The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[nynnd1]

Bredan chuckled under his breath at Faraels’ toast, but thought that it seemed like a fun thing to do, and maybe to stop some embarrassment to his new friend he rose from his chair, puffing out his chair and standing tall as he could, he always seemed to do this when speaking publicly and around women. Bredan raised his mug and breathed inwards, hoping that words would come from his mind.

“If it is toasting that is called for then please let me try.”

Bredan cleared his throat and shut his eyes for a second,

“I too have travelled to many places, for a man anyway,” Bredan said acknowledging the new found elf friend as Farael had,

“And the food truly is perhaps the greatest I have had in middle earth, though I have never tried the famous bread of the elves” Bredan looked again at the elf maiden sitting with him, Bredan had always had huge respect for elves, he always imagined this to be from the stories that he heard growing up where elves had done great deeds, although always he hoped it was elf magic at work.

“But the only thing that is in the shire that is better than the food and ale,” Bredan raised the mug to acknowledge the ale, “is the hospitality of Hobbits, I declare that this party is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, with almost all races of Middle Earth in one party. So Ladies and Gentlemen, to the Shire and its Hobbits, Cheers.”

“Cheers” came the response, although it sounded a lot louder than just the new friends Bredan was sitting with. It was then that Bredan realised the music had stopped and the whole party was listening him to. Bredan gave a huge smile, raised his mug and sat down, looking at Farael he asked,

“Am I blushing more than you now friend?”

[Undómë]

‘Bredan,’ she said smiling at the other man from Gondor. ‘A pleasure to meet you.’ She turned to where the red-haired man sat. ‘And Master Sundry, still yet another pleasure, I am sure.’ Her eyes glinted as she nodded to him. ‘Naria – very pleased to make your acquaintance, also.’

The talk had turned to food . . . Shire food, in particular. And Farael had stood up, his drink in hand and made a toast to it. He sat down, blushing, after he had done so, and she wondered why. ‘Lembas is fine, I suppose,’ she said, wondering if he thought he’d offended her with that remark. ‘But really, it grows quite humdrum and tedious on the tongue if that’s all one has, day after day.’ And now it was her turn to blush and look guiltily about to see if any other Elves were near. ‘I have to say, my mother is a dear soul. But she cannot cook for the life of her. Lembas, I think must require a certain light touch to make. And well, my mother hasn’t got it.’ She blushed more deeply realizing she had just spoken ill of her mother. What had gotten into her, she wondered. Tindo would be scandalized.

Then Bredan had risen and gave a toast to the Halflings' hospitality. And he sat down blushing, too. What was it that made Men bold to speak and yet sent the blood to their cheeks. Was it the drink they held in their hands, she wondered.

‘Something to drink, miss?’ one of the servers said passing near the table. ‘And you gents and Lady, too. Refills?’

Telu looked at Farael. His mug was in his hand and he seemed quite happy this evening. Perhaps she should try whatever it was he had. ‘One of those,’ she said pointing to his mug. ‘A large one, I think. It’s gotten very hot all of a sudden . . . and I’m very thirsty.’

The server gave her an odd look, but hastened off to comply. Soon a tall mug of Fordogrim’s Fine Ale was set before her; its foamy head beckoning a sip from her.

‘Oh, my!’ she said, taking a good sized swallow. The foam tickled her nose and there remained a creamy white mustache on her upper lip after she sat the mug down. ‘By the One! That’s good.’ She grinned, licking the foam from her lip. She tried it again, feeling a certain odd sensation spread from belly to limbs to head, it seemed. ‘Quite good! And . . . well, interesting in an unusual way.’

A complete novice to the art of drinking ale or any spirits for that matter, Telu raised the mug one more time and downed the last of it in a few swallows. Setting the mug down carefully on the table top, she felt her tongue get a bit thick, and her lips a bit numb. It was a new set of sensations, and though she wasn’t quite sure she liked them all, still she found them fascinating and new.

She managed to untangle her tongue and command it to speak. ‘I think I should like to try that dark colored sort,’ she said slowly, looking at the ale one of the servers was pouring at another table. She looked back to where Farael was sitting and just for a moment, her vision wavered and there seemed to be two of him.

[Farael]

Farael gently held Telu's wrist before she could stand up to get more ale. "You have had enough of that to drown a grown up man M'lady... I do not think a Dwarf would even dare to drain a pint just like that. It might just be a silly question to ask right now but have you ever tried an ale before?"

He set his mug aside and asked one of the passing servers two glasses of water. It was the same hobbit that had brought Teluyaviel her pint of ale, and he had a big "I told you so" expression on his face. Farael nodded a thanks and offered Telu one of the glasses "It may help you feel a little better. I would suggest you drink a fair bit of water now, or else tomorrow you may wake up with a terrible headache." Farael blushed a little, the effects of the ale not completely gone on him "Do elves even have headaches?" He blushed as he noticed they were not alone. Bredan was smirking, Reddie still seemed he had not gotten used to the precense of the ladies... or maybe it was Telu? Farael had not yet forgotten how flustered he had been. And Naria... she seemed a little absent minded. Perhaps still embarassed at the broken chair? or maybe just daydreaming and enjoying the party.

[Thinlómien]

Brith continued lurking on the edges of the party area. She ate a bit though she wasn't hungry. All around him people were chatting with their friends and Brith was one of the few who were alone.

She sat on a bench and listened people talking and having fun. It had been a long while since she had been in a party. With a sudden pang, she missed all her friends in Gondor. She missed even her faitless fiance, Belecthor, who had run away with a pretty rohir girl. She had fled Gondor because of her relationship problems, but now she wished that she had stayed and solved the problems. She longed for friendship and even idle chatter, but she was too shy to approach anyone. She sighed and blushed when someone looked at her questioningly because of her sigh.

"If you're sad, drink. It always help, my lass", her grandfather had advised her long ago when he had been alive. With her sudden sadness she decided it was one of the greatest advices she had ever gotten. She went and poured herself a big pint of beer.

[Undómë]

‘ . . . tried an ale before?’

Telu closed one eye as she looked toward the source of the question. Farael. And there seemed now to be three of him; the images wavering with the slightest movement of her head. Her eyes, the pupils now widely dilated, were almost as dark as the night sky. And her cheeks felt aflame, whether from the effects of the drink or the fact she felt the touch of Farael’s hand as he grasped her wrist.

‘Actually, no,’ she said in a small voice, managing to get him into focus. She disengaged her hand from him and clasped the both of hers around the mug of water. It was cool to the touch and after a small sip she held it to her reddened cheeks.

