First Impressions

In the center of the graveyard stood a small two-storied house, an irregularly constructed building with gables and paned windows of tall dimensions. It bore all the signs of great age, and the trees around seemed to have been blasted by lightning. The walls of the house were covered in a sickly green moss and the front door was of a dark wood carved with strange figures, most too worn away by time to determine except for the wolf’s head set in its center. A faint stream of light escaped through a crevice, showing that the house, dilapidated as it was, was occupied. 

Naraal watched Captain Greenfield bring out a large iron key and fit it to the lock. As the heavy door creaked open a low growling voice called out,

“Here at last.” 

It was a dwarf that spoke, his small black eyes glittering in the dim light, and giving Naraal a glowering, suspicious look, he bowed respectfully to Greenfield.

“Where is my aunt,” he asked.

The dwarf jerked his thumb towards the ceiling in explanation. 

Greenfield strode into an adjacent small bedroom, and taking off his fur mantle announced that he needed to change, and closed the door behind him.

An elaborately carved jade table and a chair facing a window were the only two pieces of furniture in the room. Naraal sat on the chair. In the room beyond was a long table covered with a cloth and a few dishes. Then he heard light footsteps descending the stairs, and turning beheld a young woman of good figure with long blonde hair.

“Why, you are - beautiful!” he burst out. “Forgive me - Captain Greenfield said you are his aunt; I was expecting someone - older. My aunts are not as beautiful.”

“Indeed, yes!” she said, laughing coquettishly. “You must be Azrazôr’s man.” She took a step closer. “There are no Men hereabouts - only Angmarrim priests. But you are one of our people,” she purred, lifting a hand to caress his braided hair.

Greenfield yelled from behind the door, almost in warning, “I will be out in a moment!” 

Her hand froze mid-air, and Zairaphel making a sly look told Naraal to tell her if he needed anything. Then she clapped her hands, and bidding the dwarf set out food and drink, gathered her skirts and swept out of the room, leaving Naraal to stare after her.