[Theoric Windcaller]

Theoric returned to the inn shortly after he left, a cloud of weariness over his face.

He was not successful, in finding Mayor Samwise, for when he arrived at Bag End, he found that a message was posted at the door saying that the mayor had gone on some business, and would not be back for a long while.

He walked into the inn, not forgetting to leave his weapon at the door. He knew not what to do now, and he was not the patient type. He did not take liking to the option of waiting for Mayor Samwise to return.

He came to the Shire hoping to settle down quietly, but he knew deep down in his heart he was too young to settle down. His brother once told him that adventure is not gained by those who look for it, but comes to those that it deems worthy.

He began to recount the many adventures he had, and began to dwell on the adventures he might have in the future. He did not think that the Shire was the greatest place for adventure.

The door to the inn swung open, making a loud BONK! as it hit the wall. Two men walked in, their hoods off and their faces in plain sight. Not very secretive, Theoric thought.

They walked in and noticing the sign on the wall, they laid their weapons out gently against the wall.

The first one was with the greatest arsenal of weapons that Theoric had ever seen. He pulled at two daggers from both of his boots, he unsheathed his sword from his belt on the right side, unsheathed another from the sheath on his back, took two larger daggers from his thigh pockets, and finally he unsheathed a short sword from his other sheath on the left side of his belt.

Theoric laughed to himself as the room quieted, staring at these two warriors clad in glitter chain mail, releasing a great load of weapons at the door. Who knows what they used them for. Certainly there were no orcs, goblins or balrogs in the Shire, what were they doing with such weapons here?

"Just passing through," Theoric said to himself, thinking aloud. Aman looked up at his remark with a confused face.

"What?" asked Aman, drying a wet mug with a dry towel.

Theoric only nodded his head, construing that he was only thinking aloud.

Aman walked on, for another hobbit came to the bar, asking for seven or eight pints at the table in the back right corner of the room, by the fireplace. This seemed unusual, for Theoric, because only two hobbits sat at that table, and seven or eight pints of ale was a lot to be consumed.

Theoric quickly pieced it together when another dwarf, like Theoric, had stepped through the inn door along with another man. They unloaded their large arsenal of weapons at the weapons depot, and headed over to the table in the back right corner, where three hobbits and the two men that came in earlier sat.

The dwarf and man joined the others at the tables. This brought their party up to seven members. Their laughter and boasts and their loud voices totally upped the volume of the inn by a great number.

Theoric noticed too, that there were eight chairs at the table, and an eigth pint of ale was sitting, unmanned at the empty eighth spot.

Theoric stood up and walked closer to the table, taking a seat by the fireplace. The tw, large comfortable chairs were called the 'Fireside' by Theoric. He always loved to call it this, for it was where he had always sat and drank his ale and smoked his pipe, thinking of new ways to excite his life.

As he sat down at one of the two empty chairs at the fireside, he began not the think of ways to excite his life, but to listen to the strange party's conversation. The dwarf was able to hear every word breathed from here.

"Aye, the plains of Rohan stretch far and wide, and every once in a while a traveler will get lost, and die of starvation, or maybe of a heat stroke, for that it common in those lands," said one of the humans.

"Aye, but the Shire is extremely comfortable, and next season will my favorite season, autumn," said one of the hobbits.

"I found it quite comfortable in the mountains, in the dark."

That was obviously said by the only dwarf there. There was an uneasy silence. "That reminds me," laughed one of three men.

The dwarf looked at him. "Don't you dare."

The entire group laughed. "What?" they all asked.

"Well, it was when we were all travelling through the Misty Mountains, and Tallon brought along his fiancé, and his sister, for reasons I do not know."

The entire party erupted in laughter.

“And, I think it was the fourth night on our journey, and Tallon was having a very passionate kiss with his fiancé, and Tallon stopped for a minute to go and set out his candle that was lighting the cavern. He did not know that I was awake, thus he went back to his fiancé, and kissed her.

“Well, upon feeling a rough, coarse beard, he jumped back, and realized that it was not his fiancé he kissed, but his sister.”

The party erupted in such joy that Theoric had never seen before. They laughed for a grand total of six minutes, not counting the snickers afterwards. This was the table Theoric needed.

“Well, now that you have very near driven me to hang myself,” snorted the dwarf. “May I ask a question?”

The first of the three humans, Jeramid, replied with a short chuckle. “Aye?”

“You were last seen with the elf, Elithion. Where is he now? He has yet to hear of my great mistake.”

“Alas,” replied the human, “he could not make this grouping, nor could he make it to the business afterwards. Very busy with other business, you see.”

There was a brief silence. “Well, may his mind rest when he is through, and he shall accompany us on our next adventure,” said one of the hobbits.

Theoric’s eyes widened, his smile grew, and his hair stood on end and his insides bursting with joy. What more could he ask for? An adventure had been thrown his way; he must intercept it to be able to participate in this so-called, adventure.

Theoric stood up, the table behind him still laughing and reminiscing, and the dwarf still bitter towards the story that his friend had told.

He inched his way towards the table.

“Excuse me,” he smiled. “I have overheard that a companion of yours was not able to make an appearance at this congregation; I was wondering if I might take his place.”

The party of hobbits, men and a dwarf sat quiet, some of them holding their mugs still as they were in the middle of a sip, letting the ale drip down to their laps.

The dwarf laughed. “This is quite hasty, friend. Do you know us? Do you trust us?”

“I trust everyone save those who have fallen into darkness, and it seems by the moods of your party, sir dwarf, that darkness does not hold sway upon you,” the dwarf wisely replied.

“For all you know, we could be bandits pulling a shadow over your eyes, blinding you from seeing our true selves,” smiled a human.

“For all you know, I could be the same. I could be a cleverer bandit, disguised as a dwarf, only to throttle you in your sleep one night and take your money. But I’m not. Nay, sir dwarf, trust is our only weapon against those we do not know, we can either use it or discard it, but the wise man, uses any weapon he has.”

Theoric hit the nail on the head yet again. He succeeded in making himself plentiful in wise council and he made it obvious that he has been to many places and heard and seen many things. This alone, would be enough to sway a council of orc lords towards the dwarf’s will.

“I can see, stranger, that you are not a bandit, for I can sense these things. And I can see, by your wind-worn hair and your tired grey eyes that you have been many a place; you are welcome here,” smiled the human.

With that, Theoric sat down, grabbed the mug of ale, and drank half of it in one gulp.

“My name is Jeramid, and my other two human friends are Jonathan and Damien.”

The two humans nodded their heads with a smile. “Welcome.”

“The two hobbits that you see, graciously letting their ale fall from their mugs are Heman and Deman, they are brothers,” said Jeramid.

The two hobbits greeted him and went back to their ale.

“And the dwarf, as you might already know, is Tallon Mistdancer.”

The dwarf smiled brightly, a smile that Theoric had not seen in years. “Welcome, brother.”

And finally, Jeramid stood up, motion to everyone else to do the same. “We are the Brotherhood of the Light.”

“Does this mean I am invited to be a brother?” asked Theoric, with a smile.

“Oh nay! You must prove yourself to us. This just means that we officially invite you to join our table. From now on, whenever we meet you along the road, you are welcome to dine with us.”

Theoric sat down with a wider smile than before. Theoric not only intercepted his chance for adventure, but he charged for the victory as well.