Hellrien had overheard Sammy and some of the other mercenaries talking about the woman staying at the hut down by the river, and some of the things she’d heard had made her curious. Apparently the woman was friend’s with Taala or at least knew her, had stumbled up to Trestlebridge from the North Downs and was quite severely wounded. Those things alone were enough to pique Hellrien’s interest so she had decided to drop by for a visit.
It was Highday, so there was no training today, and Hellrien’s guard shift didn’t begin before midnight, so she had most of the day for herself. So she had made a visit to the stalls where she had bought a basket of freshly baked bread and a bottle of wine, for a nice lunch for two. The weather was sweet today, the sun was shining.
She found the lady down by the river, outside of her hut and gazing out towards the waterfall, her back towards Hellrien. She was wearing gray traveling garbs and a hood over her head. It looked like she was in deep thought. Not wanting to scare the woman, Hellrien stopped near the door of the hut, a good distance away from the other, and softly cleared her throat.
The woman turned around and her face lit up in a welcoming smile as she gazed Hellrien from head to toe in inspection.
”Well, hello there, darling!”
”Hello there, miss, I hope I’m not intruding”, Hellrien responded to her smile. ”Thought I'd stop by for a visit. I brought some food, and wine.”
”Of course not, my dear!” replied the woman cheerfully. ”I would never turn away the opportunity to enjoy some company, especially when it's so easy on the eyes.”
”Thankee kindly, ma’am!” Hellrien grinned, relieved that the lady seemed so welcoming, polite and genuinely happy for company. She was probably lonely down here, with no-one to talk to but birds. ”I heard Sammy and some others talking about you the other day, about the lady who's staying at the hut by the river. Heard you were friends of Taala's?”
The woman walked closer, and Hellrien took note of her prominent limp. As she came closer Hellrien saw that she was a bit older than what she had originally thought, maybe ten, fifteen years older than Hellrien. Her body and most of her head were covered under gray clothes and hood, but she was tall and slender, deeply tanned, and her eyes were startlingly silvery grey in color. Some flocks of thick red hair had escaped from beneath her hood on her forehead, and she featured a prominent scar just below her left eye.
”Oh yes. Taala is a dear!”
”She’s a good friend of mine too”, Hellrien said, lifting the cloth over the basket and revealing the bread and the bottle of wine.
”’Tis understandable. A wonderful, if formidable, woman to be sure. Ah, how kind of you, my dear!”
”It's Highday and I'm off duty. A perfect day for a picnic.”
”I'll admit that I'm not much of a drinker, though I would never come between another and their chosen tipple. Shall I fetch you a glass?”
”Sure”, Hellrien grinned. ”Would you like to dine in the hut or outside? I must admit I'd like the outdoors better myself. It's a pretty scenery out here.”
”I've spent far too much time in that wretched little place of late. Outside is just fine, my dear. A moment, if you please...” The woman limped to the door of a hut, opened it and disappeared inside. A moment later she came out, holding a glass and a flagon of water.
”You sure you don’t want any?” Hellrien said, eyeing the flagon incredulously. ”It’s very nice wine”, she added as she took the offered glass. ”Ta!”
”Thank you, but I must decline”, the woman chuckled, shaking her head. ”The last time I drank more than a sip, I woke up several weeks later surrounded by orcs and wargs. It was, I assume, not my finest moment!”
Hellrien laughed. ”Similar things have been known to happen to me as well. Well, more for me then. Let's go over there by the bank of the river.” She pointed to a spot with a good view to the waterfall. The woman followed Hellrien to the spot, parked herself down, stretched her legs out before her and smiled as she pulled her hood back, revealing a set of radiant coppery red hair cut short to neck level. Hellrien sat down too and set the basket between them.
”So you’re a Dawner, hm?”
”Aye”, Hellrien admitted. ”Sorry, where are my manners? The name’s Hellrien.”
”A pleasure, my dear”, the woman chuckled, nodding a little. ”I’m Silver.”
”Nice to make your acquaintance, Silver. That’s a pretty name.” And likely not the one her parents had given her, Hellrien speculated, but it made no difference. Silver was a nice name. Easy to remember.
”Why, thank you. Did you come here by choice?”
”Here in Trestlebridge?” Hellrien asked, surprised by the question. She thought about if for a moment. ”Well, yes and no. Sort of. Taala needed someone here, and I needed some place to go. Something to occupy myself. I've had some rough times lately. How about you?” She changed the subject quickly, reluctant to delve into her recent troubles more deeply. ”Have you been up north? Did orcs attack you?”
