[Maegaladiel]

Nahai grinned at Annalalaith.

"I see you have returned to us!" she said. "Did you hear the lady Morwyn play? She's a natural!" She jabbed a thumb at the Rohan woman with her flute. "They were meant for each other, I tell you!" Morwyn laughed.

"I shall have to dedicate that song to memory now, since it's the only thing I can play. Does it have words? Perhaps it would sound better if I had someone's voice drowning out my playing." Morwyn said, mocking her own performance. The Beorning laughed and nodded.

"Aye, it does. But I shan't ruin the song by having MY horrid voice tie its melody into knots. I believe I could write the words down for you. If you'll both excuse me, I have some parchment in my room." Nodding to the elf and woman, Nahai slipped upstairs to her room, searching for something to write on.
*********

The lone elf staggered to the Green Dragon's door. Hmm. Pain DID bother him more than he was willing to admit. Leaning on the porch, he touched his bound leg gingerly. The wound screamed in protest, bringing a pained gasp to the traveller's lips. He'd best stop in the Inn for a rest.

Slowly he pushed open the door and limped to the bar. The inkeeper looked up from her work as he eased himself into a chair, an agonized expression on his face as his battered muscles whined in further protest of their treatment.

"Are you alright?" she asked the stranger. Alright? he thought to himself. No, he was not alright. He was a mere shell of the elf he once was, before he lost his beautiful love.

"Aye," he lied. "I am well." The inkeeper raised an eyebrow, looking at his wound.

"'Well' isn't what I would call that." she said curtly. "I could have someone properly heal that, if you like." But her words fell like silent raindrops apon ears of stone. For the elf had seen what a human maid across the bar from him held in her hands. A wooden flute.