Taste...
*wakes in the middle of the night, sitting up in bed to look around the strange room. It wasn’t familiar in the least; then again nothing seemed to be familiar. He felt a certain sense of being lost anywhere he went. Nothing was as it should be. How could anything be how it should be when he couldn’t remember the way things should be? Grown, and he felt like a child looking at things for the first time. Warily he looked at the people around him. His mother shared this bed with him. She was pale, strained…he wanted to make her better, but he didn’t know how. In the other bed was another hobbit lass, with red-blond hair. She was sleeping soundly, an arm trailing off the bed. She called herself ‘Ivy’. When he’d first opened his eyes, he had been in her arms. Briefly, he wondered about his relationship with her. Who was she to him? She felt odd…transparent in a way. As if she did not have enough substance to keep her around. His mother felt the same way at times during the night, as if she were about to simply vanish from his sight. The other hobbit in the room, sleeping on the floor, did not feel as if he were about to vanish from sight. No, instead he felt like a…a scorch on existence. Like he clung to it with such determined persistence that he had managed to survive things many others wouldn’t have. It scared Iorhael to be around that hobbit…that Smeagol. He didn’t know what to do with himself when Smeagol looked at him, his eyes full of a strange expectation.*
*Iorhael crawled out of bed, careful not to disturb his sleeping mother. Creeping quietly across the floor, stepping over Smeagol, he slipped out of the Inn’s room. The Inn’s main hall was not nearly as occupied as it had been when they first arrived. Something felt odd about it. He paused in the middle of the larger room, just ‘tasting’ the air. Something had happened here, once. There had been many people around, cousins of his among them. A friend. A squinty eyed man. Something…terrible. He moved on, eyeing the sleeping Innkeeper as he walked quietly past. Yes, something had happened here. A long time ago. The Inn’s door creaked as he opened it and slipped out into the darkness of Bree*
*Iorhael crawled out of bed, careful not to disturb his sleeping mother. Creeping quietly across the floor, stepping over Smeagol, he slipped out of the Inn’s room. The Inn’s main hall was not nearly as occupied as it had been when they first arrived. Something felt odd about it. He paused in the middle of the larger room, just ‘tasting’ the air. Something had happened here, once. There had been many people around, cousins of his among them. A friend. A squinty eyed man. Something…terrible. He moved on, eyeing the sleeping Innkeeper as he walked quietly past. Yes, something had happened here. A long time ago. The Inn’s door creaked as he opened it and slipped out into the darkness of Bree*