Market place?" He looks waiting for a response, but hears Elagil's departure. "Ahhh, see you Elagil, and I still owe you a drink as well. Perhaps we shall all have to go to the Echo and repay them some of the custom we've deprived them of over the past year." He chuckles softly and looks to Harlow, "this poor Master has a poor peer that is for sure, but he has a good friend in Magnar, a wonderful beast."
Waving off to the now exiting Elagil, Harlow looks around the group for a moment or so, then looking over to Baradil. "I take it that I've missed a show of your skills before that last shot?" he questions the fellow scout, folding his arms over his chest.
Cawing slightly and then flapping in from where Harlow had entered, as if on cue, Magnar perchs at Harlow's shoulder and looks around to the two familiar faces and the two new ones.
Almar looks over as the bird lands, seeming a little surprised at seeing one so close then nods to Baradil. "Yes, we work out of the smithy in town. Should be easy to find one of us there to repair your armor." He looks again at the target, "I might get you to help me some with my bow. I guess with things the way they are, it can not hurt to get back into practice."
The scout chuckles and smiles broadley, even foolishly. "I am afraid my skill has been made to seem to great. I am no grand bow man, but I'd be glad to shoot with you one afternoon. As long as we can finish afterwards with a drink, I am looking forward to some of our summer ale. Brethil or Brithombar cannot brew like our own brewers." He smiles and looks to Magnar, "Ahh there you are. Will this good weather hold then Magnar?" Looking toRahner and Almar again he smiles, "It will be grand to have a pair of smiths on line, I am but a lowly scout and wander round in light armour, but as soon as Elagil, or whoever else deems me worthy of a better set, you'll have my custom."
Rahner glances quickly at Almar, with regard to Baradil's comment about new armour. "I am glad that there will be work for me here . . ."
Almar stands near the archery range where Baradil looks to have been shooting, Harlow and Rahner are near him as well. "Most bowmen I know never wish for anything more than Leather as it seems to impair their shooting." He laughs a bit then, "I never thought about it much, but that could be why I used to be such a poor shot myself."
The scout nods his head and furrows his brow in though, his idle right hand scratches again at his beard and the drops to wwave lightly at the target. "Despite this days fortune, I am no bowman. I have been in more scrapes than many a soldier, poor Harlow has picked a hapless scout to join I'm afraid. And am plain sick of having my armour spliced wide open by battle axes and curved black blades. I'd wish not for mail, I'd look a fool in such gear and make the noise of a rainstorm, nay, armour of leather, as thick as my skull. That would suit, but that comes with experience as reward. I've yet to earn such, for I am but a score and one years aged."
Reaching a hand up to the crow at his shoulder, Harlow rubs one of his gloved fingers against Magnar's chest. "You seem to understate your skill, Baradil." Harlow chuckles out, looking over to the archery target then back over to the bearded man.
Magnar mock purrs, closing his eyes when he feels the finger massaging his chest. Then opening his eyes again when he hears the question, cawing toward Baradil.
Rahner smiles at Almar's comment and glances at the sun setting behind the horizon. "I hope you'll all excuse me, gentlemen, but there are several things I need done before it becomes too dark to see."
Almar smiles as the younger man readies to go, "I should see you in a while, leave some work for me." turning back to Baradil again, "I must agree with Harlow here, you underestimate your skill with the bow. I can say that shooting in mail is not an easy task, and I still get rent in battle wearing it. All to often it is the healers that make the difference than the armor. "
The scout nods and smiles, he lifts his bow up and pushes it in the direction of Almar. "Here friend, would you shoot this, I'd like this bowmen tag to be left. Put it this way, I can shoot, but I use an axe more often and a spear the most, so I'd not call myself a mere bowman. As scouts go, I am not usual, I fight too much and run too little." He waves the longbow as if to further tempt the smith, and his right hand pulls an arrow from his quiver, he also offers that to the smith.
Almar takes the bow and gets a feel for its pull. He takes the arrows and sets
a few into the dirt next to where he will shoot from. "It is a little bigger
than I am used to, but I am sure you will see how much better you are when I
am done." Chuckling as he looks back to the target taking a calming breath
to steady himself for shooting. Nocking an arrow he assumes the stance that
one rarely gets to take in battle, and lowers his aim towards the target. He
slowly draws the arrow back to his ear, and holds his breath as he takes final
aim......
Almar launches an arrow towards Archery Target...but he narrowly misses.
Almar lets the arrow fly keeping his arm steady even as he watches the target. He keeps watching the target and watching..... then he frowns as the arrow never seems to arrive there. "Seems I am far more rusty than I thought, eh? Maybe I could hit a dragon with that shot, but I think the orcs would be safe from my attacks."
Baradil adopts a complete stilness, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the smiths preparations, he watches with a look of admiration, noting careful movements and great care. And as the arrow leaves the bow he watches its flight. The long gap prooved just to great and only by a small margin does it pass the target. Yet the silence of concentration is broken by the sound of clapping. The tall scout beats his palms together loudly and smiles kindly. "Well sir, that was a fine shot from a foreign bow, shoot again though please. I know you will strike, you bare the signs of a bowman indeed." He waves his hand in a gesture aiming to coax a second shot. He turns to Harlow, "Watch this mans technique if you ever aim to shoot a bow, it is excellent. He has not fired this bow, yet he gets that good a measure from it, that comes from practice. Shoot again friend smith, please do."
Almar grins and nods, "As you wish, I can do so again. Perhaps you would
like to shoot from my bow as well sometime? It was givin to me by an elven friend
of mine from Mithrim. It is the finest bow I have ever had the pleasure to use,
but I do not think I am worthy of it any more than I am of the sword."
