[Sirithheruwen]

Twylight was staring off into space. The door to the Inn beside her banged again and again with people coming in and out, but she didn't notice very much. Every now and again the voices in the crowded room would swell up in a shout for another ale or a call for a song, but by the time the words reached her ears, they meant nothing.

Shaking her head, Twylight began to reach for that spare piece of parchment. With a low gasp, she realized it wasn't there. Her suspicions were immeadiatly pinned on the dark man in the corner, but when she turned, he was still sitting in the exact same place with the red-haired lady.

Gazing around the Inn, she noticed a man with a stocky frame sitting not too far away. He had a merry face with roundish red cheeks. He reminded her of a song sung to her long ago about a man by the name of Tom Bombadil. But that was impossible, if the song was true, for Tom never left his little area of land.

All of a sudden he stood up and began to walk over in her direction. Belatedly, she saw a scrap of parchment in his hand - her scrap of parchment. Frantically, she motioned to the serving hobbit, but the man seemed not to notice. Her eyes got wider and wider as he sat down at her table. He said something about hre throat and introduced himself. Just then the hobbit lass walked up.

"M'am?" She questioned, gazing at the new arrival curiously.

"Two ales, please!" the man said without a pause, sending the hobbit on her way.

Twylight's lifeline was gone, and she was left alone with the man.

Gulping visibly, Twylight stared at the man, her face was set impassively in stone.