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mark12_30 · 12-19-2003, 03:15 PM

Mellon nodded and smiled at Aduthondiel as the innkeeper greeted her. They discussed possible arrangements for the night, and Aduthondiel came to stand by the fire just as Mellon decided he had finally dried off and warmed up. "There is room, " he said, stepping aside. "Please, join me. Welcome. The tea is quite good here, and so is the soup."

"Perhaps I shall try the soup, " said Aduthondiel with a smile. "I am chilled. You are from this town?"

"No ma'am. I'm from Gondor. I am a blacksmith there. Or... I was..." his voice trailed off. He was looking out the window.

Aduthondiel waited.

Mellon smiled. "Look at that tiny little girl that just joined Ædegard and the Shieldmaidens, " he murmured, smiling. "She must be only five or six. Look at those long golden locks."

"There certainly are a lot of children outside, " said Aduthondiel, leaning forward to see outside, over his shoulder.

"Here come riders, " Mellon said. "Children; lots of them. They're starting a little fight of their own. And-- oh!" He fell silent as if spellbound.

Aduthondiel watched him for a while, and then grew impatient. The innkeeper asked her if she would like some tea, and she nodded, and then said to Mellon, "What do you see?"

Still spellbound, Mellon inched towards the window, so closely that his breath fogged the glass. He wiped it away, watching eagerly, and it fogged up again; he wiped it again, gazing outside, and it fogged up a third time.

"What do you see?" Aduthondiel repeated.

Mellon turned to her, startled, and said, "Excuse me." And he ran to the door.

"Your cloak?" warned the innkeeper.

He didn't hear her. Cloakless, he ran out the door, into the snow, over to the darkhaired family who had just arrived, sprinting between the flying snowballs, and stopped and stood in front of the little brownhaired, browneyed lad of four years. The boy turned, looked him full in the eyes, and took one or two limping, inquisitive steps in his direction.

The father was bemused to see a cloaked woman stalking sternly up behind the youth with a spare cloak, which she unceremoniously dropped onto his shoulders. "Thank you ma'am," he murmured.

"Mellon, I'll thank you not to take chill again, you addlepated young twit! At least you pay for your soup. I'll go make sure the teakettle's full!" And with that she smiled pleasantly at the father and mother, turned, and returned to the Inn.

Mellon stayed where he was, staring spellbound at the boy. The boy's parents watched carefully, the father wondering at the description "addlepated" and ready to intervene. But Mellon just stared, and the boy stared back and began to smile. Finally, Mellon knelt, and began to reach for the boy, who laughed and curiously watched him.

"I remember you, " Mellon whispered. "I know you. I know you from somewhere."

"And who might you be?" asked the father.

"Mellon, a blacksmith from Gondor." Mellon returned to his study of the boy.

The lad slowly walked towards Mellon, and his father stepped forward and took his hand. As the boy neared the blacksmith, the father was surprised to see Mellon lean forward, and carefully kiss the boy's forehead.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:25 PM December 20, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

12-19-2003, 03:15 PM	#37
mark12_30 Stormdancer of Doom Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars Posts: 4,349	Mellon nodded and smiled at Aduthondiel as the innkeeper greeted her. They discussed possible arrangements for the night, and Aduthondiel came to stand by the fire just as Mellon decided he had finally dried off and warmed up. "There is room, " he said, stepping aside. "Please, join me. Welcome. The tea is quite good here, and so is the soup." "Perhaps I shall try the soup, " said Aduthondiel with a smile. "I am chilled. You are from this town?" "No ma'am. I'm from Gondor. I am a blacksmith there. Or... I was..." his voice trailed off. He was looking out the window. Aduthondiel waited. Mellon smiled. "Look at that tiny little girl that just joined Ædegard and the Shieldmaidens, " he murmured, smiling. "She must be only five or six. Look at those long golden locks." "There certainly are a lot of children outside, " said Aduthondiel, leaning forward to see outside, over his shoulder. "Here come riders, " Mellon said. "Children; lots of them. They're starting a little fight of their own. And-- oh!" He fell silent as if spellbound. Aduthondiel watched him for a while, and then grew impatient. The innkeeper asked her if she would like some tea, and she nodded, and then said to Mellon, "What do you see?" Still spellbound, Mellon inched towards the window, so closely that his breath fogged the glass. He wiped it away, watching eagerly, and it fogged up again; he wiped it again, gazing outside, and it fogged up a third time. "What do you see?" Aduthondiel repeated. Mellon turned to her, startled, and said, "Excuse me." And he ran to the door. "Your cloak?" warned the innkeeper. He didn't hear her. Cloakless, he ran out the door, into the snow, over to the darkhaired family who had just arrived, sprinting between the flying snowballs, and stopped and stood in front of the little brownhaired, browneyed lad of four years. The boy turned, looked him full in the eyes, and took one or two limping, inquisitive steps in his direction. The father was bemused to see a cloaked woman stalking sternly up behind the youth with a spare cloak, which she unceremoniously dropped onto his shoulders. "Thank you ma'am," he murmured. "Mellon, I'll thank you not to take chill again, you addlepated young twit! At least you pay for your soup. I'll go make sure the teakettle's full!" And with that she smiled pleasantly at the father and mother, turned, and returned to the Inn. Mellon stayed where he was, staring spellbound at the boy. The boy's parents watched carefully, the father wondering at the description "addlepated" and ready to intervene. But Mellon just stared, and the boy stared back and began to smile. Finally, Mellon knelt, and began to reach for the boy, who laughed and curiously watched him. "I remember you, " Mellon whispered. "I know you. I know you from somewhere." "And who might you be?" asked the father. "Mellon, a blacksmith from Gondor." Mellon returned to his study of the boy. The lad slowly walked towards Mellon, and his father stepped forward and took his hand. As the boy neared the blacksmith, the father was surprised to see Mellon lean forward, and carefully kiss the boy's forehead. <font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:25 PM December 20, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ] __________________ ...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.