Brywulf

((Funny enough, that song was titled as such that I have heard playing at a certain part of this post. XD))

"Running makes it look very bad...," said Brywulf, watching her. "You need to just explain the situation."

"The hobbit...," said Bambidal, shaking her head. "They will never believe me!"

"The hobbit..?" repeated Rizan to himself.

Ah, right... Chrissy...

Rizan had made his way to the Pony though for some reason, something told him to go to the back of the inn. He had done so and in result, he had found Bambidal.

"Are you alright?" asked Bambidal.

"You they' stop tha' elf!" came a voice behind him.

"I didn't...," said Bambidal, looking at Rizan. "I didn't I swear... I couldn't have..." She looked at the group behind him. "Raven...was stabbed."

She looked at the knife in her hand.

What a strange and intoxicating way to wake up in the morning...not quite dressed, and with a man beside me. One might think that something salacious had taken place overnight, though it hasn't. Even in our most amorous moments, he is always and forever a gentleman, tender and thoughtful and ever concerned for my comfort and happiness. A person could argue that my torn dress is evidence to the contrary, but I wouldn't agree. I don't mistake passion for vulgarity. I am hardly an angel of self-control when in his arms.

How did I even manage to sleep last night? I must have been exhausted with happiness... is there such a thing? 

I have not stopped smiling since I opened my eyes this morning. The day appears rather dreary and drizzly from where I sit, but I can't find it in myself to mind. I feel as though the sun has found its way into my breast and is filling me with light - warm and golden and gentle. 

Why did I finish my last entry with the words "what may come"? I spoke in haste, it seems, for yesterday was another whirlpool of madness, both terrible and lovely. Will life ever just calm down for a day or a week or a month? Bree seems to be some sort of hub for insanity of all kinds...as if it draws folk of passion, both wicked and good, from all corners of Middle Earth, concentrating them into the hedged walls of this little town and tumbling them together.

Aeruthuil stares in to the fire as he hears the faint sounds of voices, crying and groaning. He chews his lip as he tries to ignore it all although it would prove to be a harder task than he imagined. He closes his eyes in another desperate attempt to ignore what was going on and what had happened but within seconds he opens them again at the sound of Calardor's voice. He blinks as he looks around the camp with a grin before it faints..

Aeruthuil lets out a sigh as he looks around. All the men seemed to be long asleep by now, he smiled for a moment before looking down towards Ayla who had been sleeping on his lap. He carefully goes through her hair, playing with it for a while. Her hair had gotten longer, he hadn't noticed before but it was nice. He smiled to himself again as he stares in to the fire. He could not have been more luckier and happier with a woman like her, she means the world to him.