[littlemanpoet]

Falowik walked Kirsúl back into the stable, brushed him down, and made sure he had water and grain before he wandered back of the Inn to where Uien sat. She had not moved, still bent over her piece of wood that was slowly, slowly turning into a shape under her knife; a somewhat rounded shape, with three lumps coming out one side.

"What are those?" Falowik asked, pointing at the lumps.

"I do not know yet," Uien replied, looking up. Her grey eyes were large, her pupils shrinking under the sun's bright light. She was smiling at him. She seemed still at peace, at least in the peace that came with a making.

"Settles the mind, does it?"

"Aye." She nodded. "Come, sit by me." She patted the ground beside her.

"Thanks, but the sun is almost at noon and my stomach is growling. Join me for noon meal?"

She shook her head, her smile not fading. "I am not hungry. My work is my food; at least today."

"What will I say if Cook asks after you?"

She smirked, for both knew that Cook's ire would not go unspoken if Uien missed yet another meal. Light as a feather and she'll blow away if not for me!, Cook had been known to say. "Tell her I am still full from breaking my fast this morn."

"Well enough. Maybe I will bring out a morsel."

She smiled once and her head dropped, busy with her work; as if Falowik was not even there. He shrugged and made his way to the Common room.

It seemed dark within after the brightness of the noon sun, not a cloud in the sky. Falowik cast about for a place to sit.

"More water, girl!" cried a man in a grating, unfriendly voice. From the pouch at his belt he drew forth a silver penny and pushed it to the edge of the table. The hand that pushed the coin was scarred and mottled. The man seemed to want no company. Like me a year ago, Falowik thought. Leave him be. But much had happened to him in a year. Much good. Maybe it would not hurt to just sit at the same table. Why not?

Falowk made his way past many strangers, for he and Uien had spent more time outside the Common room than in, these last few days. He sat at right angles to the man.

"Good day!" he said, glancing at the man, unable to keep his eyes from widening at the scars that mottled the man's face as wells as hands. Like meat on a skewer! Falowik moderated his expression as quickly as he could, putting a smile on his lips. He looked right and left and said, "It gets busy fast here. I hope I may sit at this table to eat?"

"Suit yourself," the man said coolly.

"I am Falowik Stonewort of Bree. What are you called?"