The ways of a wayward barmaid

She collected her tips for the evening and watched as the last pair of patrons went to their rooms, or back to their homes. While, she could not hear the sound of the thunder outside, or the rain. She could always feel the rumble through the ground. When the earth brought forth it's bounty, she wanted to see it. Born into the world, without hearing a sound. Into a world that often did not want her. She would create small moments of happiness to keep the dark thoughts at bay. Without waiting for Barley to come back from the other side of the inn. Sicarra hobbled off towards the coat rack and put her cloak on. It would just be for a few moments.. then she'd go to bed. That's how it usually starts. What she always tells herself. The barmaid steps out the front door and grins when she feels the rain on her palms. Touch, sight, smell. These were the senses she relished the senses that the spirits did not take away from her at birth. If no one ever saw her tears. A precious few would see her smile.. a smile that would melt the hardest of hearts. And so she ended her shift enjoying the bounty of Middle-Earth.