[piosenniel]

A new day it seemed had pierced the green haze of The Wight’s barrow. Partygoers were starting to rejuvenate themselves, waking from dreams. There was Eala, still sleeping - her dog at her knee. ‘Sleeps like the dead,’ Pio chuckled at her own poor joke. Hilde was up, though . . . and what were those shiny things just catching the light that her fingers were drifting through. Pio shut ‘The Atlas of Middle-earth’ which she’d been coloring in and put her colored pencils back into her pack.

Unfolding herself from the chair, she tucked the now cold remains of the cigar behind her ear. Max raised a Puggish eye and stretched out on the chair cushion . . . as if to say, ‘I’ll save this for your return.’ He soon fell back to snoring as Pio made her way to Hilde.

‘Good morning!’ she said. By the One! Pio thought to herself as the light from one of the crusted Noldorin lamps fell on Hilde’s hair. Reminds me of one of my icons from ages past . . . and hasn’t she aged well! She glimpsed a familiar bottle sticking out of the woman’s bag. ‘Little purple pill . . . know it well . . .!’ she laughed.

Pio’s gaze drifted down to where Hilde’s fingers played with the baubles. ‘Do you play or sing? she asked in casual conversation, her eyes on the alert for a promising piece of jewelry.