During the Fréasburg Faire, Crow shares with Dytha suspicions that not all is peaceful in the town, but is frugal with the details. ((Heavily edited log to preserve the storyline between these two characters. For the full log of the Faire including the presence of Adriellyn, Adriwyn, Arahen, Beyrith, and Nuovis, visit wildhills.shivtr.com.))
Derakoth |Finally, the man's eyes wandered away from his meal, and into the buzzing crowds once more. He sought, for a while; a sea of irrelevant faces, a collage of normality. It struck him, eventually, and he had to make a concerted effort not to exclaim. Standing up, he thoughtlessly discarded what remained of the meat, and hanged his flask back on his belt. With a steady stride, he approached her, from such an angle as to be seen early. "You," he would address the woman, with a polite, yet sure smile. "You look important."
Dytha stood watching the same crowd, spending time with each face, returning each smile, whether new or not. It glanced at the black-haired man no longer than another passer-by, but when his intent to approach her was known, she turned and greeted with a smile. "That is somewhat deliberate." A brief glance from mantle to boot, to make what quick judgments she could.
Derakoth nearly mirrored her smile as her eyes fell on him. His head tilted slightly to one side as he closed the distance between them, catching wind of her words. "Very much so. One must always seek to acquaint oneself with persons of standing, no?" There was a peculiar air of confidence around him, in the way he carried himself. He extended his hand at the woman, his gaze traveling across it, only to end up resting on her eyes. "They call me Crow."
Dytha 's smile grew. She sensed something genuine, something unpretentious about his politic. She joined his hand with hers, wrapped in a Rider's rough glove. "Dytha." There were titles, of course, but he didn't seem to need them. "Fréasburg welcomes you, Crow."
Derakoth raised a brow at the nakedness of her name, his only comment a smirk. He shook her hand as she offered it; a rider's glove, a rider's grip. Steady and firm. "I would hope as much," he commented at her welcome.
Dytha glanced around them at the loop the faire-goers made, a peaceful parade of not only Rohirrim. She seemed to take pride in being able to welcome diverse folk, even the odd umber-toned trader, walking about in crossbarred cloth. ""We welcome all we can. The city is open to any who would help keep its peace."
Derakoth nodded at her claim, retracting his hand after their firm handshake, and casually hooked his thumbs into his belt. "A noble endeavour, though it gives natural rise to the question of how would one know who wants to keep the peace, and who does not." He allowed a momentary pause to settle in, before looking around. "This is a nice faire."
Dytha |"One doesn't," she answered simply. "Often, those who do not keep peace do not even know what they want." She nodded to his assessment. "Trade brings us closer together. If only we had more of it."
Derakoth "Is it the produce that's lacking," he asked with genuine curiosity, "or the coin?"
Dytha |"Neither." Her manicured expression chipped, sneaking a frown between her white brows. "It is the willingness." She tilted her head, regarding him a moment and the chance he might actually care about her thoughts on the subject. "What is your trade here, Crow?"
Derakoth considered her question for long enough to convey he had no ready answer. "At the moment? Seeking to right a wrong." He appeared openly curious about Dytha's vague reply to his previous question, but refrained from prodding further.
Dytha nodded, seeing no need to pry. "If Fréasburg can help right that wrong, you need only ask." She turned to the wreath of market stalls around them. "The goods are there, and the coin. One feeds the other, and so on. But you cannot trade with someone you do not trust, and of that there is a lack."
Derakoth nodded at her explanation. The fact that she could actually offer such was not lost on him, as he eventually returned his inquiring gaze at her. "And what of your trade here, Dytha? I would not believe you are merely the town greeter."
Dytha carried herself well for a young woman, a sturdy confidence in her spine. "That is part of my profession. I would meet everyone who walked through our gates if I could. I am the daughter of Thorvall, son of Aelle, Reeve of the West-March."
Derakoth pursed his lips, as a smile blossomed on his face. "Ah, so I was right after all," he said in a comedic triumphant tone. "The Reeve's granddaughter, in the flesh."
Dytha chuckled. The language of influence was written about her—from the silver stallion stitched to her tunic to the golden belt buckle, proudly printed with the setting sun of the Mark's westernmost power. "I would serve no one by blending in," she said with a smirk.
Derakoth "That," he countered, "that would not necessarily be true. But I digress." He fell silent for a few moments, warring thoughts nearly etching themselves on his brow. "'Tis only right that you know," he settled eventually. "The wrong I seek to right has consequences potentially reaching farther than the personal."
Dytha 's stance shifted. She became very serious, suddenly intent on nothing but him. "Go on."
Derakoth |The man's own expression turned solemn. "To do so, I would require more evidence than is currently available to me. Know, for the moment, that I would uphold the peace you and yours have toiled here to forge. Know also, though, that not all within your walls share my sentiment. Some would rather see it shattered."
