[piosenniel]

NEW INNKEEPER STORYLINE

‘So, are you going to introduce me to your friend?’ A tall man, dressed in black came round Pio and smiled at the new arrival. Grey eyed, hair dark as midnight and shot through with silver, he looked at Pio expectantly. The introductions were made and Mithadan invited Aman to sit with him at a table while Pio saw to getting a room ready for her. By the time Pio returned, there was much laughter, and as she approached the pair, the laughter stopped. Aman looked guiltily at her, and Mithadan’s face bore an expression of feigned surprise, his eyebrows raised.

‘Well, I see my old friend has been telling tales again!’ An impish gleam came into Pio’s eyes as she sat down with them. She poured another mug of wine for Mithadan and Aman, then settled back carefully in her chair.

‘Now,’ she said, nodding innocently at her friend, ‘let me tell you the story of the time we drank half an èored under the table in The White Horse, and Aman danced the Crossed Swords’ dance, blindfolded , on the table . . .’

The evening was a raucous one, and Mithadan was privy to yet another set of stories in which Pio and a close friend moved in and out of wild scrapes and dangerous situations adroitly and most times with humor. By the end of the evening, both Aman and Pio were tired, the wine jug was dry, and even Mithadan was beginning to yawn. They parted company, promising to see each other for breakfast. Buttercup, one of the Inn’s server’s, showed the flagging Aman up to her room and bid her good-night.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Early the following morning, Loëndë, Pio woke Mithadan just as the sun climbed above the rim of the world. ‘Get up,’ she said in a low, strained voice. ‘Go down to the kitchen and tell Cook it is time. Have her send Hob for the midwife.’

Mithadan pulled on his boots and stood up rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He grinned then, kissed her on the forehead, and ran to the kitchen.

The labor was short, and while Pio did not escape the normal pain that comes with bringing children into the world, still it was tolerable and soon forgotten. Mother, Father, and babies welcomed visitors for most of the day, then Pio grew tired and asked them all to leave, saying they were all welcome to come back tomorrow.

Aman, a noted late-sleeper, was the last to show up. Still rubbing the sleep from her eyes she made her way down to Pio and Mithadan’s quarters behind the bar, grabbing a half pint of ale on her way in the door. She didn’t knock, just strode on in. Looking at Pio she grinned, saying, ‘How typical! I see you’ve gone and had them without waiting for me to arrive.’

She put her empty tankard down on the table just inside the door, and drew closer to the sleeping babies. ‘Nice and quiet!’ she remarked. ‘Just like I like them.’

As if to refute her remark, the babies began to cry . . .