He looks back to the target and steadies himself for a second shot. Raising
the bow, he kneels down and plucks another arrow from the dirt. He nocks it,
and draws the string back for his next shot taking a breath and holding it as
he sights in on the target.
Almar launches an arrow towards Archery Target...hitting and terribly wounding
it!
Almar watches the target once more, smiling at the results this time. He lowers the bow and looks back to Baradil again, "Well I did do a bit better that time. Seems I have not forgotten everything I learned." He passes the bow back to Baradil then, bowing slightly. "Thank you for the chance to practice, mellon."
The scout shakes his head and sighs as a smile grows on his face, more hay spouts up from the target. "You are worthy friend, if any is." he smiles and shakes his head again in disbelief, "That poor orc, two eyes lost in a day." His head turns towards his fellow scout and the black purched bird. His voice rises softly and cooing, almost wholly for the birds benefit. "I hope you watched that Magnar, mayhap you can whisper tips into Harlows ears." he chuckles softly and turns again, and shakes his head looking at the target. Taking the bow, he offers it to Harlow.
"Take a shot Harlow, we must start sometime, and I have promised much." The bow he holds out and waves it in the same insistent manner.
"Perhaps you should make sure to find a place that an arrow wont reach you?" Harlow says with a loud chuckle when he reachs out to slowly take the bow from Baradil's grasp. He looks over to Magnar and whispers slightly to the large black bird at his shoulder, then looks back ahead of him to the Target, and then nocking an arrow.
Magnar spreads open it's wings and flies off to Baradil's shoulder, perching there now. He caws toward the bearded scout, then looks over to Harlow to watch.
The scout looks to Harlow, his eyes are bolted open his peers movements. His mouth drops open as if he means to speak, and after a long pause he does. "Now don't rush, and... widen your stance a touch." With that the scout goes silent and riases and idle hand to preen at the dark feathers of the crow, yet his gaze shifts not from Harlow. He pauses now in the same stillness he offered to Almar."
Doing as advised, Harlow widens his stance then begins to pull back and take aim.. Closing one eye, he aims toward the center of the orc's chest, then lets the arrow fly... Straight into the ground, it skids to a stop a few feet away from the target. Smirking at that then looking over his shoulder, Harlow chuckles "Perhaps I should have had Magnar stay and whisper hints into my ear." he jests.
Almar does not seem to be phased that the young man missed the target, but nods as he goes back over Harlow's shot in his mind letting Baradil do the talking to his student.
The sun has already begun to slide from its perch and nears the distant line of mountains and finnally the depth of Belegaer, yet for now, a bright lemony light filters over the land. And three men and a crow stand looking towards a target, and they each seem engrossed in the shooting.
One of the men, an over tall man, young despite his beard looks towards the arrow that had snaked earthward and then to Harlow. A nodding head heralds the coming of speech and it comes deep and kind sounding. "Friend, that shot was good, I wounmded myself when I was but learnign, and my first arrow was fired backwards. You observed well, yet you will get better." He smiles broadly.
Almar nods as he listens to Baradil's words, but only offers a quick bit of advice. "Remember that when you shoot, your arrow will drop some at this range. Shoot a bit above where you want to hit and you will find that you land the shaft more often."
From a distance, a young woman watches the archery lesson with curious interest. She leans casually against the gate post, a smile touching her lips at the man's errant shot. Though it is not a look of mockery, merely amusement. From her vantage point she can just make out the words being spoken, and she seems to be paying careful attention to the trainers words.
Harlow nods to Baradil, turning around to take the arrow and then moving back ahead to where he faces the target. Nocking the next arrow, he gets into a shooting stance and pulling back. Closing one eye again, he takes aim, then let's this one fly.. And it flies above the target and lands in places unknown. Continuing to smirk, Harlow runs his fingers through his hair, "A bit too high of an aim, it seems." he says with another chuckle.
Baradil nods again though. "Once low, once high, third time right I'd wager." He pulls another arrow out and chuckles. "You can tell I can fletch, Arrows to spend so idly. Make this one count. Even if it flies wide, get the height right. Learn that lesson this day. And remember it."He steps back and goes silent again, stroking Magnar's sleak feathers again, waiting for the scout to take the shot his gaze passes around the fairground and indeed it drifts over the form of Failindris, and the scouts eyes indeed mark her. A warm smile of greeting passes his lifts and a broad hand waves out.
Almar laughs a little and shakes his head, "I am guessing that you have not shot much, so it take time to get used to a bow. Unless your like me and shot so many that you have lost count. Keep at it and you will be hitting the target in no time."
Failindris watches the arrow as it passes over head, a fresh smile warming her face. And seeing Baradil's greeting, she stands returning the wave. Making her way toward the group, she absently adjusts her tunic. "Hail, Baradil." she calls, still smiling. And offering a slight bow to his companions, she adds, "I hope you didn't encourage him to loose that bolt at me."
Slowly takes the next arrow from Baradil, then nods a bit toward him. Chuckling and looking over to Almar, nodding again "That I haven't. And I'm quite sure I'll be able to hit it.. At least this time." he pauses before nocking the next arrow, looking over to Failindris for a quick second or so, saying "I'm sure you don't have much of a worry about me, ma'am.". Then nocking the arrow and taking stance again, pulling the string back and taking aim.. He then looses the arrow and it hits the target. Except in one of the most painful looking areas to be hit, for a man that is, in the groin. Coughing a bit, then laughing, Harlow looks down to the ground, shaking his head. "Third time's a charm it seems."
Magnar purrs slightly at the petting he receives from the scout, hearing the voice of the new comer and then looking over to her, he caws slightly, spreading open his wings and flapping them slightly.
