"Well met, Hirilaelin," came the reply from the stuffy-nosed dwarf, "I am Parin Stonemouth, of the lands of Erebor, and I am not drunk!" she said, still somewhat flustered by the chuckling from earlier. Parin dropped her head to hide the crimson stain of embarassment which she felt burning into her cheeks.
Peering once more into the depths of her wholesome broth, the reflection of the gay face across from her showed not a laugh of disdain, however, but a warm friendly grin, and the little dwarven lady dared to raise her head again risking the perusal of those shining eyes.
"From whence do you hail, my lady?" she said, trying hard to enunciate and communicate through the thickness of her cold. Her deep brown eyes shone with curiousity and excitement. The same passion that thrilled in her heart whenever she heard the stories of those who visitied the inn was rising at the possibility of a tale. Perhaps Hirilaelin had a story to tell of adventure and romance! Oh, the little dwarf yearned for adventure, and as she inclined her head to hear what the lady had to tell, her bonny blond braid fell into her soup without her notice, so dreamy had she become....
"Please, tell me your story," she entoned in a hushed voice....
[ February 04, 2003: Message edited by: Kiara ]
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"What if you slept, and what if in your sleep you dreamed, and what if, in your dream, you went to paradise and there plucked a beautiful flower...and what if when you awoke, you held that flower in your hand? Ah, what then?"
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