Things were going very well, and Bird knew it. She had earned Olo's twelve silver pennies, and more besides. The crowd was perfect, enjoying the rude entertainment, caught up in the thrill of a gamble, and had not yet crossed the threshold where mutterings of "cheat" and "fishy business" warned Bird to allow a few wins and wrap it up.
She was intent on her game, and only saw a strong, tanned hand lay two silver coins on the table. "My Lady, 'I'd like to try my hand at this!"
Bird smiled, looking up and saying perkily, "Nay, good Sir, no lady, I..." and then she choked, her face blanching white. Before her stood a Ranger. Had he come to arrest her for the destruction of a tasty parchment scroll?
Bird stuttered hoarsely "It's but a penny a chance, M'Lord."
"Then I shall seek my fortune twice." Vorondil said with a smile.
Bird bent her head over the walnut shells, concentrating furiously on the game, so the Ranger could not see her face and perhaps read any signs of guilt there. She did the ritual tap - one, two, three - with extra force, so that the pebbles lodged in the top of the shells all dropped down. "Let him win and be gone!" she pleaded to herself.
Vorondil studied the three walnut shells intently, then glanced up at Bird with a teasing smile. He knew the tricks of most of the montebanks of Middle-Earth, and knew the force of her taps had guaranteed him a win. he drew it out as long as he could, while the crowd around him offered jibes and advice. "Use that Eagle-Eye of yours, Ranger!" called the drover, and his companions laughed and nudged each other. He finally gestured to the right, and Bird lifted the shell, revealing the glittering little brook pebble beneath. "A winner!" she said, with false jollity. "Fortune smiles on you, good Sir." And she hastily pushed two silver pennies towards him.
As she did so, the Ranger grabbed her arm, turning it and studying the still livid bruises that covered it up and down. "My good Lady, how have you received such injuries?" he asked, seemingly with genuine concern.
Bird pushed the rolled-up sleeves of her shyrt down, covering her arms to the wrists. "A fall from a horse, sir. Nothing more." She looked around frantically. Where was Holly?
[ August 10, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]
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