Xanderian stood uneasily in the wintery streets of Bree. The last of the bright yule decorations were hanging bravely on in the square, but they had seen better days and now seemed more sad then festive, drooping and stained. Noting them and the press of Breelanders buying essentials in the square before the next storm rolled through, the Elleth mused silently to herself regarding the Gift of Iluvatar. "So bright and full of promise when young, yet how quickly they fade...until by the next summer they are not even a memory. Such is the way of time in the coming age. A peaceful sort of fate, not unpleasing..."
Her companion jolted her out of her reverie with a sudden snort of derision. Hawke was standing beside her looking like if he could crawl completely into his dark hood he would, but whether he was fleeing the cold or the gaze of passerbys was anyone's guess. He was pointing at one of the extravagantly garbed mannequins outside the Arms and Armor Shop. "Do people really fight in all that?"
The huntress tilted her head and noted the suit of armor and livery Hawke was gawking at. No Prince of Dol Amroth has ever ridden forth quite so gaudily arrayed, with a long cloak of bright blue silk and pauldrons piled high with ornate spikes which matched the fillegree embossed into the white and blue enamel of the breastplate. The helmet, arrayed with massive spikes and swoops of silver, looked to weigh as much as the rest of the suit combined.
Xanderian shrugged. "Such garb would seem more suitable for parade then war but those wise and powerful who stand atop a hill, taking tea while watching the slaughter below in the valley, they could certainly wear such armor...though likely of much finer material than this. This suit I imagine would be more appropriate for a merchant going to a fancy dress ball as "The City of Minas Tirith"."
Hawke nodded, smiling...but reached out one finger to poke the silver sword the mannequin wore, a bit longingly.
Xanderian shook her head. "Nay my urchin, such a sword is of little use to you...indeed that one is of little use to anyone. A solid, sturdy blade as long as your arm is what you need to begin training. You must choose a blade you can carry for some time, until it becomes a part of you. It will take time for your skills with a dagger to translate to a weapon more suitable for keeping your foes at bay. Now let us see what is to be had."
Excitedly the young man went up the stairs into the shop, the burly local at the door eyeing him suspiciously. Xanderian smiled to herself, as she imagined that Hawke has been in the shop many times, but seldom with coin or the intent to actually pay for the goods he took. As she moved to follow the young man, the fellow at the door gave the huntress the same wary, disdainful look...not that she noticed.
"Town's goin'ta hell, what with gutter trash and foreigners walkin' the street like proper folk, bold as brass. Ain't natural...." muttered the door guard before drifting back into his normal work day doze. The Breetown Arms and Armour Shop was hardly a hub of bandit activity on a winter afternoon, and he could afford to sleep.
Coming into the main room which was crowded with vendors, buyers and the lingering scent of heated steel, Xanderian noted Hawke already surrounded by several of the merchants, demanding that he show his coin this time or get out. One of them was tapping a worn but painful looking maul against his leg. It would seem they had indeed met Hawke before. Indignantly, Hawke showed them his coin purse with a sneer. While not overflowing it was full enough to calm them, though the one with the maul stayed at Hawke's shoulder the entire time.
Hovering off to the side, Xanderian kept a close eye on the swords Hawke was perusing, shaking her head softly to steer him clear of the normal shiny junk they sell to posturing farmer's who seek "protection" from bandits and such, but mostly a way to impress the local farm girls.
As he shopped, the Elleth allowed herself to consider the current situation. Hawke was beginning to train more seriously for the road none too soon, as far as she was concerned.
Cyndwin was back, Elbereth be praised, and safely ensconced in the House of Three Graces. The mystery of her sudden disappearance and what role, if any, the blue gem of Moria had in it was just beginning to be explored. If she had her way, Xanderian would keep the blonde girl safely locked in the Chamber of Stars for the rest of time, but already the Shieldmaiden was bristling at such restrains, yearning to go forth and seek more adventure despite her love's caution. The sooner she was back on the road, enjoying herself while still surrounded by those she could trust the better.
All things considered, despite her history there, fair Rivendell was by far the best place to decamp to, leaving Bree behind for now, by and large. There were many of the learned there to discuss this blue gem with, however they may feel about Xanderian...and an excellent place for Hawke to safely train. Best by far was the fact that in the Valley of Imladris they would be safely within the protective wards of Lord Elrond, which should ensure that Cyndwin is not whisked away again. This was paramount to Xanderian, regardless of what the Shieldmaiden thought of the matter.
Before they could embark however, there was the matter of Fillegedhiel of course. Her notes from the road had been arriving frequently now, and it seemed indisputable that sometime soon she would be joining them again in Bree, which filled the Elleth's heart with joy. However she had a small concern, which with every brief note grew louder...Fille did not explain WHY she was returning at this time. Was there a new danger? Had an old danger returned? Had she news to impart that could not be borne by a courier? There was no point in departing for Imladris until Fille was safely back in their company, yet would delay put Cyndwin in new danger? They did not know enough as of yet to tell so they must take that chance.
The thought of Cyndwin and danger reminded the Huntress that her sister, Xandilif the Banshee was due any day, on wings of fire to interrogate the Shieldmaiden about her disappearance, sure she was lying. The looming specter of that coming confrontation filled the Elleth with dread, but she knew there was no way to avoid it now. Cyndwin seemed unconcernedly, laughing away Xanderian's worries, but then she did not have as much experience with SilverWand's Slut as she presumed and things could go so very badly in a myriad of ways. Most of all she did not want her sister to add fire to the doubts the young Shieldmaiden already had.
Beyond her desire to confront Cyndwin, Xandilif returning to Breeland meant that the matter of Mans of Kheledul would likely again be taken up and as it was, Xanderian had matters to report to her sister concerning the black deeds of the Dourhand. The Banshee had matters to conclude with the old dwarf slaver that were like open wounds for the woman. No doubt she would call on her sister to help her advance that cause while here, which she would do gladly.
Lastly on her mind was the matter of Hawke's dreams. Scattered, broken images the young man can barely remember but is disquieted by. When embraced in the darkness after waking in upset, he says they are nothing...but the feel and tone of them indicated to Xanderian that these dreams should not be ignored. Swans on the open sea, a burning rose, a woman with blue green eyes, her gaze filled with such rage it frightened Hawke. All symbols pointed to Gondor, but concerning what and why? Clearly Hawke's history was part of it, but there were too many questions still to be answered about that. Xanderian had suspicions....and misgivings...but nothing more as of yet save a desire to protect the young man no matter what came.
"Hey, Elf Lady?" Hawke's raised voice broke the Elleth's musings yet again. He held up a strongly built blade, of good length and sturdy hilt, waving it around a bit, much to the displeasure of the man with the maul.
Xanderian smiled. "Well chosen my Urchin. That should serve well as a starting point and one day you will mount it over a hearth as a family heirloom and display it unto all your host...My first sword. May it serve you well."
Hawke rolled his eyes at the very thought of having "a Host" and began counting out silver coins carefully, one by one, the Huntress watching him fondly, her heart swelling with love for the young man and pride in his new found determination. Despite all the questions yet to be answered, about so many things, one thing was certain....Xanderian's black, vicious loneliness was at an end once again, and she would fight if need be to preserve her loves.
