'Forgetful bunch, ain't we?' Gruber chuckled heartily, black beard twitching as he thanked Arbok with an almost imperceptible tilt of his boulder-like bonce. 'Apologies aside, you're most welcome at our campfire, lady. As to our names, well, this here is Syr Jarro, of Dusk.'

'And the keg-on-legs you're currently bandying words with is Syr Gruber of Dawn,' said Jarro, smiling as he prodded the crackling fire with a stick. Gruber chuckled louder, shoulders shaking with mirth.

'Pay him no heed, lady. I promise, he's usually a lot less polite than this!'

Is he? Gruki didn't think so. If anything, Syr Jarro was the politer of the two knights, though, both happened to be good men in her eyes. Brothers true. She glanced at Arbok. 'Y'know, you don't have to stay standing just cause I decided to,' she said, sensing that her friend's tentative nature was holding her back. Gruki sniffed as the cold rankled her nose.

'Care for some... wine?' She asked, holding up the full skin. Her gaze turned from Arbok to Ronja, back again. 'I believe Syr Jarro has some salted bacon left in his pack. Syr Gruber, too! We could have ourselves a wayfarer's feast!'

Jarro smiled knowingly.

'And what of your pack, Gruki?' He looked to her, then, elfin features knitting together in amusement. 'What shall you bring to the feast?'
'Um, uh, I still have some cheese left... I think?'
'You think? You're not sure?'

Gruki felt her face grow hot as she glanced at Arbok for support. 'I may have... um, indulged a little before we reached Astenvale,' she confessed, knowing her pack was as empty as the day she had collected it from stores.

And clean socks make for bad eating.

@Arbok @Ronja
 
"It's okay. I don't really want to sit."
Arbok smiled back at Gruki even as her thighs screamed at her.
She wasn't going to get comfortable, that's when her tongue tended to get really loose and there was no way she'd be doing herself in like that. When offered the wine Arbok took a swig and felt the sting of it in her throat before offering it to Ronja or Gruki, whomever would take it.

As Gruki found herself in an uncomfortable spot however she felt the need to act.
"I have something... "
She offered a bit louder than was necessary, thinking fast as she reached into her sporin and produced a small but full bag.
"Hazelnuts and uh..."
The next thing produced was a small pale parcel of folded paper tied with string, for a second she bit her lip, loath to part with these particular treats.
"I have some milk sweets too."
Her forced smile was weak but present on her face as she offered them to Syr Jarro.
"Please, enjoy Syrs, Lady Ronja."

She was saving those sweets for later when she got back to her cell.

@Gruki @Ronja
 
The warmth, stillness and buzz of friendly chatter imposed a restful weight upon her limbs and lids, making them leaden. How much she suddenly wished to doze off, sat here in the shelter of company. As the topic of feasts come up, she roused to examine the feelings in her body. Was she even hungry?

She felt like a cored apple — hollowed out, somehow chalky and fibrous. Dry and ashen. Was that why the beasts of the wood left her alone, able to tell a bad meal from a mile away?

As the wine made its round to her, she accepted it in a thankful nod. It was probably bad idea with how little she’d ever drank, but hopefully it was watered down. Such things usually were, in these parts. She took a careful sip, sparing despite the dryness in her mouth.

“ No sweets for me. But a hazelnut? “ She begun anew, palm reaching out. “ If you’d be so kind? I’m afraid my fingers have been sapped of dexterity by the cold — I’d only fumble the lot into the ground. “
 
'Not to worry, a little dirt never hurt nobody.' Smiling kindly, Gruki shift-stepped around the crackling campfire, careful not to tread on her knights. The horses were hobbled nearby. Still saddled, their bags contained the tools of her trade; knives and pans, skillets and spoons, and tongs for the turning of too-hot foodstuffs.

Rifling through her saddlebags, Gruki removed the last of their supplies: a few rashers of bacon, a couple heels of soft cheese, a solitary apple replete with a worm she couldn't remember packing. Not bad eating, if you could handle the ick factor.

She waved for Arbok to come help her.

'Say, Lady Ronja,' she heard Syr Gruber speak, clearly working up to something. 'If I may be so bold as t' ask, what is it that brings you t' Astenvale? Not to question yer motives, of course, bein' what they may, but 'tis a humble village, and as you're most surely aware... a long way from civilisation.' Gruki could almost picture the apologetic expression he wore. A strange sight, for one so rough around the edges.

