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[Luthien]

The desert was very bright. Most of them are. Alberic squinted into the brightness as he searched the horizon for their destination. The old man had said the oasis was near. A day's ride. It was getting to the point where they would normally have set up their shelter for the night, but the elf would hate to make camp and in the morning discover that the oasis was just over the next hill.

Rhoswen came up behind him, her brown mare's step beginning to slow down. The horse wanted to be done for the day, too.

"I think I see it, Father. Look there..." She pointed almost directly at the setting sun. Alberic grimaced and shielded his eyes for a moment before he caught a glimpse of green.

"Yes, I think you're right. Come. Perhaps we can have fresh water and fruit tonight." He smiled at his daughter and nudged his gelding forward.

It was strictly a tourist stop. They had no real business in the oasis, but it was commonly talked of in this part of the Middle World and Rhoswen had expressed a desire to see these plants that could flourish in the heat of the desert. Alberic had had no objections, and he was growing tired of their current spot in Edahl, so within a week they had packed their things and set out for new sights and new happenings.

The last few rays of the sun were streaming over the western horizon as Alberic and Rhoswen rode their horses under the shade of the trees. They were unlike anything Rhoswen had seen before, with huge leaves like giant feathers.

There was a very small inn near a pool at the center of the oasis, and it was to this building that the pair directed their horses' steps. The pack horses followed behind, their steps gaining new life at the thought of soon being relieved of their burdens and getting a drink of cool water. All of the horses could smell the water, and were beginning to get testy.

Alberic slid off his horse and directed his daughter to take them to the pool and then the stables. He, himself, went inside to arrange lodgings.

[Gadreall]

Santra shook her long mane of brown hair, sliding her fingers through it once, to ensure no tangles were there. She had come through the dessert, hoping to find a lead, however, she had returned dry once again. There must be someone who knew where her father was!
Having stopped at the Inn earlier in the day, it was time for her to begin earning her keep.

She raised her violin, and began the process of tuning the wooden instrument.
As she drew the bow across the strings, there was a sound akin to a squeak coming from her violin. Looking at the instrument in horror, Santra saw the large amount of dust and sand caught in the intricate workings of the strings.

With a sigh, Santra repacked her Violin, and pulled out her Bhodren. All drum tonight, it seems. she thought.
She took a chair by the fire, and wet the skin on her drum, and took a few experimental swipes with her drumstick. The deep thrumming echoed within her chest, and she smiled. Good, the drum was unharmed at least.
With barely a moments hesitation, Santra began playing a little upbeat tune, using her lilting voice to accompany the sound.

"I'll tell me ma when I go home,
the boys wont leave the girls alone.
They pulled my hair, they stole my comb,
but that's alright, till I go home.
She is handsome, she is pretty,
she is the bell of Belfast city.
She's a courtin', one, two, three.
Please wont you tell me, who is she?

Oh Robert Money, He says he loves her,
and all the boys are fighting for her.
They're knocking on the door,
they're ringing on the bell,
saying 'Oh my True Love, are you well?'
Down she comes, as white as snow.
Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes.
Old Johnny Murphy, says she'll die,
if she doesn't get fellow with the roving eye.

I'll tell me ma when I go home,
the boys wont leave the girls alone.
They pulled my hair, they stole my comb,
but that's alright, till I go home.
She is handsome, she is pretty,
she is the bell of Belfast city.
She's a courtin', one, two, three.
Please wont you tell me, who is she?

Let the wind and the rain and the hail come high,
And the snow come traveling from the sky.
She's as nice as apple pie,
And she'll get her own lad by and by!
When she gets a lad of her own,
She won't tell her ma when she comes home.
Let them all come as they will,
It's Patrick Murphy she loves still!

I'll tell me ma when I go home,
the boys wont leave the girls alone.
They pulled my hair, they stole my comb,
but that's alright, till I go home.
She is handsome, she is pretty,
she is the bell of Belfast city.
She's a courtin', one, two, three.
Please wont you tell me, who is she?"