In an effort not to look directly at Farael, or any of the others at the table, for she was now quite chagrined at her behavior, Telu glanced about the party area. With a gasp she turned back to the table and ducked down her head. Her brother, Tindo was looking about . . . for her.

‘Oh, if he sees what I’ve gone and done now, he’ll drag me off tonight!’ Her eyes darted quickly about the Inn yard. ‘Where can I hide?’

[Nogrod]

"What is it, that you would have to hide? Is he someone you know?" asked Reddie, stretching himself up. "If there is trouble, I'll help you just for the sake of having this good night to go on better than it started". He made a look towards Tindo and scorned him.

Here Naria got in. "That's their bussiness, don't get involved into it". Reddie looked up to Naria, and was quite baffled. What had he been doing? Just one ale, and he was losing his grip.

"Sorry", he said to Naria, and took to his pint. But Naria would not let him go that easily. "What were you thinking about? You really would like to go between a brother and a sister? On whose side would you be in, and why?"

Reddie was clearly not his own master now. His hands were starting to shake. "I said sorry, isn't that enough? What do you want?" he asked Naria , and concentrated on his pint again.

[Farael]

"Don't worry Master Reddie, fighting would be of no use this time... yet I guess I have gotten between these brothers once, I might as well do it another time. Telu, you will get into a lot of trouble if your brother finds you drunk like this... yet the only other option I can think about... well, it could get you into as much trouble. We can't stay here... so would you well.... would you..." Farael blushed, then got mad at himself for being so shy "dancewithme?" yet then he blushed even more.

Tindo was slowly making his way towards the table, yet he did not seem to have seen them. Farael stood up and still holding Telu's wrist bowed and smiled at her, hoping she'd accept.

[Lhunardawen]

“That’s it. This has gone long enough. My life is wasting away, and I will not let you ruin whatever little is left of it.”

Tilionwen’s tear-stained face was as stern as it could manage, but deep inside she was overcome with doubt. She tried her best to suppress the quavering in her voice, for the most part hoping to convince herself to believe in what she was saying. Yet despite her best efforts, He saw through her pretense. He reached out to her in condescending kindness, at the same time casting a smug, pitiful look at her for her futile attempt.

Reluctantly, Tilionwen found herself succumbing once again. The Moon’s bright rays seemed to lovingly caress her and it just felt so warm, so comforting. But she knew in her heart that she would never find peace unless He finally leaves her be – and that is as impossible as His light stopping from shining on everything in its path. But for her own sake, she also knew that she had to try. Mustering the fragments of courage left within her, she held herself as high as her low spirits would allow and turned abruptly on her heel.

She had been hearing that dull noise for quite some time now, and she was certain that it came from a gathering of some sort. She strode purposefully towards the direction of its source and hoped that she would lose the Moon in the crowd. Optimistic now, she increased her pace and even began to skip a little. She was aware that He was still mocking her in her trail, but with some effort she managed to ignore Him.

An inn loomed in view, and Tilionwen cheered inside when she realized that a party was being held there. She halted a stone's throw away from the inn, untangled her long, dark, wind-messed hair with her fingers and wiped her face with her palms in an effort to look the least bit presentable.

The Green Dragon, as she found out the inn is called, seemed to her a delightful place. But what she was hoping to find there was at least one kind, inviting face, and so far there was none. She urged herself to adapt to the festive mood of her surroundings, yet something was holding her back. She felt caged, alone, and isolated – and suddenly paranoia seized her. Do they know? she repeatedly asked herself as she looked warily around. Now all she wanted was to get away from her hoped-for refuge. Walking some distance away from the tables and the people, she found a spot where she can be by herself. Her slender form drooped like a flower bereft of rain, and after a long moment of hesitation, she looked up apologetically at the Moon.

[Undómë]

There was a strain of silliness that themed this night, or so it seemed to Telu. ‘I am drunk,’ she said aloud, trying out the title on her tongue. ‘Drunk!’ She laughed, a silvery sound as if there were a myriad of little bells all tinkling sweetly in a gentle breeze. ‘And then again, I am drunk . . . my reason consumed by the ale, by the music, by the stars set in the sky above . . . and by you, I think, my dear Farael.’

She grasped him by the hand, nodding her acceptance to his question. ‘Come Master Reddie, Mistress Naria. Won’t you join us?’ She smiled at the both of them, daring them to rise and follow along.

Tindo made his way slowly along the edge of the crowd. She and Farael made their way to the little dancing area, following along the edges of the crowd far opposite her brother.

The band was playing a lively tune. They watched the other couples and the steps seemed simple enough. Those dancing near them bade them come into the ring. With each passing refrain of the melody, it seemed their feet grew accustomed to the pattern of dance.

‘We seem to be doing quite well,’ Telu said, as she hiked her skirts to her knees, like the Halflings were doing, and curtsied to him. He bowed and they passed each other on the right side, going round each other’s back and returning to where they first stood. They then linked arms and promenaded forward and back. Over and again the patterns repeated themselves.

There was another quick stepping dance that followed close on the heels of this first one. And it was Telu, this time, who asked him for the dance.

‘Kind sir,’ she said, grinning impishly at him as she made a little curtsy. ‘Will you chance another stepped on toe or two?’

[Arry]

'Let's give them this one,' Tomlin said, fitting his fiddle below his chin, 'It's a quick one, and maybe we can take a wee break then. I'm needing a little refreshment. What about you lads?'

Fallon and Ferrin nodded their heads 'yes'. Ferrin banged his little hand drum to the beat, and got the song going . . .


As I was a going over Gillgarry Mountain,
I spied Colonel Farrell and his money he was countin'.
First I drew me pistol and then I drew me rapier,
Sayin' stand and deliver for I am your bold receiver.

Mush a ring a ra du ra ma da
Wack for the daddy oh, wack for the daddy oh
There's whiskey in the jar

He counted out his money and it made a pretty penny,
I put it in me pocket to take home to darling' Jenny.
She sighed and swore she loved me and never would deceive me
But the devil take the women for they always lie so easy

Mush a ring a ra du ra ma da
Wack for the daddy oh, wack for the daddy oh
There's whiskey in the jar.

I went into me chamber all for to take a slumber
To dream of gold and girls and of course it was no wonder.
Me Jenny took me charges and she filled them up with water,
Called on colonel Farrell to get ready for the slaughter.

Mush a ring a ra du ra ma da
Wack for the daddy oh, wack for the daddy oh
There's whiskey in the jar.

Next morning early before I rose to travel,
There came a band of footmen and likewise Colonel Farrell.
I goes to draw me pistol for she'd stole away me rapier,
but a prisoner I was taken I couldn't shoot the water.

Mush a ring a ra du ra ma da
Wack for the daddy oh, wack for the daddy oh
There's whiskey in the jar.

