|
'Twas the night of the winter solstice, a time of deep magic and distant memories that had been almost buried under shadow. For not only did the dwarves and hobbits and men huddle close to the fire and tell their tales, but even the creatures of the dark forests and wild plains came together to share a morsel of warmth.
There were two paths that led to the Green Man Free House. The one skirted the front facade of the Inn: a path filled with two-leggeds and the animals they called their own. But another smaller track came around the back, leading up from the river and a vast thicket of trees. Here there were few two-leggeds but, instead, all kind of creatures rambling and lumbering and leaping into the outer courtyard of the Inn, right next to a broken down shed.
A snowy owl sat on the eve of the Inn, staring down at the small assemblage of beasts who had made their way into the back courtyard. Several had slipped and slithered under the gate; three creatures had flown down from the trees, and a few of the larger visitors had pushed over an old board in the fence, intent on wriggling their way inside. A small pile of garbage had been set to burn earlier that day, and a few smouldering coals yet remained to throw out its warmth over the animals now slinking inside the courtyard.
|