Dytha lowered her voice, respectful of what seemed at stake. "You speak as if you have some idea who."
Derakoth "Some," he concurred, nodding his head. "Yet it would be unwise of me to cast blame, or even the shadow of blame, based on an idea."
Dytha stepped closer, closing the space and the risk of wandering ears. "I assure you, anything you share will be handled with discretion and diligence."
Derakoth nodded at her. "I know. Hence why I shall aim to seek you once I have more to share. For the present, though, a suggestion; look to your borders."
Dytha |"I cannot keep my eyes off them."
Derakoth offered her a reassuring smile. "You cannot trade with someone you do not trust," he said, repeating her earlier words. "I would hope my ill tidings do not erode yours." Maintaining his smile, he took a long look around the faire. "The people's eyes are still on you, Dytha," he directed at her from behind his joyful expression. "Now would be a good time to blend in."
Dytha bristled. Her frown tightened with her mood. "So says the man dressed for a King's funeral." The jest lightened her a little, and she released the stress in one long breath. "I am gentle with my trust. I do not let it easily slip away."
Derakoth |Dytha's comment served in him looking self-consciously at himself, a chuckle springing out from his throat. "I know better than to request the trust of one I just met. Besides; you seem clever enough not to offer it up cheaply."
Dytha watched him as if the longer she did, the more layers she'd peel away. "It is precious in these parts. I wonder what the price of yours would be."
Derakoth smiled slightly at Dytha's musing, as he glanced at something just next to her right ear. "If I offer it, it is as a gift; not as a good to be bought."
Dytha slowly nodded. "Gifts are easier to take back."
Derakoth recoiled. "What horrible person would take back a gift he freely gave?"
Arahen says, 'pardon me, good people. I seek information'
Arahen bows deeply before Derakoth.
Dytha was interrupted before she could answer. She turned, surprised the armoured elf had come so close with so little warning. "Of course," she answered, once again smiling for a stranger.
Derakoth turned to the new face, raising his eyebrows inquiringly as to what information she sought.
Arahen says, 'I am informed that there is a ford in a marshy area east and south of here where Anduin may be crossed at a narrow spot...do you know if this is true?'
Derakoth pointed towards the east gate. "Follow the road, go past the ruins, keep heading straight and you will see it. It is impossible to miss."
Derakoth says, 'Oh, and... Mind the corpses.'
Arahen says, 'I thank you, good sir. I have a map and...uhmm..corpses?'
Derakoth says, 'Corpses.'
Arahen says, 'Was there a battle?'
Derakoth scratched his chin. "There *was*, some thousand years ago... But there are active skirmishes on the riverbank."
Arahen says, 'People say Easterners are filtering across Anduin and I am eager to see for myself to report to my chiefs on the true state of affairs in Rohan'
Derakoth says, 'Good luck. Try not to become a corpse.'
Arahen says, 'I have avoided it for some time. My only fear is encountering a large size body of invaders.'
Arahen says, 'Thank you for your counsel, sir'
Derakoth nodded. "Remember, tactical retreating is not fleeing."
Arahen says, 'There is no shame in flight in such circumstances!'
Derakoth says, 'Indeed. Anything else you require?'
Arahen says, 'Nay. Your kindness will be helpful.'
Arahen says, 'A good eve to you both'
Arahen bows deeply before Derakoth.
Derakoth says, 'Wind on your back, then. Good luck.'
Dytha tilted her head, trusting the elf to find her way with Crow's directions.
Derakoth turned his gaze back to Dytha, shrugging a shoulder. "It *is* generally that way," he said, wagging a finger roughly eastwards. "Can't miss a bloody river."
Dytha took a moment to gather her scattered thoughts. There was the first hint of worry in the little line between her brows. She smoothed it with another steady breath. "My family keep a house on the hill. Word can always be left there for me, if one should have news."
Derakoth looked towards the hill Dytha mentioned, nodding slightly. "Noted. *When* I know more, so shall you."
Dytha |"And if I should learn more and wish to alert you?"
Derakoth leveled a somber look at Dytha. Her question, though completely logical, one he had no ready reply for. His brows dug deep. "Do you know Hadric's hut?"
Dytha |The sun-kissed color drained from her cheeks. "I do."
Derakoth |Her reaction was not lost to him, though he made no mention or comment of it. "Leave a note if I am not in."
Dytha made the choice not to ask his connection to the abandoned fishingstead. "I will," she vowed.
Derakoth "I look forward to it," he said with a small, slow nod. "Now, I believe I have monopolised you for far too long." His returning polite smile punctuated his sentence. "I should let you mingle some more, before tongues start wagging."
Dytha looked a moment at a loss for how to gesture farewell, so she settled on a single nod. "Until we know more. Good afternoon, sir."
Derakoth inclined his head departingly. More than a nod, less than a bow. "Until so. And it was a pleasure to meet you." He smiled softly, turning to depart.
Chat Log: 08/25
