Pio stood behind the bar, polishing the last of the cider glasses. The cool, influx of air from the opend door was refreshing, and she glanced up with a smile to see who had entered the Inn.
Another young boy, this one dressed in a cloak of mottled grey, stood on the threshold, hesitant to enter any further. Desire and reluctance warred within the features of his face, and reluctance winning, he turned to leave.
Laying her cloth aside, the Innkeeper walked quickly after him, catching him just at the bottom of the steps.
'The stable is warm and dry, young sir. And no one but my horse and a few Shire ponies will be sharing it with you. Night is upon us. Will you not at least accept their hospitality, if you cannot accept that of the Inn itself.'
She bowed her head slightly to him. 'My name is Piosenniel, or Pio, if you prefer. Say but the word and I will have some food and drink brought out to you.'
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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