Seated before the fire, perhaps a step or two to one side so as not to block the randiant heat from the rest of the Inn's guests, Camelia settled onto a short wooden stool and placed her feet upon the hearthstones. She truly believed she could absorb all the room's heat and still not banish the chill in her bones. She never wanted to feel that cold again, and yet the cold winter was closing in quickly.
Camelia's quiet reverie was broken when the hunting woman rose and her wild looking ruff did the same. Camelia had seen ruffs before. For hunting and tending flocks and such. This ruff wasn't like those others. Camelia watched and was certain the woman was speaking to the animal. Those the distance and the crackling fire made it impossible to hear the words. Still, Camelia was observant. it was important to be so where she came from. In that observation, Camelia surely imagined it when it looked as though the ruff understood her. More than just followed her, but actually seemed to accept her quiet words for the meaning they imparted.
And Lady Comfrey was back with socks, and Camelia diverted her attention to the healer and smiled with appreciation.
Camelia held the socks in her hand as she sat with her feet flat on the flatstones around the fires. She knew she should put the socks on, but the direct transfer of warmth seemed to go through her whole body. The socks would only improve things, but she would have to move her feet to do it.
Already her hair was drying, and showing itself to be a very flaxen blond through which the light of the fire showed brilliant natural highlights. Her worn and torn clothing hung nearby, drying. The purple over-tunic with the imperial Checkerboard edging of Deynekko and light red undertunic dripped themselves dry, and the heat of the room sped that process. Camelia couldn't help but think back on her many days away from home. She was afraid, moreso now that she could actually consider more than her imminent death from exposure and thirst. So far from trundle on the Hill. She did what she had to do. What she needed to do. It was who she was, who she was raised to be. The pain and fear had toughened her, but not before breaking her down and then rebuilding her.
Just then, the words of the Healer brought her back once again. So easily she was drifting into her own thoughts as the night wore on. She did want more food and maybe some harvest cider, but how could she ask for that. Comfrey's generosity thus far, the Squire's as well, was more than she could have hoped for in coming this far.
She shook her head so as to not seem gluttonous. It was a regret in doing so, and that was evident, but she felt that she shouldn't tax the means of her benefactors.
But then a small idea struck her...
"I might offer some recompense, all that I can offer. You have been so kind to me... Perhaps, if you might indulge me this pale effort?"
She smiled back and nodded. "I would be happy to accept, once we get another bowl in you." And with that she moved quickly again going to the innkeeper for another bowl and returning with it. It was quick and her body blocked a clear sight if coins exchanged hands or not.
Comfrey was happy to help someone "balance the scales" if they felt they needed to, but she was going to see some more food into her patient.
Last edited by Raven; Sun 06/11/1100:37 UTC. Reason: clarification
"There is no need to worry Cameila. I am well financed by my organization as well as being of a noble house." he said. "I would consider it an honor if you would be my guest until I can find you suitable safety."
Comfrey brought her more stew and the sight of it widened her eyes as surely it would stretch her belly to eat that much. Being hungry taught her things she never knew or experienced in trundle on the Hill. And lessons like that didn't come cheaply either. She survived it and gained a whole new appreciation for people who had to scratch out a living in harsh places during harsher times.
With a gracious smile she put the socks in her lap and took the bowl.
The Squire made it clear she would not want for provisions and made his own offer of helping her find provision. It all seemed to be so much kindness. They didn't even know her... How would they feel when they did?
First things first though, she had made an overture to provide them and all who might care to gather near some small compensation.
"I know an old song, from the Age before this one," she said softly. "There are many ways it is told and sung. I learned this one from my mother..."
There was a long pause as Camelia affirmed her courage to do this. She had only sung in the presence of a few people and none of them were here right now to encourage her. Those that were in the room might not think kindly upon her efforts, and then again, her voice might give out... She might forget the words... any number of things might happen.
"It is one of my favorites... There is sorrow in the words, but even in the sadness of the loss of this tale, there is joy. The flowers still bloom and though time moves on, the memory endures. I guess it's hard to explain... The flowers I mean."
And she relaxed and exhaled, staring into the fire for a long time. The dancing flickering flames would be her audience. She had only herself to please.
