Vardi has been short on words after the fury of combat, only inquiring if her comrades are well with a pottery jar of heather salve in her hand and praising Skokki quietly for his bravery as she feeds him.

Sometimes the Joturn-kin looks sideways at the captive harbringer, with the air of a child who has met with a monster in the dark from the tales, found them less fearsome than the tales told of, yet is still cautious of what claws might be but sheathed for now.

Indeed, the Lytenwoman's silence is a sign of much thought as she considers what little she knows of Harbringers and their ways, and finds herself without answers, something that troubles her more deeply than she would be easily willing to admit. 

So she nods in agreement with keeping them in front of the party at all times, then watches and listens, curiosity tempered by caution, guarding against what she does not know, but feels as if she should.

The enemy knight she treats with polite indifference, seeing him as a threat known of old to the others of the retinue, thus a threat without mystery in their malice. The matter of their current errantry being of their own malice or at the behest of a higher malevolence is one she can offer only a wry guess at. 

Vardi offers in a whisper in passing to Ser Almeric "I cannae speak of Albish stipends, but I'd doubt tha' yon ass in armour paid fer those who came with him out of his own purse, nay matter wha' he brays."

She gathers together and searches the bodies of the fallen Harbringers with nervous care under the branches of the nearest large tree to the path, as one thing the tales did oft mention was poison, a danger that she'd rather was not left lying by the roadside for the unwary to find. 

OOC: Sorry for being slow in posting. Life happens, and a lot of it all at once this week. @OsinmacCameron: Glad to hear your mum is in recovery. 

Also OOC: Perception Check for Vardi while moving/searching bodies of 14. 

The band marched on drawing ever nearer to Beltayne, they got a good rest overnight recovering from most of their injuries though there were still bruises and aches aplenty for the most badly pummelled.

Cainneach-   notes during his watch three figures in dark dyed plaid sitting well out from the encampment watching the retinue though they do not approach near enough that he fears attack he is almost certain that their intention is to retrieve the Harbinger prisoner at some point....he does retrieve some 30 gp from a false lining in the Harbingers jerkin that he notes while checking their bonds.

Famh- is a little too distracted by her new project to note their Harbinger shadows, she is certain Cainneach will also find some affection for the russet creature....though she also notes that Skoggi has taken an interest in the possibility that the squirrel is some sort of entertainment or possibly a meal.

Ori- Ori finds a raven feather and onyx necklace around the Harbinger elders neck and a number of bronze rings engraved with symbols of Badb, Morrigan and others.  He also discovers a pouch of brightly colored dried mushrooms and an uncut sapphire ( 40 gp).

Thatch- his vigilance on watch spoils a raid to free the Harbinger prisoner in the early hours of the morning and the enemy flees for the hills before Thatch even needs to rouse the others.  He discovers a silver flask of brandy dropped by the wayside of the road as they travel.

Vardi- To her puzzlement Vardi finds no poison or venoms on the bodies of the Harbingers, she is certain there is a reason as they are known to make use of such concoctions but these ones carry none.  Skoggi has taken an interest in Famhs new companion........possibly a culinary one.  Vardi finds a small pocketbook of poems tucked inside one of the Mercenaries belt pouches.

Rising and continuing on the retinue noted a familiar a small grove of pines ahead

The land is still slightly hilly here and they are slowly descending into the great wide river valley below the foothills of the majestic Pagans to their rear.

Some hours later....

Passing now through hillocks covered in crop stubble and hedgerows the companions noted scattered holdings off from the trade road. People watched the procession as they passed and small children alternately called out or watched the 'strange folk' in silence, though some seemed to recognise them from their journey outward.

Soon the midday sun was climbing over head as they drew near the walls of Beltayne and the northern gate.

At the gate they were queried regarding their two bound prisoners, but mention of Duke Carnasse and Baron Aldred soon got them waved through.

" I will take Digby and this other fellow to be jailed for the meantime....I am sure many folks will want to speak with them."

" Your all in need of and deserve good rest, I'll find the Baron and make your apologies while you do so.", Sir Almeric finished.

.

( You all have 24 hours to yourself in Beltayne and Sewark Keep. Feel free to detail/gloss over as you wish.)

(catching up on that PRS 7 roll first, see a way to massage it into an RP opportunity, then if Famh wants to do anything the 24 hrs in Beltayn I'll edit it in.  Rather suspect she will. given her current focus, but if those she trusts in the retinue advise her to wait or if that seems best on further thought then  she'll focus exclusively on Cainneach and on working out arrangements for Ethlinn.)

