<b>Time flew by as Allassiel listened to the tales. Some sounded familiar, as though she was back home again. Dwarves and men, it seemed, didn't change much no matter where they were from. Elves, either, from the looks of things. It was comforting, in a way. She didn't feel quite as lost as she might have otherwise. <br/>
<br/>
By the time everyone was finished eating, there were more than a few yawns around the table. Even Thorgan seemed a bit tired. Allassiel leaned over and tapped him on the knee. “It'll be a long journey coming tomorrow. We should rest now?” <br/>
<br/>
She stood up, bowing to those around the table before she started towards the rooms.</b><br/><br/><br/><b>Pegawen's mind drifted from image to image, her hand sometimes twitching in Lotharn's as she sifted through old memories. Her first day of lessons as a healer. The herb garden in Caras Galadhon where she'd learned the names of different plants and what they did. The memories were interposed with imaginings – her showing Lotharn the garden, the places where she'd studied, her glade. <br/>
<br/>
She listened to him shift in the chair, wondering if he'd be more comfortable on the bed. “Come lay down,” she offered, turning her head to peer up at him through heavy eyelids.</b>