[Annunfuiniel]

The common room of the Prancing Pony was spacious but still cosy. The night had fallen over Bree but in the Inn a merry fire crackled in the hearth and pushed the darkness into the far corners of the room. Scents of roasted meat and malted brews couldn't completely cover the smells of leather, horses and travel-stained men but the mixture in the warm air felt only pleasant after the harsh winds outside. Occasionally a new guest entered in and brought a breath of fresh air with him. Then the lights flickered and the fire in the hearth burned a while with a brighter flame.

The night was still young and many guests and travellers were yet up. Greetings, loud conversations and bursts of laughter filled the air. Beside the hearth Vráin delighted in story-telling with his fellow dwarves; others of their kind, the dwarves still travelling the roads between the mountains, joined them. But his true soulmates Vráin found in the Hobbits, the Little People, and he soon befriended with many of them. Gráin watched his brother and in his heart he was glad.

"Nice to see your brother smiling again." Nalin noted from beside him.

"You have read my mind." Gráin answered; "Yet I don't doubt I'll soon think otherwise for now he's in the mood for stupid deeds beyond all records..."

Gráin had hardly spoken this as a sparkle glinted in Vráin's eye and warned his brother his fear was about to come true sooner than expected. Gráin's eyes flew wide open as he saw Vráin spring up and jump on the nearby table to join some Hobbit-lads, -lasses and Alcyávëiel in a merry wild dance! And he surely wasn't the only one to gape at the sight of a dwarf dancing the springle-ring.

The supper had been nearly sumptuous - tasty meat stew with potatoes, fresh root crops and a pie from red-cheeked apples for dessert. Sun had sunk behind the looming mountains hoours ago. The rest of the dragon hunters had already departed for their rooms, weary but with lightened hearts. Vráin and Gráin still sat in one of the shadowy corners of the room, pints of first-rate ale in front of them.

Gráin was in no mood for talk and his withdrawn expression surely didn't invite strangers to approach. Even Vráin had finally settled down a bit: soon weariness came over his limbs and eye-lids and he began to nod. Night-guard stepped in and announced in a low but audible voice that it was an hour till midnight. Vráin startled awake.

"What?" he mumbled.

"Time to go to bed." Gráin answered solemnly. He drained his mug with one gulp and stood up. Just then a tall Man entered the Inn and glanced around obviously looking for something. To Gráin's great surprise the man's eyes stopped seeking as they met with the dwarf brothers. Instinctive suspicion filled Gráin's mind as the figure, wrapped in a weather-beaten grey cloak, approached them.

"Hail and well met!" the stranger spoke softly as he stopped in front of the dwarves. "My name is Aravorn and I bring greetings from my father Aragost." The man bowed his head lightly and as he raised his eyes Gráin met his gaze. Underneath the tan his skin was fair. Looking at his keen grey eyes Gráin couldn't tell whether the man was young or old: in him seemed to live both the spirit of a youth and the wisdom of the old.

"Gráin, son of Thráin at your service!" Gráin bowed low and Vráin introduced himself in the same manner.

"Please sit down with us and we'll have a drink together. Then you can tell your news for I deem, for some reason, that you did not end up in our table by coincidence." Gráin continued and beckoned Aravorn to take a seat.

"I thank you but I must refuse your kindly offer." Aravorn smiled and rigour melted from his face. Young he is, though already been through many hardship. Gráin mused. But the young man turned grave again.

"Indeed, I have news for thee - Hunters from the East. We have followed you from a distance since you crossed the Last Bridge though we knew about your coming long before for we receive tidings from Rivendell." he broke off for a moment; "And I'm sorry for your loss." Vráin lowered his head.

"But now your road lies to the West. The dragon waits at the end of that road but perilous is your part even before the Blue Mountains. And these are the words my father sends to you: Beware! But also Behold! you're not alone. For all the shadows passing in the dark are not your foes. My people, we are your wandering friends, the grey guardians."

Gráin was speechless. Aravorn searched his breast pocket under his cloak and then drew out a small scroll. Extending it to Gráin he spoke once more;

"This is a map of the lands between Bree and the Mountains. We have been keeping an eye on the ravaging rogues but alas! we are too few and scattered to drive them away. In this map we have marked their camps and the roads they usually take on their raids. Study it carefully and maybe you'll manage to evade the danger!" Again he bowed and then stepped back;

"May Eru guard your road if we can't. I hope we shall have that drink together after you return safely from the West. Farewell!" And with that he slipped back to the shadows.

Vráin and Gráin stood in silence for a while longer.

"Strange man with strange tidings." Vráin spoke finally.

"You speak my words, brother." Gráin replied and eyed the scroll in his hands. "Let Elentari decide in the morning what to think about these news." he continued thoughtfully, though the Man had already won his trust.

[ June 11, 2003: Message edited by: Annunfuiniel ]

[ June 11, 2003: Message edited by: Annunfuiniel ]