The Wanderer, The Healer, The Traitor And The Smith



Faerhild manages to open one of the Meadhall's doors, an act which seems to drain what little remained of her strength. Luckily a fellow guard steps in to aid her in the task of closing the heavy door. She freezed at his gesture of compassion, staring at the man for a brief moment in confusion with sad tired eyes. Eventually she nods her wordless gratitude before allowing her gaze to search the room.
 

Leofholm is eating while listening to Yrminas as suddenly the door of the hall opens. The healer puts on a frown as he notices who had stepped inside, looking mildly irritated.
 

Yrminas looked over his shoulder, he seemed more bemused at the sight.
 

Faerhild climbs slowly down the stairs, frowning as the man he is looking for is nowhere to be seen. Upon noticing Leofholm and his expression her frown deepens, although her gaze escapes to study the floor as she nears him.


Upon reaching the men's table Faerhild spares a silent glance at Yrminas, before inclining her head at Léofholm. Her hand reaches for the table, subtly searching for it's support.


Yrminas sets an elbow on the table, looking at her with a matching silence. The man's free hand merely reaches out to grab his own plate.
 

Leofholm pushes the plate of food towards Yrminas again, looking up to Faerhild with a scolding face. "Why are you walking about the place like that? You will give me headaches if you keep doing so, your wound makes it necessary for you to rest, Faerhild."
 

Faerhild says, 'I apologize Master Healer. It seems I have grown tired of laying under unfamiliar ceilings, studying their structure and battle against the wind. I came here to hand myself to my brother's care, yet it seems...he is occupied elsewhere.' She casts a tired mirthless look across the room.
 

Leofholm says, 'I cannot claim to have seen him. I've been waiting to speak with the Reeve myself. But I must urge you to remain resting, regardless of where you do it. If you keep climbing stairs and walking down roads, your wound will open once more."'


Faerhild turns her face to look at Leofholm again, '...And if I lay one more day in that bed my mind will grow darker than the night itself.'


Leofholm says, 'Can you read, Faerhild?'
 

Faerhild shakes her head subtly, staring at the Healer with weary eyes, 'I can not, yet I have started to hear tales in Eorcan's snoring. I fear it means I must go home.' Faerhild appears rather stubborn, even in her feverish state. Although her determination is diminished by her state when she suddenly has to sit on the bench to keep herself from fainting for all the exhaustion

.
Yrminas shoves his plate her way with the sausages and berries left on it.


Leofholm says, 'Look at you. Go home if you must, but do not move around anymore once you have settled. There are other people who are in need of my medical supplies as well, so it would be unkind to deprive them of that out of stubbornness.'
 

Faerhild offers Yrminas another silent stare, glancing slowly down at the plate. She hesitates for a moment before outreaching her trembling fingers for but a single berry.
She eats the berry, swallowing it with some effort, before turning her pale features to regard Leofholm, "I understand, and ask you to use your precious time on those in need of it. Should I die for my iron will I assure none blame will fall upon your shoulders... It is a flaw I am well known for."


Isenburg pushes open the two heavy icy doors, wrapped up in bundles of furs and thick cloths to keep himself warm in the icy weather. First of all he removed the small metal cap that sat on top of his head before unclasping the once-red cloak and hanging it over his shoulder. He then unbuttons his jacket to be in just his under-clothes that he wears whilst at the forge, now recongisable. Isenburg moves his way over towards a table to grab a tankard of mead, his dirty and calloused hand wrapping around it and raising it to his lips before he has a brief look around, standing out some not only due to his attire but also because of his fairly larger muscle mass than most in Forlaw due to his occupation.
 

Leofholm looks up as another person enters. He raises his left hand to wave at the man, whom he would quickly recognise as a familiar face before looking back at Faerhild, a serious look upon his features once again. "If the wound opens again, I will have to treat you. I could not put the burden of letting one of our warriors die upon myself."


Faerhild draws in a slow constrained breath of air, "It remains undecided what my title or position will be. Yet I appreciate your kindness, Master Healer. I shall seek to stay as still as is possible... once under a familiar ceiling."

Leofholm nods slightly in approval, waving over one of the serving maids to procure a mug of mead for himself.

Isenburg noted the wave as he stepped in, taking his mead and going to speak to those he saw closest.

Isenburg says, 'Hail you three.'

Leofholm says, 'Greetings, Isenburg.'

Yrminas 's forehead wrinkles with surprise as he notices the brawn that evidently sits in the new arrival's arms. He nods his head as he usually would before grabbing a knife to slice up the sausage he ought to be eating.


Isenburg runs his forearm, still wrapped in sooty cloth to somewhat protect it from small flying bits of metal. "Mind if I join you?", he spoke out loud and clear.


Leofholm says, 'Of course not. Come and sit at this table.' and beckons for him to sit.
 

Faerhild manages a weak smile on her pale lips, "Master Smith." She nods her greeting only noticing him as he spoke.
 

Isenburg nods his head in thanks, moving to sit over besides Leofholm to be closer to the group. First he set down his mug before using his other hand to pull the bench out a bit to fall down on it with a thud coming from his smithing hammer.
 

Yrminas says, 'Hail, Yrminas son of Irmin. I would ask your name, but it appears that your presence comes with introductions from others.'
 

Isenburg says, 'Isenburg is the name I was given at birth, though Smith works just as well.'

Isenburg reaches to his side on the bench to lift up his hammer, letting ith thud down heavily on the wooden table top to show his profession.
 

Yrminas says, 'I should come visit your smithy soon then! My weapons are cracked and I have not found a whetstone for two moons!'
 

Isenburg says, 'Anyone is always welcome, just follow the sound of hammer ringing upon anvil and you'll find it.'