”I managed to avoid the orcs. One of the wargs managed to get the drop on me though.”
”What's it like there… in the North Downs? I've never been there... to Kingsfell or farther. I have been to Fornost once.”
”Kingsfell is largely quiet”, Silver said, wrinkling her nose in deep thought. ”Further on... I can't say I recall much. Somewhere to the south, I think, was a horrendously large orc camp… but the rest is a blur, I'm afraid.”
”Please, help yourself with the bread... it's freshly baked.”
”Thank you, my dear.” Silver flashed a grateful smile as she reached out to tear a chunk from it. Hellrien tore another chunk to herself and opened the cork of the wine bottle with her teeth. She poured herself a glass.
”So, Silver”, she said, settling down comfortably and regarded the woman curiously. There was something about her and her situation that reminded Hellrien of herself in similar situations, wounded and resorted to rely on her own devices to heal, under a bridge or in a desolate cottage. She could definitely sympathize. ”Are you on your own? No home, no family?” She took a bite of bread.
Silver turned her gaze up to the sky, wafting the piece of bread around for no discernible reason before taking a bite. She took her time chewing it before answering, her tone light and carefree: ”Oh no, 'tis only ever me and my horse, darling.”
”Thought I recognized a kindred spirit”, Hellrien grinned comradely, having a sip of wine. ”Done my share of wandering myself. Restless feet, never one to settle down.”
”Have you never wished to?”
That there was another question that was hard to give an unambiguous answer to. Hellrien thought on it for a while before replying. ”Sometimes, but I don't know. I am kind of settled down now. The Dawn is my family, and my home is where I'm needed. My fellow Dawners are my brothers and sisters.”
”Ah, 'tis a good way to be, I imagine.”
”I can't see myself raising a flock of children on a farm somewhere. I'd be bored out of my mind. I’d probably just flee one night and never look back.”
Silver laughed lightly at that. ”The road always calls, doesn't it? That next horizon just begging to be crossed.”
Silver was bang on the money on that one. Hellrien couldn’t have put it any better, but then she had never been any good at putting things into words anyway. Instead, she chewed down a bite of bread and washed it down with a goodly chug of wine. Draining her glass, she poured herself another one.
There was something very pleasant about Silver, something that put her at ease and made her feel comfortable with sharing more of herself she usually did with people, especially ones she had only just met.
”You know”, she confided, ”I was a maid once. And one day I just fled. Been on my own ever since.”
”Goodness! I'd have done the same!”
”I was always different, even as a child... never quite fit the mold.”
”That is a feeling I know well”, Silver grinned as she held up a hand, waggling her fingers slowly to let the light play across her darkened skin.
”Where are you from, Silver? Originally, I mean? You don't look like a typical Bree lass.”
”I was raised in Rohan, darling.”
”My cradle cradled in Gondor”, said Hellrien, sipping her wine. ”Pelargir, Lebennin. Haven't seen it since I was... twelve or so.”
”Ah, Gondor! A beautiful place, if so often at odds with itself and it’s neighbors.”
”I was too young to really pay mind to the politics”, Hellrien grinned. ”But I do remember the wars and the pirates, from Umbar. So what's Rohan like? I've never been there.”
”If you're short and pale with red or yellow hair, it's wonderful! The grass is greener than emeralds, except where it is as golden as the sun. The water flows like liquid diamonds and seeing the wild horses run as one... breathtaking! Sadly, my appearance prevented it from being quite so kind to me.”
”That's unfortunate, Silver. How so? The folk there are intolerant twats, that it?”
”To some”, Silver laughed, ”quite so.” She inclined her head.
”So were your parents from somewhere else?” Hellrien sipped her wine.
”My mother was, indeed. But I never met her. My father was a native.”
”All the Rohirrim I've ever seen are all so very... blonde!” Hellrien smiled.
”Oh, there are plenty of gingers as well. Taala, for example. One of the few Rohirrim I actually like!”
Quite so. Hellrien had forgotten about Taala’s Rohirrim origins, or perhaps the matter had never come up. ”There were no problems like that for me. I was ordinary looking, if a bit bigger than my peers. But I never could fit in with the other lasses back in Pelargir.”
Silver flashed a grin and tilted her head to one side. ”And that, my dear, is no bad thing. Conformity is so very boring!”
