The clear bell rang as the door opened, and the afternoon sun streamed into the old shop, almost filled with various dolls. The elf shopkeeper, busy adjusting a doll's skeleton behind the counter, heard the movement and looked up to see a tall man with black hair and an eye patch walking into the shop.
With a touch of bewilderment, the elderly elf woman regarded the "customer" who didn't seem likely to be here to buy dolls; however, after a moment of confusion, she still greeted him with a smile—after all, she didn't recognize that the tall, one-eyed man was the child who, a century ago, had bought something from her shop with his sister: "Ah, welcome to Rose Doll House, feel free to look around."
She paused for a moment and casually added, "It's not often we see a customer like you."
Tirian's gaze slowly swept around.
The varied dolls, the antique-looking shelves and carved stairs, the warm and peaceful atmosphere, and the smiling old woman.
