The Green Dragon Inn - Part 5

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen was in a deep sleep, dreamless which she hadn't had in a very long time, years it seemed. That aided in her collapse at the bar, but also she had barely eaten anything wholesome for a very long time as well, she only ate enough to keep her alive but not to keep her strength up.

A hobbit was stoking a small fire in the room to keep it warm enough to try and break the Elf's fever, a little pot of soup was kept warm by the fire as well. The fire crackled gently embers burning brightly as the Hobbit sat on a tiny stool, she couldn't help but have the feeling that she was being watched.

When she turned to the Elf laying on the bed, two sparkling grey eyes looked back at her. The Hobbit lass gave a cry jerking from her stool sending it rolling across the room. 'Oh! well... your up then, I'll leave you to your room, theres soup in the pot by the fire, a bowl and spoon on the tray on your dresser' the Hobbit smoothed out her dress trying to act as if she was totally calm and unstartled. Flicking off bits of dust that weren't there.

She stood the stool back up and before she left the room she said 'if you'll be needing anything else just give me a shout' then she was out the door.

Esgallhugwen was still for a few more moments thinking it was slightly funny she had so easily scared the poor little Hobbit. She pushed herself off the bed no longer able to restrain the hunger that stirred in her stomach.

The soup smelled very good, she ladeled out a heeping spoon into the bowl. Bits of chicken and chunks of vegetables steamed in the golden broth. The smell might have been slightly revolting to an Elf that was not used to being half starved in the wild, running, and who never did a thing in their lives eating always the very finest of foods. But to a starving Elf it was all one could ever ask for, the smell was actually quite intoxicating.

Esgallhugwen scooped up the soup feircely, odd for an Elf but she was with no other company and could not be bothered with proper manners and ettiquete. Your horse...your horse is worried about you and all you can worry about is stuffing your face with hearty Hobbit food? She stored that thought in her head as she was downing her third bowl of soup. At least my horse is fed! she retorted at the voice.

Hobbit servings, Elf servings; it did not matter much to her, she had never felt this hungry before but that was because she finally got the rest she needed and was no longer numb to her body being hungry. Surely if you keep this up you will become as fat as a Hobbit! Then all your weight will pull you down and make you short like one! the voice laughed inside her head.

Esgallhugwen finished off the small pot, but was surprisingly not weighed down by the food though it was very hearty. She unpacked a few more of her things and pulled out her sheathed sword that was strapped to her pack.

She traced her fingers along the engravings of the silver white blade, the clapsed the ebony black hilt. Esgallhugwen began to manuever herself in practise positions, the sword cut through the air without making so much as a swishing sound. The air could not decrease it's speed because there was no fricton between the two.

The sword was well crafted for her use only, prepared to be forged and given to her by her Mother. Her Mother Menelariel had given her many of her belongings before she passed on. In a secret ceremony she had given Esgallhugwen such things that would be needed in the time ahead.

'Nárkir, a sword with which to fell your enemies and strike fear into their hearts, Dúrlin the dark bow it's arrows sing swift and true like eagles upon the air. And for you Esgallhugwen Elenglin, I have crafted this pendant, let it be a symbol for courage and hope when the path seems dark or misleading, for my time upon this earth is waning and you can no longer seek me for advice. These are dark times indeed but you have no reason to fear...there is greatness and strength in you that will aid many in this dark time.'

Esgallhugwen sheathed her sword once more, never seeing how she had ever left it in this room alone when it had saved her in the past. She fastened the buckle about her waist just below her belt and picked out two daggers from her pack, they had thin metal scabbards.

She felt less vulnerable with her cloak on and once more shadowed herself in it, never going to make the same mistake as to remove it again so everyone can stare at you, especially since you made a scene at the bar. But her strength was renewed thanks to the food and she would never let her strength fail her again.

She cleaned off her boots of the caked on mud before she headed downstairs. Esgallhugwen searched out Lira among the staring eyes, some gave her harse looks others tried to look down but peeped out of the corners of their eyes, while others still looked at her as if she was some poor beast waiting to be slaughtered.

[ August 19, 2003: Message edited by: Esgallhugwen ]