Famh's eyes nearly fill with tears as she sees how ill her attempt to persuade the Harbinger chieftain to tell her what she wants to know has gone.  Her newfound self-confidence and poise temporarily abandon her; and given the slings and viscissitudes of her past, it is not surprising that a failure that brings her scorn and humiliation ... or even brightens the e'e of a foeman at the expense of her own shame ... should cut far deeper than the well-thrown dearg that simply outfoxed her own best efforts to fling herself aside at the last moment to make him miss. In the latter case, no one's pride or honour is involved, nor their reputation.  But Famh now feels she has made herself out a bit of a bright-e'ed fool, and every ounce of her humiliation rings out in a heartrending wail, "CAINNEACH!  Yon horrid mean Harbinger wonae tell me hou tae become a... a filidh!!!"

Then her entire face suddenly convulses as the ridiculousness of what she has just said washes over her like a refreshing wave of icy water from the highland-born streams she bathed in as a lass, and she has to stop walking a while as she doubles over in a fit of laughter that wrings all false pride out of her and leaves her the romantic but oddly level-headed shepherdess and lore-loving dreamer she has always been.  The soil of Thuland grows many beautiful flowers, but their roots are tough and deep-embedded in the sometimes thin-strewn glacial soil that covers all but a few fortunate parts of that rocky land.  A smudge of the same reddish soil marks Famh's mouth at the corner, making her look as if she is grinning on the one side and fighting to keep the other from laughing itself up to her left ear as she stands and gasps out, "Ah... a suppose thon's na the most persuasive way tae... "  A fresh wave of chuckling cuts the sentence short, and she has to draw in a long breath before she can continue. In the branches above, Ethlinn's rapid chittering sounds like a second wave of higher-pitched laughter woven into Famh's in an oddly beautiful counterpoint.

IN BELTAYN:

 Famh has spent the majority of her free attention for the rest of the journey back on three things: Cainneach (making a side note to herself to learn the healer's art after an unsuccessful attempt to sew up his wounds with Snathad that fortunately ended at the first pull when she misjudged the location of the stitch she was putting in and tore through a thankfully already callused and deid flap o' skin.  But Famh's tenderly penitent reaction at having "hurt her dear leannan" was melodramatic enough that the latter could be forgiven if he perhaps prolonged the suspense a little while before he let her know he was juist fine and that they could both borrow an application of heather salve from Vardi once her flask refills itself at dawn.); Ethlinn (finding out what the little creature best likes to eat and establishing how comfortable she is with cuddling in Famh's bosom as opposed to wanting to sleep in a tree); and ... also Ethlinn (addressing Skoggi and Salt with absolute seriousness and full confidence that they will understand and be moved to sympathy as she explains that the little squirrel is one of their companions now; that "...althouch she looks like their natural prey, her courage and goodness in fichtin' the guid ficht after her tragedy an na turnin' bitter an rainin' nuts doun upon us aw meant thon she deservit their fou regard as a creature pf honour thon Auntie Famh ha' come tae luv for her pluck in gaein' on; sae she'd be much obligit tae thaim gin they'd na hunt this particular squirrel, whose name wis Ethlinn an' wha wad surely be grateful an dae thaim a guid turn themselves someday gin she coud.")

 But as the Dayne retinue approaches the outskirts of Beltayn, she suddenly becomes acutely aware of the social step she is aspiring to take, and the necessity of being attentive to the whole tapestry of folk around her and the impression she is making in each one's regard.  In Thuland the role of the filidh truly bridges all classes, and though Famh herself has had little experience of social matters before her new life with the Dayne retinue she well knows that the sacred poets held at least half their power through ever having an ear for the pulse of laird and crofter and charcoal burner alike and ever being ready to capture the mood of the land in the truth they sang to that land.  Thus, she waves and smiles to the children after making sure her strange faerie ears are well hidden under the coif and barbette she has borrowed from Vardi for their return; and she has a definite ear and e'e out for the subtleties of speech and demeanour that swirl around the retinue as it makes its way in (Insight Dice rolls not yet available for this section.; Tides of Chaos for Advantage) to detect any unusual reactions or people in the crowd who don't seem to fit in with the general reaction to us ... no matter whether it's a more positive or a more negative reaction, or something else entirely, just anything unusual.  Anything she detects she will pass on to Ori as the retinue's Sergeant and ask him if he thinks she ought to pass it on to the scouts, the guide (Vardi) or Sir Almeric). 

And at Sir Almeric's final words of speaking to the Baron, she gives him almost a wistful look.  "Coud ye speir o' him... whit he thinks o' ma ambition tae turn filidh; an i case he approves o't in the liegewoman o' ane o' his household knichts, whit his advice micht be for seekin' an apprenticeship?  Or gin he coud speir the Duke hou tae gae aboot thon findin' a maester, sin' they're sic guid friends nou?"

)OK disce gremlins, tryn doit agin LOL ,.. ahem ... FAMH"S INSIGHT TO DETECT IF THERE ARE ANY UNUSUAL REACTIONS TO US IN THE CROWD, BURNING A TOC UNTIL HER NEXT REST TO GET ADVANTAGE 7)