[Gwydion]

Alastair awoke later in the evening, drenched in sweat. Alastair ruffled his hair and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and thought about his dream. He had been dreaming of his encounter with the band of orcs in the Misty Mountains and of how he recieved his wound. Thinking of his wound Alastair got up, lit a candle and walked over to his belongings. "Now where did I put it.."he murmered to himself. "Aha!"he annonced to the air as he pulled a pouch from his knapsack.

Opening it, Alastair rummaged around for a moment and pulled out athelas leaves and strip of leather. Humming a tune to himself he silently chewed the leaves. After a few moments he spit the leaves onto the leather and applied it to the wound under his arm. Alastair checked the poultice, pulled on his jerkin and walked to the door with his pipe in hand. Yawning, he opened the door and nodded to the innkeeper and walked outside.

Alastair noticed an elf laying on the ground with a man beneath a tree. Alastair leaned up against the wall and lit his pipe. As he smoke he slipped deep into thought.