[Galadel Vinorel]

The soft sound of a gentle flute was heard floating through the empty grounds of the Green Dragonn Inn in the early morning hours. It was a very peaceful sound and calmed everyone who heard it as it traveled like a gentle breeze through windows and open doors all over the area. Those who were awake became very happy, tilting up their heads every so slightly to try to hear the music more clearly as they wondered where it came from, yet it remained an eluisive, soft melody, as if the music itself were the incarnation of that wonderful time and state of mind that exists between sleeping and waking; that peaceful time that all people love. And those who were sleeping suddenly began to dream of far off and mysterious lands through which they constantly heard the gentle meldoy. Their dreams were filled with golden-leafed trees, with some of the leaves delicately falling off ever so often to glide gently through the air and rest upon the smooth flowing stream below. Places in Middle Earth that they had never seen or had never even known existed before then filled their dreaming minds, leaving with them a peace that would last through the hours to come, even after they had awaken.

And there, in the midst of it all, leaned Galadel against one of the outside walls of the inn, her hands wrapped gently around her wooden flute, from which the peaceful music was flowing out off. She was wearing her worn traveling clothes, her dirt-stained cloak thrown over this to keep away the soft morning breeze that threatened to chill her. Her hood was pulled far over her face, so that all that could been seen of her was her mouth, blowing through the flute, as her fingers moved up and down on it, to make the sweet noise that was flowing through the air.

A few minutes passed by, and then a half an hour. The end of her piece drew near. Some folks must be awake by now, she thought to herself, I will see if they need some help. The melody that the elf had played was over then, and so she dropped the flute slowly away from her mouth, her hands falling to her sides like the final flap of a bird's wing as it reaches the ground from its long flight home. Placing her flute careful back into the pouch that hung at her side, Galadel stood up straight, raising her face up slightly to see the rising sun. As she did this the hood of her cloak fell off her head to rest upon her shoulders, and her face was shown, the shining, crystal blue eyes looking out at the garden around her, her lips forming a gentle smile, her golden hair falling from her head down her flowing shoulders.

Walking around to the entrance of the inn the elf entered the building. She was confronted with a rather messy hall where the previous night's celebrations had been. That night seemed to the elf to have only been a few minutes ago. She almost expected to see the four young hobbit lasses to come running in and hop onto some tables to dance and sing once again or for Snaveling to enter into the room with Aman at his side, his face once more alight with some deep, inner fire that was mainly left locked up in his soul, though he let it out occassionaly, a suprise to all. Yet, they were not there, only a few people were in the quiet room, cleaning and righting tables and chairs. Smiling to herself, Galadel grabbed a broom that was resting, unattended, against the wall beside her and began to join the others in cleaning the common room, as she thought over the events of the night before. And so the sun rose over Bywater, and the life within the town and the Green Dragon Inn awoke slowly to greet the new day.