[Saurreg]

Ascasir signed softly to himself, elven eyes tailing Gwenneth as she made her way out ouf the serving hall. The Silvan elf rubbed his chin ruefully for a moment and his delicate brows knitted together in thought. Turning back to the table, he looked upon Isilmë and frowned,

"Friend Isilmë, I wonder if we have been rude by somewhat beating around the bush when that fair creation of Illuvatar's suggested we go horse riding. I do so fear that our conduct was unbecoming and may have irritated her We have after all, not given her a definitive reply!"

The Galadhrim shrugged his shoulders and replied,

"True friend Ascasir. But since neither one of us here has a horse to call our own, it is highly unlikely we would have been able to accomodate her suggestion. Unless of course she rides upon her swift steed and glides through fields and meadows like some fair maiar from the west while, we run behind her... trashing about like pack dogs."

"That would have been quite unsightly."

"Indeed."

Arien was charting her course west and the rays of the sun stretched even further through the wall openings of the Green Dragon until they touched the wall on the opposite end of the windows. The light was now a shade of rich amber rather than golden yellow, but it was still comfortably warm. A strong aroma of baked apples and buttery crust diffused through the air.

Acasir smiled wanely in satisfaction as he slumped lazily down the sturdy wooden chair and closed his eyes.