Once she finished, Santra ordered a drink, and set to work, taking requests.


[OOC: This is a traditional Irish Song, and there are no copyrights, just so you know]

[Luthien]

((Sorry, this is a really busy week for me, and I'm expecting someone else to join, so I was delaying slightly. Wish I had gotten to reply sooner. And yes, I know the song. It's a great one!))

Rhoswen led the horses to the stable prepared to hand them over to a stable hand, but apparently none were on duty at the moment. Or perhaps they weren't on duty ever-- it was, after all, a very small inn. She glanced about, hesitant to make herself at home with equipment that did not belong to her, but eventually gave in to herself and led each of the horses to empty stalls. Taking several minutes, she removed the saddles and packs from the horses and gave them a thorough brushing. Rhoswen enjoyed time with the animals. They were gentle and, when well-rested, playful. Because of the constant movement from place to place, Rhoswen had few close friends. The horses, on the other hand, were a permanent fixture in her life, and she had come to treat them almost like intelligent beings. She found water and oats and took care of the horses, talking to them softly.

It was very quiet in the stable. Rhoswen sat down against a wall, her tired muscles glad for the rest, and her tired mind happy to sit in the calmness and just listen to the horses breath. Somewhere nearby she could faintly hear someone singing. Her eyes drifted shut and she found herself thinking that she could easily fall asleep just like this.



Alberic stepped up to the counter and exchanged a few words and a few coins with the woman standing behind it. It had begun to grow dark, so she took a lamp that was hanging behind her and lit it. Holding it before her, she led him up the stairs and down a narrow hallway to pleasant little room that even had a rug and a wash basin. There was only one bed, which was fine. Alberic had no trouble sleeping on the floor.

In recent years, as he and his daughter would emerge from their rooms in the mornings, people would assume they were husband and wife. It was very strange the first time it happened. Now, they had learned to just point out their pointed ears and explain, and people would quickly withdraw embarrassed. Sometimes though, Alberic would just let them think that. His daughter got less attention from unsavory men when they believed she was married.

He thanked the woman, and went back down the stairs to locate his daughter and show her the room, but was distracted by a song being played over by the fire. It was a happy tune, and his fingers began to tap in time with the rhythm. He leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the room to watch and listen.

[Taldur]

There was a sound of stirring sand, followed by an almost-human groan, then all was silent again. Some minutes later, a long sand-coloured cloak lying in the shelter of the dunes was slowly moved aside and a weary figure emerged.

Taldur levered himself slowly to his feet. He staggered slowly to the nearest dune and leaned against it. He examined the horizon while waiting for his muscles to let out the kinks acquired through a long day's sleep of no movement. The desert itself seemed as empty as ever. The only sign of life was the nearby oasis.

As the heated sand at his back slowly warmed his muscles, he thought again about the oasis. Though fully asleep, he'd heard several horses pass earlier. He wasn't particularly interested in human contact right now, but his supplies were running low and news was always a valuable commodity.

Bending over, Taldur rummaged in the sand near his resting place and pulled out his pack, shaking it slightly to dislodge most of the sand. With an unconscious expression of distaste, he pulled his hands up into his sleeves and used the cloth to protect his skin as he re-centered his long staff in its carrying straps on the side of the pack.

Once everything was packed away, he set out toward the oasis, not stopping even to eat. He suddenly craved the sound of another's voice. Not to talk with anyone himself, but to just sit and watch as normal people lived their own version of a normal life. He thought darkly to himself that being just a spectator was safest for him anyway. Hearing his story tended to make people uncomfortable around him.

Though preoccupied with his brooding, Taldur still moved toward his destination like a hunted animal. His steps were long and shallow, careful to disturb as little sand as possible. He kept in the shadows of the dunes, several times going out of his way to avoid being caught in the setting sun. With the sun so low on the desert, his shadow would stretch across the sand for many feet.

