Please, come in! Sit closer to the fire. The Hall is warm and comfortable. In the right corner the minstrels and narrators came together and the almost familiar voice starts a song that you have heard only once, long ago, and wanted to listen to ever since.... The song is over. Only now you realize that you have left the soft chair in order to get closer. But what is there? You see an open door that leeds to a wide, brightly lit passage. You step forward and find youself in the Art Gallery.
After you left the Gallery you sit back in the chair. Your attention is caught by an elven-maid with a dishevelled light hair (an unusual color for an elf, you think) and a coal-smeared face, and a slender, brown-eyed man in a military uniform. They hold a log and argue animatedly whether they ought to put it into the fire.
It's getting late, and the guests are leaving. We have to go, too. Good night, traveler, and may the luck be with you on the roads of the large world!
[Minstrels of the Middle Earth]
[Prose after the books of Tolkien]
The logs are put into the fire by
Mithrilian, 1996.
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