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Dimming the lights...
Aylwen had long forgotten what she had been working on in her ledger, for she had taken up the joyous and humorous task of watching the people in the Inn. She saw old acquaintances reunite and become new friends. She saw perfect strangers become more comfortable communicating with one another. All of this and more could be observed from Aylwen’s spot behind her desk. The sun began to set, making Aylwen wonder where the day had gone. The time had come for her to begin the festivities. The Innkeeper stood from her seat and then stood on her seat.
“Oy, patrons of the White Horse!” Aylwen called. “Up with your heads and down with your mugs for just a moment, please!”
A few more calls and the Inn belonged to Aylwen’s voice. The bards (or, one bard and a wandering fiddler) and all who listened to them – including a couple of dwarves, strange newcomers, and several regular customers – turned their attention to Aylwen. So she continued her speech.
“It is high time for me to get these celebrations started. I’ve decided that the best way to do this is to begin with a very short story. Now, just four years ago there were many brave men – and even a woman, or maybe two – who fought for what they had then and what we have now. They fought in a grand war, which is now called the War of the Ring. I know that some of you,” Aylwen paused and looked at a few of the children that had finished schooling with Bethberry and smiled. “I know that some of you do not remember these events at all. I also know that many of you remember these events all too well. This night is for the remembrance of those we lost and those that we still have with us. Stories, dancing, songs, and memories in commemoration of that war belong within this night more than any other. I leave your attention to anyone that wants to share.”
Aylwen left her spot from atop her chair, and the patrons gave a light clap for her little speech.
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