”While they liked to play house and princesses, I liked swords and ships”, Hellrien grinned. ”They didn't like me much, thought me weird. But, I didn't like them much either. Thought they were boring.”
”And so, after having tried things their way, you ran to live out your dreams of adventure and battle? Bravo, my dear! Few people have that much courage.”
”Well, it didn't go quite that simply. Y'see, my father was an important man, a navy man, a lord. And my mom, well, she was a housemaid. And unfortunately I happened to be a spitting image of my father, and that, my dear, was a bit too much for him to tolerate. The older I got, the bigger the resemblance.”
”Ah... scandal and the like?”
”So one night he had his goons take me from my bed and ship me far away. He had arranged a place for me in some retired sellsword's household in Archet. As a maid. Could be worse. Could have just as easily gotten me killed.”
”All to cover his own arse?” Silver grimaced a little in distaste. ”Men, especially those of power, are a ridiculous bunch.”
Hellrien smiled, a little sadly. ”I like to think he at least cared a little to have me taken care of somewhere else, rather than just sink me in the sea. Must have cost him some.”
”I'll not seek to ruin your view on that”, Silver said, inclining her head a little. ”My own, I'm afraid, may well be biased toward the unkind due to my father being a neglectful, uncaring and cruel man.”
”Mine was no better, though he never acknowledged me as his own. But from what I saw, he spared little love for his proper children either.”
”He sounds like a proper bastard, my dear!”
”Well”, Hellrien smiled, ”I do hope my mom still lives, and is all right, wherever she is.”
She drained her glass and refilled it quickly with wine. Her mind wandered back to those distant, happier years. She had been quite a handful from an early age, her mother had told her. Always running around from the moment she had learned to walk, climbing on things and studying every object she could get her hands on. She had to know what they felt like, what they tasted like, what they were made of, what kind of sound they made when she dropped them off the table and if she could fix them when they broke. She had been an active and restless child, unable to stay still for a full minute or focus her attention on anything anyone was telling her. From early on she had been intrigued by weapons and ships. Other girls of her age had shunned her company, deeming her too weird and ’boyish’. And Hellrien had much preferred playing war with the lads, whenever they had allowed to include her with their games. And truthfully, she had been more than content keeping to her own company, exploring the city of Pelargir and watching the ships from the piers.
That had been the only thing that could capture her attention and make her sit still for a long time – ship-watching. Sometimes she could sit on the piers for hours, watching the beautiful Gondorian ships with their billowing sails come and go, trying to imagine the places they were going to, the adventures that would await them, the magnificent sea battles with Umbarian pirate ships. Often her father, Lord Geoffray, would embark upon those voyages and lead his troops into battle.
Lord Geoffray had been a tall, square man, wide of shoulders, prominent belly, almost crushing in appearance. Haughty, aloof, violent, cruel and impatient, nobody wanted to rub him the wrong way. He had also been a decorated navy officer, awarded with many medals of valor. It was known that Lord Geoffray would lead his men into battle from the front, and that he had killed a countless number of pirates, single-handedly. Everyone talked about Lord Geoffray and his great deeds. He had the same pale blue eyes as Hellrien, the same lackluster brown hair. He had also been a heavy drinker, prone to excessive drinking bouts that could last for days and violent, capricious behavior when drunk. He had two children from his first marriage, one son, one daughter, and his first wife had died in childbirth giving birth to that daughter.
Eirien, Hellrien’s mother, was a different sort. She was a maid in Geoffray’s household staff. She was tall as well, but slender and soft-featured, a real beauty by any standards. Her eyes were deeper hue of blue and her brown hair more radiant, chestnut tone. Lord Geoffray, feeling lonely or perhaps simply in need of relieving himself, had seduced Eirien and gotten her pregnant. Geoffray had discarded her and ended the relationship as soon as he had found out. At least he had allowed Eirien to stay in the household as a maid with her child, if that can be counted as a redeeming trait.
In spite of all this, Eirien had still loved and adored Geoffray. And she had loved and adored Hellrien, Geoffray’s precious gift to her, as she had often put it. One that he would never take away. She had told Hellrien who her real father was, and what a magnificent, brave and valiant man he was, a hero to Pelargir and Gondor. But she had also told Hellrien that she was never to tell anyone who her father was, because that would ruin his standing among his peers and hurt his reputation. Of course, as time went by, it was no secret to anyone in the manor, so much was Hellrien like her father in appearance.
