The White Horse Inn, Act III

[Mad Baggins]

Ceryl sat, eating and thinking, watching the patrons of the Horse go about their daily morning rituals. Aylwen was helping an old man with a cane at her desk. As Ceryl noted how the man moved with such cautious movements, Bethberry entered the room. She nodded to Ceryl, who lifted her hand in a return gesture of greeting. Ceryl noticed the mother and her daughter talking quietly in a corner, then the mother enveloping the child in her arms. They both appeared to be crying. She began to feel uncomfortable watching the tender scene and averted her eyes.

She began to feel cooped up in the Inn, which was a strange feeling for her. She finished her meal and rose from her seat, making for the door. Stepping outside, she was embraced by the chilly morning air. Ceryl inhaled, feeling the air flow down her throat, cooling her lungs. She hummed a little tune in her head as she watched the world awaken.

She looked to the East, half expecting to see the old blackness covering the horizon like a horrible plague, but she only saw the sun poking up over the edge of the land like a bright torch. Ceryl stepped away from the door of the Inn and stood near the wall, enjoying the dewy morning.

A light breeze lifted her braid and chilled the back of her neck, causing her to shiver. There was a certain loveliness about an early morning, a beauty that you couldn't quite pin down. When the world was waking up and it was completely silent, except for a few birds twittering 'Good morning', it didn't matter where you were. It was as if you were no longer in Middle-earth but in some other world where everything was heavenly and perfect, and where there was always peace.