Her heels clicked across the pavement, there was a purpose in her steps, there were several faces she was trying to put behind her. Hoping that they would be like dust scattered to the wind. Her motives were muddled even to herself when it came to this meeting. But she had to see his face again, just one more time.
Brigwald, former watch captain and an old contact from the lady's days of youthful exuberance no, it wasn't /that/ kind of contact. In, fact, the man once served her as a protector. Service to the family name she was attempting to spread across a rural world she never had set foot in. Fate was a fickle thing, this time it seemed to have a sense of humor. In her six years of being away from society, he decided to recently move in and live a stone's throw away from her. It had to be the humorous irony of fate. There was no other explanation as far as The Lady was concerned. She felt that it was her duty as a neighbor to welcome him to the humble village of Ashforde. He sat on his porch carving arrows. The Lady should have been more prepared for his animosity but instead, she greeted him with ease as if it hadn't been years. "Master Brigwald."
The man's eyes shot up and he stood there gawking, it didn't register, straight away who it was that had come to his doorstep. After a long pause, he croaked out "You're still alive." An amused smirk curled along her lips "Yes, yes, I am. You aren't the first one to express it."
Brigwald's jaw twisted cruelly and for a moment she had thought, he was going to lodge an arrow into her chest. Nevertheless, she found herself unafraid. Carrying an acceptance that not all would be pleased to see her face again. Such is life or perhaps her life. Pacing the soft grass that lies beneath her feet she began to say "If I had known sooner, that you had moved in, I could have brought you a fruit basket. To officially welcome you to the neighborhood."
Brigwald sneered at her words "You were a stuck-up Bitch with too much power, muscling in on our land. I care little for your sentiments! Begone!"
Aellwenn's brow raised "So much love from you. Goldgel sends his regards." Her words were met with another sneer. "Ah! The Rohir and the Haradrim working together. I am sorry to disappoint you lass. But he prefers swords to sheaths."
The Lady chuckled "Oh please, we only bantered, the man is no more appealing to me than a sack of flour" The former watchman was even harsher than before. This is saying something, considering he used to whip prisoners until there was no more skin on their backs.
At the end of the encounter, she would find herself walking home, feeling oddly satisfied.