Hellrien had kept the secret, but she had looked up to this great hero of Gondor – her father – and carried a secret dream in her heart. In her dream Geoffray would scoop her up into his arms and carry her with him to his great flagship. In the dream he would not be kind or gentle – not Geoffray – but there would be a mischievous, approving look in his cold eyes as he would give little Hellrien a sword, point her towards the ropes and say: ”Now, Hellrien, I am going to take you for an adventure and teach you how to kill pirates. And if you can prove yourself to me, I will make you my legal daughter and give you a ship of your own to command!” Something like that.
Silly dreams of a silly child.
In reality Hellrien had never heard Geoffray spare a kind or supporting word to his two real children, who had been weak, soft and sickly, like their mother. To Hellrien he had spared no words at all, but sometimes, when their paths had crossed in a hallway, he would have just stood there, staring little Hellrien with a peculiar, scrutinizing, ponderous look in his eyes. It was impossible to tell what had been happening behind those cold blue eyes then, but Hellrien had stood the gaze, staring back, almost defiantly.
When she had become older, almost in her teens, a new rumor had started to circulate around the manor. It was said that Lord Geoffray was contemplating taking another wife, one of noble roots, high-born pedigree and a good portion of Númenórean blood coursing through her veins. The rumors had made Eirien very anxious. Geoffray hadn’t brought his bride-to-be in his manor yet, but if and when he would, what would such a high-born Lady think of a maid’s daughter who bore such a striking resemblance to her fiance? Eirien had stressed Hellrien the importance of remaining out of sight and out of feet, drawing as little attention to herself as possible, and perhaps Geoffray would forget about this problem then.
But of course he hadn’t forgotten about her. The two men who had taken her out of her bed at night and transported her to a waiting ship in the docks had not been bad men. They had been crude and violent men, much like most of the men serving with The Bloody Dawn, but they had not been evil. They had behaved cordially and almost protectively towards Hellrien, and acted as if they had been almost ashamed of their duty. But Hellrien, after the initial shock had subsided, had not been able to be afraid. The whole journey had been a great adventure to her. Finally she was on a ship, and now she would see new lands, new places, new people! She had been full of excitement throughout the long sea voyage from Pelargir to Mithlond and the long ride through Lindon, Shire and Bree-Land to that old sellsword’s household in Archet, drinking in new experiences, sights and smells.
In Archet the adventure had ended and the long, tedious, monotonous years of servitude as a housemaid had begun.
”Have you never sent word to her?” Silver snapped her out of her reveries. Hellrien shrugged.
”I have written a few letters in the past, but I don't know if she ever received any of them. Gondor is, after all, very far away.” When you had to rely on a stranger ’going in that direction’ to deliver the letter to a ship’s captain in Mithlond who was supposedly sailing to Pelargir, it was hard to know if the letter ever received it’s intended recipient, especially if there was no response. And during the past couple of years Hellrien had not even had a fixed address for more than a few months at a time, so it would be nigh impossible for potential replies to have found their way to her.
”True.” Silver offered Hellrien a sympathetic glance. ”Had we met a year ago, I'd have offered to have a poke around for you. Alas, 'tis highly unlikely that my path will take me back in that direction.”
”Aye”, Hellrien nodded. ”Would be nice to find out if she still lives, and let her know that I'm alive and doing fine. I'm sure that would ease her mind a lot.”
”Is there not one amongst your company who might undertake such a trip? I recall Dagramir had plans in that direction... although that was a while ago.”
”Perhaps”, Hellrien pondered. And hadn’t Colewulf once mentioned that he, too, occasionally ran trade trips to Gondor? Hellrien doubted there were more than a handful of merchants in the whole of Eriador who would venture the hazardous land-route to Gondor via Greenway these days, but she had a vague recollection that Cole had at some point hinted at doing so. ”I think it’s likely she still lives, unless some disaster has struck there. She isn't that old... should be in her mid-fourties now.”
”Then there is, indeed, hope.”
”But enough about me”, said Hellrien, having a determined sip of her wine. ”How about you, Silver? How did you wind up from there to here?”
”I ran away from what could loosely be called ’home’ the night before my wedding, spent twenty-something years as a treasure hunter, and eventually ended up... here.” Silver wafted her hand about, the gesture encompassing the general area.
