The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[JennyHallu]

"I'm getting hungry again," said he "how about we grab some more food? I have never had such a great meal as today!"

Losse laughed, gray eyes catching firelight as she tossed her long locks, once again adorned with her new pretty. "Any meal I didn't cook is a great meal, Farael," she said with a chuckle. "I am sorry to hear of your bad fortune, though I am thankful that neither you nor your companions were injured. I suppose I understand your nervousness about me a little better now. I am a very good thief, no doubt about that, not even vanity." She walked toward the table where she'd left her stew. Forgotten, it still sat there on the table. She leaned toward it and sniffed. Still good...but definitely cold. She left it there and grabbed a trencher on one of the tables in the center, heaping it with bits of this and that. She cheerfully fought with a hobbit for the spoon to a large dish of mushrooms and won, adding a large helping to her plate before surrendering it back. Farael cheerfully trailed in her wake, grabbing a platter of his own as he watched her dance through the crowd with eyes alight.

Losse was charming, and she knew it. Her voice was sweet and musical, her eyes laughed only slightly more often than she did -- and her laughter was certainly ringing out over the party tonight. She had almost forgotten the lightness of her purse by the time she sat down, laughing merrily with sheer joy. She kept the conversation light, putting her best foot forward in an effort to show Farael her intent was to gain a friend, talking as she ate, and punctuating her speech with clever sleight-of-hand, her nimble fingers keeping both Farael and anyone who happened to catch a sight of her antics with her coins and bits of fruit.

"Really, I've never stolen a copper from anyone who couldn't afford the loss, I swear it's true." She'd switched from ale to a light and sweet dandelion wine, the yellow liquid sparkling in its glass.

Farael looked at her doubtfully. "I thought you said you earned a living as a thief."

She grinned. "Well, thievery's my career, and it's fun. But I couldn't live with myself if someone suffered too much for my fun. So I've always had something to fall back on. My last winter I spent in a tiny inn in Minas Tirith, really just a tavern. I sang for my supper in the common room, and danced for my board on a street-corner. It's only been in summer that I've really depended on thievery for a while now. Easier to forgive myself for a bad haul when I don't have to sleep in the snow." Her eyes turned serious for a moment, and she decided, helped along by the admittedly mild wine (Why did I get wine? I know I talk too much when I drink wine...) to tell the rest of her story.

"I picked the wrong man to start my season off with. That's when I decided that I'd be better off far from home and hearth. Not that I've spent all that much time having a home and hearth, so it's no great loss!"