The keg was almost empty . Fairlain looked over at her companion and laughed in spite of herself. Dwimmer's cheeks were rosy and his nose shone red. It had been a joyous week, with Dwimmer telling of dodging trolls in the bogs of the lonelands in search of precious adamants, and Fairlain sharing tales of the elves of the Golden Wood. Dwimmer brought his mug up to his lips very slowly and carefully took a sip. His eyes were shining brightly and his movements were becoming more and more deliberate. The end of the evening was in sight, but still he smiled and said,
"So tell me one of these stories you heard..."
Fairlain leaned back and rested her chair on the wall of the Emporium. Dwimmer had been staying with the dwarves of this place and it had a warmth and closeness that seemed very comfortable.
"Well....in the beginning the One...called Eru Ilúvatar ...stood alone, his heart overflowing with love, and standing there began to sing a wondrous Song. As he sang, his words took form and the Ainur of his thought joined their voices to his, weaving a great harmony and giving shape to themselves and to the images of a wondrous world. But among these Valar the one named Aulë heard the melody of those that would walk upon this Middle Earth and his over-joyous heart got the better of him. Reaching down, he gave shape and life to the first of the dwarf Fathers. Yet he did this before the melody had entirely finished and Aulë became abashed that he might have done wrong. He feared Ilúvatar's wrath and raised his hand to destroy what he had made but the One stayed his hand, not willing that anything born of a loving heart be destroyed. "
Dwimmer chuckled sleepily, his eyes drooping "Hah! See? We WERE first! Try telling that to THEM though..." His head began to nod. Fairlain grinned and continued letting her voice soften as she looked at the sleepy dwarf.
"So...the One placed his hand upon the heads of the dwarf Fathers and sent them into a sweet sleep, not to wake until the melody of the children of Ilúvatar had been sung in full...."
Dwimmer began to snore.
Fairlain fell silent and getting up, went and softly kissed the dwarf on the top of his sleeping head. She was not yet sleepy, and there were warm and inviting lights burning in the window of the Inn up the hill. Walking into the night air she felt refreshed. Somehow lately she had felt weary, as if the memory past hurts was somehow stalking her.Yet her step did not falter as she climbed the hill towards the small waterfall and the clear night sky above her cheered her heart. She entered the doors of the Inn and stopped in the darkened doorway when she heard voices.
Stopping next to the stuffed bear, she peered into the well-lit room. Standing with her arms outstretched was the young woman she had met once or twice before. Fairlain stopped a moment and searched her memory...yes...Rannie...that was it. She was holding a short sword straight out in front of her, her arms beginning to tremble with the weight of it. Fairlain smiled. She had seen this before, but only as a contest of prowess between the guards of the Watch. Generally the one who dropped the sword first paid the other in coin or ale, or both.
There were others there as well, she glimpsed the familiar face of old Lindovor sitting by one of the firepits, eating a bowl of stew as he watched the hunter Cynraede giving instructions on weapon stance and balance. Fairlain's eyes went to the young hunter. He looked well. At least he looked far better than the last time she had seen him...lying in a filthy cave, broken of body and mind. Beside him stood a slender young woman, her beautiful raven black hair falling to her shoulders. They were talking of battles and laughing. Unconciously, Fairlain raised a hand to her own roughly shorn hair. Short hair was more practical under the helm she had worn for the past few weeks and as she had sat by her small campfire in Enedwaith she used the small dagger she kept in her belt to cut away her lengths of hair handful by handful, throwing each into the flickering flame. It had not seemed a great loss. Fairlain's mother had had such beautiful black hair; hers was merely...brown. She stood and watched the happy company for a few moments. Suddenly she felt a great need to feel the starlight upon her face. Fairlain turned and went out the door as silently as she had come in, and the stars greeted her.
