Varda smiled at Rimbaud.
“So we meet again. I quite agree, the establishment needs more stories. I trust more weary travellers will come by and share their stories in this merry place.” Varda stepped away from the fire and to the bar to order ale. Her drink now in her hand, she sat back down near Rimbaud, and looked through the Book of Rohan. The stories inside it amazed her, and she wished to remember them, to tell to the Elves at home, or to whoever else she might by chance meet on the road.
She looked up briefly as a stranger came in. He looked nervous, although attempting to cover it up. She smiled at him, before motioning him over to sit with them.
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'It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them' ~Frodo
"Life is hard. After all, it kills you." - Katharine Hepburn
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