They put me into jail with a judge all a writin'
For robbing Colonel Farrell on Gilgarry Mountain.
But they didn't take me fists so I knocked the jailer down,
And bid a farewell to this tight fisted town.

Mush a ring a ra du ra ma da
Wack for the daddy oh, wack for the daddy oh
There's whiskey in the jar.

I'd like to find me brother the one that's in the army,
I don't know where he's stationed in Cork or in Killarney.
Together we'd go roving o'r the mountains of Killkenney,
And I swear he'd treat me better than me darling' sporting Jenny.

Mush a ring a ra du ra ma da
Wack for the daddy oh, wack for the daddy oh
There's whiskey in the jar.

There's some takes delight in the carriages and rolling,
Some takes delight in the hurley or the bowlin'.
But I takes delight in the juice of the barley,
Courting pretty maids in the mourning oh so early.

Mush a ring a ra du ra ma da
Wack for the daddy oh, wack for the daddy oh
There's whiskey in the jar.

[Dimturiel]

When the song ended, Aniriel was surprised to find herself clapping with the rest. Her mistrust was slowly dying away. She even managed to smile at those that caught her eye, although she still did not have the courage to engage someone in a conversation.

"But that will come, too." she said to herself. "It is bound to come. It is no use siting here and brooding on your past, Aniriel."


And what was there to cry about? Nothing, really. There had been no darkness in her life. It was not grief that made her leave her home, nothing drove her from Dol Amroth save desire to see the world and a rather unnatural passion for listening to songs and drinking ale in village inns. It was not as if she was exiled, she could return if she wished to. But she did not. She wanted to enjoy herself, to laugh and sing like the merry folk around her. Why should she let herself be overwhelmed by melancholy? Why should she be reminded that something had actually been left behind?

Aniriel shook her head trying to drive that thought from her mind. Feeling now more confident and much more at ease, she smiled and chanced another look around her.

[Kath]

Suddenly feeling as though trapped, Astilwen stood up and moved around the table. Seeing the startled and confused look this gained her from Ariane she smiled and tried to explain.

"I'm sorry. It's just that talking about never having left, and hearing tales of the world outside makes me feel that I should enjoy as much of what I have as I can. Would you mind if we continued our conversation outside?"

Ariane shook her head, picked up both their glasses and followed her through the Inn door and into the gardens. Astilwen led her to the bench she had found the night before. It was far enough away from the festivities that they would be able to hear what the other was saying, but not so far that they couldn't see what was going on.

Their conversation carried on, with Ariane telling happier tales of her time in Bree, and Astilwen telling tall tales to make the other woman laugh. Eventually they lapsed into silence, both thinking over what the other had said, and grinning every now and then as they remembered something they had found amusing.

Jumping up for a moment to stretch her legs, Astilwen turned and saw a shadowy figure a way off behind the bench. It was looking up at the moon, but she couldn't make out if it was male or female as it had it's back to her.

She gently turned Ariane so she too could see this person and after a quick whispered conversation, the two decided it would be best to go and offer help to this creature, who stood so dejectedly. As the got closer, they could see that it was in fact a woman, and she looked as though she had been crying.

"Hello." She spoke quietly, not wanting to frighten the woman who had obviously not heard their approach. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

[Nogrod]

‘Come Master Reddie, Mistress Naria. Won’t you join us?’ Telu smiled at the both of them, daring them to rise and follow along.

Naria took a close look at Rían, as he hesitantly tried to look somewhere else. At last he had to face her inquisitive stare. Slowly he managed to utter a propositon that could save him: "We can't leave master Bredan here all alone, now can we?" But Bredan's answer was just chill to him: "You two just go, I have a pint here to finish off". He even made a smile after his remark.

As Naria rose and took his hand, Reddie couldn't but follow her. They joined the dance, not far away from Farael and Telu. They went along with the rhythm and the other dancing crowd; now in lines, now in rows - as a pair at a time, as a part of a larger group at another. Everyone seemed to be smiling, and the merry feeling even took Reddie Sundry over for a moment. He relaxed somewhat and managed even to smile a little, truly, not faking it.

As the piece ended, Naria looked at him, her eyes begging the question "one more?" with clarity and precision that didn't need any words to help with the delivery. Reddie took a firm grip of her waist and turned to the direction the other dancers had already turned. This was even faster paced one than the earlier: the band seemed to be playing so fast it could, just to get to their intermission a bit earlier.

Just as the dancers had reached their highest spirits, the music stopped. Tomlin announced, that it was a time for a break, and that everyone should tuck some ale and food into their stomachs so that they could dance some more later.

"For an easterling, you seem to know local dances quite well", remarked Naria with a smile. Reddie was confused. Should he pick the subject or not? At last he thought of correcting at least the obvious mistake - even though he knew, it had been made as a joke. Maybe he would still have to open himself a bit, it might be easier that way?

"Well, I'm not exactly an easterling to begin with. My father was a beorning and my mother from Esgaroth", he said and started moving back towards their table, still holding Naria's hand in his. Naria did not follow immediately, so that Reddie had to stop. "You said was?" she asked, raising her eyebrow a little. "Was, yes. Were. My mother died because of my birth, my father two years ago, trying to save me from harm." Reddie seemed to be delving in his memories for a second. He seemed to be quite moved - and was so. After a short, but victorius, battle against the tears, he continued, now with a calmer voice: "I seem to be lethal company, so watch out..." He drew Naria firmly to move with him towards their table. He let her hand go only after they had reached it.

[Naria]

The band had decided to take a short break and it's a good thing too because Naria was feeling a bit dizzy from the dancing and maybe the ale. She took a deep breath of air into her lungs thinking to herself isn't it a beautiful night couldn't have asked much better for a party. Before she let herself get swept away in her thoughts she remembered the man that seemed to have taken a fancy to her. She looked over to her right and watched him speaking to another man at the table and wondered what could make him almost come to tears during a grand time as this. She thought maybe he will come with me to the stables later so we can talk without interruption. After all, Naria hadn't checked on Flicker in quite some time and Master Sundry could come and meet her friend.

Naria's wooden cup was empty and needed some ale. She scanned the tables for the barrel and noticed that Penn was milling around aimlessly. "Gentlemen, I have spotted a friend in need of some conversation will you please excuse me." They rose too their feet and she gave them a gracious nod and took her leave from the table.

She poured herself another ale and walked over to Penn. "Where have you been this eve? I thought maybe we had lost each other." Naria said with apparent merriment in her voice.

