Another Dream of Hafdal

It isn't unusual for the setting to change, and this time it's the Prancing Pony, Stigandir's new "home", for now anyways. It's the common room, but it's empty of people. He already knows it's the damn dream again, he always knows, even before-

A flutter of wings announces the bird's arrival. Stigandir's sitting on a barstool and the raven lands on the one beside him. Part of him wants to reach out with one of his big meaty paws and strangle the thing, but the hope that for once it might actually lend him some guidance stays his hand.

"I'm Hafdal!" the raven chirps happily, seeming quite proud of this fact. Stigandir humors it with a nod. He damn well knows what its name is. It's told it to him hundreds of time.

"What do you have to say this time?" Stigandir asks impatiently.

"The water." Hafdal croaks.

"The water." Stigandir echoes, unemphatically.

"Yes. The water. Many teeth, but not a sound." Hafdal explains.

"Like a fish?" Stigandir asks, puzzled as usual. The raven shakes its head.

"Trees don't grow underground." Hafdal chirps halfheartedly, and then, like always, he's gone and the dream fades to nothing.