”A treasure hunter?” Hellrien asked, quirking a brow. That term conjured up memories and images, not all of them pleasant. She remembered Ernil and his band of brutish, organized tomb-robbers in Evendim. She remembered Joan Darkhand, ’The Faceless One’, forever hunting for elven-made jewels and her own death. And she remembered Colbert, the old hermit of the haunted ruins of Emyn Hoedh in Ered Luin – old man who had sacrificed his life and sanity in his quest to strike rich as a treasure hunter in Fornost. In his old days he had reduced to spending his remaining years the only way he knew how – scrapping up his meager livelihood scavenging trinkets and scrap metal in haunted ruins, ghosts and broken dreams his only companions.
”That's a very dangerous profession. I've met a few treasure hunters in my life. Many of them were, it's safe to say, dangerous people too.”
”Many are, 'tis true. The profession itself, certainly not an easy one. But wit works just as well as brute strength. Oh, don't get me wrong, I could swing a pick as good as any man, but I've never been a lover of violence.”
”So was that what you were doing up north, Silver? Treasure hunting?”
”I sincerely hope not, my dear! I am retired now, you see.”
”Retired? Then you must have struck rich in one of your adventures? Don’t worry”, Hellrien added with a grin, ”I'm not after your fortunes. Just nosy is all.”
”I was good at my job and always frugal with my pay”, Silver chuckled. ”But no, 'tis not an abundance of gold that has seen me retire, but age and injuries undermining my ability to continue. ’Tis hard to swing a pick, or protect yourself adequately, when your shoulder falls from its socket at little more provocation than a hard sneeze.”
”You're not that old, Silver! But I do know how injuries can quickly mount up in my line of business too. So what are your plans now that you are retired?”
”I'm thirty-five, my dear! Though you are kind to say so. My plans now... well, I've put enough aside for a house. I think I shall spend the rest of my years translating some of the old tomes I have discovered.”
”Thirty-five is not old. There's a lot of years to come. Do you think there's money enough in it to make a living... translating old tomes?” Hellrien sounded skeptical.
”Oh, indeed! The scholars are always interested in such things, as are many collectors who are too lazy or ignorant to do the work themselves. I've amassed quite a large number of contacts in either category during my travels.”
”That is good to hear”, Hellrien grinned and emptied her glass. ”I could never do something like that. I never had the patience to write down anything longer than my signature.”
Silver chuckled cheerfully, inclining her head again. ”Were we all the same, my dear, this world would be a terribly dull place.”
Hellrien filled her glass again and tore another chunk of bread. ”I’ll drink to that!” she grinned, toasting the glass in the air and draining half the glass in a big mouthful. ”Where will you move then? In Bree?”
”Mm... Evendim, I think. But before then... there's someone I need to find.”
”Oh? Who's that... if you don't mind me asking?”
Silver grinned. ”A man”, she laughed, holding up a hand to ward off any suggestive comments. ”A friend. He's gone out to the Downs alone and I've reason to think he might do something stupid.” Her smile faded and was replaced by a pensive frown. ”I'd have gone after him sooner had my leg allowed.”
”I sure hope your friend's all right”, Hellrien frowned, suddenly concerned. ”Are you sure you're up to the task yet? Your leg seems a little shaky still.”
”It'll hold up. Besides, my trusty steed awaits up in the stables. Walking is less bothersome when one can ride instead.”
Hellrien regarded her dubiously for a moment. But indeed, if Silver had been a treasure-hunter for ’twenty-something years’, then she ought to be able to take care of herself, and know her own limits. Certainly better than Hellrien ever did.
”None whatsoever! I'm hoping one of the bridge guards might point me in the right direction.”
”I am one of the guards, and have no idea.”
”Perhaps one of the others saw him depart.”
Hellrien thought about that for a moment. She remembered Hemlock and Crambe and their ceaselessly blabbering mouths and had a sip of wine. She nodded. ”But then again, I'm new here. So perhaps somebody else does indeed know. They talk like they know everything under the sun, anyway.”
”’Tis often the way with such men”, Silver chuckled cheerfully. ”They gossip worse than fishwives.”
”Tell me about it!” Hellrien chuckled. ”You'd think they'd lived here their whole lives, and not just a few months, the way they pretend to be know-it-all's in everyone's business!”
”Ah, but it gives them something to do when bored on duty... and makes them feel good about it.”
”Yeah”, Hellrien admitted, ”it's a bit tedious work. Guarding caravans and bridges... sellsword's work is not all such high adventure most people think. Treasure hunting must be a lot more exciting.”
