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‘Come! Have a seat, O cumbrous of foot and ponderous of breath!’ Tavaro turned round in his seat and looked his old friend up and down, laughter glinting in his eyes. He put down his charcoal and held up the small sketch he’d been working on. ‘Not too bad a likeness, eh?’ Closing the chapbook, he shifted it to one side, the piece of charcoal resting on the battered cover.
‘What a delight to see you here!’ the Elf continued, watching as Hithadan lowered himself into the seat across the small table. Tavaro’s eyes did a quick circuit of the firelit room. ‘Tell me,’ he said in a low voice, his gaze now back on the man. ‘Are you here merely to slake thirst and fill belly? Or have you your keen gaze set on something or someone?’
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