The White Horse

[Rimbaud]

Guthrin the Younger wiped his mouth with the napkin, tossed the last morsel of bread into his gullet, and leaned back in his chair, tilting contentedly. He folded his arms across his stomach and closed his eyes briefly.

He sighed deeply. The soup had been rich and nourishing and he felt well sated. He pushed forward again, allowing the chair to fall back on its front trees, with a slight crash. Somewhat nervously, he motioned to a passing server with his empty glass.

Then, as if speaking to nobody in particular, he asked, "What other tales are there in Rohan? I am familiar with our own tale, of my father Guthrin and the intrepid band he was part of, just before the War of the Ring, but what else does the White Horse have to offer?" The room had fallen a little silent as he spoke, and especially at the mention of the War, but no-one ventured a reply.

"Come!" he exclaimed. "Some must have read the stories the Inn doth hold! And," and his voice lowered, "perhaps some have thought of starting tales of their own?"