Proof that appearances could deceive.
 
Undoing the tie of the bag of hazelnuts Arbok poured enough into Ronja's hand to spill some on the grassy earth below.
"Sorry, I'm sorry. That's probably still good, six second rule."
Hastily she picked up two of the dropped nuts and placed them back into Ronja's hand before she could protest, her face a set expression of consternation so it was with relief that Gruki called her over and she hopped to it smartly. Leaving the nuts and sweats with the others.

"Hey, what's the plan? Oh bacon, nice. Any beans?"
She did not wait as Gruki gathered the necessaries. Arbok helped by setting up the support for the pan so they could hold it over the fire without their hands. Simple set up, tripod under a slim grate of woven metal.
It felt better to be doing something and kneeling next to the fire made her realise how chilly the day was getting. Looking up she realised that she had come here in haste and would not be back at the Monastery before nightfall. A fact that prompted a mournful whine from her throat.

She didn't like travelling at night.

@Gruki @Ronja
 
Her smile never flickered as she watched the incredibly tall girl fumble with the offered treats, her way smaller palms positively overflowing to the tune of apologies. She cradled the precious hazelnuts beneath her look, nodding. It had always been beyond her position to be fussy about her food.

“ No harm in a bit of dirt — the one out here is as clean as when it was first made. Thank you, Arbok. “ She spoke, watching the little specks of dust as they sparkled. Carefully, she picked one of the nuts from the top of the pile and blew on it, lest she break a tooth chewing.

She’d just popped it in her mouth as one of the men questioned her reasons, the sort of usual topics betwixt who’d travel to the remote and insignificant. Parts unrevered, even forgotten. A bit of well-mannered amusement was in the expression she wore, mainly for the pained preamble of a man eager to convince her he meant to not pry whilst actively prying. To her mind, he was making such harmless question a greater issue than she’d ever thought it.

Had many refused responding, once a upon a time?

“ It is that exact removal from civilization that should have brought me here, as where I am going is not permitted to exist in it’s intimate vicinity. As such, my business isn’t even with Astenvale, humble as she is, as I’m merely passing through. “ She explained, inspecting another hazelnut.

“ There is a lazaret in the roots of the mountain. My faith and my superiors have sent me there, to tend upon the hopeless. " But of whom, she knew, yet some had hope in their hearts. Despite the fact leprosy wasn't known to leave anyone alive. She may have called it tragic if it wasn't so incredibly human.

" Are you aware of it? “
 
'We are,' Syr Jarro replied, watching as the squires setup shop. '"In the roots of the mountain," you said. Not an exaggeration.' Turning to face Ronja, the elf probed his memories; most were as clear as the day he'd made them, though, the lazaret could not be considered one of them. 'A good deed is its own reward, and the souls there will be in need of succour, sure as the sun rises.'

Leprosy. Contagion. Foul air in the bowels of the Earth. It was a wretched place, that much he could recall.

'Noble of you to follow your creed's calling. Brave, too.' A newfound respect appeared in Syr Jarro's eyes. Even Syr Gruber found himself nodding, his curiosity sated. Gruki found her gaze bouncing between the two knights, her long braid looped about her shoulders like a shawl, so as to not to interrupt her work. 'No beans,' she said, in a quiet aside to Arbok. 'No bread neither. A pity. I do so miss making sandwiches.'

Her stomach growled in sympathy. Grinning sheepishly, she held her hand over the pan, willed it to warm a touch quicker with a snap of shroud-wreathed fingers. Red-gold, like her hair. 'I don't normally cheat,' she told Ronja, smiling all the while. 'But Syr Gruber is a right grouch when he's hungry.' Which is all the time, she mused, alarmed by the way Syr Jarro was grinning at her. 'What?'

'Oh, nothing,' he winked, glancing at Ronja, a conspiratorial tilt to his form. 'She's right, you know. Got to keep him well-fed and well-watered, otherwise he's like as not to buck.'

'Dinnae you listen to the tree-hugger, lady!' Syr Gruber growled from across the campfire. 'I'm the model of civility, as my fool of a dusk-brother well knows.' Covering her mouth, Gruki let a laugh spill into her palm, one of the day's first. Gruber's eyes narrowed, his accent thickening in mock anger. 'Dinnae you be laughin' now, Gruki, 'less it's extra duties you be lookin' for 'pon our return.'

