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Old 05-02-2020, 06:16 PM   #79
Arry
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
 
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Join Date: Jan 2004
Posts: 704
Arry has just left Hobbiton.
“So be it!” cried Arry, foam spilling down the side of his mug as he clinked it against Envinyatar’s raised cup. “May the Old Wight walk unseen among us for as long as he pleases!” But under his breath he murmured a low entreaty to whatever bright spirits might be gathered round about. “And may he never lay eyes on the likes of me.” His left hand crept to the small leather pouch that hung round his neck by a thin braided string and grasped it tightly.

His old Gran had made the pouch and added to it a few charms to keep him safe when far from home – a tiny twig from the Hawthorne tree outside her cottage; a sage leaf, a bit of rosemary from her garden; and a wee pinch of dirt from the very path as went to and from her door. Small comforts to quiet a case of the shudders and goose-bumps.

‘Thanks, Gran,” he whispered to himself.

Arry tucked his leather pouch inside his shirt and took a long pull at his ale. “Say, Pio,” he said, setting his drink on the table. “I just remembered an old song I learned to play in the Shire.” He picked up his guitar and strummed a few chords. “I think you know it, too. There’s a tipsy cat. And a dog, and a cow, too! And those dishes – they ran away with the spoon!!” He laughed, his fingers nimbly picking out the tune as he smiled at her.

“Reminds me of the time we worked together at the Green Dragon.” His foot tapped out the beat. “Come on, join in!”

There is an inn, a merry old inn
Beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
One night to drink his fill.
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If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world – J.R.R. Tolkien
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