He could hardly believe his eyes. But he couldn't argue with his nose; the food was real. And there was a path of shadows he could follow to get to it.
The wee hours had not yet arrived. Should he wait?
It was the bit of cheese that convinced him to emerge. He crept along the shadows, and came to the hidden plate, and carefully picked up the cheese. Nobody was watching. That is, nobody was looking directly at him. But the two men, young and old, that had put the plate down were gazing into the fire, and trading whispers.
He took the cheese back through the shadows, and settled into his hiding place, and ate. Then he fetched the bit of apple. Again, the two men looked near him, but not straight at him; this time they chuckled softly. When he finished the apple, he went back out for the bread; but there was that honey, and the drops of wine. He was tempted to stay. But he took the brtead, and returned to his hiding place, and ate it. He would go back for the honey and wine and scout for crumbs when the common room emptied for the night.
As it was, he was quite content. He curled up, and drifted off to sleep, with the welcome noises of travellers in his ears. He hoped more would come. But he was growing rather fond of those already here.
[ 5:56 AM November 30, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.
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