He paused again just inside the oasis, blending into the tree shadows now. All was silent on the grounds, though from inside the inn came the sounds of a drum and a cheerful female voice. With another sudden change of mind, he turned from the sounds of normal people and headed to the stable. Animals always seemed to understand him best, and perhaps sharing some treats with the horses would lighten his mood.

[Gadreall]

As she took a deep swig from her cider mug, Santra concentrated for a moment on the feelings of the crowd around her. She knew this to be the best way to get good pay, to cater to the general feel of the crowd.
She decided a fisherman's song would be the best song for her to sing next. A melancholy song about possible death, and temporary triumph, then danger once again.

As she drew in a deep breath, she let her sink as low as she could, and almost chanted the next song:

"I used to be a fisherman, on the icy crests we'd ride...
Like a banshee on the wind, we'd sail the ocean wide...
From the shoals of Yarmouth bay...to Newfoundland we'd go...

and we'd shout! Shout! Shout! Shout at the Devil down below


Out to the snows of Greeland, into the screaming gale...
Out into the storm chasing down the whale....
When the harpoon struck the mighty fish would blow...

and we'd shout! Shout! Shout! Shout at the Devil down below

In our bunks we'd find no solace, no comfort just remorse...
We'd curse at the bad fortune that set us on this course...
Gathered 'round the lamplight we'd sing both high and low...

and we'd shout! Shout! Shout! Shout at the Devil down below

From the rocks of Lizard Reef to Plymouth we are bound...
The skipper's yelling blood as the jagged cliffs we round...
Jack Duggan in the forsail, Billy Reilly in the crow...

and we'd shout! Shout! Shout! Shout at the Devil down below

Only when we'd quenched the mighty vessel's appetite...
Would the captain tell us lads? "We'll be going home tonight!"
We'd turn to the raging sea and raise our fists and yell,
"You won't be seeing us today you won't be seeing us in ****!"

Once ashore we'd head into the pub for a tankard full of ale...
One day would turn into a week and the time would come to sail...
We'd say goodbye to the girls to we love, then off from the shore we'd row...

and we'd shout! Shout! Shout! Shout at the Devil down below

And we'd shout, shout, shout, shout...Shout at the devil down below!"

Her drum kept a slow beat to the slow, rolling song.
This one had always been one of her favorites, in a morbid sense. It was calming, how her old town bard had simply chanted the lyrics.
Though Santra had never seen the sea, she enjoyed simply wondering what it would be like, to sail like that in a vessel.

Santra lifted her Bhodren, and stood up, playing a small jig, a jovial smile on her face. "Time for a little dancing?" she asked, while tossing some of her hair over her shoulder.

[Luthien]

Alberic was pleased to listen to the woman. It was a hard world, and the life of a minstrel was an added hardship. Business would be ever uncertain and roads were not always friendly. If someone was in this line of work, it had to be because they either loved people, music, or both. Though their own lives were hard, they helped to soften the lives of the people around them.

He stepped forward with a coin, expecting to see a pot on the floor as was the custom in his home world. He did not see one, however, so he stopped short awkwardly, glancing around at the floor for the pot that surely must be around somewhere.

He cleared his throat.

"I beg your pardon, madam, but do you accept donations?"



Rhoswen heard the stable door open and sighed. She had been enjoying the private tranquility. She did not hear a horse however... perhaps the inn really did have stable boy and he had been slacking in his duties. She frowned slightly, and stood up to get a look at him.

What she saw, however, was no stable boy. The man who stood before her was obviously a traveler, as could be told by his packs. How he got this far in the desert without a horse, Rhoswen had no idea. He had a look about him that Rhoswen couldn't quite place, but that frightened her.

She swallowed.

"Hello there... I was expecting.... somebody else." She concluded softly.

[Gadreall]

Santra nearly lost her beat when the man startled her. She jumped, and looked up at him, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. Then she gave him a nervous smile.

"I am sorry, Dear Sir. I was absorbed in my music. And I normally do accept donations, however on this evening, I would gladly accept assistance in the stead of coin."

