[Mithalwen]

Cir was astonished to look up from his sip of beer and find that Nolwe had vanished. He had heard his sister ask her to tell them about the Shire - but she had just gone. His face fell again. Noone liked them who knew them it seemed. He hoped their aunt would give them a chance or what would become of them?

The overheard conversation reverberated in his mind again.

His mother's voice soft, hopeful, " Maybe this visit to Mithalwen will be the making of them .. she is musical too - and she was restless in her youth..."

"But she always had her craft, she begged Cirion and me to teach her everything we knew from the day she was big enough to hold a hammer or a plane but they are near full grown and good for nothing as yet......of course they were spoiled but I despair ...."

They couldn't go home yet that was certain and they had little money - at least not at their disposal - Cir knew his father had handed a more substantial purse to the leader of the pilgims to cover any major expenses on their journey and to go towards their keep at Mithlond - and what was worse no means of making any. For the first time he regretted his laziness.

His father was one of the best smiths remaining in Middle Earth yet Cir would struggle to make a horseshoe. His mother was more studious in nature and worked in the library of Imladris as well as being a poet of some reknown - but she also had the more practical skills of a bookbinder. He wondered if there was anything they could do to make money. They were musical that was true and it was the only time the twins uncanny bond was usually appreciated by others. But they had no instruments. His father was right he was good for nothing. And suddenly as unhappy as he had ever been in his life, Carantilion Laicirith took yet another deep draught of beer.