Hearing the woman call to Baradil, Almar turns and waves to her as well as she comes closer. "Hail m'lady, I do not think we have met before. I spend to much time in that smithy it seems. I am Almar, smith by trade now though it seems I am being pulled back to my martial duties somewhat now." He looks back as it seems Harlow is about to shoot, and laughs a bit seeing it. "Well you put the orc down, that is for sure."
The scout watches Harlows shot and he smiles and as he leans forward, masking his eyes with a broad hand he chuckles. "Goodness, poor thing. Blinded in both eyes and then that, I hope his baldric was in place." He chuckles and then blushes to hear the voice of Failindris, reminded perhaps his words may be a margin to baudy. He caughs and look to Failindris, grinning foolishly, and seeming every bit the young man he is. "Err, would you excuse me Failindris." Another soft chuckles is suppressed and he turns to Harlow. "Good height and dead central. If the orcs new our bowman shot so...they'd think twice." He turns again to Failindris, "And nay M'Lady he shot not at you." The scout bows slightly and smiles, apperently gaining mastery of his mirth; just.
Turning to the smith, Failindris says, "Well met, good Almar. I am Failindris, and it is a pleasure to . . ." But before she finishes speaking, the sound of Harlow's arrow striking rings out, and the lady cringes slightly. "My," she says softly, with a sheepish grin. And with a glance at Baradil, she found his poorly contained mirth infectious, laughing aloud herself. "Forgive me," she said, touching Harlow's arm gently. "My most sincere apology." Gaining a small measure of control she says then, "I am intruding upon your training, I should, perhaps, leave you to it." And saying that, she looks questioningly at Baradil.
Almar looks back to Failindris and shakes his head, "No reason you should leave. He will need to learn to deal with all sorts of distractions, so stay and watch if you wish." He glances over to Baradil and grins, "In Dorthorian there were as many women practicing with bows as there were men doing the same. My wife was a far better shot than I ever was."
Flinching at the touch since he wasn't paying attention, Harlow looks over toward Failindris, smirking. "No need to apologize. You hadn't affected my.." he coughs before saying the next word, "Aim it seems." he chuckles out, nodding to Almar. "I agree. I think the orc would be down by now." he then turns over to Baradil, "And I think that they would think twice.. Or at least wear say, a bit more protection." he replies to the fellow scout, still giving off his smirk.
The scout smiles, a hand rises to wipe a tear from the side of his eye and he continues to break into short chuckles which fit and stop, finally with a deep sigh the scout seems again calm. "Indeed, you've the makings of a bowman for sure." He turns upon his heal,and looks to Almar, "There has been much talk of the tavern and the ales we will share, perhaps we should organize a party of some kind. A homecoming for those gone and a good time for new friends." Baradil offers his hand again, "It has been nice to meet you sir, you'll see me in your smithy in the coming days, you or Rahner will have a patching to do."
Again the scout snorts peculiarly and shakes his head, looking at Failindris again he smiles, "Would you be for going to the echo, we'll get your brother there and Harlow and Rose and... well whoever I see. Is this a plan?"
Almar nods to Baradil, "It has been good to meet you." Then looking to the others, "To meet all of you, but alas I should get back to the smithy and finsih up there. There has been so much work to do lately with everyone back home again." He nods to both the men and then bows to the lady, "Have a good evening, mellyn. I hope to join you all soon for that drink, so let me know when this party will be."
"Indeed, your aim was quiet. . Hmmmm. .. accurate, shall we say." she says to the young scout. "If they taught all scout's such technique, battles would make for short tales. Strange tales, but short." and she laughs again. She then turns to Baradil, a look of consideration on her face. "My brother still owes me an answer. Perhaps alittle wine will weaken his resolve."
Laughing and nodding toward the woman, "Indeed they would be strange stories to tell." he agrees with her then tucks loose strands of his hair behind his ear and then extending the bow out toward Baradil. "And I believe I'll let you hold this until well.. I can master shots like the last one to where it's the first time." Harlow says with the corners of his lips still turned upward. Blinking then turning to wave off to Almar, he discovers that it would be too late to do so. Oh well, he then looks back over toward Baradil and Failindris.
The scout nods his head and takes the bow. A last wave he offers to the smith as he wanders off and he begins to speak, turning his gaze upon Harlow. "Many thanks friend. We shall have to go and cut a bow from a good ewe tree, for a bowman cannot learn to shoot without bow. I know a fair bowmaker, I'd do it if we were pushed, but we aren't." He then turns his head to Failindris and smiles, "Well maybe wine will weaken your brothers will, but we may as well have a grand time trying." He smiles softly to Failindirs and bows slightly, "Well M'lady i have some things to go and take care of this night, not least arranging this meeting. I'll be looking out for you to let you know." He rises and slides his finger beneath Magnar, "And you my good man, go back to your Master." And so Baradil lifts the perched bird off him shoulder with a last preen as a parting gift. His head cranes towards Harlow as he profers the bird. "Well done friend, we can say failr that your training has begun." He takes a step back and smiles to both, "see you another time my friends."
Tucking several loose strands of hair behind one ear, the young lady listens as the scout makes his farewells. "I look forward to hearing from you, the moment the arrangements are made." she says, her eyes drifting down toward her feet. After a moment, she looks to the other scout. "Will you join us when the time comes? Perhaps then we can make a proper introduction."
"That a bowman can't." Harlow replies to Baradil with a grin, then nodding a bit toward him when he makes his fare wells and such. "Thank you, and I hope to see you again soon." he says to the fellow scout before looking over to Failindris and raising a brow, nodding slightly "Believe I will try to make it. And perhaps we could." he replies to the question and adds in to the last sentence.
