[mark12_30]

Outside the Inn doorway three Gondorians lounged against the moonlit wall, all well but plainly groomed and dressed, all boys on the verge of manhood. Typical grey eyes and dark hair framed their laughter, and their jests were no less gleeful for their lack of ribaldry. All three sparkled with camraderie and deep affection; their history as a threesome went back to before they could crawl.

"Should he not be here by now?"

"He said sunset, and the sky is dark."

"Late. He moves with the speed of the silver-haired."

"What shall we ask him for?"

"War stories."

"Dance tunes."

"Love songs!"

"Dreamer!" "Hopeful!"

"I can give you all three, " said a new voice. He was three years older than the others, a Gondorian, similarly dressed, but dusty and smudged.

"There you are!" "Here he is!" "Well met!" "You are well, are you not?" "Shall we go inside?" They embraced him in turn.

"Yes. My day has been long and dry. Who will buy the first round?" said the new arrival.

"You're the wealthy traveller!"

"Yes, and I've spent it all, " he laughed. The four young men entered the Inn.