Love

As Trastan slipped out of Tosie's room, he gazed around while stretching and slumped down on a chair which he pulled infront of the fire. He leaned back against the chair, and pulled his personal note book onto his lap and began revising his notes for his employer, Lourie Gadreel.

After aiding the proprietor of the Forsaken Inn tracking down a shipment that had been overrun by goblins, the last days have been quite uneventful - but still beautiful and somber in their own right. I made my way through the Lone-lands and into the Trollshaws without too much excitement. Walking along the Trollshaws road with it's eternal fall-trees on both sides, yellow leaves swirling past me, my mind begun to wander. The memory once more arose. 

...

This is a story about love, or call it a love story if you like. 

Waldera walked into the Inn of the Prancing Pony in her usual manner, craving for a warm cup of tea. She had had a day full of readings and was a bit weary of the shallow small talks of the small minded patrons of the inn. She waved kindly at the barmaid and gestured for a cup of tea in the white tea cup which she always prefers.

Her.

A droplet of water in the morning,

Hanging from a cool leaf,

After reading the hobbit's letter, Waldera laughed airily and left the paper aside. Her sweet  laughter echoed through the stairs and the corridor as she walked out of the room. 

Of all the things that I thought possible, this is naught of what I had imagined.

((Written as Awiergan would tell it.))

Many a tear was shed the other night.

He came to me at the Pony, smiling, being his silly self. He ordered us a huge pot of stew and we ate. He seemed distant, like something wasn't right. I kept on asking him what was the matter. He didn't tell me.