Baradil nods to both and smiles broadly, first to Harlow and lastly Failindris. He raises his hand and waves. "Till then friends." Turning upon his heal he walks off towards the town, his long gait carrying him swiftly from the pair. As he turns a bend on a path, he waves one last time, holding his bow high aloft his head.
Smiling warmly at Harlow, the woman bows her head. "Very good," she says, and turning to Baradil, she adds, "Till then," echoing his farewell. Eyeing the bird perched upon the young man's shoulder for a moment, Failindris finally says, "Well, I beg your leave for now, then, sir. I should be making my way home now, or Elagil will certainly send out the hounds to find me." And with that, she spins about on her heel, and follows in Baradil's footsteps, a certain lightness in her step.
Nodding off to Failindris when she makes the turn on heel and walks off, Harlow
chuckles at the comment before, reaching a hand up to rub a finger against the
crow's chest again, "Pleasure to meet you ma'am. See you some other time
then." He calls out to her and then stands there, starting up a new conversation
with the black bird at his shoulder.
A lone rider leaves Hador's, now Galdor's house and leads his light brown mare toward the marketplace. The figure in saddle is well known to some, one controversed and proud lord of the Edain named Elagil. He halts and watches one green clad man aiming at the archery target. Silent he stays, letting his horse grazs while Baradil shoots.
With the arrow set to knock, the scout lets his left hand draw back the bowstring,
as he drinks a deep draught of air in, holding it as he holds his bowstring.
His left eye squints to shut and the man shuffles his feet. With a hiss of breath
and arrow alike; the arrow speeds off across the three score of paces, towards
the target and it leaves well enough and flies handsomely. The shoulders of
the scout loosen not, as he eyes its swift course.
Baradil launches an arrow at Archery Target...hitting and badly wounding it!
Elagil watches the arrow flies and leans his both hands on the pommel of his saddle to see better which mark did the arrow find. Not an archer himself, Elagil can yet appreciate the skill of this bowman, wondering if one arrow can get further nearer the centre without getting away from it.
"You did this on purpose right?" he says and now the man fired, moves his horse closer to the scout. He seems perhaps to let another comment about archery slip when his glance catches a figure not seen since the last time. When was it, years ago, he visited the smithy. "Hola sir Almar !"
Almar nods slowly before speaking up, "Good shot, I'd warrant you're a much better shot that I am. I have a nice bow, but that does not make up much for my lack of skill with it." He turns to see Elagil and greets the man, "Hail Elagil, it is good to see you once again. You seem to be doing well for yourself now."
Rahner approaches the fairgrounds, some twoscore yards behind Almar, and chooses a spot where he can watch both the proceedings and the spectators, a long way closer to the latter, however. He nods in greeting.
The scout watches his arrow hit and even from the distance he sees the satisfying puff of straw as the dummy is pierced again. Yet even as he leans to glace at his shot a voice causes him to wheel about; turning upon his heal. The man straightens to see horse and Rider. "Well of course M'Lord Elagil. Galdor's scouts are famed to be able to shoot their bows, I am no Dunnelor, but I learn. I remember when he won against even Elven archers in the caved land." He goes to further recount the tale, a warm smile of slight embarrassment crossing his face, yet Elagil speaks again, heralding a man. Turning again, and leaning upon his longbow he smiles to Almar. "Well met M'Lord." And a curt wave he offers the man. Another man he sites, but his eyes do not linger upon him, rather running back to glance over Almar.
"I remember better your superb set of swords" Elagil smiles as the smith comments about their weapons quality. "I am well indeed, thanks" Elagil's says and wipes his mouth and cheeks quickly unsure some red could have lingered there. "Did you meet our archer emeritus ? He steps closer of Dunnelor each day."
Almar nods and seems a bit sad for a moment, "Yes, the swords were a gift beyond what I deserve, but I try to be worthy of them." Shaking his head he looks back to the bowman, "No, I have not had the honor of meeting the fine archer. I also missed Dunnelor's triumph in Nargothrond sadly. I have not seen him in years." He offers Baradil his calloused hand, "I am Almar, smith for now, and guardsman when I need to be, though it has been a long time since I have been that too."
"Baradil" Elagil precises, reminding as both shakes hand he forgot to say the scout name. He watches longly the smith and doesnt say more word about Nargothrond or swords. "I havent seen him long since the end of the war, he is ever there or there" Elagil says and smiles, his hand waving toward plains and sky.
The scout leans upon the yew body of his bow holding it in his left hand as a staff. His hand grasps Almar's and shakes it firmly. "Well met friend. I might have need for you? Any good with leather armour?" He chuckles and smiles as if to dismiss his won question. "It was good to watch Dunnelor, yet I shot a bow rather unhandsomly at the same event. The scout laughs as Elagil introduces him, "Aye, Baradil I am, and a scout of Galdor's."
Elagil flatters the neck of his mare, of his new horse for those who knew the old one he had. "But we were talking of your shot Baradil.. Could you duplicate this feat ?"
Almar grins a bit, "Good to know you Baradil. I am better with metalwork, but I can make a fair hauberk of leather." He nods to Elagil about Dunnelor, "He was never one to keep to any place other than the woods. That is why he loved Dorthorian so much, but alas I doubt he roams there anymore. Maybe he will come back sometime and I will meet him again." He glances back to Baradil to see his responce to the challenge of a second shot.
The scout looks to the pair and he grins broadly. His voice rises hoarse and
shrill with feinged panic, "Well you know how to put a fellow under the
cosh don't you. I shall certainly try." His head cranes and he looks to
Almar with a soft chuckle, "We shall see how I fare friend. But I shall
bare you in mind, for my armour is still rent from an orc axe. And as to that
land of Pines, sadness only seems to remain of it. Why I et a young lass sundered
from home and family, orphaned to eba healer in our land." He shakes his
head softly even as his hand reaches for a second arrow. With a deep sigh he
speaks again, "Sad times." Swiftly he knocks it to string and then
takes his aim, labouring not so with the niceties of shuffling for stance, yet
his breath and string are held and realesed in the same hiss. Again the flight
of the arrow is true.
