Conversation continued among them until Chunky asked the question on everyone's mind. "Wendolyn, you've told us the cloak was stolen from the Lord of Mordor. But you haven't told us the most important thing...at least I think you haven't. Who does Mordor believe stole the cloak?" All three leaned forward to hear the answer...
At that moment, the door to the innkeeper's quarters opened and a much transformed young girl walked out accompanied by the innkeeper's wife. Her short brown hair was dry and all traces of grime removed from her face. Her cheeks were still rosy pink, but now with the flush of a fresh washing and the glow of youth. She was dressed in a townsgirl's shirt, laced top and ankle length skirt in mixed colors of brown green and black. She wore the same sandels as before but they were dry and mud free.
The innkeeper's wife prodded the young girl to move forward. Finally, she took the girl's hand and brought her over to stand before the hooded stranger. "I found some clothes my oldest daughter used to wear. They seemed the right size," said the woman.
The stranger raised his head so that his intense blue eyes and one small curl of hair from his head were visible. The hair of the curl was golden blond. "She has been well cared for, Madam. I thank you," said the stranger.
The young girl reached deeply within herself and finally found a small well of courage. Placing her hands on the edges of her skirt she curtsied smoothly and said, "I thank you Sir for your kindness to me." She quickly looked down not wanting to see the stranger's eyes as they peered at her.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"I am called Lysette, Sir."
"Lysette, are you hungry?"
She looked up quickly, hopefully. "Why, yes Sir, very much so." The stranger looked at the innkeeper's wife but was spared the asking. "I will see to a meal for her, Sir. Shall I bring it here?" said the wife.
"Yes, Lysette will have her dinner here at my table. Please sit here." He pointed to a chair and she sat down an expression of wonder filling her face.
"Sir, is it really permitted? My previous master made me sit in a corner of the room with what food he spared me."
"Yes, Lysette, it is permitted. First, I am not your master. Nobody is your master anymore. Second, you sit at a table. You are a girl, not a dog. And one thing more, you shall have the food and drink you want, not what will be spared.
A meal, but with fresh milk not ale to drink, was brought to the girl by the innkeeper's wife. Lysette looked once at the stranger, who nodded, and then the girl swiftly attacked the plate of stew before her. "Easy, young lady. The food will not escape I assure you," said the stranger with the first hint of some good humor behind the voice.
Very soon she finished her stew and the last of her milk. A smile of contentment formed on her face which she flashed prettily towards the stranger. He addressed the innkeeper who had returned to the serving room. "Do you have a room for the night?" The innkeeper's face fell immediately, as did the girl's. "We are full, Sir, as you can see," he replied coldly with an accusing look in his eye.
The stranger didn't fail to notice the innkeeper's changed demeanor. "For the girl, innkeeper... Are you sure you have nothing for the girl?" The innkeeper's expression changed once more. "Well, I am sorry Sir but... Oh! I think I do, I shall be right back."
The innkeeper left and returned almost immediately. "If it will be permitted, the girl may stay in our daughters' room. They are both married and live in their own cottages. She will be very comfortable there, I believe."
"That will do excellently," replied the stranger. "Good night, Lysette."
The girl realized she had been dismissed and began to walk away towards the door to the innkeeper's quarters. Impulsively, she whirled about and dashed to the side of the surprised stranger, pulled back a corner of his hood, exposing his cheek and an ear with a gold ring in its lobe. Then she placed a warm kiss on his cheek, whispered "Thank you, Sir", ran towards the living quarter's door and disappeared through its portal.
"You're welcome," the stranger said bemusedly after she had run from the room. Then he returned to his tankard of ale, freshly refilled by the innkeeper's wife as the young girl had been eating her supper. To all present it seemed the hooded stranger had returned to his own thoughts, but in reality he was listening attentively to the conversation among the three travellers at the nearby table.