'Right, right! Sorry!' Clearing her throat, she looked to her fellow orkin, amusement writ in the cut of her lips. 'So. Lady Ronja. You spoke of faith. Care to... um, elaborate?'
 
Faith.
Depending on who you asked about it the talk could get heated.

Arbok had been raised sans any talk of faith and she knew little of the gods and their workings, despite living in a monastery.
Her gran had told her that prayer never matched sweat and toil. Which seemed sensible enough to her so she was curious to hear what an outsider thought of such things.

Some followers of the gods were described as mad, zealots who went on wild crusades for blood and conquest. Ronja did not seem the type to do that and hearing of her journey to the lazaret made Arbok wonder if she had the ability to heal.
"Can you heal them?"
She blurted out unceremoniously to Ronja, inserting herself into the conversation as her hands peeled the bacon strips from the packaging and she lay them on the skillet now that Gruki had helped heat it.

@Gruki
@Ronja
 
She almost felt bad for having mentioned it all, their nods and words making her shrink a little, wilting beneath the reverence in the elven man’s look. Brave, noble. How little they knew of her — Had Mother Gaskin heard them say these things to her, she may well have laughed. Or disciplined her later, lest she take such nice things to heart, to have and to hold when she was alone with her thoughts. It isn’t the truth, girl.

Thankfully, she didn’t need to say anything. The group’s accord allowed the tone to pick right up, thought the subject didn’t stray as far from herself as she may have preferred. Despite it, she smiled. It felt easy to do when she had so many kind faces to look at, so lively.

“ Elaborate how? “ She asked, indulging on a mischievous quirk to her lips. “ Faith is a large topic, is it not? Based merely on my habit — “ For emphasis, she adjusted the dark veil about her head, where it brushed the side of her cheek. “ You have probably deduced I am a vowed servant to it. But beyond that, I wouldn’t know where to even begin explaining. So— “

She paused, staring down at her hands. The other squire asked her something else then, returning to the matter of the lazaret. Her smile softened at how innocent the question was.

“ No. “ She answered, sincerely. “ There is no cure for what ails them, nor am I one of the brave and clever people looking to fashion one. Nay— “ She wasn’t even a proper magician. A half-arsed woods’ witch at best, and that had been years ago. Mother would be furious.

“ My task is one to ease suffering and what passing should follow. Not terribly satisfactory for a warrior to hear, am sure, but— “ She looked at the lot of them.

“ We aren’t all fighters. “
 
'This is true. There's more to life than swords and killing.' Nod-nodding, Gruki settled back on her haunches as Arbok added the last strips of bacon to the skillet. It was a bit late in the day to talk theology, granted. But then polite conversation knew no boundaries.

Or was it the other way around?

'You're wrong about one thing, though,' the big half-orkin turned to Ronja, a small smile playing across her lips. 'You are brave, and cleverer than you give yourself credit for, methinks.' There she went again, letting her feelings lead the way. 'You made it here, after all. Through the deep woods, all by your lonesome. A journey like that requires at least some small amount of courage, no?' Gruki hated being alone. It was during the quiet moments her thoughts grew the loudest.

Usually, they had nothing good to share. But then why would they? She was just-

Stop it! Blinking away her confusion, Gruki realised she had been staring off into the distance. Gruber and Jarro were both watching her, the former's eyes narrowed in concern, whilst the latter's held nothing but understanding. It's okay, Gruki, they seemed to say, you're among friends.

'I-' She swallowed, her throat feeling as dry as sandpaper. 'I believe those poor people will be lucky to have you, if'n the wolves don't get you first.' Glancing at Ronja, she looked the orkin up and down, a grin spreading sloth-like across her face.

'I shouldn't worry. They're like as to take one look at you 'fore starving to death.'
 
"That's a bit harsh Gru!"
Arbok laughed though she did not disagree. Ronja was probably the frailest looking Orkin she'd ever seen. Even moreso than Roki and that was something of a joke among them.

The frying bacon sizzled as she batted it about with a wooden spat.
"If you need help getting there, we can do it."
Though it was fully put of place for a mere squire to offer such services Arbok could not think of a more worthy cause. Relief to the suffering, surely if Ronja asked they would not refuse her and now, she didn't have to.