[Lhunardawen]

Tilionwen did not really want to go back gazing at the Moon. She promised herself earlier that that would be the last time she would ever do so, lest she completely lose the will to turn away again. But seeing that she was unwanted, that nobody even bothered to speak with her, she realized that it would be better to go back to Him than to look like a desperate fool.

The Moon looked back at her in an expression that seemed to say the words I told you so. Tilionwen felt her cheeks grow warm, and her sad eyes drooped ever so slightly. Then at that instant, all the determination she previously had slowly ebbed away. She tried to fight the rising desire to give in, but her grip on herself continued to weaken...

That's when she heard a soft voice behind her. "Hello. Is there anything we can do for you?"

Tilionwen smiled inwardly and gave the Moon a look of triumph, but He was not about to give up just yet. For a few moments He continued to strive with her, but Tilionwen found new strength in that pleasant-sounding female voice. It was an intense struggle, and eventually she succeeded. Slowly she turned her face away from the Moon to find two ladies. With a grateful expression in her glazed eyes she answered the hobbit, "I think I'll be quite fine, thank you. I would not want to burden such kind people as the two of you."

[Thinlómien]

Merry tunes reached Grimhorn's ears as he walked towards the inn that he had been recommended. The Green Dragon, he thought and grinned to himself. Interesting choice for a name for an inn at these parts of the world.

Grimhorn, himself, was a beorning from the Anduin Vales. He was a big, hairy man, with long dark brown hair and a short beard. He was not a young man anymore; there were grey strips in his hair and beard and lines in the corners of his eyes. He had beady eyes and a big nose. A big scar ran across his left cheek. Grimhorn was not a handsome man.

He was clad all in green, his favourite colour, and carried a big axe with him. His clothes were a bit too warm in this mild country, so he had stripped off his warm cloak and was carrying it only on one shoulder.

The inn was clearly hosting a party tonight. Again, Grimhorn grinned. It had been a long while from the last time he had been to a party. And, he liked parties. And with all this prancing little folk, it will be even more funny, he thought. With the grin that he himself considered friendly, but some people considered scary, on his face he entered the party grounds.

[JennyHallu]

Losse viewed the lighted inn ahead of her with relief and interest. She'd not been able to find a suitable pony in Bree, and her city-bred feet were beginning to get to her. Though she had been travelling (albeit rather aimlessly) for months, she knew there were some things she would never enjoy, such as walking and passing through towns where people carefully locked up their livestock.

Even worse were the nights she was forced to camp. She didn't mind sleeping on rough ground, not having had regular access to a real bed since early childhood, and it wasn't too cold, considering the thickness of the cloak she'd filched before leaving Minas Tirith, and neither was she a bad hand at hunting...she was a natural hand with ranged weapons, and her small bow showed signs of being well-cared for and well used (not to mention the throwing knives she'd concealed on her person). In fact she rather enjoyed the clear nights, and the beauty of the stars. They were harder and harder to see in Minas Tirith, slowly filling again with people with the ascension of the King.

Really, it was her cooking. If she had to spend one more night eating squirrel she'd managed to leave half-raw while burning the rest, she'd scream. Or just go quietly mad, which she was seventy-five percent sure was worse.

But an inn...

As she approached, watching the silhouette of a large Man step into the lighted yard, she began to pick out the sounds of music and revelry within. An inn with a party! Perhaps she'd be able to replenish her dangerously low reserves of coin. She grinned to herself.

Thievery, what fun! Her grey eyes lit up with mischief. She was tall and slim, maybe eighteen years old, with long dark hair, and sea-grey eyes that spoke to a probably strong strain of Numenorean blood in her veins, but if there was, it had never done her any good. Losse was trouble: good-hearted, pretty, joyful, young, but definitely trouble, and the messes that had started this oddysey had not taught her anything. It was with that twinkle in her eye that she entered the yard and took a seat near the end of the tables to watch the patrons--and pick a mark.

[Farael]

Kind sir,’ she said, grinning impishly at him as she made a little curtsy. ‘Will you chance another stepped on toe or two?’

"What?" his thoughts were "Another dance? for the King and the White Tree she knows I can't say no but how will I manage to stay away from her toes at an even faster pace?" yet his smile contradicted his thoughts as he said "It would be a honour, my fair Teluyaviel."

It was a fast, fun song although as Farael remembered it the day after, he had the nagging feeling that some of the words were unknown to him. Specially the concept of "pistol" who the singer seemed to draw twice yet use only once. But this all had not happened yet and after successfully (although perhaps not very gracefully) avoiding stepping on Telu's toes, Farael held her hand in his and kissed her fingers. "I hope you forgive me, but this man is getting tired and it seems the band wants to take a little break as well. How about we go grab a mug of... water?"

[Nogrod]

After Naria left the table, Reddie concentrated on emptying his pint. He had almost enjoyed dancing with a female! And in the end, hadn’t even being totally baffled and shaky. But now the shakes were coming: he felt some cold sweat starting to form on his forehead, and his hands started to tremble, slowly at first. He also noticed, that emptying the pint had been relatively easy, and that every drop of the ale was indeed consumed. He would need some solitude, and need it soon.

He excused himself for Bredan, telling him, that he would need some fresh air after all the dancing, and that he would be back later on. Bredan nodded and Reddie took to the door. As he reached the door, he turned his head to see what Farael, Telu or Naria were up to, and crashed to something that was broad and hard as a stonewall. But this wall was moving, and had eyes that were looking straight to him.

It doesn’t necessarily take a beorning to know another, but when you are even half a one, it’s easier got get a hunch of another beorning’s mind. This one didn’t look angry for his tumbling him, Reddie thought to himself. The colossus grinned in a way that could even be interpreted as a smile. He might be wrong though... Trusting his intuition, Reddie smiled back, and said to this tower of a man in front of him: “Sorry my friend, I was just lost in my thoughts. Never quite saw, what hit me." Reddie produced a smile, but immediately gathered, that the pun had been a bad one, as it was. Reddie went on to safer approaches: "My name is Rían, Rían Sundry from Mirkwood. You might have known my father, the “old hermit Sundry” the people called him. I was indeed going out to have a pipeful, but if you’d care to share a pint with a fellow beorning, I would be happy to buy you one.”

Be in good relations with all the beornings that are bigger and stronger than you are. That was rule number one he had learned quite early on his life. Rule number two went: if you have even the faintest suspicion, that you have offended one of those, be quick to compensate. And after all, it had been a long time since he had met another beorning.

[Kath]

"I think I'll be quite fine, thank you. I would not want to burden such kind people as the two of you."

"Oh it's no trouble at all. We've all burdens of one kind or another and as the saying goes - a problem shared is a problem halved, or in this case cut into three! Please, won't you join us? You don't have to tell us of your troubles, but we wouldn't mind the company."