She gave the black haired elf a quick once over. He looked capable, though careworn. But most men had that look about them in this day and age.
Santra lay her drum on the table, and stretched, lifting her arms high above her head, and lifting her heels off the floor. After a long yawn, she lowered herself to her normal height, but her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment.

"You see, Dear Sir, I am looking too leave this oasis on the morrow, and company on the road would be ideal. It is a most boring journey when one is alone. And you need not worry about my direction, as I have none. I simply travel where the wind takes me."

Santra took a moment to concentrate on the man's feelings, to search for malicious intent, or another such clue too his psyche.

Once she got the information she needed, she offered her hand. "My name is Santra. Santra Clearwater. And I simply love my Art. The art of music." She smiled as she introduced herself.

[Luthien]

Alberic blushed when the woman blushed. He had not intended to startle her, and was embarassed that he had. As his cheeks faded, he listened to her offer.

He took her hand and shook it. Shaking his head, he held out the coin again.

"My lady, regardless of whether or not you accompany me out of this oasis, I insist you take the coin. You have earned it. And while an artist such as yourself would likely glady play just to earn the smiles of the children, such smiles will not fill your belly. Again, I insist."

He placed the coin into her other hand, which he still held from shaking it.

"Now, allow me to introduce myself. I am Alberic. My daughter Rhoswen and I are travelling through the area. We have no particular destination either. As far as your request, I could assist you, but likely not on the morrow. We have only just arrived in the oasis, and my daughter wants to study the plants that grow in this desert. If you are still here the day after tomorrow, you may, by all means, come with us. It is probably safest that way, too. A lone woman travelling through the desert is a likely target for bandits."

Alberic smiled.

"Indeed, I rather like the idea. My daughter and I can provide you with protection, and you can provide us with music on the journey." He shrugged with one shoulder.

"That will, of course, depend on whether or not you are available to stay the extra day. We would be delighted to have you."

He bowed slightly and waited for her response.

[Gadreall]

Santra sighed as she accepted the coin from Alberic. There was sense in what the man said, yet she didnt enjoy taking his coin so soon after asking him for help.

"I thank you for your concern, and for your company Alberic." Santra smiled. "Very well then, I shall wait one extra day for you and your daughter to leave this oasis. What you say about the bandits is very true." Santra lifted the sleeve from her right arm, exposing a deep gouge that was recently stitched up.
"I, eh, was walking, and I stumbled across a 'wounded' man...and, well you can see the result. I was lucky they were only after my meager coins."

Santra loosed her sleeve again, so it covered her wound. She then stoked the violin which still lay on her table. "Besides, the extra day will give me time to clean this thoroughly." She smiled fondly as she stroked the red wood of the violin. "I do not mind at all."

She passed Alberic her mug of half finished cider. "So, tell me, good sir. How much drink can you take?" She winked, and motioned to the waitress for another round.

[Luthien]

Alberic smiled and nodded.

"It is agreed then. I shall inform my daughter as soon as she comes in from the stable."

A half-smile played around on Alberic's face at Santra's request. He sat down at the table next to her and looked at the mug. He couldn't quite decide if he wanted in on this little game or not. He wasn't a drinker, though as an elf he could take in much alcohol before becoming intoxicated.

"Pray tell, milady, what is the point of your asking? If you want to play games, I must have a reason to play."

He grinned at her, but only his eyes moved from the direction he had been facing. His arms folded across his chest.

To the waitress, who had just arrived, he said,

"Bring me an ale, if you don't mind. Cider isn't my favorite beverage."

He glanced back at Sanctra, still smiling.

"Well, lady? Did you have a wager in mind?"

[Gadreall]

Santra sat across from Alberic, stroking her chin with her right hand.

"I didnt have one in mind, however I can think of one."

Santra toyed with the necklace around her neck as she bit her bottom lip, thinking.

"A wager. Well, the both of us already paid for our rooms. And stable use."
Then, Santra shot Alberic a wicked grin.

"The looser picks up the tab. How does that sound?" She tossed the last of her gold coins on the table to accompany the statement, the smile still playing on her features.

