The room was lit by candlelight. A mellow fire was slowly sizzling away in the open fireplace, giving the shadows some length. Travelbags were strewn in different piles on the floor with its future content waiting to be engulfed by them. "What a mess!" Sighing, she stood in the middle of the room, her hands resting on her hips while she surveyed the rubble that was disorganised over the chairs, the tables and the floor.
The evening of the ball had been full of laughter, good food and drinks. Saying goodbye to friends was not easy, but as she remembered the warm welcome of the host, she smiled. That evening, even the dances had been enjoyable to her. Himwen had rejoiced in the company of her good friends. So many she hadn't been able to see for a long while. Master Bofrid had been absolutely dashing, dressed up for the occasion. And to think that he had been invited as a special guest. The honour! Of course, master Bofrid was a gentleman in every case of the word, but those who did not knew him would most likely wonder why he was there in the first place, seeing as dwarves were rarely seen in the company of elves.
Himwen noticed a pouch of pipeweed she had gotten from one of the dwarves in Misty Mountains. "A special blend for a very special dwarf..." she noted and started a new pile for gifts to leave behind. "Master Bofrid would surely enjoy this one! Oh, and this is for lord Elranthandor." Himwen picked up a small wooden horse figurine. Turning it in the light, it almost looked as though its eyes were moving, reproaching her for not finding it a decent home. "Perhaps not." Elranthandor was a serious Eldar with little care for a wooden horse. She set it aside for a moment, noting a flask of fine wine and decided to give that to him instead of the pony. Next to the flask lay a piece of fine silk she had gotten on one of her travels. It was a light shade of rose, just perfect for lady Aelaer. Himwen smiled as the mountains started to shift a little, from her travelbags to the pile of gifts.
Again, she layed her eyes on the horse. Suddenly she remembered that Tindir had given Rainith one of those a long time ago. The smile on her face was not wholly due to amusement, but a tinge of sorrow had crept up in her. Himwen and Rainith had met at the ball and had spoken to eachother, but it was not really a time for a heart to heart talk. Himwen worried that her old friend seemed to be unhappy again. As she pondered on things to cheer Rainith up, her eyes fell on a delicate pair of gloves made of finest leather. Himwen had brought them with her from her home in Lothlorien. They were too small for her own hands and thus had laid untouched for some time. She stroked the leather making sure they were of good quality still. The touch threw her back in time, to another friendship she had endulged in. The memory was bittersweet, for the gloves had belonged to her mentor, Wenyalisse, who unsuspectedly had passed away. That staunch maiden had once stopped Himwen from making a mistake she would have regret for a long time. From that moment, the gloves had been a reminder to always think twice. Now, she realised that the memory she had of them would not stay with the gloves themselves, but with her. The realisation made her smile once more, as the gift would surely be of benefit to Rainith in her future. "On the pile, you two!" She exclaimed, satisfied with her choice, and placed them gently next to the silk, wine and pipeweed.
Himwen stopped in her steps as she felt something underneath her leatherenveloped foot. As she looked down, she noticed she had dropped a book on the floor. It told the tale of how to grow some flowers that only grew in lothlorien. Her thoughts went to Zarhiel, another of her friends who had attended the ball last night. His knowledge of growing things was vast, but Himwen was sure he did not know about these particular petals. She put it in the giftpile along with a warm embroidered cloak she had picked out for lady Faerlir and the dried roses that still had some scent in them for lady Amorith. As she looked at the bundle, she wished that she had more time see them.
The door swung open, letting the wind in to argue with the fire and candles. Heavy steps walsed inside and just as quickly as the wind had come in for discorse with the burning light, the door slammed shut and the fire mellowed once again. Himwen started to hastily light the candles that had lost their flame. As she was lighting the last candle she heard a thump on the floor. Turning around whilst quenching the lighted wooden stick in her hand, she noticed a heavily packed travelbag and a Tindir sitting next to it, seemingly amused by the scene in the room...