In the space of a few heartbeats she seemed to lose herself and the words came forth soft and sweet. Her voice wasn't strong at first, but it was clean and clear. She had obviously trained a gift and as her confidence grew, she projected that as much as she did the song itself.
There's a far away valley, enshrouded in doom, broken and twisted and barren. Save for the hill where the daisies still bloom, and dandelions blossom forever.
It was a long dark harvest, planted in blood, The years upon years were ending. Down the East highway, bones mixed with the mud, the darkness slid down from the mountains.
It was early in Dragon that Torandal fell, three bridges burned behind them. In the next town the darkness did tell, the East was now on their doorstep.
Then under nights cover the farmers did flee, not a man remained in the village. But twenty of Risha's children there be, tied by their vows to the valley.
There's a far away valley, enshrouded in doom, broken and twisted and barren. Save for the hill where the daisies still bloom, and dandelions blossom forever.
To defend the defenseless two handfuls did stand, ten swords to face the dark magics. Captain Jeminy Kilkenna led the brave band, Ten souls to match a dark army.
There was a circle of stones on a little lost hill, it was there she laid her defenses. Then she gathered her fighters and then spoke her will, an oath sworn to soft Risha's people.
"The East, they shall come and on morn they'll be here. and its certain we'll fall before them. But I swear by the stars and of all I hold dear, we'll all die before they shall harm you."
There's a far away valley, enshrouded in doom, broken and twisted and barren. Save for the hill where the daisies still bloom, and dandelions blossom forever.
And when She arose, the very next day, The East vanguard was upon them. Clashing steel and silver announced the melee, death echoing across the valley.
Jeminy Kilkenna was the first to die, She didn't live to see nightfall. By noon not alone did her broken form lie, and tighter was drawn the defenses.
When night finally fell but a handful remained, Battered and bloody and desperate. Through the night conflict raged unrestrained, till morning poked over the mountains.
There's a far away valley, enshrouded in doom, broken and twisted and barren. Save for the hill where the daisies still bloom, and dandelions blossom forever.
Young Kisa Allaine stood alone that red morn, her sword stood as tall as she did. Only fifteen short years since the day she was born, and now she stood bloody and wounded.
From behind Risha's folk,they begged her to run, but Kisa was too scared to listen. And the Eastern spear men toward her did come, shouting and laughing and taunting.
About the hilltop lay those she held dear, lost to fulfill a fell promise. Her fear so strong, but her duty was clear, and she turned to meet the dark spear men.
There's a far away valley, enshrouded in doom, broken and twisted and barren. Save for the hill where the daisies still bloom, and dandelions blossom forever.
Kisa Allaine lay pierced to the hill, five spears tore her body to pieces. and yet with her last breath she stung the East still, for she kept Kilkenna's last promise.
There's a far away valley, enshrouded in doom, broken and twisted and barren. Save for the hill where the daisies still bloom, and dandelions blossom forever.
By the end of the song, she felt the emotion filling her and yet she kept control of her voice. She gently swayed as she sang, allowing the melodic harmony fill the room. She wouldn't apologize for the tears that welled up in her eyes. Joy and Sorrow combined in her heart and her mind's eye could see the lonely hill where there Daisies were in bloom and the Dandelions blossomed forever.
She smiled as she heard the words and half closed her eyes to better listen. Comfrey knew her own strengths and knew her voice raised in song wasn't one of them.
After a verse she opened her eyes again and scanned the room surreptitiously. The song seemed to aid Camelia's confidence, at least if her voice was any reflection of that. She was curious though to see how others reacted.
He nods to the Squire, noting the man chose not to introduce himself to him, but then he is a Squire, probably of a famous knight. He turns to move back to his table and sits, seeing Darian and the other girl leaving the main room.
He picks up his drink as the other woman, whose name he heard mentioned as Camelia moves closer to the fire and begins to sing.
He immediately recognizes the tune and a small smile lights his face as he nods his head along with the words. Until somewhere in the middle, when a frown crosses his expression.
After the woman finishes, he finishes the drink, stands up and moves closer to her. "Pardon, Lady, but might I ask about your version of the ballad? It is much as the one I've learned, though one passage differs."
He quietly sings the phrase to her. His voice is a nice tenor, and though clearly untrained, it is also clear he has sung before:
Young Mikal Allinna stood alone that red morn, his sword stood as tall as he did. Only fifteen short years since the day he was born, and now he stood bloody and wounded.
