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The bird nibbled happily on some cram that Fáinu had given her, he was running out, but did not care. Avalon looked back up at him and cocked her head from side to side; Fáinu cleared his throat and then sat back. "You heard about our adventure in the mountains?" He asked, Avalon nodded, "Dwaline was always a faithful news bringer. Well, soon afterwards we travelled through Wilderland to the Lonely Mountain. 'Mirkwood' still held in the back of my mind, no matter what they change it's name to. Esgaroth was no better, the closer we came to dale, the more the burn returned."
Fáinu looked at his hand, the bandage was still tightly wound about it, covered in the dirt of a thousand adventures. He felt a chill as the Inn door opened. Cree went in and for a moment, Fáinu took no notice. He looked again and shook his head. A cruel trick of his mind. But she did not disappear. "Do you see that?" he asked the bird. Avalon looked up and squawked loudly.
"Shut that wretched bird up!" cried a Hobbit, before a large worn flew past Fáinu's head and fell harmlessly to the ground. The elf took no heed of the loud Hobbit as he walked to gather his shoe. The Hobbit seemed to have boots, but did not wear them. What a strange fellow, thought Fáinu. The starlight glimmered through the windows as some Hobbits staggered outside singing songs of drinking and laughing.
Cree did not seem to see Fáinu as he sat in the corner of the room, although she seemed to have heard Avalon's squawking. A barmaid brought Fáinu another mug of ale and rolled her eyes at him and the strange bird that was disturbing the customers. All these outside folk, she thought. The elf raised his head and then stood up, he walked over to Cree as Avalon flew with him.
"Well met," he said, "If indeed we do meet. I fear this may be a trick of the mind."
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