“You know,” said Rani, walking through the woods back to her home, “in the Third Age, I think our people have forgotten the fine art of both hosting, and celebrating the act of being. The music, the imbibements, the dancing. It is lackluster compared to the days before the sun.” She stretched her right hand above her head, very tipsy (if not past that point).
Beleg had offered to walk her home and she’d never deny the company of a friend. She could see the warm lights of the cabin’s windows in the distance. “I think tonight was a lovely example of those still in Aman, remembering what a dying art. I am glad to enjoy that with a friend, I tell you now. And enjoying the.” She paused. What kind of liquor had it been? “The drinks, Beleg! The drinks. Anyway, my house!” She pointed. “Thank you!“
"I agree."
What memories he had of ancient days in the glittering halls of Menegroth or under the green and fair branches of Doriath. Alas, so many noble partiers were long gone now!
"It was good tonight." At least there were some people around that still appreciated the old ways. It left him feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Or was that all the drinking?
"Your house." he repeated, "Why are the lights on? Is someone home? But you're here."
