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Old 12-12-2003, 03:38 AM   #225
piosenniel
Desultory Dwimmerlaik
 
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1420!

Piosenniel

Her thank-you’s to Morien were cut off by the loud voice and looming presence of the person who stood across the table from her. Her gaze locked on him, trying to recall where she might have met him. He was a massive figure of a man, one who would not be easily forgotten. In her long memory she could find nothing that marked him friend or foe.

The deciding factor was the stout staff he clenched in his large hand.

Fëanen . . . Fëasolme . . . Fëalor! Quarë, híni!

Quick and silent, the three children gathered behind her, a tightly closed fist at her back.

For a brief moment, as she stood and moved back from the chair, her awareness took in a familiar voice calling her name, then shut it out. Pio backed up slowly, moving her children toward the door to the kitchen – like a mother bear, keeping herself between them and the stranger. ‘What chance meeting is this,’ she thought to herself, watching for any advance on his part. Her right hand slid beneath the left sleeve of her tunic as she spoke.

‘Who comes seeking Piosenniel? And why?’

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:39 AM December 12, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]
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