Durelen (Orald), Mithadan and Zifnab stood a safe distance away watching the interaction between Barrow-Wight and Estelyn. As the Wight stalked back towards the ale barrel, Zifnab whispered in wonderment, "He let her live!"
Mith cursed quietly and dug into the pocket of his breeches for a handful of bills which he passed to a gleeful Durelen. "Bet you that Hobbit by the tree is the first to lose lunch?" Mith asked hopefully. "Sorry," replied the marginally richer Durelen. "That's a fool's bet."
"Well," grumped Mithadan. "Time for a visit to the ale barrel myself." Mithadan walked off muttering about the "old days" and the Wight going "soft."
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Beleriand, Beleriand,
the borders of the Elven-land.
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