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"She did what to my blade?! Blast that girl" The curse hung in the air, waiting for a throat to be cleared. "As I said Matron, she thought it best to..." the throat-clearer began, but were cut off. "To secrete my best sword in the deep of a ravine to avoid it falling in the hands of our foes". The elf standing by the table fell silent. A fist hammered the makeshift table. The Matron of the Valley grove sighed inwardly and rubbed her patched eye out of ancient habit. "in Amn" She continued flatly "She is getting on my nerves. And she is a constant risk to our daily lives. Remember the herd of elks a fortnight ago?"
The standing elf, a leather-skinned grey-haired male winced at the recollection. He nodded and spoke "I met with the druids of the lake. She has been giving the treants unrest again, too. This cannot continue."
The Matron gave yet another sigh. "She is to young to leave us". "You are lying, old friend", the male voice interceded rather quickly, "you were not younger when you roamed the north. Remember?". With a piercing green eye the elf was held in appraisal.
"If you say so. Send her... Send her to Sundren. Yes". The Matrons one eye lit up in mirth. "Tell her to... To tend shrine of the goddess of moonlight, to destroy any vampire she finds, and to search for the true blade of Mhaornathil." The Matron give a deep chuckle. "This will keep her occupied, and ride the impertinence out of her. Let her take a light pack, and tell her leave that wolf on the isle. And the heron too."
"What about the stoats, Matron?" - hung in the air while the Matron pursed her lips. "What stoats? No, I do not wish to know. The stoats stays too". The Matron shook her head in disbelief of uttering such a phrase. "Very well Matron". Silently the master of archery left the makeshift tent.
"Too young to leave. But I am too old to have her stay here. And by the goddess I am not even into my second century." She said to herself. "Am I being harsh on her, or on the inhabitants of the Valley? Time will tell I suppose."
As the Matrons usually harsh glare were slowly replaced by the 100 yard stare, only known to fond recollectionists, a small group of Stoats, some bearing minute saddles on the their backs, choose to invade her tent. The Matron flew up, scattering stoats "Naiith!"
The standing elf, a leather-skinned grey-haired male winced at the recollection. He nodded and spoke "I met with the druids of the lake. She has been giving the treants unrest again, too. This cannot continue."
The Matron gave yet another sigh. "She is to young to leave us". "You are lying, old friend", the male voice interceded rather quickly, "you were not younger when you roamed the north. Remember?". With a piercing green eye the elf was held in appraisal.
"If you say so. Send her... Send her to Sundren. Yes". The Matrons one eye lit up in mirth. "Tell her to... To tend shrine of the goddess of moonlight, to destroy any vampire she finds, and to search for the true blade of Mhaornathil." The Matron give a deep chuckle. "This will keep her occupied, and ride the impertinence out of her. Let her take a light pack, and tell her leave that wolf on the isle. And the heron too."
"What about the stoats, Matron?" - hung in the air while the Matron pursed her lips. "What stoats? No, I do not wish to know. The stoats stays too". The Matron shook her head in disbelief of uttering such a phrase. "Very well Matron". Silently the master of archery left the makeshift tent.
"Too young to leave. But I am too old to have her stay here. And by the goddess I am not even into my second century." She said to herself. "Am I being harsh on her, or on the inhabitants of the Valley? Time will tell I suppose."
As the Matrons usually harsh glare were slowly replaced by the 100 yard stare, only known to fond recollectionists, a small group of Stoats, some bearing minute saddles on the their backs, choose to invade her tent. The Matron flew up, scattering stoats "Naiith!"