milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[OOM: Back at Clwyd Farm, Bran warns Owen Davies and John Rowlands about some dangers of Milliways.]

Only twice, since the day a year and more ago when Bran and Will pulled the golden harp from the pleasant lake, has Bran Davies come to the bar without it. Always, when he enters the bar, Bran plays a strange high aching melody that sounds almost, but not quite, familiar. He plays that song tonight, as he pushes the front door open.

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He might notice Nita, saying something angry to Blodwen Rowlands, before rising and hurrying towards the door to the lake.

Bran sees Nita, and he sees who Nita has come from. In sharp worry, he asks, "Nita? Are you all right, there?"

She looks up, and hesitates.

". . .Yeah. Barely."

Her hands are starting to shake, from adrenaline and power backlash, and she balls them up to hide it.

"You need to sit down, now," Bran says, pulling out a chair for Nita and sitting across from her. He waves Tashka over. "Two cups of tea, please, and aspirin, and something calming for Nita to eat. Diolch."

Turning back to Nita, Bran says, "Did she hurt you?" The anger in his face is not directed at Nita.

She gives him a sharp look, and slowly shakes her head.

"No. She tried to."

Tashka returns with the tea, two pills and a bowl of soup. Bran pays her, thanks her and pours the tea.

"Drink something, and eat, and take the aspirin, before you tell me anything more. It will make you feel better. And thank God you are safe."

"Trust me, I am," she mutters, and gives him a grateful look. "Thanks, Bran."

"Of course," Bran says, drinking his own tea to give Nita some time to collect herself.

She swallows the aspirin with a swallow of tea and makes some headway on the soup before looking up at him again.

"You know her."

"Yes." Bran cradles his teacup in his hands as he explains. "She is the White Rider of the Dark, and in the form of Blodwen Rowlands, a shepherd's wife, she watched over me all of my life, until four years ago the Light cast the Dark out of time. Now she is trapped here, but she seems to be gathering power for some purpose or other that I doubt any of us will like at all."

". . .No kidding."

She shivers. "Geez."

Bran refills both teacups.

"Are you ready to tell me what happened?"

She wraps her hands around the teacup and looks down at it for a moment.

"She was trying to throw some kind of -- trap, or net or something -- over my will." Looking back up at him, she continues, "I don't know why. She didn't even know I was a wizard until I started fighting."

"And you did break free. Good girl." Bran thinks, his face shadowed. "I do not know how the Dark works, not really. Merlion or Will might have a better idea what she could do with someone she has caught."

She sips her tea, frowning.

"If it's anything like overshadowing -- I don't know. Overshadowed wizards don't even know there's anything wrong, usually."

Bran searches Nita's face. "I do not know what overshadowing is. I think if you had lost to her, you might not have known, but I would have been able to tell by now, if I were watching closely. Which I am."

She manages a small smile. "Yeah? That's comforting, anyway."

The smile disappears, and she adds, "Overshadowing is. . . influence by the Lone One. It's not easily broken."

"The Lone... I see. Yes, the Dark can do that." Bran closes his eyes. The Grey King's warestone spoke into his mind, once, years ago, and he did not notice.

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