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"One thief deserves another." Saruman |
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#11 |
Shade of Carn Dûm
Join Date: Mar 2005
Posts: 400
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Now this was certainly the night for new sensations. There had been the ale, of course, a warm blurring of sight and thought. And really, very, very tasty. She would admit to herself now that Farael had been right in steering her away from another pint, at that moment, at least - her guard had been down, her judgment hazy.
There had been the dancing. The Halfling’s music was far more lively than the Elvish music she had grown up with. The vigorous steps had done wonders to clear her head of the ale’s after effects. She laughed to herself wondering if she dared try another mug – one of that darker brew that looked so tantalizing. Perhaps a smaller mug and one drunk more slowly. But that would have to wait; especially as Farael had been quite specific in mentioning their next drink would be water. I wonder how often he’s had too much ale . . . and was this the “cure” he himself figured out for it? Now there was the kiss . . . the touch of his lips ever so softly on her fingers. And what was she to make of that? It was not something her Mother had covered in her little lessons on courtesies and comportment, as bowing and the depth of curtseys had been. Should she kiss him back? Is that what was expected after dancing and a drink? He had kissed the backs of her fingers – was she to return the favor in kind and kiss the backs of his? As she was considering this problem, a woman had lurched out of the crowd and clumsily bumped into her. She’d apologized readily enough and steadied Teluyaviel with one hand. All the while smiling prettily. Telu laughed and clapped her hands. ‘A grand party this is turning out to be! You must be one of those sleight of hand tricksters come to entertain the guests. Do I have the right of it? Did you come with the traveling players that are here?' With a twinkle in her own eyes, Telu reached quickly out and retrieved the small silken pouch which had so recently hung from her waist on a cord; her slender, deft fingers barely touching the women as she did so. 'I think you must needs have a little more practice before you try your tricks on another Elf, though.'
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Young she was and yet not so. The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost, her white arms and clear face were flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as a cloudless night . . . |
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