[Rimbaud]

New Light through Old Windows

Morning wandered in through the windows of the white-washed Inn of Gondor. With the curtains undrawn all night and the fire now ebbing away, the air was chill inside. Some patrons had not yet repaired to their rooms and woke slowly and with sore heads as the soft light stroked its way across the high-arched wooden beams of the ceiling, and danced among the table-tops.

The small door to the left of the fireplace opened to allow a figure to enter, slightly hunched. The familiar smart grey tunic was gone, replaced with a long woollen tunic, of a light blue. Those that observed the Innkeeper's low-key return would also have noted, perhaps with some wry amusement, that his tunic was fastened with an ash-grey sash around the waist.

He carefully closed the door behind him. He looked around the room. Most of the patrons still there from the previous day's feastings were well-known to him. There was no sign of the newcomers he had been told about; they had retired to bed, he supposed.

He sighed at seeing the state of the fire and the mess in the great Common Room. He clapped his hands twice, abruptly and straightened to his full height. There was no response for a long moment and then...all of a sudden the kitchen double-doors sprang open and a stream of grey clad staff streamed out, bearing mops and pails, wood and tongs for the fire. The room was a bustle of activity within minutes.

Rimbaud nodded with satisfaction. He would sweep his house into good working order!

"Cook!" he barked. "Breakfast will be in half an hour, sound the bell and start preparing!"

He smiled, a trifle ruthlessly. He bowed his head and stood, still and collected, in the centre of the cleaning whirlwind. He hoped his companions would accompany him at breakfast. He had much to consider and great need of stout hearts and quick minds.

[ January 02, 2003: Message edited by: Rimbaud ]