[Sirithheruwen]

Twylight thought Iadarion seemed all right, but she wasn't sure. She might have excused herself then and there if Iadarion had not started to call for another ale. She grabbed his arm firmly with long slender fingers and pushed him gently back into his seat. He shrugged his shoulders, unperturbed, and accepted the tea Bingo had brought back from the counter with him.

Twylight glanced over at Lily and saw that she shared the look of disgust that all the other hobbits in the Inn looked upon Iadarion with. Did Lily know Iadarion? "What are you?" Twylight looked over at Posco, somewhat surprised at this abrupt outburst. She didn't think that he had ever strung more than three words together while in her prescence. "I do mean, you are one of the Big Folk, that much is obvious, but are you a Man or are you... are you an Elf?" He turned a magnificent shade of red, and swiveled to face Iadarion. "And what race are you?" He turned to Lily. "And what race are you?" He turned to Marcho. "And what race are you?" He gazed wide-eyed in horror at his blunder. Sliding farther down in his seat, nothing more of him could be seen above his nose, all of which was now a magnificent shade of magenta.

Marcho stood. "Interesting and very good questions," he said. "If we are all to become friends perhaps we might as well know. As you can see Bingo, Posco, and I are Hobbits. What are you? Now excuse me." Twylight followed him surreptitiously with her eyes. When he reached the counter, he burst into gales of laughter. Twylight was shaking with fury now as she saw tears of mirth stream down his cheeks. She had turned a shade of red much akin to Posco's, and she fought to keep her hand steady as she wrote; in the backround Iadarion was informing them all about his father and how he was the son of the river. It was, as she would have known if she was listening at the time, the same speech he had treated her to when they first met.

I am indeed of the race of men. But your question is justified, as my clothes are of Elvish make. You see, I lived in Rivendell for some time before I took to traveling.

She indicated the shimmery material of her leggings and tunic, and the midnight-blue cloak hanging over the back of her chair. Marcho had not come back yet, but she could no longer see him, for he had disappeared behind a dark and rugged stranger that was sitting at the bar. She had not seen him before, so she supposed he had just come in. But she gave no more thought to the man, for she turned to listen to Lily's response to Posco's flustered question.