* At first, Giles huddled silent around the fire. For awhile, there was only the immediacy of shivered misty breath, raw windbitten hands, and tingling feet. He relaxed into a warm sleepy clamminess punctuated by the clock-like dripping thaw of ice crystals on his cloak into puddled shadow. Giles looked up to wave at Hal and smile a friendly greeting as Hal joined Bullroarer, Branda, Carl, Dinodas, Lotho and himself. *
* Rising and stretching, Giles unclasped his damp wool cloak, which at any rate was good at holding in the heat no matter how wet it became. The brown cloak fell in a muffled heap. The air within the mound of the noble dead of old wavered with a chill, but there was no evil in it. The chill was as thin as the safely calm flicker by which a candle-flame reassures itself that it will be relit tomorrow, even as loved ones say good-night, draw the curtains, and prepare to put it out. *
Safe to explore, is it, Master Bullroarer? I won't go too far, or touch too much.
* Giles bowed at Bullroarer's nod, an expansive nod communicating both cautionary permission toward Giles, and reverence toward the dead. *
* Content in the hushed half-light, Giles padded through the barrow's belly holding his breath as though this place were the eldest of mathom houses. Metal and jewel glinted at firelight's touch. Bone rested, letting the light alone but offering no resistance. Gorgeous gold, stunning silver, radiant rubies, dazzling diamonds, effervescent emeralds, alluring amethyst, sapphires of blue and yellow, pearl ... pearl from the faraway Sea! *
* Giles bent down over a warrior's form. Swords, shields, helmets, all hopelessly too big. Then his eyes lit on some nearby daggers. Removing one from its clean black sheath, he gasped with an indrawing of breath. Serpents! Serpents of gold and red, like small dragons. Imposing, magnificent, with a sturdy hilt and a blade cold to the touch and with a masterfully-crafted sharpness to the edge. Now here was something Giles could use. He bowed towards its former bearer. *
Just borrowing it, is all, * the Hobbit whispered, * I'll bring it back, if I live.
[ December 31, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]
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