[Kransha]

Light, very unwelcome light, shined through weakened glass panes in Osric’s room, bathing him and his cramped little bed in a searing fountain of light beams that tore his heavy eyelids open forcefully. He pulled those eyelids wide, his limpid orbs of eyes staring out and closing instantly as the blinding sunlight overflowed into his eyes and head. Shoving a wet palm, soaked with nightmare-induced sweat, in front of his eyes which closed tight, he kicked the thick, scratchy cotton blankets off of him and clamored madly out of the bed. He couldn’t remember the dream which had made his night so long and frustrating, but he was sure it had been very chaotic for him to feel so tired out this morning, though had slept little anyway.

For an old man, he was fast in his place. He had, after the war, not been able to shake the hobbit of retiring at a late hour, or sleeping with his clothes on, which he always did. All he lacked was a comfortably formal cloak, which was neatly folded on a bedside table. He pulled it on with a youthfully energetic flourish, whipping the evergreen cloth around his shoulders, and headed, yanking his stiff leg behind him, out of the room, with another smile on his face as he forget the ill humor of his nightly visit on another, dreamier plane of existence and adjusted fully to the one he was present in at the moment.

He hobbled down, managing his way carefully down a sturdy stair flight and down into the Common Room, where he’d spent so much of last night. As beams of dim light suddenly berated him, mostly candlelight and the first slivers of dawn singing the darkness welling up around him, he flinched slightly and let loose an awkward cough as dustier air filled his tired lungs. He batted the air, as if groping at an invisible opponent, and stumbled wearily over to a larger chair. He promptly stiffened further and crumbled into the seat like so much idle jelly, contorting and twisting until his slumped form fit each and every contour of his carrying vessel. He clawed clinging cottony strands from his unkempt gray beard and leaned back, oozing like fluid into the seat beneath and sighing deeply, thinking quietly of peaceful times and things.

It was then that ancient Osric saw the girl sitting across from him, looking as if she had more verve than ever Osric had had. His luminous smile strengthened weakly when he saw the energetic blonde lass, her hair overshadowing his in wildness as well, practically bouncing in her chair. He managed to lean forward, narrowly avoiding a one-way trip off the table surface as he slumped upon it, giving her a calm nod, which she acknowledged with equal ability, smiling back at the aged Rohirrim warrior.