The Scout and Her Bard

"Girl? Girl? For Gods' sake, girl, pay attention!" The call of the caravan leader drew Fendes' attention from the fluffy, white clouds in the afternoon sky and back to the muddy road ahead of her. She blinked green eyes at the gruff, middle-aged man who was red in the face from trying to get her attention. "Yes, Russ?" Russ coughed, before returning to normal volume. "It will be getting dark soon. Why don't you do the job that I paid you for and scout ahead to find a place for the group to camp?" "Certainly," Fendes gave a nod, before shifting in her saddle. She led her coal-black gelding off the path a bit, before kicking him into a brisk trot. Passing by the other hired scout, she called, "Thomas! Come with me!" Thomas, a lean man in his twenty's with shaggy brown hair, nodded, and set his steed to follow hers. The two then rode ahead of the few wagons of the small caravan and into the forest ahead.  "It'll be faster if we split up," Fendes said. "You go south and I'll go north. Whistle if you find anything-- you do have those arrows that I made, don't you?" "Yes, Fendes," Thomas replied. "They're quite handy. I wouldn't have imagined that carving notches in the shaft would make a signal to follow."  "When you've been in the business as long as I have, you learn a trick or two," she grinned. A smirk crossed his face. "And just how long has that been, elf-girl?" She kicked her horse into a canter, calling behind her, "Thomas, don't you know it's rude to ask a lady her age?!"  Fendes heard him laugh as she left him in the dust. Then she set her keen eyes on the forest around her as she searched for an ample place to shelter.  Weaving through the trees for some time, heading due north, she caught a thin trail of smoke not far ahead. Fendes turned her mount towards that direction. If there were people camping, perhaps there was room for more? Approaching the smoke, she made out a group of men huddled around a meager fire trying to cook. Their campsite was in a small clearing that looked big enough to fit her group, especially as these men only had a single chestnut-colored pony that was tied to a tree. The clothing the men wore was ragged, and they had weapons slung on their backs, but who was she to judge?  Pulling up her horse to a stop, Fendes called out, "Hello, there! I have a small group not far behind me! Would you be willing to share your spot for the eve?" The men looked up, startled, and a few reached for their weapons. Fendes tensed slightly, one hand letting go of the reins in case she needed to grab for her bow. But the men then relaxed once they saw but a lone woman. Instead of answering her question, though, their gazes went to one man who was wearing slightly better clothes. Looking at her with dark, hard eyes, he said, "Aye, we have space for one such as you." He spoke the common tongue well enough, but there was a clear northerner accent to it.  As Fendes swung her legs over to dismount, the man motioned to the rest, and they moved over to make room at the fire. Keeping the reins in hand, the scout walked over and then stuck her other hand out to the clear leader of the group. "Thank you. My name is Fendes, it's a pleasure to meet you." The man looked at her outstretched hand for a moment, before reaching out to clasp her forearm. His grip was strong, and Fendes could see the large muscles of his arm. "I am Ütger. These are my bonded men." Ah, so they were northerners. Strange to see them all this far south. She dropped their hold, before rubbing her palms over the fire and switching over to the native northern language. "If I might ask, what brings you all to these parts?" A few murmurs went up from the men, and they looked at her a bit taken aback. Despite her human parentage, she did look like a jungle elf, after all, with her dark brown hair, pale complexion, forest-green eyes, and pointed ears. Jungle elves weren't supposed to be bothered with the different languages of humans. After a moment's hesitation, Ütger answered in the same northern language, "We are returning northward after an errand a way in the south." His men mumbled agreement, still looking about somewhat nervously, as Fendes nodded. Still standing, Ütger dug into his pocket and pulled out a worn pair of dice, crafted from some kind of bone, it looked like. "While we await your friends, mayhaps we can pass the time with games?" He smiled slightly. Fendes pursed her lips a bit, glancing to the darkening sky. "I would love to, but I am afraid I must return to the caravan to lead them here, myself. They are expecting me." She looked at their small fire. "I can help you build that up more before I take my leave, if you wish." The man shrugged and pocketed his dice. With a tiny gleam in his eyes, he said, "Another time, maybe. As for your offer of aid, that would be most welcome. As you can see, we will need something much larger once your friends arrive." Turning, he pointed towards the woodline, away from the road. "Just a little space beyond the clearing here, there's an old windfall. Plenty of dry wood and such." The half-elf turned and looked to where he pointed, squinting a bit into the trees. "All right, then. Once I gather the caravan, I shall take a party out to gather wood. I'll return short-" She began to turn back to her horse, but stopped when she suddenly came face-to-face with one of the Northmen who had seemingly crept up behind her. Looking at his face, she didn't recognize him as one from around the fire.  With a chill creeping up her spine, she realized that more of these men had snuck in from the treeline, more than one with a bow in hand.  Hand going to the hilt of her longsword, Fendes took a quick step away from the man. "What's going on here?" Ütger chuckled. "Nothing fancy. All I wanted, after all, was to play a game of dice. A simple request, especially after we shared our fire with you." The rest of his men had not moved, but were watching her with interest, eyes shining out from unkempt and dirty faces.  Fendes' breaths came in quicker, her chest growing tight. Her eyes darted around the clearing, trying to count all the Northmen. The odds of fighting didn't look to be in her favor. Maybe the odds of the dice would be. "Fine," she said. "A game of dice, it is."