And without waiting for much of an answer, Astilwen took her hand and gently tugged, pleased when the woman came willingly. Returning to the bench with Ariane and this new woman in tow, she ran off to refill their glasses, and get a drink for their new companion.

Returning, she found Ariane and the newcomer in conversation, with the latter just telling her name.

". . . Tilionwen."

"Another pretty name! Is it Elvish?" Asked the ever inquistive hobbit, as she joined them again.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

"It is a pretty name," Ariane agreed. "And I'm Ariane Calthye, and really hate to do this, but I can't stay right now." It wasn't that the newcomer unnerved her, but she wasn't really to a point where she could talk with two people. Her stomach hurt...

She grimaced for a moment, then stood up. "I hate to walk out on this conversation, but I do have to return to my room." Offering a slight bow, she took her now refilled glass, drained it quickly, and set it back down, waiting for the farewells before setting off through the crowd.

They came, and Ariane made an attempt to work herself back to her room and collapse on her bed until her stomach felt better. Must've been something related to peas in there. Argh.

[Lhunardawen]

A tear slid down Tilionwen's face as she allowed the hobbit to pull her away from where she was standing, and she quickly wiped it away before the two women could see it. It felt cleansing, inside and out, and she wondered if she could keep the rest of them in any longer. She decided to hold them back for the time being, not wanting to dampen her new companions' spirits with her tears.

The hobbit excused herself to get the three of them something to drink, and only then did she realize how thirsty she was. Her gladness finally manifested itself in a shy smile which she gave the hobbit as she sped off. Left alone with the other woman, she remained silent. She did not really know what to say; her overwhelming joy stole away all the words her mind came up with.

As if seeing through Tilionwen's thoughts, the woman spoke up. "Would you mind if I ask you your name?"

With that innocent question, her mind suddenly flashed through her past, and all emotions concerning it jumbled up her joy. Disoriented for a moment, she fumbled for the right words to say, settling with, "Uh . . . Tilionwen."

"Another pretty name! Is it Elvish?" the hobbit suddenly chimed in, arriving with three glasses. Tilionwen gladly accepted one of them and took a sip.

"It is a pretty name," the other woman replied. "And I'm Ariane Calthye, and really hate to do this, but I can't stay right now." She gave what seemed like a grimace, then continued. "I hate to walk out on this conversation, but I do have to return to my room." She bowed slightly and finished her drink, and caught by surprise, all Tilionwen was able to say was a silent "Farewell." And then Ariane left.

Once again Tilionwen felt a feeling of paranoia settle in. Perhaps she knew. Perhaps my name gave it away. Perhaps...

The dam broke, and the tears she managed to hold inside for the longest time finally flowed freely.

[nynnd1]

Bredan sat alone, although the atmosphere of the Green Dragon that night was such that Bredan doubted anyone could be alone, he drank the last sip of his drink and surveyed the room, there was a woman whose tears showed up against the back drop of all the smiling faces. Bredan planned to take a drink to her, after all that is what he had done to Farael and it had worked perfectly then. Bredan walked up to the table and poured two lemonades. He navigated through the party to the woman who he only noticed as he got closer, due to the height, was standing next to a Hobbit who was holding two cups. By the time Bredan had finished this thought he noticed he was standing next to the crying lady.

“I am Bredan of Gondor”, he said taking a low bow, realising when he reached the lowest part that he did not know what to say now, he rose slowly to buy time but words did not come, so it was that Bredan introduced himself and stood in front of the lady with a vacant look on his face.

[JennyHallu]

Losse was soon bored with watching, and her feet quickly recovered from the stress of her long day's march. Cheerfully she grabbed the arm of a hobbit she'd seen serving and politely asked for a pint of ale and a meat pastie, giving up a few of her dwindling stock of coin. After all, what matter? she thought. She'd spotted a possible mark and cheerfully walked towards and around the dance floor as though looking for a washroom.

On the way she bumped into a young woman being led off the floor by her partner, showing definite signs of tipsiness.

"Oh, pardon me! I'm so sorry," Losse said as she reached out a hand to steady the girl. With her other hand she deftly tucked her new purse out of sight, eyes atwinkle with what she hoped would be taken for friendliness.

[Kath]

Astilwen watched in horror as tears began to stream down Tilionwen's face. Pulling the woman into a hug she held her, and tried to work out what on earth had set this off. Surely it couldn't have been Ariane's departure? Still, it was the only thing she could think of that might have done it.

"It's ok." She murmured, keeping her voice soft and soothing. "It's alright, it isn't your fault she left. She was in pain and needed to be alone for a while that's all. She'll come back later I'm sure."

The two of them stayed that way for a while, Astilwen making vague shhing noises as she attempted to calm Tilionwen. Finally the woman's sobs stopped, and she moved away a little with a shocked expression. Before she could apologise or even run, Astilwen pressed her handkerchief into the other woman's hand and smiled at her.

"Feeling better?"

[Lhunardawen]

For a moment Tilionwen forgot about the world outside her: the kind hobbit-lady's comforting voice and touch, Ariane, the party at the Inn, even the reason she was there in the first place. She just focused on her sobbing and how wonderful it felt. Not only was her dusty face being washed clean, but she also felt the long-held grief in her heart drowning in her tears.

After a long while she could cry no longer, and so came back to her senses. The first thing she noticed was the hobbit's arms around her. In shock, she pulled away from her a little. She did not want to offend her, especially after what she just did, but she felt terribly ashamed. This woman barely even knew her. She had no idea what Tilionwen had done. Yet in that sense it seemed to Tilionwen that her breaking down actually did her good. Her companion had already seen her tears; what difference will telling her its accompanying tale make?

As if sensing an uneasiness in Tilionwen, the hobbit pressed a handkerchief into her hand then smiled. "Feeling better?" she asked.

Oh, how I do, Tilionwen thought, but she settled for a gentle nod. Her mind now made up, she looked up and took a deep breath, then sighed heavily. "You asked previously if my name is Elvish. Well, it is. But it's not my real name...some people just gave it to me."

[Kath]

A nod was all Astilwen received in answer to her question, but it did look as though a weight had been lifted from Tilionwen's shoulders, so she decided not to push it. The other woman sat quietly for a moment, clutching the handkerchief in her hands as she seemed to come to some kind of decision. She let out a long breath and then began to speak.

"You asked previously if my name is Elvish. Well, it is. But it's not my real name...some people just gave it to me."

Wondering where this was heading Astilwen turned further towards Tilionwen and made herself comfortable, as it looked as though this tale might take a while. She wasn't sure why the woman had chosen her to confide in, a complete stranger, but she still wanted to help and this admission had certainly caught her interest.

