"As am I." He replied in his low voice, his attention on the lapping flames. A small smile raised one corner of his mouth, and he shifted his intent to the Elf who spoke to him, grey eyes, a trademark of Gondor and its people, swimming with content. "Of the wilds; that of the trees," -he paused, an impish light sparking in his steady gaze- "and of the cities of man." His storming orbs wandered elsewhere, "I heard the Shire was a peaceful place," and his smile faded. He brought the mug in his hands to his lips once more in a drink that drained all that was left of its contents, and he let out a sigh.
Pushing the pint to the edge of the table, his arms dropped below, one resting on a boney knee, the other swooping back smoothly to clutch a loose end of his cloak. Now more sure of his surroundings, he let fly his hawk's eye and loosened his shoulders.
[ October 08, 2003: Message edited by: Elfwine ]
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"Reality has exiled me. I am no longer bound by its laws."
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