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Old 04-02-2004, 02:19 AM   #286
Rimbaud
The Perilous Poet
 
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Join Date: Apr 2002
Location: Heart of the matter
Posts: 1,096
Rimbaud has just left Hobbiton.
Pipe

Wheels moved within wheels, and even sickness passes. After some time in the Inn, Rimbaud finally descended to the common room and smiled at those present. He seemed paler and some of the laughter had left his eyes, but the grey tunic and the light blue sash were familiar.

He sat with some of the patrons for a while, talking lightly on the robust condition of the Inn. He spoke highly of the story-tellers of Gondor, who still circled the Inn. Rarely had the Innkeeper seen such healthy prose, he laughed.

He smiled at the newcomer to the List and bade her welcome to the Star. He did not know what she would make of this grey stranger with the tired eyes. Yet he made much of the new carving on the board, and shared a long pint and conversation with Mithadan, who slapped him on the back genially.

Rimbaud’s mind was not on these pleasantries, however. Much as he disliked it, he was again enmeshed in schemes of the City, and he was particularly guilty of using certain friends. There were strands running through the Inn, plans weaving together. He just wished he could see the pattern they wove.

Rising again, he adjusted his sash and winked at the barman. “Well,” he said quietly. “I’m back.”
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