"What is your real name? And why was it changed?"

There were so many more questions that she wanted to ask, who had given her this name and why she had kept it, but she had seen how fragile Tilionwen was, and didn't want to upset her again. Keeping her curiosity to herself, she waited to see if she would get an answer.

[Folwren]

Wren wasn’t half as hungry as Tim was, and by the time she was finished, he had already gotten seconds. She turned around and sat on the bench, waiting for him to be through, while she watched the other people. The dancing had stopped for a little while, for the musicians had taken a break. There were still several people milling about. She turned her head this way and that, catching sight of a few strangers who, though still unknown, she’d seen earlier that day.

Suddenly her eyes lit on two figures walking up towards the party gathering. She sprang to her feet. “Tim, Tim! It’s Woody and Hanson! Look they’re over there. Can I go say hello? Please Tim?”

Tim turned his head, spotted the two hobbit children, and answered his sister, but she was already gone. Hadn’t waited for an answer to her question anyway, he noticed. He watched as she ran across the lawn towards them and then turned back to his plate of food. If she didn’t bring them back to where he was after meeting them, he’d be much surprised.

Wren had started across the lawn even before Tim had quite caught sight of Woody and Hanson. As she drew near, she slowed her pace and approached more slowly. Her shyness of the previous evening came back, slightly, but not so much to keep her from speaking.

“Hello,” she said, when she reached them. “How are you?”

[Undómë]

Now this was certainly the night for new sensations. There had been the ale, of course, a warm blurring of sight and thought. And really, very, very tasty. She would admit to herself now that Farael had been right in steering her away from another pint, at that moment, at least - her guard had been down, her judgment hazy.

There had been the dancing. The Halfling’s music was far more lively than the Elvish music she had grown up with. The vigorous steps had done wonders to clear her head of the ale’s after effects. She laughed to herself wondering if she dared try another mug – one of that darker brew that looked so tantalizing. Perhaps a smaller mug and one drunk more slowly. But that would have to wait; especially as Farael had been quite specific in mentioning their next drink would be water. I wonder how often he’s had too much ale . . . and was this the “cure” he himself figured out for it?

Now there was the kiss . . . the touch of his lips ever so softly on her fingers. And what was she to make of that? It was not something her Mother had covered in her little lessons on courtesies and comportment, as bowing and the depth of curtseys had been. Should she kiss him back? Is that what was expected after dancing and a drink? He had kissed the backs of her fingers – was she to return the favor in kind and kiss the backs of his?

As she was considering this problem, a woman had lurched out of the crowd and clumsily bumped into her. She’d apologized readily enough and steadied Teluyaviel with one hand. All the while smiling prettily.

Telu laughed and clapped her hands. ‘A grand party this is turning out to be! You must be one of those sleight of hand tricksters come to entertain the guests. Do I have the right of it? Did you come with the traveling players that are here?'

With a twinkle in her own eyes, Telu reached quickly out and retrieved the small silken pouch which had so recently hung from her waist on a cord; her slender, deft fingers barely touching the women as she did so. 'I think you must needs have a little more practice before you try your tricks on another Elf, though.'

[Farael]

"wow, she is skilled... and Telu is not as drunk as I feared. But then she is an elf. Well, obviously she hasn't met many thieves back at her home place." Farael thought.

-"Well, M'lady I must say I would have never noticed this girl's... trick... yet I believe we men have a different name for people of her kind. Most definetly not tricksters. " started he, before noticing the look on Telu's eyes. He couldn't ruin the party for her. "Yet it matters not now... and yet I'm still thirsty, I have just seen the most wonderful looking jar of lemonade on the table over there... and don't think I have not noticed how you were eyeing that ale nearby! ' he laughed "But if I may give you a bit of advise, the effects might not be as far gone as they seem to be. Come now, I'm sure our friendly trickster will be around later. But then, maybe she will not run into us again"

Farael started towards the table, not daring to look back. The girl was far too innocent looking, how could she do something like that? and what was he to do? he knew how to deal with thieves, but he had assumed they would always be men! No, she better not run into them again. For Farael's sake, rather than hers.

[JennyHallu]

'I think you must needs have a little more practice before you try your tricks on another Elf, though.'

Losse laughed, cheerfully accepting her failure. She was good, very good, and this woman was not by any means the first elf she had burgled, but the woman's tolerance must be incredible. She'd watched her drown herself in ale, had seen the woman's unsteady steps on the floor, and the flush in her cheeks was still bright. No one sobers up that fast! There's a skill I'd like to learn.

"You caught me, Lady. 'Tis a beautiful purse, at that, better than mine and certainly heavier," she said, with a wink at the delightfully flummoxed man beside her. "But I only meant to get your attention. Somehow this got into my pocket..." With a theatrical flourish Losse presented the woman with a delicately jeweled hairpin, a perfect match to the others in her hair. "My name is Losse," she said into the moment of surprise. "I heard your companion mention lemonade...I'm new here and know no one. Would I be too forward if I asked to join your party?"

[Lhunardawen]

"What is your real name? And why was it changed?"

There was a moment of hesitation for Tilionwen as the hobbit - whose name, she realized, she did not yet know - asked her this, and she gently reminded herself that she had already decided to trust her. Besides, she felt more and more comfortable with her as the seconds pass.

"To be completely honest with you," Tilionwen started, "I don't remember my real name." She paused for a moment, then continued, "I guess it's best to start from the beginning." The hobbit folded her hands together and looked at her with an expression of polite curiosity.

"I remember being a young lady from Arnor. My mother died when I was very young, much to the grief of my father. And as if to compensate for her loss, my father loved us very deeply, me and my younger, only, sister. He was a little overprotective of us, but we competelely understood him. Surely he wouldn't want to lose any one of us; that would probably kill him. And as for my sister, we were just inseparable. After all, we only have each other to hang on in our mother's absence."

Tilionwen continued her tale as her mind drew back to those times long past, and in her mind's eye the events once again began to unfold...

------------------------------------------

It was a beautiful morning. The sun shone brightly, but not too much, and a soft breeze blew throughout the entire countryside. Tilionwen and her sister thought it would be a good day for a walk in the woods, and so they asked their father.

"So long as you take care of yourselves, and be home before nightfall!" The sisters smiled excitedly at each other and took leave of their father.

Before long they were enjoying the shade of the trees and the sight of all the animals that crossed their path, but suddenly dark clouds began to gather in the previously clear blue sky. Worried that the rain might fall while they're still there, they started to make their way back home. The sky grew darker and darker as they did, until at last the rain fell. Eventually the sisters could no longer see their way, so they sat under a big tree in the freezing rain and waited for the storm to pass, keeping each other entertained with reminiscences of their childhood. They stayed there patiently until at last the night came, but the relentless rain continued pouring. They thought of their father who was assuredly sick with worry back at their home, but there was nothing they could do to let him know that they were fine.

