The roots weren’t very deep for the weeds in the garden. Sareva didn’t give them time to take hold, vigilantly tending the lavender she’d planted that spring. Keeping busy, it was what she needed, what she always did, especially in times like these. Otherwise…
She didn’t want the feelings to set in, the pain of doubt and fear. Instead of thinking of more recent events, her mind wandered back, several weeks prior. There were still things that she needed to follow up on.
Another evening at the Mad Boar. She had been hoping to find Deorda or Aeonid, to tell them she’d completed their jobs, but neither was there. Instead, there was Narys, significantly cheerier than she had been before, at least with the absence of certain persons. With her was another Gondorian, Arthionn, who was apparently knowledgeable in quality wines, attributing it to his homeland. Apparently, he was in Breeland on what he called a “personal quest,” though he never revealed what it was. When a fourth joined the group, the second red haired lass to be among them called herself Inayat.
The evening passed in general pleasantness, with little talk of anything of real importance, but it was a nice, quiet night, unlike her last time in the Boar. Aeonid passed through, his coming more pleasant than his going, but Sareva fixed that as best she could. Comments taken the wrong way had turned his mood sour. Aeglorond too came by. Each time she met him, she learned more of him, little by little, pieces at a time.
By the time she left, only Aeglorond and Inayat were left, and with the potential for more work from the woman, she was on her way merrily.
A few days later, she again encountered Aeglorond in the Prancing Pony in Bree town proper. That time, she learned less of his history and more of his character. All she’d gathered were bits and pieces of the situation she walked in on, but he and another man seemed to have it handled. He was stoic all the while whilst questioning some man, about what she didn’t know until he told her later. Apparently, the man had been hired by someone to attack another. The reasons behind it, she never learned, but thankfully there had been no real injuries, and even if there had, she would not likely have been called upon to help since there were proper healers and herbalists in Bree. Presented with another project, this one a cloak for him, she looked forward to seeing him again. He had a laid back, reassuring presence. Terse as he was, he warmed up to people slowly, or at least from what she had experienced.
Then there was Arthionn again. In contrast, he was more open. She learned of his research, though whether that was the personal quest he had mentioned when she first met him, she didn’t know. Nor did she know what kind of history Bree could have. As a land of farmers and tradesmen, it wasn’t much but a small corner in a much bigger world. Sipping the wine he’d bought her, the Isen Wine which she’d never heard of but liked more than the others of that inn that she had tried, she sought to learn of the history there, but it seemed such a topic could not be covered all at once. So, two promises were made: to give her a tour of the histories he was looking into and to introduce her to some of the many wines in his collection in hopes of turning one who simply enjoyed the drink such as herself into a proper connoisseur. Both were intriguing prospects, as was her hope of perhaps getting to make some new robes for him should she be able to persuade him past the tedium he didn’t care for in the measuring and fitting.
When they had each taken their leave, Sareva began her search for the right gray for the cloak Aeglorond had requested. The right gray in the right fabric, something decently warm without being too heavy. Sareva browsed the fabric stalls in Bree with a smile, the pleasant days that had passed continuing to grow her business and her relationships in the community around her.
A soft smile touched her lips, one touched by apprehension. She didn’t want to see these people in the same wary light she viewed most in, but her old tendencies were reasserting themselves strongly after the events of late, and perhaps that was best. Had she been far too trusting? Probably, and perhaps Aeonid’s visit was the world’s way of reminding her of her convictions.
Her nimble fingers dug into the disturbed earth. Planting some hydrangeas sounded like a good idea. She even had a convenient way to turn them a lovely blue, and that would add some more color to the yard, but more importantly, occupy her time and mind.
