[Saraphim]

Waking late was always a specialty of Saraphim's, especially when the previous night had been filled with more drinking than she cared, or could, remember.

A vague recollection crossed her mind of a vodka-drinking-contest, and hoped that she hadn't been involved.

She quickly left her tent, eager to begin revels once more. On the long walk back to the party area, she saw a clump of hobbits gathered around something on the ground. Approaching as quietly as she could, Saraph caught a glimpse of something that looked familiar.

A shadow fell over the young hobbits, and a voice came from it. As menacingly as she could manage, Saraph said:

"What's all this, my little hobbitlings?"

The three froze and looked up slowly. In a half-filled hole there rested some foriegn shiny thing and a dragon that did indeed look hauntingly familiar.

"N..nothing, miss," said one, a girl with green hair.

"Well, then," said Saraph, fully aware that her current mannerisms were the reasons she was never asked to babysit, "I suppose, if this is indeed nothing, you can come with me and explain it to the mods exactly why you seem to have made off with two gifts that were given expressly to the Barrow-Wight. Why, who knows? Perhaps the Wight himself will want a word."

Carefully emphasising 'word', Saraph bent down and picked up the misplaced mathoms carefully and put them into a pouch at her side.

"Come on, little ones," Saraph said wickedly, and led the trmbling hobbits towards the tree.