The Green Dragon Inn - Part 5

[Elora]

Vanwe had started up straighter in her chair when Derufin produced the water. The wine had such a sweet and powerful taste, unwatered. Unusual boldness of spirit filled her eyes as she watched the water flow into her cup and then the rest of the wine was gone. She looked back at her cup as Derufin spoke of ladies.

Before she could think better of it, a delicate brow arched smoothly in question. Vanwe knew all too well what ladies were. She did not fall in those elite ranks. She met Derufin's direct stare with a flash of spirited challenge that lightened her blue eyes. She saw, then, that he was not mocking her. Laughter shifted through her, silvery and free. The challenge turned into something else, and she nodded her thanks and lifted her glass in salute.

Derufin would get no challenge from her now. The wine she sipped was altered. She set the glass down, revelling in a lightness of spirit that threatened to send her dancing out through the tables. It was a liberating sensation for one who had never been free of care. Maybe she'd try unwatered wine again, without gentlemen present, she thought. At that, an impish smile glowed at her mischeviousness.

Meanwhile, Derufin spoke of the uneasiness with which foreigners were viewed by Hobbits. Then he mentioned something else - his homeland. She rolled the name around in her head. She did not know it, but she could learn. Of course, if he knew she was learning, he'd ask about her own homeland.

Lespheria may know somewhat of her sorry account. Silvanis knew of her mother as did Amandur. What would Derufin make of such things? He may think twice of his assistant then. Vanwe's thoughts wandered down these paths, wondering what could be told and what needed to be hidden for all concerned if she found herself in a position where a decision had to be made. Her face grew pensive, thoughtful. She twirled her cup by the stem.

It would be nice to be just Vanwe. No past, nothing to hide. Perhaps it was a futile wish, but she made it nonetheless. Lost in thought as she momentarily was, her free hand drifted to the pouch at her belt. Fingers stole inside to wrap around the length of braided leather there. She often did that when thinking of past and future.

The press of conversation grew stronger and Vanwe realised she had drifted too far away. She gathered her thoughts and paid renewed attention to her table and talk there. She sipped the watered wine, felt that lightness stirring again within her. Vanwe laid her other hand out on the tabletop, the length of leather caught between the wood and her palm, as she endeavoured to pick up the tail of the conversation again.