”’Tis mostly scrabbling around in the dirt”, Silver laughed, shaking her head quickly, ”hoping like crazy that you're going to find something! Most of your time is taken up with digging and most of your boots get eaten by the interminable mud. Oh, sure, there's sometimes spiders or orcs or wights to break up the monotony, but most days are just cold, wet, hungry and ache-inducing.”
”But it's a good kind of aching, ain't it? Me, I love the outdoors. Always have.”
”I'll grant you, I always enjoyed it.”
”I have no idea what I'd do if I was injured so badly I had to retire”, Hellrien chuckled, a little gloomily. ”Probably had to settle for a farm-wife, after all.”
”Surely there are less depressing options?”
If there was, she couldn’t come up with any. Instead, she could come up with a handful of more depressing. But there was no point in depressing Silver further with the gloomiest of her pontifications. She took a sip of wine.
”All I can come up with are depressing and more depressing options. I have no talents, other than wielding the sword.”
Silver wrinkled her nose briefly in thought. Suddenly a bright smile broke free as an idea occurred. ”Trainer, then? Honing the talents of the next generation of would-be orc-perforators!”
Hellrien gave it some serious thought and nodded. ”Perhaps.” She tried to come up with other ideas. ”Or maybe a blacksmith. I've always been fascinated watching blacksmiths at work. But then I'd have to be not too badly injured, as it's very physical work.”
”That's true… and a worthwhile profession.”
”Or if I had enough coin to buy my own farm... growing horses, perhaps. Silly dreams, maybe. Or buy an inn. There's that, too.”
”Oh! I know of a man who was thinking of selling one.”
”Oh, I'm not ready to retire just yet! But maybe one day... when I'm thirty-five.”
Silver laughed cheerfully at that and wagged a finger. ”Never underestimate how old you feel when you reach this age, my dear!”
”I don't know many mercenaries who carry on much older than that”, Hellrien chuckled, draining her glass. ”Some take on a job behind the desk, if they love the life too much to abandon it.”
”Sensible men.”
Hellrien poured the last of the wine into her glass. It filled it halfway. ”Finished already? Told you it was good stuff.”
”I’ll take your word for it, my dear!” Silver chuckled.
”But me, I could never do that”, Hellrien shook her head. ”Shuffling papers... I need to be out there and do something.”
”As sad as it seems, that won't always be an option.”
”Well, I'm young still. I don't need to worry about things like the future... in a very long time.”
”Live in the moment, my dear!” Silver grinned. ”It’s much more fun!”
Hellrien grinned and emptied the last glass of wine. ”Don’t know any other way to do it!”
”Good girl!”
Hellrien leaned back on her hands and stretched her legs. A big flock of hair dropped on her eye and she blew it off. She wasn’t drunk, but her head was definitely feeling a bit heavy and her limbs too light and her vision just a slightest bit swimming from all that wine. Maybe just the tiniest tad tipsy, after all. And drowsy… she had to stifle a yawn.
”It has been a pleasant picnic, Silver. I thank you. I've not talked so much in a long time. But now I'd best have to go back to camp... to sleep off the wine, as I have to stand watch tonight.” Her shift wouldn’t start until midnight, and it was still early afternoon, but it was still best to go have a nap instanter, before she would get tempted to go buy another bottle.
”A good plan! It has been quite enjoyable. No doubt we'll meet again in time, gorgeous.”
Hellrien smiled at Silver and thought that she really liked the retired treasure-hunter… like an older sister almost, the way she had been able to share her troubles with her. ”I hope we get to see before you leave again... and if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I’ll be around for a good while.”
”I’ll be certain to do so.”
Hellrien stretched her arms and yawned. ”Wine always makes me sleepy… didn’t plan on drinking the whole bottle myself”, she chuckled.
Silver grinned. ”I’m a terrible influence!” she winked.
Hellrien scrambled up on her feet and dusted her cloak of grass and grit. She picked up the basket and waved. ”Until next time! Have a nice day.”
Silver raised a hand for a cheery wave. ”Careful up the hillside, my dear!”
”Takes more than one bottle of wine to get me so drunk to trip on my own feet!” Hellrien chuckled as she sauntered towards the slope.
”It’s not the feet you have to worry about”, Silver laughed lightly behind her, ”but the loose stones and expertly hidden dips!”
