Of Wraiths and Kings, and Friends and Rings (Calling All Nazgul)

[Rían]

Late Monday Night, far away from Tharbad

As the dark-haired girl walked back into the room, the barmaid grabbed her by the elbow and drew her into a corner.

"So, how was the elf?" she asked, curiosity in her voice (it was a small town and they didn't get a lot of variety).

"Well, I don't have much to tell you," she said, "but at least he paid well."

Her friend looked at the money and was suitably impressed. "So what happened? What was he like?" she repeated.

The dark-haired girl shrugged. "Well, we walked for a bit and then stopped under a tree. He just looked at me for a long time - he was real nervous, just running his hand up and down the tree trunk - then he finally reached out and started touching my hair. He spoke in another language, and said something that sounded like 'Aiwen' a lot. I declare, I felt a bit sorry for him, he looked so sad. Maybe this 'Aiwen' died or something, I don't know. But this hair stuff wasn't going to get the rent paid, so I finally said, 'Why don't you just kiss me like you want to kiss her,' - and ... then he did."

"So what was it like?" repeated her friend for the third time. "Do they kiss differently or something? And did he want more?"

"Well, it was pretty good, actually," she said in the voice of an experienced judge evaluating things in which there is a professional interest, not an emotional one - "I've heard that they don't have many kids - maybe they're just into other stuff like trees and kissing or something. Whatever floats your boat - as long as you pay for it. I tried to get some other things going a few times, but he'd have none of it - stopped me cold every time. Finally he stopped and leaned his head on the tree for a few minutes, then he said, 'I'll take you back now," and walked me back, and paid me right handsome. Rum customer, that elf, but he treated me right, and paid better than most, too, that much I know." She shrugged her shoulders again, and then hearing the voice of someone she knew well, left her friend and walked across the room.

Across town, Tyaron left some money where the stable owner would see it and gathered his things together, putting them on Hwesta's back. She snorted her disapproval - it was a small but comfortable stall. Tyaron looked into her eyes and rubbed her soft-as-satin nose. "I'm sorry, cousin, but I just can't stay - I can't ... I don't want the townspeople to look at me. Come on - I'll lead you, I won't ride." He rubbed the inside of her ear and she arched her head in enjoyment. "You like that, don't you, cousin!" he said with the ghost of a smile. She gave one last stretch and then rubbed her forehead hard on his shoulder - he was such a lovely scratching post! - then followed his lead out the door into the night.

He lead her quietly for an hour, then stopped at a small stream and let her drink. He looked up at the bright, beautiful stars, and then down at his hands. He bent down next to Hwesta and let the cool, refreshing water run over his hands. The silver ring on his right forefinger glinted in the starlight. He looked at it for a moment and then took it off. It was supposed to represent the highest and most sacred relationship that can exist between a man and a woman - and he had given it to himself. Sure, it was to represent his faithfulness to RÃ*an, but she hadn't given it to him - and he hadn't been faithful to her tonight ... Standing up quickly, he flung it into the darkness as far as he could, and then picked up Hwesta's lead rope and continued walking.