You launch an arrow at Archery Target...hitting and terribly wounding it!
"Even though the times may be sad, it doesn't seem to be affecting your aim." Harlow states with a chuckle, having stood aside and heard in on the conversation that the three were having. He walks over to the group, giving a small bow toward Elagil and then nodding toward Almar, "Believe I haven't met you yet.." he states to the new face, raising a brow. "Oh, forgive my rudeness. My name would be Harlow. And your's?"
Almar nods as Baradil speaks of Dorthorian, "Yes, I suppose my wife's caern has been dispoiled by now by the filthy orcs..." He glowers a bit at that thought taking a deep breath and letting it out to cool his temper. He notes Rahner in the group watching Baradil's display of archery prowess and motions for him to come up to the others. He looks back just in time to see the shot and that it is a dead on hit. "I see you have outdone your last shot, mellon."
"The eye of the orc !" Elagil exclaims himself and claps his hand twice "What a shot !" he says and turns toward the approaching Harlow "Good day Harlow. Come watch, Baradil is fit today.." he smiles and winces as Almar evokes the memory of his wife. "We tried to go there after the war Almar, there and to Rivil but we met tough opposition, yet the rumour says some men of Dorthonion still fight with lord Barahir in the uplands.. Many made for Brethil."
Rahner, having watched from a short distance, notices Almar beckoning and walks up to him. He comes to stand next to Almar, crosses his arms across his chest and watches the others curiously.
As Almar speak Baradil turns from his shot, a smirk which had flourished on his bearded face sundenly stutters and spoils, dropping to a pained look of pity, yet kindness is held therein. "I am sorry friend. Truely, yet we will have our day, the men of Dor-lomin will never fall lightly." Yet Baradils head wheels to Elagil and he chuckles softly, "Indeed, the eye of an orc, I must go and claim one soon, as tribute to lost friends." And indeed as Harlow comes on, the scout waves his hand in greeting, "Ho there Harlow! I'll have you shooting so in a week or two." He smiels and then looks to the newcomer. "Hello there man... I am Baradil, a scout, I fancy I've not known you yet."
Almar nods to Elagil, "From all accounts the place is lost to the enemy. Just as well I was not there, for I would have not given up in the defense." He glances to Rahner as he steps up before looking back to the others, "Have you all met my new apprentice? This is Rahner, new to Hadorsford, but a fair hand at smithcraft already. He is quite a help with the work that needs to be done." He in turn introduces Rahner to the others, "This is Elagil, who I remember from long times past when he first joined the service of Dor-lomin under our lord Hador." Then moving to the next man he knows, "And this is Baradil, scout and quite the archer from the look of his shooting." Then turning to the last man coming up, "And though I have not met you before, you must be Harlow, and a scout as well hearing Baradil's talk. I am Almar and this is Rahner, it is good to meet you."
Harlow nods toward Baradil, returning the smile, "I'll be waiting for it.", then looking back over toward Almar and Rahner, he gives another small bow directed toward the two. "That I am. It is good to meet you as well, Almar." he replies to Almar and then nodding toward Rahner, "Good to hear how well you're doing in the art of smithwork."
Rahner looks intently at each man in turn as they are introduced by Almar, as if trying to imprint their faces, names and any other detail mentioned in his memory. He clears his throat before speaking, and says: "Well met, sirs. It's an honour meeting you all." After this semi-formal adress, he glances quickly to Baradil, green eyes glimmering, and adds, "And maybe I could look at your armour some time. I picked up some leather-working skills from my father, which may come in useful."
Elagil's clear eyes mirrors images of time long gone and he nods to Almar. "And yet we were forced to, pushed back to Barad Eithel in dismay under the attack, defending the rear of Fingolfin like ever, we didnt yield easily.. A grim day" and the face of the young man, not so young now closes in pain. "Well meet Rahner, you have a good master, if Almar had a long beard, you could think him a dawarfsmith" he says trying to break the ice his and theri words brought. "I will see you all later, farewell" he mutters and spurs his horse forward.
Almar looks over to Elagil as he heads off, "Sorry to bring up bad times, I will have to buy you a drink to make up for it." He gets a bit of a grin then, "But as for a dwarf, even I am not that grim....take care mellon, and I will get you that drink soon." Looking to Baradil then with a pat on Rahner's back, "He might be better than I am with leather."
The scout looks to the pair of smiths and smiles. "Thank you for your kindness Rahner, I shall bring my harness to you some time in the coming day, are you in the smithy at the Market place?" He looks waiting for a response, but hears Elagil's departure. "Ahhh, see you Elagil, and I still owe you a drink as well. Perhaps we shall all have to go to the Echo and repay them some of the custom we've deprived them of over the past year." He chuckles softly and looks to Harlow, "this poor Master has a poor peer that is for sure, but he has a good friend in Magnar, a wonderful beast."
Waving off to the now exiting Elagil, Harlow looks around the group for a moment or so, then looking over to Baradil. "I take it that I've missed a show of your skills before that last shot?" he questions the fellow scout, folding his arms over his chest.
Cawing slightly and then flapping in from where Harlow had entered, as if on cue, Magnar perchs at Harlow's shoulder and looks around to the two familiar faces and the two new ones.
Almar looks over as the bird lands, seeming a little surprised at seeing one so close then nods to Baradil. "Yes, we work out of the smithy in town. Should be easy to find one of us there to repair your armor." He looks again at the target, "I might get you to help me some with my bow. I guess with things the way they are, it can not hurt to get back into practice."
