Garn was roused from his sleep. Not forcibly or sudden in any way. In truth, it took him a good several minutes to even determine what it was that woke him. Tasha and Hal were talking very softly, obviously not wanting to disturb the mage. However, they were unaware of just how light a sleeper Garn was.
Not wanting to disturb or interrupt his friends, Garnthalisbain cracked open one eye and peered across the tent to see what was going on.
Tasha was sitting up in her bedroll, her arms wrapped about her knees and her blonde hair hanging over her face in wisps. She had a look of reminiscence upon her features and her eyes seemed distant. She was speaking quietly of things back in the Vineyard Grove. "I remember one time," she went on. "My brother Nicodemus took me fishing with him by the stream. This wasn't too long before you came to the Grove, Hal. Anyways, I remember this day in particular day because that was the last time that I got to see him before he left."
"Isn't that the brother that went to become a knight, milady?" Hal asked from his bedroll. He was lying down on his side, facing towards the fire. Garn was able to see his face but not Tasha’s.
Tasha nodded. "Yes. Father gave him permission to chase after his dreams. He gave all of my brothers that chance." She paused for a brief moment, contemplating. Hal’s expression on his shifted to one of sympathy.
"At any rate, he took me that day to actually say good bye. It was one of the saddest days of my life." Tasha's eyes began to well up just at the memory.
"Why was that, milady?" asked Hal, intersected.
Tasha snuffled softly. "Nico was the only one of my brothers that could associate with me. He's only six years older than me. My other brothers are all at least fifteen." She briskly ran her sleeve across her eyes. "He was the only one of my brothers that I really knew and the only one that spent any time with me." Tasha paused again to snuffle quietly.
Hal shifted uncomfortably. "He isn't... " The big man found himself unable to complete the question.
Tasha shook her head, tossing her hair about a bit. "No. The last word that I received fro said that he had achieved his knighthood and was serving as one of the personal bodyguards to Lord Timoth of Southmoor."
Garn saw a flicker of recognition run across Hal's features. The big man almost sat up. "Who?" he asked anxiously.
"Lord Timoth of Southmoor," Tasha repeated with a slight frown. "You know, the King who reigns over Southmoor. Where we're heading," she prompted
Hal blinked once placed a hand against his head, seeming to relax. "Oh."
"Why? Is there something wrong?"
Scraggly brown hair swung from side to side as Hal shook his head. "I don't think so, milady. I just... thought that I knew... " He shook his head again as if to clear it. "Nothing to worry about."
Tasha leaned over to him, her face creased curiously. "Are you certain, Hal? You thought you knew what?"
"So, milady," Hal broke in all too casually. "I guess you're eager to see your brother again?"
Tasha frowned at the big man's obvious deception.
Hal's face assumed an expression of total innocence as he looked at Tasha.
There was the muffled slap of flesh as Tasha reached out and smacked Hal lightly on the shoulder. The big man grabbed his shoulder and huddled up almost fearfully, his smile growing broader as he turned his face away again. "Ow!" he cried out as softly as he could.
Tasha shook her hand out with a wince. "Oh, like that really hurt," she whispered with annoyance.
"Ow!" Hal insisted with a grin.
Tasha leaned back in her bedroll with a sigh. "Whatever, Hal."
They didn't speak for several moments. Garn sighed himself, hoping that he might actually get some sleep now. He closed his eyes and snuggled deeper into his cloak and bedroll. Slowly he felt himself beginning to drift off.
There was a commotion in the tent, brisk movement though exceptionally quiet. Garn's eyes snapped open and several well practiced spells sat on his lips, ready to be used.
Hal was on his feet, his axe in hand and a concerned look on his face. His bedroll was in shambles and his cloak lay at his feet. Tasha was sitting up in bed, looking at the big man in confusion. "What is it?" she asked fearfully.
Hal pressed a finger to his lips, mutely begging her to silence. Very faintly Garn was able to hear the sound of feet crunching through the snow in the distance. The mage stared at the big man in amazement. How did Hal been hear that noise before me? Garn thought in surprise. His own hearing was always considered to be exceptional so he could hardly believe that Hal's was even better. Then Garn remembered all of the times that he had snuck up on Hal in the past and wondered how he'd ever gotten away with it.
"Is someone attacking?" Tasha asked nervously, scrabbling for her weapon. Hal motioned her to silence again and stalked towards the tent flap. Garn took a mental note to ask what had happened to their watchman when he had the opportunity.
Then he scrapped the note as Ceorn burst into the tent and immediately cried out in astonishment, dropping to the floor as Hal swung his axe forcefully right through the area where his head had been.
The big man looked down at the astonished kelt angrily for a moment, obviously not trusting himself to speak. Then he stalked back over to his bedroll and began to reorganize his things.
Tasha gazed over at the kelt and noted that there was something important on the man's mind. "What's wrong Ceorn? Is there trouble?"
"Maybe," Lochlaven said, panting slightly. "Ye'll have to see for yourselves. Just trust me when I say that somethin' big seems to be goin' on."