Desiare stretched out in the chair, looking down at the desk to the parchment where she'd copied the map Zandrianna had shown her. Pouring over it carefully, she traced the route from Bree, through the Shire and up the elven outpost of Duillond, and over past Gondamon. Tapping her finger along various markings along the way, she read the names, and the quick notes she had jotted down, as they had discussed things overheard from caravan drivers and merchants about the various areas. With a sigh, she looked out the rounded window of the small hobbit inn she'd stopped at for the evening, her mind working out the bits of story as she pieced together what was happening.
Reports from the elves of goblins sneaking into the vineyards, tales of brigands roaming the forests and down to the dwarven docks of Kheldul. Increased activity by wolves and bears along the roads near Gondamon. She shook her head, reaching up to push back a strand of her long, blonde hair from her face as she watched the sun setting on the horizon. 'Well," she mused to herself, 'I've promised mother I'd get to the bottom of this and I will. But for now ...'
She stood up, rubbing her stomach as she felt it grumble in annoyance at being empty. Chuckling to herself, she set the map aside and headed down the hall to the main tavern, smelling the aroma of roasting meat and vegetables, along with fresh baked bread. Sitting down at a table, she was quickly greeted by a server, a young hobbitress that seemed rather eager to please. After rattling off the day's offerings, Desiare selected a savory vegetable pie and a glass of red wine, thanking the server as she ran off, calling the order back to the kitchen. Tapping her fingers on the table, she turned to look out the window and watch the lights coming from a nearby window as the occupants of the house lit candles to drive off the darkness of the falling night.
As she did, a pair of eyes came to mind - grey, warm and kind, cool and formal in equal measures. Klauss baffled her, she'd not met many men like him. He was handsome, there was no denying that, and he could have any woman he wanted she was sure of that. And yet he was alone. 'Were the women around him so blind then,' she mused, 'that they would not accept an honorable man, one who didn't seem to have any ulterior motives?' She shook her head, as in the back of her mind a voice whispered, 'Of course he does. He's a man. They all do.' Pushing the voice back in her mind, she turned just in time to see the server return with her food. Thanking the girl, she handed her the money, before turning to eat.
Some time later, taking the last sip of her wine, Desiare stood to make her way back to the bedroom. Seemingly no closer to either figuring out the dark haired man that had returned her home to Bree, or the puzzling route that Zandrianna had sent her to investigate, she decided that things would look clearer in the morning.
Sometimes, though, they don't ...