The scout chuckles and smiles broadley, even foolishly. "I am afraid my skill has been made to seem to great. I am no grand bow man, but I'd be glad to shoot with you one afternoon. As long as we can finish afterwards with a drink, I am looking forward to some of our summer ale. Brethil or Brithombar cannot brew like our own brewers." He smiles and looks to Magnar, "Ahh there you are. Will this good weather hold then Magnar?" Looking toRahner and Almar again he smiles, "It will be grand to have a pair of smiths on line, I am but a lowly scout and wander round in light armour, but as soon as Elagil, or whoever else deems me worthy of a better set, you'll have my custom."
Rahner glances quickly at Almar, with regard to Baradil's comment about new armour. "I am glad that there will be work for me here . . ."
Almar stands near the archery range where Baradil looks to have been shooting, Harlow and Rahner are near him as well. "Most bowmen I know never wish for anything more than Leather as it seems to impair their shooting." He laughs a bit then, "I never thought about it much, but that could be why I used to be such a poor shot myself."
The scout nods his head and furrows his brow in though, his idle right hand scratches again at his beard and the drops to wwave lightly at the target. "Despite this days fortune, I am no bowman. I have been in more scrapes than many a soldier, poor Harlow has picked a hapless scout to join I'm afraid. And am plain sick of having my armour spliced wide open by battle axes and curved black blades. I'd wish not for mail, I'd look a fool in such gear and make the noise of a rainstorm, nay, armour of leather, as thick as my skull. That would suit, but that comes with experience as reward. I've yet to earn such, for I am but a score and one years aged."
Reaching a hand up to the crow at his shoulder, Harlow rubs one of his gloved fingers against Magnar's chest. "You seem to understate your skill, Baradil." Harlow chuckles out, looking over to the archery target then back over to the bearded man.
Magnar mock purrs, closing his eyes when he feels the finger massaging his chest. Then opening his eyes again when he hears the question, cawing toward Baradil.
Rahner smiles at Almar's comment and glances at the sun setting behind the horizon. "I hope you'll all excuse me, gentlemen, but there are several things I need done before it becomes too dark to see."
Almar smiles as the younger man readies to go, "I should see you in a while, leave some work for me." turning back to Baradil again, "I must agree with Harlow here, you underestimate your skill with the bow. I can say that shooting in mail is not an easy task, and I still get rent in battle wearing it. All to often it is the healers that make the difference than the armor. "
The scout nods and smiles, he lifts his bow up and pushes it in the direction of Almar. "Here friend, would you shoot this, I'd like this bowmen tag to be left. Put it this way, I can shoot, but I use an axe more often and a spear the most, so I'd not call myself a mere bowman. As scouts go, I am not usual, I fight too much and run too little." He waves the longbow as if to further tempt the smith, and his right hand pulls an arrow from his quiver, he also offers that to the smith.
Almar takes the bow and gets a feel for its pull. He takes the arrows and sets
a few into the dirt next to where he will shoot from. "It is a little bigger
than I am used to, but I am sure you will see how much better you are when I
am done." Chuckling as he looks back to the target taking a calming breath
to steady himself for shooting. Nocking an arrow he assumes the stance that
one rarely gets to take in battle, and lowers his aim towards the target. He
slowly draws the arrow back to his ear, and holds his breath as he takes final
aim......
Almar launches an arrow towards Archery Target...but he narrowly misses.
Almar lets the arrow fly keeping his arm steady even as he watches the target. He keeps watching the target and watching..... then he frowns as the arrow never seems to arrive there. "Seems I am far more rusty than I thought, eh? Maybe I could hit a dragon with that shot, but I think the orcs would be safe from my attacks."
Baradil adopts a complete stilness, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the smiths preparations, he watches with a look of admiration, noting careful movements and great care. And as the arrow leaves the bow he watches its flight. The long gap prooved just to great and only by a small margin does it pass the target. Yet the silence of concentration is broken by the sound of clapping. The tall scout beats his palms together loudly and smiles kindly. "Well sir, that was a fine shot from a foreign bow, shoot again though please. I know you will strike, you bare the signs of a bowman indeed." He waves his hand in a gesture aiming to coax a second shot. He turns to Harlow, "Watch this mans technique if you ever aim to shoot a bow, it is excellent. He has not fired this bow, yet he gets that good a measure from it, that comes from practice. Shoot again friend smith, please do."
Almar grins and nods, "As you wish, I can do so again. Perhaps you would
like to shoot from my bow as well sometime? It was givin to me by an elven friend
of mine from Mithrim. It is the finest bow I have ever had the pleasure to use,
but I do not think I am worthy of it any more than I am of the sword."
He looks back to the target and steadies himself for a second shot. Raising
the bow, he kneels down and plucks another arrow from the dirt. He nocks it,
and draws the string back for his next shot taking a breath and holding it as
he sights in on the target.
Almar launches an arrow towards Archery Target...hitting and terribly wounding
it!
Almar watches the target once more, smiling at the results this time. He lowers the bow and looks back to Baradil again, "Well I did do a bit better that time. Seems I have not forgotten everything I learned." He passes the bow back to Baradil then, bowing slightly. "Thank you for the chance to practice, mellon."
The scout shakes his head and sighs as a smile grows on his face, more hay spouts up from the target. "You are worthy friend, if any is." he smiles and shakes his head again in disbelief, "That poor orc, two eyes lost in a day." His head turns towards his fellow scout and the black purched bird. His voice rises softly and cooing, almost wholly for the birds benefit. "I hope you watched that Magnar, mayhap you can whisper tips into Harlows ears." he chuckles softly and turns again, and shakes his head looking at the target. Taking the bow, he offers it to Harlow.