Santra downed her cider, and ordered a ale instead, opting to play fair.

"What say you, dear elf? Unless you have a better wager in mind..?"

[Luthien]

Alberic regarded the woman across from him with mock concern in his eyes.

"Milady, just because that idea delights you so very much, something tells me I should be afraid to say yes. However, I'm not in the mood to make an intelligent decision, so, yes. I shall accept your wager." His eyes twinkled in merriment.

"But, of course, you know if I lose I'm going to say that I did it on purpose to save you the money. I'm so very kindhearted, you know."

He stopped the maid before she had gone, and asked her to bring a pitcher with her.

"We'll probably need it." Turning his gaze back to Santra, he remarked,
"Though, you know, I have a distinct advantage in the mere fact that I'm an elf, and you're not... well, not entirely, perhaps." He gave her a quizzical look, but refrained from asking any specific question. Sometimes those who were not entirely of one race were afraid to admit it. Rhoswen had never had trouble with that, so sometimes he forgot himself. Perhaps he shouldn't have even said what he did.

[Gadreall]

Santra grinned again. "Indeed, intelligent decisions are meant for the daylight hours."
She listened to his next comment, and giggled, covering her mouth with her right hand.

"Kindhearted? Dear elf, you would simply be embarrassed to have a woman beat you."
Santra continued to laugh until the subject of her heritage came up. A shadow crossed her features, but it passed quickly. Leaving her laughing face barely changed.

"I may come from mixed heritages, however I believe I'm stronger for it. You should have seen my human mother drink! I believe she even outdrank my father on the night..." she stopped, not sure how to approach the subject of conception with a elf.

She was saved the trouble of finishing her statement, by a drunk who chose that moment to lean over her and grab her around the torso, crooning something about his bed.

Santra's cheeks flushed a deep crimson again, and she struggled to remove the stronger human's hands from her chest.

[Luthien]

Alberic just smiled in amusement as the girl made her comebacks.

"Well, milady the true test is before us." He winked at her and reached for the pitcher of ale just as the intruder approached the other side of the table.

The elf blinked in shock for a split second before standing up, and upsetting the whole table in the process. The pitcher of ale and the glasses went flying across the room and smashed into the floor. The furious elf lunged at the fool, who let go of Santra in an attempt to throw himself on the floor. Alberic wouldn't have it. He caught him with his left hand before he had moved 6 inches and gave him a smashing blow to the face with his right.

He crumpled to the floor, screaming about his nose. Alberic straightened and glanced at Santra to see if she was all right, when a pair of arms encircled his throat-- judging by the angle, the owner of said arms was several inches short than Alberic. It was a bit amusing, until the original scum threw himself at Alberic's ankles and another friend dove at his chest.

Alberic sighed as he toppled to the floor, thrown off balance, and aimed a knee at the fellow on his chest.

[Gadreall]

Santra had never been much good at grappling. Being female, she had a distinct dis-advantage, and being a musician, she was significantly weaker than others of her age.
But when she saw Alberic fighting for her own integrity and honor, she wanted to do what she could to help him.

Santra tackled the bloke behind Alberic, catching him in a choke hold of her own.
Entwining her arms, so she used the force of the human's own downward motion against him, Santra thought all she had too do was wait.
But the human was stronger, and he pushed with his legs, keeping the two of them from falling more than a few inches.

Santra knew she was in trouble, especially when the brute grabbed her arms, and threw her over his shoulder, to land on the splinters and glass on the ground.
And with her arms still encircled around the bloke's neck, she pulled him down on top of her.

The human wiggled around, trying to get her in a better position for his purposes, but Santra had had enough. She drew her knife and held it up to his throat.

"You have five seconds to remove yourself from me, and to call off the attack on my friend....One...."

The human scrambled to stand, but he tripped on a fallen chair, and landed hard on the Half-elf, skewering his arm on her knife, and knocking the wind from her lungs.

Santra gasped, trying desperately to fill her lungs with air. She knew being on the ground, with Alberic distracted, would cost her. Especially in her condition.