The house
Hmmm... what a curious place that was, his house. Full of exotic, exciting little details, rooms decorated in varying ways, large, open chambers full of light and space (Ah, our cottage in Chetwood would have fitted to his living room!) - And he had even decorated one of those rooms to remind his former recidence, a hobbit burrow; how sweet!
And yes... I managed to misbehave. Again. That Barliman's best begins to get to my nerves.
Yes, I challenged him to a drinking contest. Yes, I spilled a full tankard of stout to his carpet and tried to distract him from noticing it (well he noticed it anyway) by starting to sing enthusiastically (and loudly) the march songs Sumu once taught me. Oh yes.
A slight disaster on my behalf, one could say – I wonder if he agrees even to recognize me if we are to meet in public again … Oh dear
…
Two days after
He has agreed to see me again! Despite all that happened during the last time! (Well, we shall meet in an inn this time, which is comforting, no expensive carpets there)
And he mentioned something about a friend
…
Three days after
Not a friend. Friends. A bunch of them.
So I am not that elegant and experienced, worldly lady, whose image I have tried to maintain, that certainly became clear during that evening...
They were worldly. And elegant. And experienced. All of them.
And the evening was (probably exactly because of that) nevertheless lovely! I don't remember even half of what we discussed, I recall one of them, a tall, blond man with a scar in his cheek and a remarkable ability to enchant people around him, charming me to dance with him, which is a bit disturbing as I cannot dance; I remember the musician who, silently and calmly, played lovely songs for us to enjoy (although it seemed somehow, at that time, that some unspoken tensions lingered in the air between those two... still, that can be my imagination...)
And I remember the person he said to be one of his dearest, oldest friends; a calm, kind lady whose presence, in all that glamour surrounding us, felt comfortable and reassuring. Malyn, that was her name
What a fine night it was; me, a country girl from Far Chetwood, spending evening with such people, I felt myself both flattered and fragile, did not really know how to act, what to say - And there he was, filling the uneasy silence when I had troubles in finding anything rational to say, supporting me in my times of uncertainty, being a gentleman and ... a friend
… Yes... definitely a friend; the one with whom I shall enter into true adventures! As in the end of that evening we decided that we shall pay a visit to the land of trolls: Yes, we are going to troll hunting!
