Picnic At The Bonfire Glade

[Ransom]

Ransom slowly meandered through the crowd, picking up sniplits of conversations. Most of the conversations did not interest him, but a few were noteworthy. Here was a scruffy looking man madly scribbling on some sort of tablet. Up ahead were a trio of woodelves. There was wandere cloaked in grey. He recognized a few being as wood elves, for his people had once ventured to the edge of Mirkwood on one of their raids before being repulsed by the elves.

Steering clear of the menacing wraith and the ghostly knight, he felt a furry object brush against his leg. It was some sort of small dog, with a beautiful read coat and a bushy tale. Said fox stopped his thumping his tail and looked upwards. Man and animal stared transfixed for a moment before the fox returned to watching the small Stunted ones dance around the wraith.

Quite frankly, he was a tad bit confused. His people always began their feasts by giving their hosts gifts. But no host occupied the two large chair at the head of the longest table, and no one else seemed to be searching for them. Surely these people honored their hosts with gifts. Didn’t they? And so, Ransom ambled on through the crowd.

[ September 19, 2002: Message edited by: Ransom ]