The days are long and dusty, and even after meeting with Adelaide, Herian is not at peace. The Dalish could come and go amongst her people freely, and though a good many of the refugees have no care for the Dalish, they did not have the standing to brace themselves against them should the Dalish insist on being present. Herian worries the inside of her cheek with her teeth as she walks with buckets of fresh water, setting them down by the fire where an older woman with waves of red hair and warm brown eyes is cooking. Herian's own smile is slight, as it always is, until there is the thunder of familiar feet.
Herian crouches down as the child approaches her, a little storm of honey-blonde ringlets, and for all that Herian barely smiles her expression still brightens, and she gently taps Tabitha's chin. "Aren't you bonny?"
Tabitha beams, grabs Herian's sleeve to tug at it, and starts to draw her in the direction of Someone New in camp. Herian can feel the tension coiling about her spine even as she is lead. The last time Tabitha encountered a stranger it had been the Dalish, Pel. She doubts that her optimism at Adelaide visiting deserves any merit.
When she sees him - easily beyond a full foot taller than most elves in camp, with long hair that she could not place as silvery or blond in such bright light as this, Herian is surprised. He carries not the wretched tattoos of the Dales, but he certainly is not akin to any elf she has ever seen.
It is unsurprising Tabitha leads her to him, and she informs him very smartly that this is the lady that brought them here, and that she has kept them safe, and that she is the bravest person Tabitha has ever met, as if Herian is a favourite doll being shown off. Herian, for her part, looks up that the stranger with a guarded sort of curiosity, as Tabitha hugs against her leg.
"Ceud mìle fàilte. Fine day to you. What brings you to our dwelling, sir?"
( closed ) Thranduil. ( hover for translation. )
Herian crouches down as the child approaches her, a little storm of honey-blonde ringlets, and for all that Herian barely smiles her expression still brightens, and she gently taps Tabitha's chin. "Aren't you bonny?"
Tabitha beams, grabs Herian's sleeve to tug at it, and starts to draw her in the direction of Someone New in camp. Herian can feel the tension coiling about her spine even as she is lead. The last time Tabitha encountered a stranger it had been the Dalish, Pel. She doubts that her optimism at Adelaide visiting deserves any merit.
When she sees him - easily beyond a full foot taller than most elves in camp, with long hair that she could not place as silvery or blond in such bright light as this, Herian is surprised. He carries not the wretched tattoos of the Dales, but he certainly is not akin to any elf she has ever seen.
It is unsurprising Tabitha leads her to him, and she informs him very smartly that this is the lady that brought them here, and that she has kept them safe, and that she is the bravest person Tabitha has ever met, as if Herian is a favourite doll being shown off. Herian, for her part, looks up that the stranger with a guarded sort of curiosity, as Tabitha hugs against her leg.
"Ceud mìle fàilte. Fine day to you. What brings you to our dwelling, sir?"