Nįrello was tired and a bit anoyed. He had stopped by the stables on the way back in but they already had ample help. Somehow he had managed to end up working in the kitchen anyway. Still, it hadn't been that bad and he had enjoyed the chance to walk outside. He did have to admit he was good at finding food, spending most of his time alone outdoors. He grinned remembering the time a hobbit lad had challenged him to a mushroom gathering contest and the look on his face when they compared finds.
He shuffled over to a nearby sink and washed himself up a bit. He returned to a seat by one of the many windows and sat looking outside. He thought jealously for a while about Awyrgan roaming free. And here I am stuck here like a child. You are a child. Only in body, that which I have seen would make some old. His thoughts brightened when he realized that he would get a chance to catch a glimpse of some of the heros of the War of the Ring. The few chances he got he had pressured Awrygan for details of all that had passed yet Awyrgan said little, commenting only that his uncle had been a captain of men in the service of the Lord Aragorn and that Awyrgan had stood over him as he died outside the city of Minas Tirith. His name was an H-something but Nįrello couldn't remember. The boy smirked. All of Awrygan's conversations end in death or sorrow. He absently brushed several traces of dust and stray hairs off of his black garments and went back to watching the proceedings in the Inn.
[ January 15, 2003: Message edited by: Carrūn ]
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"Dic, hospes, Spartae, nos te hic vidisse iacentes dum sanctis patriae legibus obsequimur."
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