[Imladris]

Lira Nen

Lira turned her sapphire eyes towards the man who strode boldly to their table, telling them that it was too dangerous in the hills. “We must rescue Eodwine,” she said softly. “He is in danger and we cannot leave him to his fate,” she added quietly. She listened with some pleasure as the man offered his services and then there was an awkward pause. “I am Lira Nen of Ithilien,” she said softly, rising to her feet. “Uien, I regret that I left the Inn before you, and I fear I gave you the impression that I had decided not to come. I had some…other things to attend to,” she added, her face sad as her thoughts drifted towards her lost parents. “I am not especially skilled in anything,” she continued with her musical voice, “but am competent with the bow and dagger, and knowledgeable in the art of healing. As most of the fair folk, I can read the tracks of creatures.”

Her voice trailed off, and she shrank into her seat, gripping the wood tightly with her fingers. She had traveled swiftly to the Grey Havens and had spoken with some elves, inquiring of her parents, to see if they had reached the Havens safely. Their answer had not been comforting, for they had assured that they had not seen Liralwen, her mother, nor Nenwir, her father. Her nails dug violently in the woods and her breathing came in short gasps: they could be dead. Flashes of the rangers and the messengers of Gondor that had disappeared in the north rushed to her mind, and she wondered where in the north they were. Corn had not proved to be very informative and she could not speak his language.

Do not let your grief impede your search. The words fluttered weakly on the hazy edges of the memories that blurred together. Shame flooded her soul as she realized that she had been close to succumbing to grief. Rousing her spirits, she pulled a long swig from her wine. The warm liquor flooded her spirits; it was as a river coursing through her veins bring new life and reviving her mind. It was a dangerous thing to do…yet she must do something to help keep her thoughts the doings at hand.
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Gorby Brandy buck

I groaned inwardly as I laid eyes on Falco Boffin: irritating fellow. He was as full himself as rising yeast, and had a sharp tongue that could rattle off insults faster than anybody I ever knew. I wondered if Anson would show -- I hope he did because Doderic wouldn’t be coming and then Falco would be the only hobbit on the trip. I grimaced. Unpleasant thought. Then I saw him. Springing to my feet, I pushed my way through the mire of bodies and met Anson by the door. “Anson Brandybuck!” I cried, squeezing his hand jovially. “I am so glad you came!”

He smiled somewhat wanly and said, “Me too.”

“We’re over here,” I said eagerly, leading him towards the table which was now filled by all manners of elves and men. I must say I was disappointed by the elves: they looked almost human, yet their eyes and voices betrayed them -- especially the one who was ugly -- and they had a sort of ageless quality about them. They were somehow like us, and somehow not. Resolutely, I made room for Anson and myself. Of course he got the seat next to Doderic. I got next to Falco.

One by one they introduced themselves: a young woman named Finewen and then a ranger whose name I missed. Falco had shot a sort of sullen scowl at Finewen, and I had kicked him under the table with my foot, after which he tried to kick me back, but he missed and stubbed his toe upon the wooden leg. I must admit, unashamededly I might add, that I thought it served him right and so, hiding my face behind my hand, I stuck my tongue out at him. Anson had seen the whole thing and was trying to stifle a smirk. I grinned at him and he erupted into a flow of snickers which he tried to drown by pulling a swift swig from his pint.

The ugly one, Lira, had just finished her little speech. There was a short pause so I stood, bowed, and said, “The name’s Gorby Brandybuck. And I’m here because Doderic” -- a flourish to that admirable hobbit -- “asked me to come along.” I sat down with a thump, glanced at Falco who threw me a malignant glare, and grinned triumphantly at Anson.

[ October 25, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]