"I mean, we can take you."
Her mind briefly acknowledged that Gruki and the others had not stopped travelling for a while.
"You can rest at the monastery THEN take you."
 
Her yet chestnut-laden palms rested upon her lap as the squire Gruki spoke, then seemed to— meander off? Though her own stare remained steady, proper affixed, she felt the company become still. At the periphery of her vision, the shapes of the older knights remained at attention, but somehow disquieted. A little stir in the canvas, the ripple on their great mood.

It wasn’t her place to question, so she didn’t. Thankfully, the next remarks were brighter, even if they yet focused on her. Main subject — how loathsome.

Still, Ronja’s smile was true as the gloom turned to jest, light as a cloud. How she wished to lay herself down upon one, a soft caress for her weary bones. The fire burned warmer, her cheeks adimple as she bowed her head as if in accepting a compliment. Scrawny, but a beast all the same, she’d been told. Foxen.

“ Monastery, you say— “ She repeated and hummed, eyeing the lot curiously. “ I’ve experience with the sort, awfully homely as old masonry and so much grey stone is. “ Particularly how cold it gets in the winter months. She sniffed, clicking her tongue. What was that about Dawn and Dusk, moments earlier?

“ Though yours is different from those of me and mine, is it not? “ The knowing in her tone made her sound almost smug, were it not for the wolfish quirk of her lips.

“ You’re of Anathaeum. “ A glance at all, concluding to the men where it’d bounce betwixt them. “ I didn’t know your Order dealt with escorting Sisters to their duties. “

Watching intently, she slipped another chestnut into her mouth.
 
'We don't, historically speaking,' replied Syr Gruber, his annoyance at Arbok blowing away upon the next breeze. 'Squire Arbok spoke out of turn, though, if it were up to me, we'd take you to your destination in a heartbeat.' He meant it, too. Gruki could see it in his eyes, how they held true to the subject of their discussion, as if she might choose to question his word, which the squire had learnt early on never to do.

Assuming the same rules applied where Ronja was concerned. Gruki had her doubts.

'Duty calls, alas,' said Jarro, flavouring the conversation with the sound of his voice. 'We 'mums have reports to make, duties to tend, lest our superiors take umbrage. I'm sure you understand, Sister that you are.' The elf did not venture to make any further explanation. Ronja had shared her name, and thus was no longer considered a stranger. But that did not make her a friend.

Though, she does appear friend-shaped. Her robes could've done with a touch more colour, Gruki felt, gaze flitting to the bacon sizzling in the pan, then back to Ronja.

'You're welcome to accompany us to the monastery,' she said, backing up her friend with the blessing of both knights. 'The guest chambers are homely enough, and the gardens are a sight to behold, even in winter.' Gruki smiled reassuringly. 'Just... try to avoid disturbing the croakers. They're mighty irritable when it's cold out.'

'Like me!' Syr Gruber winked.

'Yes, syr, like you,' Jarro sighed dramatically, a roll of the eyes betraying hidden amusement at his friend's joke. 'Before long you'll be burying yourself in mud, or else stuffing yourself in some animal's burrow till the snows thaw,' he chuckled. There was a pause as Gruber pondered his words.

'Doesn't sound half-bad, actually,' the dwarf replied, nodding.

'I agree,' said Gruki, glancing sidelong at Arbok. 'At least it's warm underground.'
 
Arbok blushed twice, first at being (if ever so mildly chastised) and second at Gruki's glance and word of it being warmer underground.

"I only did that the once Gruki and it was only for a week. It wasn't a real hibernation."

Her hand fussed over the pan, shaking the contents so that they slid and using the spat to unstick the contents. She did like to sleep though and couldn't lie about that even though she avoided the gaze of Ronja, feeling that she may have given too much away. Not that it was a secret really but a lot of people treated you different if they found out that you were also a bear as well as a person.

Shifting in her position she was glad for a moment that she was not a full squire yet. She liked her freedom.
"I can't say if it's different really."
Arbok answered Ronja flatly, not picking up on the meaning behind her words or the smile that accompanied them.
"Are other Monasteries different to ours much Gruki?"

@Gruki
@Ronja
 
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