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He approached through one of the forests that abutted the Pen Keep. Guido was scouting ahead, his neat suit looking very out of place against the backdrop of bushes along the forest track. Further back from the trail, the bushes gave way to towering giants, trees thrusting straight without branches to fight with canopied foliage for precious sunlight. It amused Peredhil to no end that the Giant Guinea Pig stopped frequently to buff his shoes back to a shine against the back of his calves. The black fabric had obtained a patina of dust, fragments of leaves, and bits of mold - but the tips of the shoes shone as befit a member of the Bodyguard Guild of the land of Fractured Fairy-tales. Peredhil had had on numerous occasions on this trek to magically clean and adjust the clothes to fit. Guido had gone from a happy 334 pounds to a lean not-so-happy 280, and Peredhil knew that the foppish rodent worried that he didn't look his best. That the sight of a six and a half foot Guinea Pig dressed in a tailored suit, bearing a sub-machinegun might appear odd to some never seemed to occur. Although, he himself wasn't much better, he had to admit. He was dressed in a raw-silk Armani suit of various shimmering greys, although in deference to the journey he wore Corcoran boots. They currently weren't shiny at all, but Guido would assuredly fix that this evening. "Da Boss" had to maintain appearances, after all, he smiled to himself. He suppose in many ways, he still looked the same as he ever had. One Bard had described him thusly, "His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight, and upon it was set a circlet of silver; his eyes were grey as a clear evening, and in them was a light like the light of stars. Venerable he seemed as a king crowned with many winters, and yet hale as a tried warrior in the fulness of his strength." Which was true enough then, but the travels and ages had left changes. He wore his hair in a neat tapered cut, around his decidedly NOT-pointed ears, and his eyes positively shone with joy and mirth - particularly when he was reminded of his second, and new, wife. His first, Celebrían, had passed to the West after being savaged by the Orcs of Mordor. If it had been Mynx taken, she assuredly would've spent several of her lives hunting each other them down and teaching them manners. The circlet was gone, given to children on one of the many Planes he'd walked since leaving through the Halls of Mandos to wander. Silver touched his temples now, and it had been long since he'd been a warrior, although he was still deceptively powerful. Still just over six feet of height, he remained unbent by age. For those with the Sight, and very keen sight it would needs be, he still bore a Ring on his left hand. Mockingly he thought, "yea, power and skill was yet in his hand, wisdom and insight set his brow." He'd really have to find a copy of the Bard of Middle-Earth to re-read, although the universe therein recorded wasn't *quite* the one from which he'd come. Ambling along at the rear, carrying most of the packs and gear, but lacking the gun, was Nuncio. Since Guido had lost his weight, it was far more obvious they were twins. Other than superficial markings on the fur, they looked alike, and dressed alike, although they couldn't be more different in personality. Guido was an extroverted clown, while Nuncio was rather pedantic and fussy, to be honest. The thought of twins made him think of his sons, aware on their own journeys. A bend in the trail and the Tower was revealed. Stretching higher than Orthanc, it brought a familiar smile to his lips. Guido's jokes about writers and phallic symbols was simply too good to be forgotten. His mobile lips stretched to a wide grin as he saw that there were lesser spires and turrets, a true fairy-tale castle. The Pen had grown much since he'd left.