"I noted you sang 'Kisa Allaine'. I'd not heard that name before."
She didn't want to make eye contact for fear she had offended the man. She listened to his song with deference to it's personal meaning. This man, a few years her senior, had introduced himself and that name was Mikal. His version of the song included a young warrior for which he had been named. But, she could only sing the song the way she had. She had heard several versions and when she proudly presented her newly learned song to her mother, she was taught the version she had just sung and had promised her mother she would always sing that that version.
"I do not mean to offend you... I was told there are many versions of that ballad. It is a song from a previous age at the time of the last coming of the East. Perhaps where you are from... That is how it is sung."
"Oh, no offense taken, and forgiveness is not needed. I was merely curious. I learned the ballad from my mother, as well as many others, and I'd not heard the name you used before. As you might guess, that name has personal meaning to me."
He turns to go back to his table, but pauses, and looks back. "It is interesting, don't you think, that all the rest of the song is identical to that I learned, other than that name? You'd think if it was a matter of time and distance creating different versions that other things would have changed too."
She listened to the conversation, being so close. They were raising interesting points, but historical songs and their accuracy weren't one of her studies. Cleaning up mess they made of themselves after some people took offense to each other's songs was more up her alley.
She had enjoyed the song despite, or maybe because, of it's difference. She rather liked that the hero was female. Darian raised a cup of mead in toast to the singer then drank from it.
Just because she sang a version of the song her mother said was the original and the truth, to which Camelia made a promise to preserve, she didn't see a reason to provoke a deeper conversation wherein this Mikal had to defend himself and his upbringing. It would be fruitless, and actually counter-productive.
She believed her Mother when she taught her the true words, but she had no way to prove them any more than Mikal would his own version. But he was right, it was interesting all the same.
"Well, perhaps it will give us something to talk about during the ride tomorrow?" He replies, acknowledging her nod. "Oh", he says a bit embarrassed. "I neglected to introduce myself, and my mother would tan my hide for my bad manners. I am called Mikal. It is very nice to meet you." He pauses a moment to see if the Lady will likewise introduce herself, but he doesn't stay long enough to make her feel uncomfortable should she choose not to. He then moves to return to his seat.
Mikal had previously introduced himself to her, while she was speaking with the Squire and he had asked of her well-being then. She had shown him her bare feet. Probably a little too forward of her but it was an honest answer. It wasn't worth reminding Mikal that not long ago he gave his name, for that might be his best way of greeting people and it would be impolite to show him up for a lack of social grace. That act would prove she herself had none, and that wasn't true. Humility was harder to come by for Imperials. Fortunately she had a better grasp than most of them she knew in trundle on the Hill.
"You may call me Camelia," she said. "Like the flower..."
As Mikal departed the Squire was returning to close off the access to where she and Comfrey sat near the fire. He intended to speak privately in a Common Room. She revealed a slight turn of the corners of her mouth at that bit of irony.
"Squire Conrad," she said, in her soft speaking voice, "You have been so kind thus far. I would defer to the judgment of those offering hospitality and charity and gratefully accept whatever is offered... but only until I can find means of my own, I promise you."
She had no idea how she would manage that, but tomorrow was a new day.
She looked to Camelia and said in an almost diffident tone, "I would like some company if you'd not be against it. My last travel companions well, they were very kind but felt a tent alone was their best way to be polite."
"My last... travel companions... they weren't good company either," she replied trying to find as pleasant a way of phrasing it as she could given what she endured in captivity. She even tried to smile, a weak and wan effort at best, but it was her best effort to keep things light.
Fool, she raged at herself for picking a poor way of letting Camelia know she'd be welcome company. Thrice blasted, benighted fool. Surely there would have been a better turn of phrase, or thing to say. But that was all she could come up with.
She didn't let this show outwardly and instead smiled her thanks. "No, thank you." The Lady provided even for the unexpected. She'd wondered at the size and generosity of the room. Now she knew why. Though even a small, bare room would have been the better for company.
"Then if you two have had your fill, I would suggest retiring for the night. I shall try to get the room adjacent. Call out if I am needed." he said and offered his hand to help them up.
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