A room is cleaned, the floor swept, things moved with a little regret into storage. He prays she's not come to harm...but it has been a long time, for her and her friend both. He'll hold on to their items. Perhaps someday, and he'll keep an ear to the wind for word.
Dusted, swept, mattress pounded, linens changed, the room is pristine; she kept it very well. And what is this that Edward tells him? A dwarven lady in gold armor was asking about the room? It could not be. Could it?
Could it?
