[Theoric Windcaller]

Theoric made a brief halt, the sun graciously descended behind him about an hour ago, his axe strapped to his back, weighing him down. The stars glittered in the summer-sky like bright jewels, reminding him of the stories he once heard about the Mines of Moria.

Up ahead, the sound of laughter, of merry tales and music was heard. He stood in the middle of a quiet town full of Halflings, young and old, most of them going into a sort of inn where all the laughter and merriment seemed to originate.

Theoric, being the weary Dwarf he always was, thought it to be good to sit down and have a drink, maybe converse with a Hobbit or two, or maybe even find a fellow Dwarf sitting down in the inn, he was quite thirsty after all.

His pace quickened, the dust of the small road leading to the inn gliding with the wind into the Dwarf's eyes. How he came to be in the Shire of all places was a long story, maybe he could tell someone his long tale when he came to the inn.

The big round door to the inn drew nigh. He anxious awaited the taste of sweet mead upon his dried lips. He also awaited the laughter of a friend and the excitement of hearing tales of adventure, and that was exactly what he was to find when he stepped into the Green Dragon. The other inns he stumbled upon were full of quiet folk, strange ones; Rangers perhaps and cloaked strangers coming in, saying nothing, ordering a drink and then leaving.

Not that Hobbits were loud, rowdy folk but, from the sound of it, this inn was the place to be tonight. Theoric gazed upon the door with wear eyes. It was round and green with a small golden brass doorknob in the middle.

Theoric had seen many of these kind of doors passing through the Shire. Hobbits, he thought to himself, the strangest of beings. But, he enjoyed something different. He didn't like the normal life, he loved twists and turns, he even liked dangerous suicide quests once in a while. But he was a Dwarf, how else was a Dwarf to act? He didn't even know if he was like all the rest of children he grew up with. He just knew one thing was for certain: he was going to sit down have some mead in front of a nice fire and nothing in the wide world of Middle-Earth was going to stop him.

As he drew up to the door, he opened it and walked in, getting strange looks from the crowd of Hobbits in the corner. He didn't mind much because he was used to the strange looks he was given traveling through other parts of the Shire.

He saw a roaring fire in the back and an empty chair in front of it, like it was all put out, specifically for him. As he closed the door, the cold of outside left him and he became engulfed with pipe-smoke and a warm feeling and merriment here.

As he drew closer to the chair, he saw from the corner of his eyes a Hobbit standing up. The Hobbit, taking no notice of the weary Dwarf came to the chair in front of the fire and sat himself down. Theoric, stopped with a surprised look on his face.

Fine then, he thought, I'll sit at the bar

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: Theoric Windcaller ]