The Green Dragon

[piosenniel]

‘Don’t play coy with me, Elf! You know the one I’m talking about. That flighty one . . . the bird . . .’

Pio bit back a smile as she heard the old Hobbit speak these words. What would Bird think of this! To be remembered as a favored pet! The Elf took a deep drink from her cup, covering her amusement at the thought. At length, she set the cup carefully back on the table and composed her face into some semblance of serious consideration.

‘The bird you speak of is still alive, Amaranthas. But these days, she does not travel well, preferring to keep to the comforts of her own home.’ Amaranthas nodded her head at the sageness of this approach to the elder years. ‘Let the world come to your doorstep.’ she thought to herself. ‘Though,’ continued Pio, ‘she can be occasionally enticed out when the mood hits her . . . the occasional dish of ale, for instance, down at the local.’

The old Hobbit flashed her toothless grin at that, and raised her cup to the missing bird. ‘Now there’s a creature to my liking!’ she chortled. ‘This bird of yours and I would have gotten along well together.’

The Elf, a grin spreading on her face, nodded her head in agreement. ‘Oh, yes, Amaranthas! You two would have been quite the pair!’

Pio called for another plate of savories to be brought to the table, and poured Amaranthas another cup of wine. When the old dear had downed it, washing down several of the tasty morsels along with it, Pio prodded her memory with another question.

‘You spoke earlier of one named Gamba. What can you tell me of him? How did he fare?’ She waited as the elder took in the questions, rolling them around in her mind much as she had rolled the savories on her tongue before swallowing them. ‘Is there family of his in these parts, by chance . . .?’