Snowbourn:
The bowl of turnip greens sailed through the air and bounced off the far wall of the tavern, painting the wall a sickly green and causing an uproar of laughter from the men and women gathered round the fire pit.
Fairlain drew her cloak more closely around her shoulders and sank further back into her seat in the corner. It was strange...four months since she would have been laughing with the rest until her sides ached, but too much had happened and she was no longer the person she had been. Rising quietly she stepped out of the tavern and headed down the streets of Snowbourn to the place where Daysey was stabled.
Snowbourn was a comfortable sort of place...regal without being overbearing and homely without being squalid. Fairlain had liked it when she had passed through sometime before and she liked it still, but her heart was not letting her rest here. She stopped on one of the darkened corners and pushing back her hood, placed the archer's helm of rohan over her face once more. There were still many miles to cover and now that she and Daysey were fed and rested, they would travel once more and let the starlight guide their paths.
Galtrev:
"How much?" Fairlain frowned under the hood of her cloak
"twenty....and not a coin less" said the smith, a wily smile breaking out from under the blue markings that covered his face.
"I have fifteen."
"Done", said the blue-marked man and held out his hand.
Wordlessly, Fairlain put her small leather purse into the man's hand. He shook out the coins and picking one up between thumb and forefinger bit into the metal with an approving grunt.
The terrain of the road ahead was made of rocks and shale. Daysey would have to be shod if she were to make speed through this land without injury to her hooves. Fairlain leaned against a post in the smithy and watched carefully as the smith worked. The Dunlendings were a wronged people, and that made them perilous. Yet the men and women here seemed to have a farther sight than the Rohirrim whose glance is fixed only on their horses, their land and their families. The blue painted men and women acknowledged something beyond themselves, and sought somehow to know the Valar and their will..calling upon Oromë and his strength by the name of 'Rhi Helvarch'. But Fairlain saw none of the peace that she had seen in Lothlorien where the Blessed Ones are remembered and named often, so she held herself with caution and watched. The helping hand could so easily take up the sword in an instant.
With Daysey well shod it was time to ride once again. On to Lanuch and then across the river. Somehow Fairlain was eager to see the elves of Eregion once again...things had indeed changed.
Gwingris:
The view was beautiful from the watchtower, even if the walls were not entirely whole. Daegennen had welcomed her warmly when she rode into Gwingris, and Fairlain had felt the tension and wariness drain from her heart. Below her the Bruinen sparkled in the sunlight and a light breeze caressed her cheek. She had not even thought to remove the armour of rohan she wore before she climbed to the one watchtower that remained on the edge of the valley. Fairlain smiled and a stillness came over her. She remembered the lady Gladaewen and how she had come upon her that morning in Thorenhad. Timidly, she raised her hands to the heavens as the Woodlark of Lorien had done and whispered,
"Thank you"
At that moment, she heard commotion below her. Looking down to where the stable master stood she saw a fair haired woman standing by a horse that was flecked with sweat and pawing restlessly. Fairlain peered more closely, her eyes narrowing. She knew the woman. It was a member of the Iaurmenel's Order, the one named Frithswith.
