|About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search|
(Written for the great_tales Challenge 209: drabbles about fame; tied for third place.)
Gimli heard the giggles: four of them at the Citadel's side entrance. He blew out a puff of smoke from his pipe, and glanced at the Guardsman beside the door. He'd not moved from his position of attention, but bore a pinched look upon his face.
"I'll see this lot off, then," Gimli said.
The oldest might have been sixteen; "W-we have messages for the pheriannath!"
"Do you, then?"
He glanced at their slipper-clad feet. "You've no chance with them, lassies, not without furry feet. Can you grow beards? No? You might try the Elf, then."
|<< Back||Next >>|
|Home Search Chapter List|