After some time Tilionwen began feeling drowsy, and her sister told her to lie on her lap. So she lay there, listening to her sister's beautiful voice humming the lullabies their mother once sang to them...and she gave in to slumber.

She awoke later in the evening, when the rain had already stopped. She was dazed for a moment, and rubbing the sleep off her eyes, she looked towards her sister. She found that she, too, had already succumbed to the night. Her sister was leaning on the tree trunk; a peaceful smile was on her face. Tilionwen did not want to bother her, but she was anxious to get back home to their father, so she stood and began rousing her. She shook her a little, and there was no response. With increasing fear she continued to shake her sister's slender body, more and more violently with each passing moment of silence. And then she saw a glint of reflected moonlight a little to her sister's right. She looked closely and found a blade - one her sister always carried with her, at her father's insistence, wherever she went; Tilionwen had one as well. But she saw that this one was stained with blood...with a snake lying nearby, its body cloven in two.

A shriek of both horror and despair escaped Tilionwen's lips as she kneeled next to her sister and searched her right arm. She found two puncture wounds on her forearm, large enough to be seen under the moonlight. Upon seeing them her sanity completely left her. She looked up towards the Moon and she screamed from the depths of her heart, a scream of anguish and pain.

------------------------------------------

Tilionwen reeled from her reverie and found herself looking once again towards the moon. Yet ironic as it was, Astilwen noted, this time a tranquil softness was on her face. "And so began my spirit's slavery under the moon," Tilionwen barely whispered. "He never left me alone, and time and time again he reminded me of that fateful night, and of my father to whom I have never returned. How could I come back to him with that news, even were I sane?" Tilionwen looked down and faced Astilwen with a smile. "And to answer your question, the people who found me wandering in my lunacy gave me the name Tilionwen because they always found me speaking to the moon." She laughed gently, finding mirth in her statement and in Astilwen's expressed enlightenment. "Eventually the name stuck to me as if it is the name I was given at my birth. I never recalled my real name; perhaps I lost it under the moon's spell."

She found nothing more to say at the moment and fell into silence, giving the hobbit a chance to satisfy her curiosity. She breathed deeply once more, and felt all the heaviness within her escape as she exhaled.

[Undómë]

‘Of course you may join us.’ Telu put her hand on Farael’s arm to make him pause. He had a certain look on his face, soon smoothed over – as if he preferred not to have the company of Losse.

By the One! This being with him is a tricky thing. And a thing I’ve had no practice in. I’ve stepped over some bound, though what it is I’m not sure.

She took the jeweled hairpin the woman had given her and reaching forward, pinned back a stray strand of Losse’s hair. ‘There – now you’re dressed for the party!’ Telu stepped back, looking at the little gems as they glittered in the lights from the lanterns. ‘Farael,’ she grinned at him, linking her arm through his. ‘Lead on to the lemonade, won’t you?’

[JennyHallu]

‘Lead on to the lemonade, won’t you?’

With a smile at the man that promised mischief she took his other arm, waving gaily at the hobbit server to indicate her new table. She shook her thick chestnut hair, delighted with the way her new gift felt in her locks.

And a gift...this Lady is just determined to let nothing rain on her parade, is she? Well, with such brazen innocence Losse would not contend. Telu's person was sacred, for now, and now Losse would not touch her. A gift...The woman's generousity had defeated her, the cleverest, most lightfingered girl in all Minas Tirith, and that wasn't completely ego. The man however...she could still use some coin, and she had a feeling the evening would be very fun indeed.

She smiled joyfully to herself, catching a glimpse of her reflection in a polished mug. The elven-star in her hair glimmered brighter even than her mischievous eyes...a generous gift indeed. I'll have to remember not to use it for a lock-pick, she thought suddenly, with a guilty thought of the plain metal hairpins already in her hair, bent into odd and unrecognizable shapes by her particular hobbies...

[Farael]

"Great, just what I needed. I thought elves were wise beyond the understanding of men but to invite this girl, of all people, to join us? I guess there is nothing I can do about it." Farael's eyes opened wide and he checked the little bag of coins, the only remaining money he had left. They were still there.

What was he to do? He couldn't ruin the night for Teluyaviel. Her brother was quite intent on forcing her to leave the following morning. In the mean time, the women were talking quite animatedly while enjoying the lemonade. This thief girl was quite happy with her new hairpin. She was quite happy with her new harpin indeed. A smile dawned upon Farael's lips. He couldn't hurt this young lady, he couldn't tell her to go away without having to give Teluyaviel an explanation but with a smile and a quick bow he excused himself only to come back a few minutes later. He joined in the conversation and politely asked Telu's new friend where she was from.

[JennyHallu]

Losse's meal, a steaming hot pastry redolent with the delicious aromas of meat and vegetables, arrived just as the young man, whose name she gathered was Farael asked her of her origins. With a grin she quickly wolfed down a large first bite, fanning her mouth with her hand as she realized the hard way how hot it was.

"Sorry, excuse me, it's been a long trip from Bree and I can't cook for the life of me," she mumbled around the crust. Hastily she swallowed, washed it down expertly with a swig of the ale she'd already ordered, and settled in cheerfully to relate her tale, with only minor...erm...embellishments. She loved a good story, and hers was much better the way she told it than the way it was...

"My mother's name was Estuilas, and she was a great lady of the court Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth." Estuilas had been a rather silly young noblewoman, who despite her Numenorean ancestry, had not really been considered important enough to keep close to the court.

"My father was a famed bandit of the mountains, who swept my mother off her feet with grand schemes of love and honor, and spirited her away into hiding." Actually this part was mostly true, except for the fame, love, and honor bits. Benden was certainly a bandit, with some notoriety in the pastoral lands he frequented, but it was lust that made him keep Estuilas as well as her horse, as well as a certain dose of expediency: the horse, a mare of the Rohirrim, was a great deal more valuable than the girl.

"And I grew up in Minas Anor, the city of the Sun, in a house on the walls, looking out over the verdancy of the Pellinor Fields. My mother taught me the ways of the nobility, and the lore of the Numenoreans, and my father taught me....other things." She winked at Farael. "My parents died when orcs flung flame over the walls...but I was young, and the King returned, and all of Gondor was rejoicing. I suppose I fell through the cracks..." This, strangely enough, was entirely true. Laws had become somewhat lax in Minas Tirith through the rule of Denethor, and houses built against the walls were definitely illegal. Thus, only the very poor lived there. Benden, while he didn't exactly love his common law wife, was good to her, and doted rather possessively upon his lovely little girl, but still, if someone realized who she really was...no one had searched for Estuilas in all those years, but a life of banditry leaves a man with a certain paranoia, so his family had not been evacuated with the rest of the women and children. After their deaths a girl had to make a living somehow, and in a city filled with soldiers in the aftermath of war...there were worse ways. Losse's narrative paused here, as a tear twinkled at the corner of her eye, but she swept it away and continued with a grin, forking another far-too-large chunk of pastry.