"Take a shot Harlow, we must start sometime, and I have promised much." The bow he holds out and waves it in the same insistent manner.
"Perhaps you should make sure to find a place that an arrow wont reach you?" Harlow says with a loud chuckle when he reachs out to slowly take the bow from Baradil's grasp. He looks over to Magnar and whispers slightly to the large black bird at his shoulder, then looks back ahead of him to the Target, and then nocking an arrow.
Magnar spreads open it's wings and flies off to Baradil's shoulder, perching there now. He caws toward the bearded scout, then looks over to Harlow to watch.
The scout looks to Harlow, his eyes are bolted open his peers movements. His mouth drops open as if he means to speak, and after a long pause he does. "Now don't rush, and... widen your stance a touch." With that the scout goes silent and riases and idle hand to preen at the dark feathers of the crow, yet his gaze shifts not from Harlow. He pauses now in the same stillness he offered to Almar."
Doing as advised, Harlow widens his stance then begins to pull back and take aim.. Closing one eye, he aims toward the center of the orc's chest, then lets the arrow fly... Straight into the ground, it skids to a stop a few feet away from the target. Smirking at that then looking over his shoulder, Harlow chuckles "Perhaps I should have had Magnar stay and whisper hints into my ear." he jests.
Almar does not seem to be phased that the young man missed the target, but nods as he goes back over Harlow's shot in his mind letting Baradil do the talking to his student.
The sun has already begun to slide from its perch and nears the distant line of mountains and finnally the depth of Belegaer, yet for now, a bright lemony light filters over the land. And three men and a crow stand looking towards a target, and they each seem engrossed in the shooting.
One of the men, an over tall man, young despite his beard looks towards the arrow that had snaked earthward and then to Harlow. A nodding head heralds the coming of speech and it comes deep and kind sounding. "Friend, that shot was good, I wounmded myself when I was but learnign, and my first arrow was fired backwards. You observed well, yet you will get better." He smiles broadly.
Almar nods as he listens to Baradil's words, but only offers a quick bit of advice. "Remember that when you shoot, your arrow will drop some at this range. Shoot a bit above where you want to hit and you will find that you land the shaft more often."
From a distance, a young woman watches the archery lesson with curious interest. She leans casually against the gate post, a smile touching her lips at the man's errant shot. Though it is not a look of mockery, merely amusement. From her vantage point she can just make out the words being spoken, and she seems to be paying careful attention to the trainers words.
Harlow nods to Baradil, turning around to take the arrow and then moving back ahead to where he faces the target. Nocking the next arrow, he gets into a shooting stance and pulling back. Closing one eye again, he takes aim, then let's this one fly.. And it flies above the target and lands in places unknown. Continuing to smirk, Harlow runs his fingers through his hair, "A bit too high of an aim, it seems." he says with another chuckle.
Baradil nods again though. "Once low, once high, third time right I'd wager." He pulls another arrow out and chuckles. "You can tell I can fletch, Arrows to spend so idly. Make this one count. Even if it flies wide, get the height right. Learn that lesson this day. And remember it."He steps back and goes silent again, stroking Magnar's sleak feathers again, waiting for the scout to take the shot his gaze passes around the fairground and indeed it drifts over the form of Failindris, and the scouts eyes indeed mark her. A warm smile of greeting passes his lifts and a broad hand waves out.
Almar laughs a little and shakes his head, "I am guessing that you have not shot much, so it take time to get used to a bow. Unless your like me and shot so many that you have lost count. Keep at it and you will be hitting the target in no time."
Failindris watches the arrow as it passes over head, a fresh smile warming her face. And seeing Baradil's greeting, she stands returning the wave. Making her way toward the group, she absently adjusts her tunic. "Hail, Baradil." she calls, still smiling. And offering a slight bow to his companions, she adds, "I hope you didn't encourage him to loose that bolt at me."
Slowly takes the next arrow from Baradil, then nods a bit toward him. Chuckling and looking over to Almar, nodding again "That I haven't. And I'm quite sure I'll be able to hit it.. At least this time." he pauses before nocking the next arrow, looking over to Failindris for a quick second or so, saying "I'm sure you don't have much of a worry about me, ma'am.". Then nocking the arrow and taking stance again, pulling the string back and taking aim.. He then looses the arrow and it hits the target. Except in one of the most painful looking areas to be hit, for a man that is, in the groin. Coughing a bit, then laughing, Harlow looks down to the ground, shaking his head. "Third time's a charm it seems."
Magnar purrs slightly at the petting he receives from the scout, hearing the voice of the new comer and then looking over to her, he caws slightly, spreading open his wings and flapping them slightly.
Hearing the woman call to Baradil, Almar turns and waves to her as well as she comes closer. "Hail m'lady, I do not think we have met before. I spend to much time in that smithy it seems. I am Almar, smith by trade now though it seems I am being pulled back to my martial duties somewhat now." He looks back as it seems Harlow is about to shoot, and laughs a bit seeing it. "Well you put the orc down, that is for sure."
The scout watches Harlows shot and he smiles and as he leans forward, masking his eyes with a broad hand he chuckles. "Goodness, poor thing. Blinded in both eyes and then that, I hope his baldric was in place." He chuckles and then blushes to hear the voice of Failindris, reminded perhaps his words may be a margin to baudy. He caughs and look to Failindris, grinning foolishly, and seeming every bit the young man he is. "Err, would you excuse me Failindris." Another soft chuckles is suppressed and he turns to Harlow. "Good height and dead central. If the orcs new our bowman shot so...they'd think twice." He turns again to Failindris, "And nay M'Lady he shot not at you." The scout bows slightly and smiles, apperently gaining mastery of his mirth; just.
