In Maple Hall

Deep in the woods, Martion stands unmoving. His eyes flicker, but the rest of him is still. What he is thinking or why he is there, who knows? But there he is, like a silent sentinel.

And another joins him, likewise silent as a soft song dies on her lips. From a short distance, Ailiell studies the Gweithir -- his posture, what she can make out of his face, hidden as it is in the gloom of this starless night -- and slowly moves closer, the hem of her dress whispering over the fallen leaves. "Good evening, Martion..." she says softly, not wishing to startle him. Even knowing, as she does, that her approach has likely been noted.

Martion turns then, the faintest of smiles coming to his lips. "Good evening, indeed," he replies in turn. "You have wandered far from the house."

Ailiell moves to his side, drawing her cloak more securely about her. "As have you," she notes, tilting back her head to study the faint pattern of moonlight waning beyond the clouds. She smiles then, without turning to him. "I seem to find you in all the deep, dark places, lately."

Martion raises his hands in a gesture almost of assent. "I am learning this valley," he replies. "For a place of such evident charm, it is amazingly well protected. This valley, for instance, seems to be entirely cut off from the moors by massive side-canyons from the Bruinen, so if you do manage to get over the ridges " ... and he gestures ... "it would do precious little good. But a scout must know even the impossibilities."

Ailiell's gaze falls from the sky into thoughtfulness, one corner of her lips tightening almost imperceptibly in a small frown. "Yes. A scout must." She turns her head, then, seeking out the other's eyes. "And yes," she adds, quietly, just as slightly weighting her words. "It is well protected."

Martion smiles, seeming to relax slightly. "Of course, I have another reason to show up in odd places. Our Hir has asked me to look out for a good place for a dwelling, in preparation for Oremir's return."

"She is returning, then?" Ailiell asks, somewhat startled. "Soon, that is...?" The elleth looks about this remote corner of the valley with a new eye, her bemusement apparent. "A dwelling here...?" Suddenly hearing herself, she breaks off with a small laugh. "Forgive me. I will allow you to answer at least one of those before accosting you with more."

Martion chuckles at Ailiell's sudden change of pace. "I do not know if she will come back in this yen," he answers amusedly, "but our Hir is determined to convince her, if he must build a palace for her. Fortunately her tastes are far simpler than that."

With an effort, Ailiell sifts through the questions that arise from even these simple words. A sudden small breeze sends a tendril of hair into her mouth, further delaying the inevitable flow of queries yet to arise. Glad to hear Martion's laughter, she continues on this tack -- "What would she wish, then? Shall we build ---what, flets?"

Martion seems amused, but he takes her suggestion seriously. "Quite possibly. For a Noldo, she is amazingly in love with the woods. In Gonnmar, she would spend quite a lot of time wandering the forests. That made my job rather harder."

Ailiell nods, mulling this over. "I would imagine, so, yes," she murmurs. "And you were her guard, then?" She looks to him, composed again, and adds as an afterthought, "And now?"

Martion shakes his head. "Not in any official way," he answers. "But I was in charge of keeping the forests safe ... for us. Made it harder, with her wandering around. Always had to have people trailing her."

A slight rustling in the underbrush can be heard, and the elven steed Ladring can be spied at the edge of the clearing. He emerges from the south, the Hirvaethor Ist-Amra upon his back. Upon her back is her longbow, and at her side several small fur bundles hang, spoils of the hunt. She urges the horse forward slowly, seemingly distracted now that tomorrow's supper is caught.

Something in the Gweithir's words seem to trouble Ailiell -- or perhaps it is some tone within them. Either way, she cannot pin it down, and thereby tucks it away for a moment. With a small smile she says, "I think I like her. Though I do not envy you your job." And then her brows tilt downwards as it becomes clearer to her. "Safe for you," she repeats, looking to him suddenly. "Was it unsafe for others?"

Martion looks up then, seeing Ist-Amra riding up. Muttering a curtailed answer to Ailiell's question ... the words seem to be ... "For our enemies ..." ... he calls in a louder voice, "Ist-Amra! Hail!"

As if called from a reverie, Martion's voice startles the elleth. Ist-Amra looks up, then sees the two. "Well met, Martion, Ailiell," is her reply. She looks to the night sky, then back to them. "Enjoying the stars this eve?"

Ailiell pulls her eyes from Martion, likewise startled to find Ist-Amra and a horse so nearby, both having gone entirely unnoticed. "Aye, that we are," she answers with a faint smile, glancing back to the dim cloud cover. "Or the thought of them, at least." She looks back to the Gweithir then, thinks twice and returns her eyes to Ist-Amra and her burdens. "What have you there, sister?"

Martion smiles and replies, "We are, though we were discussing other matters."

Almost forgotten at her side are the two rabbits Ist-Amra caught out of their warren this night. As the Nethril looks to them, she follows the gaze. "Ah, these? Dinner, I call them. 'Tis finally autumn and I feel safe to catch the rabbits without fear for their babes." She looks from the one to the other, her eyebrow raised, and ads in reply to the Gweithir, "Other matters? What else is there to discuss at night but the stars. If not perhaps the moon, in her splendor?" Her eyes narrow as she examines them both for clues to their conversation.

Martion smiles at that, his lips quirking from some emotion. "Well, I was telling Ailiell how our Hir wants me to find a good place for a home for our house ... something that might help convince Oremir to return from Lindon sooner rather than later."

Ailiell looks from Martion to the Hirvaethor, letting that stand as answer enough. Though the dark eyes she turns up to Ist-Amra seem to convey a bit more. And with no more than that, she begins to pace a bit in the chill of the autumn night, turning up her face to the sky.

Ist-Amra gathers her cloak round her, as a cold breeze brushes through the glade. Softly she dismounts, absently rubbing Ladring's muzzle as she step stowards the pair. She looks round the glade, musing, "Perhaps by the shore of the lake? It might be that the water will comfort her. Though it is nothing like the tides of my old home, it does bring a bit of comfort to me when I am homesick."

Martion shrugs a bit eloquently. "I must think on it," he answers. "A lake is a cold place in winter, and I was thinking a flet perhaps ... from what I have heard of her stay here, before I arrived, she is still one for wandering in the woods."

"But there are wonderful woods surrounding the lake," Ailiell adds, showing that her attention is still with them, though her feet wander. "I would agree that it may bring her comfort..." Her circuitous path brings her back around to Ladring and she whispers something to him in passing. After another moment of silence, she asks with sudden clarity, "Is that why you were prowling the caves, Martion?"

Martion laughs, his voice bright and contagious with an odd joy. "Well, yes. I was trying to see if there was an unused section of caves we could use ... as one option. I would like it. I do not think Oremir would, though, unless there were forests right out the door. No luck, just a puzzle instead."

Nodding emphatically in agreement, the Hirvaethor adds, "The meadow northeast of the lake has always struck me a good place for a home." But at the talk of caves, she grows distressed. "Caves? I would not like that at all. I doubt it could tempt the lady Oremir from Lindon." As the night sky begins to lighten, she moves back toards her mount, leaping back upon him. "But I fear I must get these properly dressed 'ere they spoil. If you will excuse me?"

Martion laughs. "I will come help you," he offers. "I dress rabbits splendidly!" And he looks apologetically to Ailiell. "But you seem full of questions as the sun is full of rays," he says. "Find me later, and I will try to answer a few!"

"Of course," Ailiell answers, smiling up at her. "I cannot say I would be terribly happy living within the caves, myself." She leans up against a tree, as though silently affirming her preference. At Martion's words, she chuckles lightly. "I will, at that."