"...And about a year ago, I decided my education could not be complete without a more thorough knowledge of the world. It seemed...prudent." She winked again at Farael.

[Thinlómien]

Something tumbled against Grimhorn. He looked down to it. The creature was a young man with red hair. It was babbling something. Probably an apology. Grimhorn waved his hand as to wipe the apology away. Then the creature managed to present itself: "My name is Rían, Rían Sundry from Mirkwood. You might have known my father, the 'old hermit Sundry' the people called him. I was indeed going out to have a pipeful, but if you’d care to share a pint with a fellow beorning, I would be happy to buy you one.”

"I have never anything against a pint, or good company", he said and looked at the young man critically. Then he nodded to add weight to his words. A good beorning lad, that is. But it is a bit small, it has to have some lesser blood in it, he thought. Then he said: "My name is Grimhorn, son of Grimgor and I'm from Anduin Vales. Nice to meet you, lad." He had never liked idle pleasantries but sometimes they were needed. Then he grunted and added: "Now, let's go and have the beer. I've walked a long way today and I want to give some rest to my feet. And you can have your smoke while we sit down and drink."

[Arry]

Woody hung back, feeling awkward at the approach of the girl. He smiled at her a little, noting how pretty she was in her party dress.

‘Oh, come on, you big chicken!’ cried Hanson. ‘It’s our friend, Wren. She won’t bite you!’ He grabbed onto Woody’s vest and tugged him forward.

‘We’re supposed to be finding Gil! Gran said so,’ hissed Woody, in an attempt to recover some measure of control over the situation..

‘Oh, Gilly-snilly! You know he’s around here someplace. The other guys are up there playing and singing. And besides – you know Gran has found some neighbor of hers and forgotten all about sending us after Gil by now.’

‘Wren!’ Hanson said, smiling. ‘Boy are we happy to see you!’ He glanced quickly about the large party area. ‘Which way to the table with the cakes on it?’

Woody rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming next.

‘Want to help us sneak one off . . . all for ourselves?’

[Folwren]

Wren’s eyes opened wide at such a suggestion. “Steal a cake for ourselves?” she cried. “But that. . .” she was about to say, that wouldn’t be right, but then the idea of such fun and then they’d have just as much as they could possibly want. . .it was really too tempting to pass by. “Oh, that’d be jolly,” she said. “The cakes and desserts are over there.” She pointed to the table laden with pies as well as cakes and plates with great piles of cookies on them. “But first let’s go over to Tim. I think he’ll like to do it.”

She turned and trotted across towards Tim. “Hey, Tim? Woody and Hanson are here,” she said, coming to a stop beside her brother. He looked up and then stood and turned towards the two hobbit boys. “We were wondering if you wanted to help us steal a cake,” Wren continued without giving him a chance to greet them. “It was Hanson’s idea. He said we can steal one and have it all to ourselves. Want to help us?”

“I. . .don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Tim said hesitantly. His eyes, on Hanson, slowly turned towards Wren and when they settled on her excited, smiling face, his eye brows went up doubtfully. “What if we’re caught? You caused enough embarrassment for me earlier.”

“Oh, stuff and nonsense!” Wren said. “If your going to be boring, then you’re going to be boring by yourself. I’m going to steal a cake with at least Hanson, and if you choose not to, that’s your own problem.” She paused, waiting for him to answer. When the silence between them stretched to almost twenty seconds, she demanded impatiently, “Well, are you going to join us?”

“Eh, very well,” he said with a sigh. But then he smiled. “I’ll join you. Hello, Woody,” he said, nodding to the older hobbit. “I suppose you’re in this, too? What’s our plan of action? Shall we go to the barn and discuss things before actually taking a snag at one of the cakes?”

[Undómë]

The woman, Losse, must have a tic in her eye, decided Telu. It had happened twice, now, and both times when she glanced at Farael. Perhaps he made her nervous and this was some habit she had that occurred when she was anxious.

Losse certainly had had a far more interesting and adventurous life than she had, or so Telu reasoned. All her sixty years had been spent within the boundaries of Thranduil’s realm; and those, for the most part in the company of her family and their close relatives. And despite the war the Shadowed One made upon her people and the forest, there had been many glad times. Her memories of them brought her a certain joy.

While she had not traveled much herself, she had heard many stories of other creatures who lived in far places – the Periannath, the Halflings; the Skin-changers to the west of the forest; others of Men, who came in many guises so she was given to understand – Dunedain, Rohirrim, and those to the east and to the south. And there were Dwarves, of course, those mysterious ones who delved deep beneath the mountains for gems and metals. She had never met one, but the Elven smiths of Eryn Lasgalen bought those precious things to craft in their own ways.

She had met . . . no, rather she had seen the tall, grey eyed men who came to speak with King Thranduil from time to time. Rangers, the Dunedain. And she thought them fair in their own way. She smiled for a moment, her gaze drifting to Farael’s profile. He, too, seemed fair to her. She looked quickly away as his gaze turned to her.

And, of course, there were the Orcs. And she thanked the One she had never had cause to see one of them. Theirs was a darkness too horrid for her to grasp. She was glad that their foul master had been vanquished and that they were no longer able to wreak their havoc on her dear forest.

Telu’s mind drifted back to what Losse was saying. She was the daughter of a great lady and a common-born man – a bandit, she called him. A thief. And he had taught her certain ‘other’ things, with which, Telu surmised the woman had been able to make her living.

A certain suspicion began to grow in Telu’s mind. Her cheeks colored, slightly at her foolishness. Her brother had always chided her that she was too trusting a creature. And that someday that would bring her great trouble. Was this such a day, she wondered. She hoped not. But no wonder Farael had given her an odd look.

Still, she would like to think that Losse and she might be friends, at least for this little while.

‘That’s an odd word you use – “prudent”,'Telu said, her brow furrowing. 'Why would you want to leave your home, Losse, unless you had to? And this “education” – what is it exactly that you wish to learn?’ Telu sipped on her lemonade, wondering if the woman would speak plainly to her questions; for despite her years, she had little experience with the subtleties of how Men thought and seemed to couch their thoughts at times in words with layered meanings and gestures.