|
Legate gently knocked the freshly painted Barrow-Door after he had first checked it for any queer signs and marks. When nobody answered, he knocked more heavily. When still nothing happened, he started thinking of borrowing one of the instruments the Alien had always used in Hookbill's tales in order to remove obstacles, yet it was not really to his taste to risk blowing up the whole barrow - and who knows what else.
"Maybe there's nobody there yet," something squealed at his feet. He looked down and saw a tiny squirrel dressed in steel hauberk.
"What in Arda - what is that?" Legate raised his eyebrows at the little critter.
"Or maybe they are in there, only they turned into Werewolves and are busy accusing and eating each other," the squirrel continued, oblivious to the Wight's question. "That can take Nights. I should go back and tell Lady Estelyn that it isn't worth it coming here." The small animal turned around and started hopping down the hill.
"Wait," Legate cried after it. The squirrel stopped.
"Yes?" it squealed.
"Esty sent you here?"
The squirrel glanced at him, laying one of its ears down. "May-be," it said. "Lady Estelyn, that is. She might or she might not come. That is all I am permitted to say."
Legate shook his head at the animal. "Shouldn't you be, like, rather policing some forums or...?"
The squirrel tapped its armored breast with its tiny paw. "I know the best what to do! My tiny sisters are doing that job. I was sent here."
"Fair enough," Legate said. But suddenly at that moment, he heard a voice from behind that sounded as if it was coming out of the ground.
"Legate! Here! I was waiting for you!"
He turned around and saw the door to the barrow open and Bęthberry putting out an umbrella stand.
"Excuse me," he wanted to tell the squirrel, but as he turned back again he realised that the animal disappeared. He simply shrugged and went to meet Bęthberry at the door.
"Nice to see you," he said. "They had not begun to arrive yet, I presume?" He scanned the empty hall. "These are really pretty banners," he noticed and his face lit up. "Ah, yes, exactly the right color! Let's hope that the others come, it would be a pity, so much preparation... hope they won't have any trouble on the road, either. I heard rumors about the Nine being abroad and whatnot... so much for The Witch-King... or Queen... or the Keeper of Dol Guldur coming, eh? But maybe we shall be surprised. Perhaps we can have a cup of tea before everyone comes... or even a wurst," he added, noticing what was on the table.
__________________
"Should the story say 'he ate bread,' the dramatic producer can only show 'a piece of bread' according to his taste or fancy, but the hearer of the story will think of bread in general and picture it in some form of his own." -On Fairy-Stories
|