Turning to the smith, Failindris says, "Well met, good Almar. I am Failindris, and it is a pleasure to . . ." But before she finishes speaking, the sound of Harlow's arrow striking rings out, and the lady cringes slightly. "My," she says softly, with a sheepish grin. And with a glance at Baradil, she found his poorly contained mirth infectious, laughing aloud herself. "Forgive me," she said, touching Harlow's arm gently. "My most sincere apology." Gaining a small measure of control she says then, "I am intruding upon your training, I should, perhaps, leave you to it." And saying that, she looks questioningly at Baradil.
Almar looks back to Failindris and shakes his head, "No reason you should leave. He will need to learn to deal with all sorts of distractions, so stay and watch if you wish." He glances over to Baradil and grins, "In Dorthorian there were as many women practicing with bows as there were men doing the same. My wife was a far better shot than I ever was."
Flinching at the touch since he wasn't paying attention, Harlow looks over toward Failindris, smirking. "No need to apologize. You hadn't affected my.." he coughs before saying the next word, "Aim it seems." he chuckles out, nodding to Almar. "I agree. I think the orc would be down by now." he then turns over to Baradil, "And I think that they would think twice.. Or at least wear say, a bit more protection." he replies to the fellow scout, still giving off his smirk.
The scout smiles, a hand rises to wipe a tear from the side of his eye and he continues to break into short chuckles which fit and stop, finally with a deep sigh the scout seems again calm. "Indeed, you've the makings of a bowman for sure." He turns upon his heal,and looks to Almar, "There has been much talk of the tavern and the ales we will share, perhaps we should organize a party of some kind. A homecoming for those gone and a good time for new friends." Baradil offers his hand again, "It has been nice to meet you sir, you'll see me in your smithy in the coming days, you or Rahner will have a patching to do."
Again the scout snorts peculiarly and shakes his head, looking at Failindris again he smiles, "Would you be for going to the echo, we'll get your brother there and Harlow and Rose and... well whoever I see. Is this a plan?"
Almar nods to Baradil, "It has been good to meet you." Then looking to the others, "To meet all of you, but alas I should get back to the smithy and finsih up there. There has been so much work to do lately with everyone back home again." He nods to both the men and then bows to the lady, "Have a good evening, mellyn. I hope to join you all soon for that drink, so let me know when this party will be."
"Indeed, your aim was quiet. . Hmmmm. .. accurate, shall we say." she says to the young scout. "If they taught all scout's such technique, battles would make for short tales. Strange tales, but short." and she laughs again. She then turns to Baradil, a look of consideration on her face. "My brother still owes me an answer. Perhaps alittle wine will weaken his resolve."
Laughing and nodding toward the woman, "Indeed they would be strange stories to tell." he agrees with her then tucks loose strands of his hair behind his ear and then extending the bow out toward Baradil. "And I believe I'll let you hold this until well.. I can master shots like the last one to where it's the first time." Harlow says with the corners of his lips still turned upward. Blinking then turning to wave off to Almar, he discovers that it would be too late to do so. Oh well, he then looks back over toward Baradil and Failindris.
The scout nods his head and takes the bow. A last wave he offers to the smith as he wanders off and he begins to speak, turning his gaze upon Harlow. "Many thanks friend. We shall have to go and cut a bow from a good ewe tree, for a bowman cannot learn to shoot without bow. I know a fair bowmaker, I'd do it if we were pushed, but we aren't." He then turns his head to Failindris and smiles, "Well maybe wine will weaken your brothers will, but we may as well have a grand time trying." He smiles softly to Failindirs and bows slightly, "Well M'lady i have some things to go and take care of this night, not least arranging this meeting. I'll be looking out for you to let you know." He rises and slides his finger beneath Magnar, "And you my good man, go back to your Master." And so Baradil lifts the perched bird off him shoulder with a last preen as a parting gift. His head cranes towards Harlow as he profers the bird. "Well done friend, we can say failr that your training has begun." He takes a step back and smiles to both, "see you another time my friends."
Tucking several loose strands of hair behind one ear, the young lady listens as the scout makes his farewells. "I look forward to hearing from you, the moment the arrangements are made." she says, her eyes drifting down toward her feet. After a moment, she looks to the other scout. "Will you join us when the time comes? Perhaps then we can make a proper introduction."
"That a bowman can't." Harlow replies to Baradil with a grin, then nodding a bit toward him when he makes his fare wells and such. "Thank you, and I hope to see you again soon." he says to the fellow scout before looking over to Failindris and raising a brow, nodding slightly "Believe I will try to make it. And perhaps we could." he replies to the question and adds in to the last sentence.
Baradil nods to both and smiles broadly, first to Harlow and lastly Failindris. He raises his hand and waves. "Till then friends." Turning upon his heal he walks off towards the town, his long gait carrying him swiftly from the pair. As he turns a bend on a path, he waves one last time, holding his bow high aloft his head.
Smiling warmly at Harlow, the woman bows her head. "Very good," she says, and turning to Baradil, she adds, "Till then," echoing his farewell. Eyeing the bird perched upon the young man's shoulder for a moment, Failindris finally says, "Well, I beg your leave for now, then, sir. I should be making my way home now, or Elagil will certainly send out the hounds to find me." And with that, she spins about on her heel, and follows in Baradil's footsteps, a certain lightness in her step.
Nodding off to Failindris when she makes the turn on heel and walks off, Harlow
chuckles at the comment before, reaching a hand up to rub a finger against the
crow's chest again, "Pleasure to meet you ma'am. See you some other time
then." He calls out to her and then stands there, starting up a new conversation
with the black bird at his shoulder.
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